#space case talks about what his eyes have consumed for the past week

[thestarfishghost]

800 before the end of December is looking nearly impossible smh but eyyy! 777~

NGL, I'm movie and ova grinding so hard. I usually manage to watch 100 new things a year, but this year I instead rewatched nearly 40 things. It's been a big year for nostalgia for me, but also for getting a few people into different things with me! Vampy has personally watched so much stuff with me this year? Oh my God??? It's been a blast! I have never felt more human than when Vampy and Kimchi enjoyed Dragon Maid along side me, I swear. I also got Vampy into Enstars by starting the anime together and I am delighted >:3 Made this in celebration actually >:3 @shut-in-magical-girl

That said, I have actually watched some actual shows too, such as the first season of Oreimo and the first two seasons of Kami Nomi! Those were actually really fun. The first season of Oreimo has some of the most impassioned speeches I've ever heard about the more ""controversial"" sides of anime. I did admittedly have a love-hate relationship with Kirino at first, but honestly, it was just because of the more wildly exaggerated tsundere tropes. They became easier to laugh off after awhile. I really relate to the way she loves the hobby, and I think it really helped me warm up to her more quickly. How she enjoys collecting and getting excited over it... I relate to that in those same ways lol specifically to her Meruru shrine lol (ik no one asked, but aside from Krino, my best girl is actually Saori. I look forward to seeing more of her every time an episode comes on! :3) Also, Idk why I skipped Kami Nomi for so many years, but I legit just left it on my P2W list for a decade lol. I've only had one other person ever recommend it to me as well;; and that was like 4-5 years ago now lol;; I slowed down with playing eroge and bishoujo games around,,, 2015/2016(?), but I used to play them religiously. Keima should probably not be someone I relate to... but here I am. Relating to him. While nowadays my main passion lies in the animation side of things, I still really find relatability and comfort within this specific Reference Humor genre of anime, so I've really enjoyed this series so far. I finished up Irregular Witch too :( First show from the current airing block that I've actually completed. Bittersweet, but I had fun with that one too. I'm going to especially miss seeing Phoenix every week. I find that I usually watch whatever comedies are airing when I do tune into the blocks as they air, and this one was a really nice companion piece for the heavier stuff I've been keeping up with. I watched a few other full series, but this next one is the last I'm mentioning for now. I might make more posts another time; we'll see. Two of my favorites that I got around to during my sick week are these two next mentions; first up is Wotakoi. I am devastated that there isn't more Wotakoi. Help. They covered pretty much all of the manga according to other fans, so it's unlikely more will come out of it. It always hurts a bit when something is fully finished, though. especially when I enjoyed it so much. I might read it just for the sake of wanting more of it. It was really straight forward and was honestly a breath of fresh air. There weren't any real love rivals or anything; just nerds figuring themselves out and their dynamics out. I literally just watched six weirdos make friends and fall in love with fairly no complications involved. I'm thriving. (Or maybe I'm just a lonely, nerdy adult who is tired of drama in my life. Maybe that's the only takeaway here lmao /lh) And then,,,, finally,,, Magical Witch Punie-Chan. I have... No words. It was amazing. I loved it. I haven't laughed that hard in awhile. 4 episode OVA with an additional 4 episode Omake after. Wonderful if you like darker gag-humor series and want a short little trip. This one was weird but delightful, truly. P.S. I kept "Lyrical Tolkarev~ Kill Them All!~" as my discord status for like 3 days lol That theme song is going to live in my head rent free for the rest of my days. As for what I'm most excited for in 2024, there's probably, like, A LOT. But off of the top of my head, I can name the next Given project (PLEASEEEEEEEEECOMEOUTALREADYYESSSSGIVEITTOMEEEE JANUARY27THCANNOT COME FAST ENOUGHHH) and the second season of Bokuyaba (one of the only manga I have bothered with in 15 years, going to be so real right now;; I cherish this story). When these things come out, I know for a fact that my blog is going to briefly implode. Apologies about it ahead of time lol!;; I'll probably be saying more as the currently airing series all come to an end over the coming weeks. There's quite a few I don't want to end TT~TT so talking about them might be nice!

[xaphrin]

Midnight Promises Broken at Dawn

Part One Here

A few days later, an unusual warm spell had melted the snow, but had left freezing rain in its wake. For the past week, Raven's traps had laid empty since all the animals in the surrounding forest had bedded down to wait out the freezing rain, and the last bit of food she had brought or foraged had been consumed days ago. 

It was no surprise that her half-dreams of whispering shadows had returned. Hallucinating was a symptom of extreme starvation, after all. Feeling a presence in the room with her, Raven curled tighter in her thin, worn blankets, listening to stray drops of rain sizzle on the fire in the hearth. She was trying to force herself to sleep. The sooner she could fall asleep, the sooner she could forget about the hollowness in her stomach. 

“You're still here.”

Raven chose not to waste precious energy on a response, and instead lay there in silence. Her hallucinations were rarely so curious. However, the shadows continued to talk, as if unnerved by her silence. 

“Honestly, it's a feat you've managed to last this long.” The darkness slid along the corners of the room, and she felt the weight of its stare. “Humans tend to die when faced with circumstances like this.” There was another long pause, and the shadow seemed to drop closer to the floor, as if inspecting her like she was a decaying rodent. “Perhaps you will die soon. It would ease your suffering at the very least.” 

That was an unnecessary slight. Her eyes snapped open and she glared into the coals of the fire, forcing that gnawing, hungry feeling to the back of her mind. “I refuse to let my father be right.”

The shadows were quiet for a long moment as they continued to watch her. “Your father?”

“Father.” She snorted, the sound growling and divisive. “The unfortunate seed from which I was born.”

There was another pause. “You seem to harbor some hostility towards your father.”

“That's a bit of an understatement.” 

A soft hum escaped, as if the shadows fully understood the vitriol in those words. They spoke again, their question genuinely curious.  “What would your father be right about?”

“That the only good thing about my existence is ending it.” Raven's words were thick with hatred, and she closed her eyes against the dry heat of the fading coals. The emptiness in her stomach was fading as sleep started to claim her, curling in at the edges of her mind. “The fucker can rot in his grave for all I care. I'll survive just to prove he was wrong about me. I am not the curse he thinks I am.”

“Your determination is almost charming."

She snorted and turned her head into the bunch of clothes serving as a pillow. “I don't need my hallucinations patronizing me.”

“Don't make it so easy then.”

Raven gave a breathy laugh as the last bit of her energy faded, letting sleep pull her into its quiet embrace. “Mouthy bastard.”

The last thing she heard was a low, rumbling laugh. 

-

He wished he could stay away from her.

He should have stayed away from her. Contact between gods and mortals never ended well. The union between his parents was case and point. And yet he had returned to the rotting cabin again looking for… her.   

When Damian had visited her next, the deep, bone shattering cold of midwinter had returned, and the brief few days of wet icy warmth had disappeared. The cabin smelled of rot and stagnant water and… something else. His lip curled up in disgust, and Damian covered his nose against the scent. 

The coals in the fire had died hours ago, and any light that would have come in from the outside was swallowed by a clouded, moonless sky. It was still and eerie, as though all life had been sucked out of the space, leaving a vacuum where something had once stood. Damian moved through the space, feeling around himself for echoes of her.

She must have left. Well, good. At least it would keep strangers off his land. A small feeling that seemed almost like sadness twisted in his chest, and Damian stepped onto the decayed floor. His toe hit what felt like a heavy bag, and he frowned. Dropping down to a low squat, he pressed his hand against… 

Her ribs.

Damian dug around in his pockets until he found his cell phone, and flicked on the flashlight. Raven was laying sprawled out on the floor, her breathing shallow and coarse. The smell of sickness and death washed over her, staining her skin. His fingers slid down her side, feeling her ribs nearly poke through the thin fabric of her sweater. 

When had she eaten last… and what was it? 

He thought it was odd that was the first thought he had in his mind - a feeling of concern for someone he barely knew. His grandfather was not a benevolent god, and Damian wasn’t sure if he was too. His reign on earth was too short to understand who he really was. His lips twitched, and his fingers pushed back her ragged hair from her face, watching her eyes twist underneath the dark color of her eyelids. She wasn’t going to last more than a few more days, and that was only if she was lucky. 

He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t do this. Cursing under his breath, Damian lifted her slight frame into his arms and stepped out of the cabin into the cold night. 

-

Raven was floating somewhere. 

She wasn’t entirely sure where, but somewhere. 

Gods, she would hate it if her father was right. She rolled onto her side, expecting to feel the hard cold dirt of the cabin floor, but instead felt soft sheets and an even softer mattress beneath her. She was surrounded by the scent of clean linen, and the room was pleasantly warm. If this was the afterlife, she could have done worse. A window on the far side of the room showcased sweeping views of a wild pine forest that seemed to stretch out for eternity, each tree turned silvery by the sliver of the moon in the sky. 

“You’re awake.”

The voice spoke from the darkest shadows of the room, and try as she might, Raven couldn’t see into the darkness. 

“Did you… save me?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Or am I dead?”

“No.” A soft snort was her response, followed by a heavy silence. “Those mushrooms you foraged were not meant for human consumption.” 

“I knew… but I didn’t really have many options, did I?” Raven fell back against the luxurious pillows on the bed and gave a harsh laugh. “I didn’t even get a good trip, did I? No, just gastrointestinal distress and a one way ticket to the afterlife.” 

She had known that those mushrooms were iffy at best, but she had been without food for nearly two weeks, and her options were limited. She took a chance and gambled, and she had lost. Running a hand over her face, Raven looked up at the ceiling, watching the moonlight flicker around the space, casting long, dark shadows. 

“Sorry for any inconvenience I caused you.”

There was a long pause, and the only sounds in the room were a rustling of fabric and her ragged breaths.

“Stay until you feel well enough to travel.”

Raven blinked and looked towards the shadows again, and she got the impression that the person just shrugged. 

“I have room enough for both of us.”

There was another pause. “You’re not going to break my legs and force me to stay and write novels, are you?”

“You’re free to come and go as you please, and I don’t know you well enough to gauge your writing ability.” The shadow moved toward the edge of the door, still shrouded from her observation. “You’re safe here, so take your rest while you can, and sleep.”

As if he had spoken magic, Raven felt her eyes grow heavy and she sunk deep into a dreamless sleep. 

-

Damian stepped outside the room and closed the door, looking into the expectant eyes of his half-brother. Fuck. If anyone was going to gossip to Damian’s family about what Damian was doing, it would be Dick. 

“Stay until you feel well enough to travel?”

Damian sighed and turned away from him, obviously annoyed. “Are you going to continue to tease me?” 

“I’ve never seen you get so worked up over a human before.”

“That’s kindness that I was displaying, in case you didn’t realize.” He started down the hallway, and Dick followed, obviously amused.  

“Yeah, I know. That’s what’s so confusing.” Dick glanced over at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve seen you act that way with anyone let alone, a human.” 

“Father is human.” 

“Barely.” Dick snorted. “Your mother thinks his blood is diluted to the point where he’s still got some kind of powers… whatever they are.” 

Damian made a noncommittal noise. He’d expected there was some diluted blood in father’s lineage for a long while, but he chose not to mention it. They both fell into a companionable silence for a moment, until Damian could start to feel the tension of an unspoken question hanging in the air. Dick was trying not to say anything, but Damian knew he was about to burst by trying to keep quiet. 

With a sigh and an annoyed click of his tongue, Damian stared over at him. “You're like a dog with a bone. Just ask whatever it is you want to ask already.” 

“Why her?”

Damian tried to look unaffected by the question, but the truth was that he asked himself the same thing. By all accounts, Raven wasn't special. So, why was he affected by her? Why this disheveled, downtrodden human? Why this woman who slept in abandoned cabins and could carry her entire life in a backpack? 

And yet… Damian had never felt this way about a human before. He liked her, but didn’t really have any reason why. With her sharp wit and even sharper tongue, she seemed to keep his ego in check. She was strong enough to keep going, in spite of everything the universe continued to throw at her. But those weren’t reasons to like her, just understand her. 

“You look like you're fascinated by her.” Dick's voice held a note of amusement.

“Oh, shut up.” Damian snapped at his brother, his eyes dark. “You’re no better, with the girl you try to keep hidden in town. What was her name again? Kory? Runs the cafe and makes the absolute worst coffee I’ve ever tasted?”

Color stained Dick’s face and he glared. “How do you know?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s a bubbling, glowing mess every time you’re in town.” Damian waved him off. “What you do with humans - or anyone else - is none of my business. Just like it’s none of your business what I do with strange women wandering on my land.” 

“Fair.” Dick conceded the argument. “Fine. I won’t pry.” Damian snorted, as if he didn’t believe him. If there was anything he knew about his brother, it was that he would never be satisfied until he stuck his nose into everyone’s business.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Song of the Sea

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Jophiel's next bit in Husbandry. Thanks to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric and Ash'val.

Warnings: None that I know of.

Summary: Jophiel learns more about the sea side town that his human lives nearby. And starts learning English by going to classes at a Community center.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

It had been nice to speak with Claude for a bit, even though the other had fussed over him and had threatened to send an Apothecary to check him over. Which he thought was unfair, since he's already healed up from his injuries.

He hums softly to himself as he mentally goes over the tasks that he needs to complete before he goes to the Community Center to learn more about the local language called English.

He listens to his wonderful Bonded talk about what they were going to do, among other things and hums and occasionally chirps out a response, either in stilted English or in Gothic.

He helps clean up the breakfast that they shared, base line food, he has to eat a stupidly large amount of it to truly be full. He has a meal of it, for the simple pleasure of tasting such wonderful variety and flavor. He still has some nutri-paste and rations that he will consume later to finish filling his belly.

Now that he knows about the Imperial Fist and Salamander base that is a few hours away. He'll try to report in for some supplies before scurrying back here.

Depending on the temperament of the First Borns that run the base he might get away with supplies, for only a few weeks of working for them.

They can't be too bad, Claude and Cedric are still there, and have brought in Ramiel and Catius to that place as well. Granted, they know and can withstand a lot of punishment and suffering.

But since they are on Ancient Terra... they could simply leave for a different 'war band' or base if it was truly intolerable. Or so he hopes that is the case.

After finishing up with the chores and helping with what he knew how to do of farm chores and animal husbandry (which admittedly is very little, and only what his dear, cherished Bonded has taught him).

"I will be back in a few days, meeting with brother-cousins," Jophiel carefully says to you in English, his accent and slight lisp endearing.

"Oh?" You ask him with a surprised blink.

"Yeah Cedric is fussing about making sure health good," Jophiel says struggling to say what he wants and needs to in English. "Is Space Marine Doctor."

"Are you sick or still injured?" You ask with a concerned frown on your face suddenly worried.

He had been badly injured and terribly skittish when the two of you had first met. But he'd healed shockingly quickly and had said that he was better.

"No- just Space Doctor check up," Jophiel says quickly trying to comfort you.

"Alright," You say as you try to calm down a little and stare up at him firmly, "If you are sick or hurt, tell me so I can help you. Yes?"

"Yes my heart," Jophiel says with an adorable smile down at you.

You can't help but smile back at him. He's so sweet at times, and it has your heart melt. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"One of my hearts shall remain with you, always," Jophiel tells you with earnest red eyes.

You fluster a little at that. Jophiel is lovely, playful, artistic and slowly growing more articulate in English. He could be terribly romantic and flirtatious at times. You aren't sure if he means it like that or if that's just how he speaks.

He nuzzles you for a few minutes, a deep rumbling purr coming from deep in his chest. You gently pat one of his hands and lean into him. He's certainly cuddly, on his terms. The first time you heard him purr you had been utterly surprised and delighted at the same time.

Jophiel gently lets you go and heads off to go find that Imperial Fist and Salamander base that Claude had mentioned that he was living and work in. Once he gets close to the major inland city, he makes sure to carefully land, skillfully avoiding being noticed.

He closes his eyes and focuses and weaves the illusions on his wings which he lays against his back and makes sure to not move. He staggers a little from the dizzying amount of effort, focus, and energy that is being drained from him to hide his wings.

He shakes his head a little and starts to head towards the base that Claude had spoken about, he makes sure to send Claude a text message through the shared Primaris-only channels as he picks his way to the base. Carefully making sure not to impede the flow of base line traffic.

Claude finds him a few minutes later and looks him over briefly before they go to the Iron Fist and Salamander Base. They check in and he speaks to the First Born cousin, doing the 'check in' process that has been developed for the Loyalist that have landed on Terra.

He listens to what he's told, even as his vision starts to flicker, as spots start to show up. Claude is very careful in how he's holding him. Jophiel's grateful for that as he tries to not look like he's leaning into Claude as the effort to hide his wings becomes far greater.

He murmurs his thanks to Claude as he feels the other start to lend him energy to continue up the illusion. Cedric has a slightly pinched expression on his face as he heads to them. Spotting the way Jophiel is totally not being almost entirely supported by Claude's weight.

"You Idiot," Cedric hisses at Jophiel.

He grunts a little, it's taking all of his concentration and energy to keep up the illusion on his wings. Cedric continues to hiss at him under his breath and grabs Jophiel's other arm and swings it over his shoulders as they drag him to the nearest hiding spot where neither eyes electronic and natural can watch them.

"Drop the illusion," Cedric orders, all Apothecary sharp and commanding.

Jophiel does with a gasp, "Throne! That was really difficult."

"You are an idiot for doing witch craft on Ancient Terra," Cedric scolds Jophiel.

"I don't want to incite madness in First Borns," Jophiel protested. "you know that is what my mutation can cause in others, unless it's hidden. And I'm in armor, so I can't wear a cape to hide it."

Cedric gives him a sharp look and exchanges another look with Claude who is casually guarding the door. Technically they should take Jophiel to the medbay.

But- Jophiel would get upset if he had to go somewhere so public for a check up. Technically they should take Jophiel to one of the Librarian Captains and inform them of the Primaris Librarian Scout.

Technically, as Ramiel and Catius knock on the door carefully informing the trio of who's at the door. They are breaking some of The Rules, which is bad but Jophiel is uninjured and seems to be fine, stable and steady.

Technically, they should also inform the nearest Blood Angel or one of their Successor Chapters First Born of Jophiel being here. But Jophiel likely won't want to meet them.

"At least you haven't shredded your wing again," Cedric says tartly, "Or hurt yourself by being a block head."

"I'm not a block head!" Jophiel protests.

Cedric gives him an Apothecary Look TM, "All brothers who aren't Apothecaries can be Idiots."

That got all of them protesting that Cedric wasn't being Unfair and A Little Mean. Ramiel looks over Cedric with an assessing gaze, noticing that he seems... Upset about something.

"Cedric," Ramiel says gently, "Once you are done checking over Cedric, I'd like to talk to you."

"Fine," Cedric says not looking at Ramiel.

~

As one of the First Born Captains, and one who's a Scout Captain at that, who's been able to start to get through the prickly shields of the Primaris Marine Scout-lings that had been found, he'd been informed of their furtive movements, and how they seem to be hiding something. Again.

Captain Ash'val had been walking from one place to another- when he'd noticed that Cedric had a look on his face. One that he was starting to learn what that meant.

Then he'd seen Catius, and Ramiel try to sneak about. Since he can't find Claude, and no one has noticed him on the cameras or in person. That sneaky youngster (who he's not certain is Actually a Raven Guard, Honest), but a different, sneaky Legion, er Chapter.

Ash'val rubs his face a little and sighs, wondering just what was going on in the 42nd Millenium that has the Primaris Marines default to hiding their wounded brothers from the First Borns. Ash'val wonders just how long it's going to take before he, or Feldarim, or any of the others meet this newest Scout-ling.

[reading-stains]

some cool observations I figured out after asking myself what makes a good fanfic

I wanted to randomly talk about how wonderful fanfiction is. Like really. It’s genuinely one of the most wonderful experiences being here has to offer. I’ve been having a really tough time these past few weeks, and the only thing that keeps getting me through a day has been to sit down and read a couple long fics. I’m an avid AO3 reader (don’t you dare suggest any other platform for me for reading, I like the organization okay), which yeah means I don’t read as carefully as the next person but I do read like 90% of the fic so that means something right? Reading a whole 300,000 words a day, while still having time to cook three meals separately, have a two hour tutoring session, and some space to freak out over my AP scores has got to be a superpower.

Anyways, my point is this: fanfiction is fucking amazing. How many ways worlds can come together, how many times characters can fall in love and it doesn’t get boring is just that, fucking amazing. The amount of great material I’ve found has been stellar. And since I’ve had so many hours to waste the past two weeks, my urge for fanfic reading has been consistently there. Which is strange to me because I’ve barely wanted to read, period. Academic, casual, printed, or online for months. But fanfiction is perfectly centered in what I love.

Yet I was thinking how do you make a good fanfic? After all, there’s so much, some of it is just better than the rest. And I figured I’d explore that.

Firstly, there’s the whole charm of fanfiction, since there’s something powerful in having characters you know. I’d like to highlight that it’s entirely possible and true that people can have completely different experiences in the fanfiction world. There’s Y/N and its whole self insert genre, and there’s the whole original characters' situation in universes that are explored within the OG material. Of course there’s a whole sub division of fanfic readers that love it, adore it, write it, and consume it, and who am I to judge? I guess when I say good fanfiction in this post, it’s about how good character based fanfiction works out. Because in my eyes, good fanfiction challenges the framing of a character, and works to develop a tangible change in both internal and external measures. For example, I was reading this two part (not-yet-fully-completed-but-doesn’t-really-end-in-a-cliffhanger-so-it’s-okay-as-someone-that-doesn’t-like-reading-uncomplete-stuff-I-give-the-green-light) Spideypool fic where the ship mainly worked as an empowering device for the story of Peter Parker (spoilers guys, he’s Spider-Man) finding connection, with his boss (it’s Harry Osborn :o), with his fellow superheroes, with his dying aunt, with his new boyfriend, and finally, with himself. The fic works with multiple characters to develop the plot. Good character based fanfiction in this case revolves about the multiple relationships developed between said explored characters. Because characters are fundamentally different from the source material, writing them and giving them needs and actions that feel indebted to the original want of the characters and balancing their choice from said wants is hard. It’s a fine line, tying it all up. Developing something independent from the original material to some extent, from a possibly canon compliant conversation to a whole different universe, and using that independence to further an enrichment of a world or character is necessary. Otherwise, stories bring themselves to a stalemate. Otherwise, stories bring themselves to lack character and connection to the reader. 

Meanwhile, in I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio (a musician!au Soukoku fic) works with incredible storytelling design, using a past and present narrative as well as work with the characters' feelings and journeys with the description of music and their lyrics. Good fanfiction, here, uses positively impacting narrative tools to develop a good, tightly done story. In the fic, the development of falling in love, betrayal, heartbreak, and healing are explored. The way the characters connect, disconnect, and reconnect is just amazing. And the way that connection or lack thereof is explored works well with the narrative style of story. Two POVs, each having two time spaces. These POVs worked around the release date of Corruption, the fictional song the two main characters created together in the fic. The interaction between time settings allowed to further explore the characters’ memories and experiences wholly. It was a better choice than to write linearly. Much more entertaining as well. This is good fanfiction, using the narrative to explore and enrich once again the story. 

Finally, there’s the greatest, most important aspect for a good fic. A great story. I wanted to highlight my first auditive fanfic in my life, and the only author I’ve been so unquestionably loyal to since I first heard her story: Mira Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction on YouTube has forever been feeding me with rich stories, great jokes, and heartbreaking tears. What A Catch works as a creative outlet of all the powerful characters and their archetypes, and applies both a challenging reframe of a character and great narrative control. The story begins with all the main characters of the series as adults, in a wedding, unaware of the twisted memories that Hawkmoth has influenced. The story develops and explores something further than the previous two discussed factors. Before getting to that though, I want to clear up, I love romance fanfiction. It’s what I read 99.9% of the time. But I also enjoy stories that further the relationship not just with internal plot devices. The story of Marinette and Adrien is a long one, especially in the real world when the show’s been airing since 2015. However, there’s a magic in exploring something outside situations while adapting the narrative to continue the story already explored. Developing mayhem, confusion, stakes, as well as creating character growth within the flaws and victories that come with the challenges set in a fanfiction is important. Essential. Otherwise, fanfics turn into retellings, lightly chipping away the power of a story and beginning to re-make something already done. Archetypes are tools to work on choices, wants, and needs of a plot device. Characters breathe and feel with their own choices, wants, and needs along said plot. And stories? They make characters and feelings and experiences simply real.

In conclusion, what makes good fanfiction? In my humble opinion, it brings the following things. As expressed previously, first of all comes the challenging reframing of a character where depth is furthered or a new role is given. Consequently, the character keeps its original charm and familiarity while still developing a growth within the story and itself. Secondly, there’s the usage of palpable narrative control. Using narrative and literary devices to explore a story creates a better execution to the plot and the whole experience of the tale being told. Additionally, I’d like to plug in here that this requires good grammar and developed vocabulary (this doesn’t mean you need to be wordy or overwhelmingly poetic, just enjoyably readable). Thirdly, there’s the banger. The true reason stories can be done over and over again: they’re not being done over and over again. A good fanfic tells something new, explores something better, explains something different. A good fanfic has originality in its fundamental magic. For something to genuinely work as a banger in my book, you have to tell something I haven’t heard before. Something that will capture the reader. You can read a hundred coffee shop AUs, but did all of them make you feel the same, did all of them make you taste the need for more? Probably not. Because some of them will have something more than the fundamental establishment of the AU. Because there’s something new under the surface of the plot. I’ve listed three very different fanfics. One was clearly driven in canon spaces, another in a completely alternative universe, and the final one works after the culmination of the work explored in the original material. Fanfiction is endless, and it’s powerful. People may spit on its masterpieces, but we know its beauty. And it is as dashing as the sun, it is as changing as the ocean, and it is perfectly fitting of the puzzle that we’ve created for our comfort, our mind, and our heart.

Thank you for reading this far! 

Happy reading <3 PS: This was the Spideypool fanfic in case anyone was interested

[jessybarnes]

Title: Canvas of Love

Pairing: Scott Huffman x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4,168

Tags: SMUT, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), biting, marking, age gap, praise kink, maybe a slight itty bitty hint of dom/sub, dirty talk, crying, forced confession of feelings, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and I think I’ve covered everything, but if you see something I should add please let me know!

Written For: @sebastianstanbingo, @kinktober2022, and @anyfandomangstbingo

Squares Filled: Drawing a Crush for Sebastian Stan Bingo // Age Gap for Kinktober // G1 - Boss/Employee for AFG Angst Bingo

Beta(s): T. Thompson and A. DiLorenza 

Title Card: Yours Truly 

A/N: Since this one shot features an Age Gap, I want to make clear that Scott Huffman is 37 and the reader is 18.  I couldn't find what the character's actual age was, so I just went off of how old Sebastian was when the movie was released.

"Excuse me, Mr. Huffman?" You knock on your boss's door and wait a couple of seconds before peeking your head in. "You have a call on line two." 

Scott looks up; his light blue eyes that were reading one of the many articles on his desk are now trained on you. They're kind as he offers you a soft smile, and you feel your cheeks heat up. 

"Thank you, Y/N. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Scott?" 

He gives you a look that seems almost dominant, but that can't be right. He wouldn't ever see you that way. Your gaze moves to your chipped nail polish. Even though he looks almost the same age as you, your boss is nearly twenty years your senior. 

Normally, it's unheard of for a woman your age to get a job as an assistant to one of the most respected men working at the Pentagon, but you were lucky enough to know the right people. 

To your friends, it's no secret that you harbor feelings for Scott. He's extremely kind, understanding, respectful, and very, very handsome. Of course, he has no idea how you feel … well, at least you hope he doesn't. It won't bode well for your office relationship, not to mention your career if he finds out. 

You realize he's waiting on you to respond, and you nervously return his smile, answering him the same way you always do. "At least once more, Mr. Huffman." 

Your eyes close, and you let out a long breath as you carefully shut his door. Honestly, it's a miracle that he hasn't figured out your crush on him. You catch yourself staring all the time, and if he knew what was in your sketchbook locked in your bottom desk drawer? There's no way he'd be able to look at that and not know you have feelings for him. 

The folders on your desk catch your eye, and you sigh. If you want to leave at a decent time this afternoon, then you need to get through all of the case file notes from the past week.

You sit down and smooth out your pencil skirt before grabbing the top file from the stack. There are several different things that you're tasked to do for Scott, but this one is by far the most time-consuming. 

Transferring the handwritten case notes into the computer system is a bit tedious, but you know what a big opportunity this job is, and you're more than happy to do it. 

A couple of hours go by, and you've made it about halfway through the pile. You're munching on a carrot stick when Carlton Stanton, one of Scott's colleagues, taps on the top of your desk impatiently. 

"Hey! Do you know where Scott is? I've been looking for him for an hour." 

Even though he gives you bad vibes and is rather rude, you still give him a warm smile. 

"Mr. Huffman has been in his office all morning to my knowledge, Mr. Stanton. I can let him know you're waiting for him if you'd li-" 

He waves you off dismissively, "no, thanks. I can let him know myself." 

You frown and watch as he barges into Scott's personal space like a bull in a china shop. He shuts the door rather harshly, and you can hear them having a heated conversation. 

Moments later, a seemingly annoyed Scott emerges with Carl. He gives you a tight-lipped smile and stops in front of you. "Hold all of my calls for the rest of the afternoon, please. And can you also reschedule my four o'clock for tomorrow?" 

Your eyes meet his and you nod, "of course, Mr. Huffman. I'll do that right away, sir." You watch them leave and can only hope he isn't angry with you.

Even though he's gone for the rest of your shift, Scott is still fresh in your mind. He always is. As embarrassing as it is, you often conjure up scenarios of the two of you in your head. 

A picnic in the park, both of you sitting on a blanket as you share a nice meal. And afterward, Scott holds you with your back to his chest while the shade of the trees shelters you from the harsh sun. 

Another time, it was you and him snuggling on his couch or what you picture as his couch since you have no idea what it looks like. There's a bowl of popcorn between the two of you, and the latest action movie plays on the TV. 

The latest one, however, was the both of you laying in the bed of his truck watching the stars. The crisp, cool air nips at your skin, but Scott has his arm around you, so you stay warm. The moonlight makes his eyes sparkle as he looks at you, and it's the most intimate moment you've experienced. 

Well, not really… more like it's the most intimate moment your inner conscience has experienced. 

You blink and refocus; the last folder is open, revealing the final notes you need to copy over. The thought of leaving them for tomorrow crosses your mind, but the hard worker in you outweighs it, and you begin typing. 

By the time you're done, you're the last one in the office. After making sure you've secured the files and locked everything up, you head home to finish out the remainder of your night. 

Once again, you try to think about something other than your boss and your unwavering feelings for him, and once again, you fail. You begin to fall asleep and remember how Scott always looks at you when you refer to him as Mr. Huffman. His piercing, blue eyes are the last thing you see before sleep takes you.

The next morning, you wake up ten minutes before your scheduled alarm, so you decide to go ahead and shut it off. You couldn’t go back to sleep even if you tried. Wednesdays are your new favorite day. Not because it’s the middle of the week, but because Scott and you have lunch together. He makes sure to take the time to do that with you once a week just to ensure you’re not having any issues.  

A bright red and white sundress from your closet catches your eye, and you pair it with some white flats before styling your hair. A bit of light makeup finishes your look, and you’re happy to see that you have enough time to stop and grab Scott and yourself some coffee. Of course, you’ve memorized the way he takes it because why wouldn’t you? You loved seeing him smile, and you’ll take advantage of being the cause of it every chance you get.

You’re running about fifteen minutes late once you pull into the staff parking lot, but hopefully, the coffee gesture qualifies as a get-out-of-jail-free card. By the time you make it to the hallway that your office is in, you can hear Carl talking and you try not to let the fact that he’s already probably starting his usual shit sour your mood. What you weren’t prepared for was him sitting behind your desk, flipping through your sketchbook, and about ready to show every single one of your drawings to Scott. 

You freeze in the doorway, unable to even breathe as you listen to what he says. They haven’t seen you yet, and you’re hoping that they won’t. “I told you that little girl’s got a thing for you, man. Just look at what I found inside her bottom desk drawer.”

Scott whips around, venom laced in his tone as he fires back at his colleague. “First of all, Y/N isn’t a little kid. She’s eighteen, and she does amazing work for me that I would never be able to accomplish without her. Second of all, leave her things alo-” He stops, words dying on his tongue as he takes in what he’s seeing.

Drawings.

Multiple pages of drawings and they’re of him.

It’s then that they both look up and see you standing there with humiliation and sheer terror all over your face. You still haven’t taken a breath, and you pray that the floor opens up and swallows you whole. 

Carl sneers, “see that? Just look at her. She was too scared to tell you how she felt, and now that her dirty little secret’s out, she still can’t own up to how inappropriate this is.” 

You finally suck in a breath, but your throat still feels like it’s closing up. Tears sting your eyes, and you begin to shake as the coffee falls from your hands and spills all over the carpet. Scott shoots Carl a death glare and starts towards you, but before he can get close, you turn on your heel and take off running. 

“Y/N, wait!” Scott calls after you, but it’s no use. He’s lost sight of you in the sea of people still coming in to start their morning shifts. That’s it. He’s had enough of the way Carl bullies everyone, and he’s especially had it with the way he treats you. He storms back into your portion of the office and snatches the sketchbook out of his hands.

“Get. Out.”

Carl chuckles, “aw come on. I was just teasing her.”

Scott grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall, his eyes narrowed to thin, perilous slits. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t fucking funny, Stanton. Y/N is a wonderful woman and an even harder worker that I go out of my way to make feel welcomed and valued here. I’m sure she already catches shit for how young she is, but that doesn’t mean she needs to get it from you, too. You’re a fucking bully, and I never want to see so much as one of your goddamn toes step foot in this office again. Get. The. Fuck. Out!” 

Once Carl’s gone, Scott grabs his suit jacket and makes sure to lock up the office before going to find where you’d gone. He finally finds you crying in your car and gently taps on the glass, 

“Y/N”?

You wipe your eyes and roll down your window, “if you’ve come to mock me or tell me that I’m fired, save it. I just want to leave with what’s left of my dignity.”

He frowns, “what? You’re not fired, and I’m not going to mock you. I’m flattered that you’d take the time to draw me of all things.” He opens your door and holds his hand out. “Can we go talk? It is Wednesday, and you know I always treat you to lunch.” 

Everything inside of you wants to refuse, but you also don’t want to disappoint him, so you reluctantly take his hand and let him pull you to your feet. 

You're close, more so than you've ever been, and even though his face is blurry from the tears in your eyes, you can see the concern in his. Scott tries wiping your tear-stained cheeks with his thumbs, but fresh ones immediately take their place. It's so hard being in this moment with him, knowing that he's just going to let you down easy. Why would he, a thirty-seven-year-old man, want anything romantically to do with you, an eighteen-year-old woman?

“I wish I knew how to get you to stop crying,” Scott says softly. “Would you want to go sit at one of the picnic tables around back instead of going somewhere more public?”

You nod because you don’t quite trust yourself to talk yet and walk with him toward the side of the building. The two of you stay quiet, other than your occasional sniffle, and eventually take a seat at a table in the shade. He’s watching you, studying your demeanor, but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You’re still too nervous to look him in the eyes, so you pick at the varnish on your nails instead. 

A few minutes pass before he sighs, “I’m sorry about Carl. He’s an ass and had no right to treat you that way. I want you to know that I made him leave, and he won’t bother us again if he knows what’s good for him.” He hesitantly reaches across the table and gently grabs your hand. “Will you tell me what’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you blush furiously.

He called you, sweetheart!

You lick your dry lips and wipe your eyes with your free hand before looking up at him. It’s hard not to get your hopes up when he’s looking at you like this. “Well, I…there’s um…there’s a lot on my mind right now. For starters, you’re now fully aware of my feelings for you. How are you okay with this? I mean, no offense, but you’re technically old enough to be my father. Not that you look it. If I’m being honest, you look my age. I just find it hard to believe that someone like you could ever be interested in someone like me.”

Scott scoffs, “seriously? Do you truly believe that I wouldn’t be interested in someone as smart and as talented as you? Not to mention beautiful.” He leans across the table, and his free hand cups your cheek, so you stay looking at him. “Just like your drawings, you too are very beautiful, Y/N. Anyone would be lucky to have you, and yet, I’m the lucky one you chose to have feelings for.” 

His eyes move to your lips, “can I kiss you?” 

You swallow thickly, suddenly aware that anyone could see you two like this. He doesn’t seem to mind, so you throw caution to the wind and nod, “yes.”

His lips press to yours, slow and tentative, and you’re half expecting him to change his mind. He doesn’t though. He sighs and deepens the kiss, his other hand threading softly through your hair as he tilts his head to the side to gain better access. He kisses you like he wants to like he’s longed to be able to, and it makes your core throb at the thought of him wanting to do more with you. 

Scott pulls away, but he doesn’t go too far. His lip curls up in a slight smirk as his thumb grazes your lower lip. “Do you wanna get outta here?”

You stare at him with wide, unsure eyes. “What about work? Won’t we get into trouble for leaving after only being here part of the morning?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “honey, I’m your boss. You’d only get in trouble with me, and well,” he bites his lip, “I don’t plan on reprimanding you…yet.” 

“And what about you?” The concerned look on your face is the polar opposite of how your body reacts to his previous comment. If he only knew how your panties were soaked through at the thought of him choking you…spanking you… possibly even restraining you. Scott doesn’t seem like the type to be into such things, but you’ve always been told that it’s the sweet and quiet ones that are the most dominant in the bedroom.

“I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.” He stands and holds out his hand to you for the second time that day. “Shall we?”

Scott strives for your comfort; of that much you’re sure. You fully believe that he would have offered to take you back to his place, but instead, he drives to yours, and you’re thankful that you took the time to clean up. 

It’s weird seeing your boss standing in the middle of your living room. He’s taking everything in, smiling at all of the artwork on your wall, and it’s then that you remember the piece you’ve been working on the nights that you couldn’t sleep. 

“I’ve um… I have something for you. I just finished it last night.” He follows you to your desk, and you watch as he carefully picks up the canvas. “I hope you don’t mind that I made you my official muse. I just… drawing you comes so easily to me and not to mention you’re really beautiful and I-” 

Scott slips his free arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of his gaze renders you speechless. “I love it, Y/N. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” 

He kisses you again; only this time, it’s more passionate, and you can sense his urgency as his mouth moves with yours. Scott blindly sets the artwork down and backs you up until your legs hit the foot of your bed. 

“Is this okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and searches your eyes for any uncertainty.

“Yes, it’s more than okay.”

Scott captures your lips once more and gently lays you down. It amazes you how, at this moment, he looks even more beautiful, towering over you with the look of pure, unaltered desire in his eyes, and it’s all for you. 

His gaze rakes over you, taking in the way your sundress is bunched up around your hips, the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe heavily, but mostly it’s how you’re looking up at him. There’s so much adoration, so much trust that he’ll take care of you, and that, combined with the little bit of innocence in your eyes, is his undoing.

"God, you look so damn gorgeous, baby."

You reach for his belt to get it undone and he chuckles at your haste. “You don’t have to rush this, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” 

A needy whine leaves your lips just as you get his zipper down, “But I want you.”

“And you have me, Y/N.” Scott pushes his dress pants down and kicks them off and his shirt joins them on the floor a moment later. Then he’s on you again, his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his right hand pulls your panties to the side for better access. 

“You’re already so wet for me. I can’t wait to hear you scream for me while I make you cum on my cock, baby. I bet you’ll sound so pretty. 

Hearing him talk to you like this shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but you’ve thrown caution to the wind at this point. The way he’s grinding himself against your thigh makes it clear that he wants you just as bad anyway. 

“Scott, please…”

He moves down your body, leaving a chaste kiss in the valley of your breasts. His big hands hike up the bottom of your dress over the swell of your ass and he finally rests on his stomach between your spread legs. 

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

Scott’s fingertips hook around the waistband of your panties and he slowly slides them down your legs. He tosses them somewhere behind him and grabs you by the hips, pulling you toward him. Starting at your ankle, he leaves a trail of open-mouth kisses, each one a claim that leaves you more breathless the closer he gets to where you want him most. 

One of his hands holds you in place while the two middle fingers on his other one move slowly through your soaked folds. He pushes them in just as his lips close around your clit and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. 

“Scott! Oh, my god!”

He flicks your bundle of nerves with his tongue and moves his fingers slightly faster. “Mmm, you taste so fuckin’ good, baby. God, I could eat this pretty, little pussy all day. I swear.” He’s taking his time with you and although it feels sinfully good, you want more. You want to come undone on his tongue.

His movements are precise and calculated as if he’s trying to map out every place that makes you cry out for him. Scott’s grip tightens, his thumb slotting in the divot of your hip to allow for better leverage as he devours your pussy. 

Your hands tangle in his short, dark locks, desperately trying to pull him closer to your core as you grind against his mouth. The sensation of the way his tongue rolls across your clit is unlike anything you’ve ever felt and when he curls his fingers to rub the rough patch inside of you, it makes your eyes roll back. 

“Oh, my fucking god! Scott! Baby, please!”

His eyes lock with yours and he groans, the vibrations making your legs start to shake. The determination to make you fall apart for him is unmistakable. His pupils nearly cover all of the blues of his irises, and the way he’s looking at you makes you clench around him. 

“Oh, fuck… fuck you’re gonna…I’m gonna…”

Scott adds a third finger and you arch your back. You feel your walls begin to flutter and with one careful drag of his teeth, you shatter into a million pieces. He works you through it, slowly pumping his fingers while the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple over you in waves. Finally, he pulls off of you and you smile blissfully at him, the feral look on his face telling you that he’s not even close to being done with you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum, babydoll.”  

He moves up so he can kiss you, the taste of yourself on his tongue making you whimper as he lines his cock up to your entrance. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, pretty girl.”

The stretch to accommodate him is a pleasure you’ve never known. He begins to move and you wrap your legs around his waist so he’s flush against you every time he slides home. He leans on his forearm so he can kiss you while the slow drag of his cock makes you moan his name like a prayer. 

“Scott! Oh, god, baby, you feel so good…”

“Yeah? Do you like that, Y/N? You’re bein’ so good for me, honey.” He peppers kisses along the column of your throat before sucking a reddish, purple mark in the same spot. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good…taking me so well. None of those boys your age know how to make you feel this way, do they baby? Come on, tell me. Tell me who fucks you this good.”

You cry out, the kindling of your second orgasm sparking into a red, hot flame. “You do! Fuck, baby, only you do!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Only I can make you feel this good.”

Scott said he was going to ruin you, and he’s done just that. No one you’ve ever been with before has fucked you like this, and you’re convinced that no one else ever will. It doesn’t matter anyway because you can’t imagine wanting anyone else. You knew you were attracted to him from the beginning, but it took you until now to realize that you belong to him.

“Scott! Oh, god, please! Please, I want you to make me cum! I wanna be a good girl and cum for you again!”

His eyes gleam with lust as he looks down at you. “My sweet girl,” he coos. “You’re so polite. Asking me for permission and wanting to be my good little girl. Is that what you need? Do you need to cum all over my cock, baby?” 

You only nod, because it’s all you can do. He’s fucking you harder, the flared head of his dick hitting your spot at an angle that makes your vision go white. 

“That’s it, Y/N. Come on, honey. Let go for me.”

And so you do. You scream his name and nearly sob as pure bliss flows through your body like a tidal wave. Scott isn’t far behind, his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder as he paints your walls with his cum. 

You’re still shaking in his arms and you plant a soft his into his sweaty hair. He sighs and turns his head to the side so he can look up at you. 

“I don’t know how it’s possible, but I swear you’re even more beautiful.” 

You blush and shake your head, “Thank you, but you’re the beautiful one.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re stunning.”

You smile, but it doesn’t meet your eyes and Scott frowns. “What do I have to do to prove it to you, pretty girl?”

You smile and lightly stroke his arm, “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

He closes his eyes and feels himself begin to drift off. He’d already decided the moment he realized you felt the same way he did. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure you always know how much he cares for you. His reply comes easily, and even though it’s barely audible he knows you hear him. 

“I promise to tell you at least once a day for the rest of our lives.”

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

The first of many Danny phantom x rescue bots first I have written in the past few weeks.

Dani didn't know what to do. She had taken a wrong turn while trying to visit Pandora, and dropped headfirst into a battle between a bunch of scary robots. Unfortunately, she was dropped in full ghost mode, tiara of flames and all. She didn't have much time to think before one of the big purple ones threw her into its belly and took off.

Heatwave heard screams, and turned around just in time for Optimus to fail to catch the floating, obviously not human girl being taken by a Morbot.

Blades chases after the main Morbot, the girl pounding on the door and attempting to freeze the door off. She finally shifted to a more human appearance, with long black hair and a simple t-shirt and shorts, tears dripping down her face.

As soon as they land, Morocco has a camera drone on her. She babbles in multiple languages in a blind panic, including a few dead ones. Morocco straps her onto a metal table and turns on his computer. On the screen, several anonymous bidders waited for Morocco to start the auction.

"Bidding will start at my usual, four hundred thousand dollars." He said, rolling a cart with a spread of sharp objects and pliers. "Of course," He said, picking up a scalpel, "you will need proof that she truly is supernatural."

"DANNY! PHANTOM!" She screamed, as the scalpel bit into her skin. Green streaked blood trickled from the wound. She kicked, and managed to push Morocco away. The number displayed behind them on the computer ticks up and up.

Then the lights go out.

Even flashlights as the room is consumed by a horribly cold darkness, unusual in the warm summer afternoon. The bot's biolights don't reach past their noses. Optimus puts a protective arm between him and his chest.

Morocco screamed in pain, the sound of metal hitting bone echoing in Morocco's lab, and everyone went silent.

Suddenly, a glowing green portal exploded into space, the lights coming back on with a surge that smelled of smoke and singed human flesh.

Morocco was pinned to the bank of computers by the scalpel he used to prove that Dani wasn't human, a figure dressed in black with a cape of woven souls and a crown of burning blue fire hovering over his head. At least, Optimus could assume they were male. His booming voice certainly sounded male.

"You… You will pay for auctioning my sister to those monsters." He took out the scalpel, Morocco screaming in pain. He spit on the scalpel, green and glowing, and stabbed his other hand. The wound steamed, and Morocco's screams reached a new register.

"You will never harm another child again. Not her, not him," Danny grabbed his face and made him look into Optimus's cab, looking Cody in the eyes. "Never again. Clockwork told me all about how you stole him away, took away his family's livelihoods and threatened the lives of five beings that are not yours. Not humanity's to claim."

He turned around, and revealed that he wasn't much older than Cody. He kneeled next to the girl, who was still crying and holding her cut arm. The glowing green and red blood had stemmed, the skin already knitting back together. He put a big rainbow bandaid on the already closed cut and kissed it.

He looked up at the Burns and the Rescue Bots, frozen where they stood. He wasn't much older than Cody, the girl next to him younger than both of them. He had hauntingly world-weary eyes and eyebags. He looked like he had been crying.

She was almost a carbon copy of him, hee white hair being long and sleek compared to his choppy cut. Her eyes were still filled with terror as she looked up at the five towering robots.

"Dani, are you sure you are ok?"

"No." She squeaked, still silently sobbing.

"You will sleep in my room tonight ok? We will both sleep at Frostbite's, just in case. We will eat ice cream, and talk, or just sit quietly." He placated, rubbing her shoulders and taking off his cape and pinning it around her shoulders.

"Warm enough?" He asked.

"Yeah." She said tearfully.

He took off his ring and snapped his hands. A thin black chain necklace appeared in his hand, and he put his ring on it, slipping it over her head.

"Keep this safe for me Dani. Need a clear head to talk to the big guys."

Dani grabbed Danny's hand. "Be careful Danny. Not everyone is a gentle giant."

"I can handle my own. I am the Ghost King, after all, and Phantom to boot."

"THE Ghost King?" Optimus said. "I heard murmurs from the Matrix. Congratulations on the coronation. May your reign be long and just."

"Thank you, and yours too. I know Primes aren't exactly kings, but we lead all the same. Solus and Macadam say hi."

Danny snapped his fingers, and he turned into the equivalent of a cybertronian teenager. Dead, of course, he was still the Phantom.

Optimus was not feeling it, he was going pale? He was shocked, and not in a good way.

He was slender, maybe a bit too slender, racecar alt, slate gray with black and neon green accents and brilliant blue eyes. That was leaking green sludge, weld lines replacing the scars he got from being electrocuted by the portal. His eyes were still a bold blue. He floated off the ground, bowing lightly to Heatwave.

"Hi! I'm Danny, this is my twin, Dani." He said, in perfect cybex, directed to the rest of the team. "I love how that joke works in both languages. Optimus, you can thank Onyx Prime for that. He let me learn in exchange for watching the puppies."

"We all speak fluently, Danny, but thanks for the effort." Blades said.

"Oh, sorry." He popped back into a human-ish form, switching to English. "Solus is not fluent, and Nexus is stubborn, so Onyx and Clockwork have been tutoring me just so I can speak and manage the cybertronian dead that occasionally get lost on the way to the well. This particular door is close to our good friend's place, and Dani must have gotten lost."

He pulled Dani onto her feet before Dani Burns could get out to check on her. She had been trying to get out of Blades this entire time, Blades stubbornly keeping his window locked. Dani swayed on her feet, barely aware of what was going on around her.

Danny gave Dani a hug and picked her up before saying. "I gotta go, Solus promised me we were going to duck Mr. Grillface McCityburner Prime in a smelt pit, and I get to teach her how to make smores! After Dani gets all settled with Frostbite, of course." He gave Dani Burns an honest to god pager. "It's way out of date, but the more complicated the tech, the less it works out in the Infinite Realms. Obviously, this doesn't apply to the bots, but you get the idea. It's already programmed with my number, so be sure to give it to all the important people."

Another portal opened, and he stepped through it, tripping over his cape and nearly dropping his twin. He started to float again, and on the other side of the portal, they could see a yeti take Dani and wrap her in a pile of blankets. A massive clawed metal hand reached through an open window, presumably belonging to Onyx. Danny sat in it, and they left for another realm, the portal closing shortly after.

Heatwave cleared his throat. "Well that happened. Dani, do you need help?"

"No, that goo seems to be acting like some sort of sedative, I can barely get Morocco to answer yes or no questions. He will need to be airlifted somewhere that won't ask too many questions."

Optimus spoke up. "I know where to take him. Blades, I just sent you the coordinates."

"Got them."

"Dani, if something goes wrong, call me. I can get a hold of the Ruler of the Infinite Realms a lot faster than you can." Optimus said.

The bots returned to Griffin Rock, Blades making Morocco Agent Fowler's problem.

Optimus managed to get a stable line of communication to the boy king, and they often trade advice. Every so often, a giant ghost dog comes to beg for pets, and Optimus can't help but do so.

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Blood and Water: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a monthly sibling dinner turns into a much more exciting tradition. Y'all know where I'm going with this.

wc: 2.4k

tw: NSFW (former step-siblings, unprotected sex)

masterlist

Your doorbell rings every first Saturday of the month at 7 pm.

Depending on their schedules, your siblings would show up one after the other or together, but either way, they would show up. Satoru, Shoko, and your step-brother, Suguru.

The tradition started right after your stepmother and father had divorced and moved to different places across the country, leaving you and your adult siblings scrambling for some way to reconnect and stay together.

Thus, Sibling Saturday is created, and you all bring a dish (or buy one, in Satoru's case) for the potluck where you sit around the table and talk about the events of the past month in great detail, often staying overnight due to the amount of wine and beer consumed.

This week, you're in the middle of cooking a pasta recipe you'd stumbled across when your doorbell rings. Admittedly, you'd gotten home late (because of a certain boss that asked you to come in on Saturdays to help rework the blueprints), but when you open the door, you're greeted by Shoko and Satoru, who smile widely and bombard you with compliments, as always.

"You look so good!" Satoru gushes as he enters the kitchen.

"I'm just wearing an apron and a dre--"

"But you're so pretty!" Shoko adds, beaming at you and squishing your cheeks. "What're you cooking this week?" Satoru places two different dishes on the table as you walk back over to the basil pesto pasta cooking on the stove. "Smells so good..."

You smile and stir the pot twice, then look back over at your sister and brother, who are placing the plates and silverware around the table. And for a brief moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the small family bonds that have maintained themselves, despite the hardships you've endured.

"Where's Suguru?" you inquire, and Shoko answers you quickly.

"Oh, he's at the studio today but he said he'd come right after he finished." The doorbell rings right at that moment, and you put your spoon down to attend to the guest, who is undoubtedly your former step-brother.

"Thought you might not make it," you tease, and the dark-haired man leans over to hug you as he chuckles, his long locks brushing your shoulder.

"Just finished up filming the special report," Suguru answers, squeezing your arm. "Had to refilm the last part of the report."

"And you're excited about it?" Shoko calls out from the dining room.

"Of course." Suguru walks into the kitchen, then peeks at your pasta before smiling back at you. "It's going to air in a week. My first special report, y'know?" You grin back at him and shift the pot off the stove before turning it off.

"We'll all get together and watch it when it airs," Satoru suggests, taking the lid off of his purchased cupcakes and reaching in for one, ignoring your disapproving look. "And make a celebration of it."

"I love that plan," Suguru murmurs, pushing his shirt sleeves up to his elbows before setting the beer and wine bottles on the table. "Thanks, you guys. Want anything to drink, Shoko?"

"Nah, I have to be at a birthday party in the early afternoon," she answers, waving her hand in the air.

"Satoru?" But Gojo already has a beer in his hand, so no further discussion is required on his part.

"I drove him here," Shoko begins, rolling her brown eyes and fiddling with her hair. "So it looks like I'll be driving back too."

Satoru groans, pulling the bottle away from his lips. "You roll the seat up too far. I couldn't drive even if I wanted to."

"Still on your 'no alcohol' thing?" your sister asks, and you nod. "Geez. Can't imagine it."

_____________________________________________________________

"I'll help you clean up," Suguru offers, a little unsteady on his feet.

"You don't have to," you retort, but he's is already gathering the dishes to put in the sink. Satoru leans back, his blue eyes staring at the ceiling as he groans loudly.

"Gonna feel this in the morning."

"Should get you home," Shoko mumbles and stands, the chair scraping against the floor. "Got a lot to do tomorrow." You say your goodbyes, making sure Shoko and Satoru get to their car safely, before closing the door and shifting back to Suguru.

"Staying the night?" you ask, moving to the sink and turning on the water.

"I think so," he begins, undoing the top button of his shirt. "Drank a lot." You shrug, not really having noticed him drinking at all, but sure that during your tale of your recent breakup, you had missed it.

"Go ahead and get comfortable," you encourage. "I'll finish cleaning up." Suguru flashes his winning smile at you and then departs, leaving you alone in the kitchen. About fifteen minutes later, you put the last dish on the rack, and then dump the dishwater into the sink. Mindlessly, you wipe the counter, then walk to your room as you remove your apron. You hear someone grunting softly, and assume that Suguru is having a hard time, so you backtrack to the guest room, where you see the guest bathroom light on.

"Y/n..." you catch, and you walk to the bathroom door, which is slightly cracked, and you look through it to see if Suguru is okay.

But you were wrong about him having a hard time.

Suguru is facing the mirror, jerking his thick cock repeatedly. "Oh, god..." he moans, his hair falling behind his face as he tilts his head back. "That pussy feels so fucking good."

You want to walk away to give him so privacy, but... you can't move. You're frozen in place as Suguru shoots his cum onto the counter, his mouth dropping open as he squeezes his eyes shut, the white fluid hitting the mirror a little while his cock throbs angrily. You swallow hard, watching him come down from his high in silence before his eyes flick up to the crack in the door.

And to your face.

With this, the spell cast over your feet is broken, and you walk away from the scene, hurrying to your room and shutting the door. You stand in your room, shocked and slightly unnerved by the sight. But it's only when you're showering that you realize there's a considerable amount of slick between your thighs.

_____________________________________________________________

Sleep is laced with dreams of Suguru plowing into you, his eyes holding you captive and fingers tugging on your nipples. You even cum a few times, but when you awake in the morning, you realize it was all a machination of your mind.

Groggily, you stumble out of bed and walk into the kitchen to make coffee and possibly eat something. But when you see Suguru standing in the kitchen in his pajamas, you flush a little. He notices you right away, smiling as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," he chirps brightly, and you smile briefly before moving to get a mug from the cupboard. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you murmur quickly, avoiding looking at him as you make your own cup of coffee.

"Look, y/n... about last ni--"

"It's fine." You turn to the fridge, pulling out the milk and setting it on the counter as Suguru stands, setting the newspaper down.

"Actually," he begins. "It's not."

"No, really," you mutter, but your ex-stepbrother places a hand between you and your coffee, effectively blocking you from doing anything else.

"Y/n, I have to confess that I have feelings for you," Suguru mumbles, and you look up at him in confusion, searching his black eyes for some clarity. "I've had feelings for you for a long time. And I was thinking... we're not related by blood or by paper anymore. Is it possible for me to pursue you?" Your lips part, but no sound comes out of them. "I'll give you time to think about it, but--"

"You're a public figure, Su..." you offer, but he shrugs his broad shoulders.

"Not really a concern of mine."

"What about me? My job? What if they find out we used to be--"

"Used to be." The emphasis makes you pause. You turn to the sink, eyes downcast as your hands grip the polished edge of the counter. "Please," Suguru whispers, coming up behind you and sliding his fingers up your nightgown. "You're so perfect. So beautiful... Having you as my stepsister was amazing, but now..." He kisses the space below your earlobe, and you close your eyes, moaning loudly.

"Su," you start, but can't find any other words to say. Would you really be able to say no to yourself now, when for years you'd wanted nothing more than this very moment to happen?

"Your cooking is amazing... and you and that asshole finally broke up. Just let me make you feel good. Just one time," he breathes into your ear, and you shudder, the feeling working from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. "And if you don't want it... say 'no' and I'm done. I'll never do it again." The fingers that are below your nightgown creep up to the waistband of your underwear, tugging at them suggestively.

"Okay," you breathe, and Suguru inhales deeply, pulling your panties down and letting them drop the floor. He doesn't speak as his fingers roam over your flesh, gripping certain areas with glee before he kneels, trapping your ass between his hands.

"Stay still for me, princess," he whispers before spreading your ass cheeks. "Such a pretty pussy." When Suguru's tongue hits your slick, you immediately raise up on your tiptoes, but his tongue chases your core, slipping across your clit and back up leisurely. You moan again, squeezing your eyes shut as he drives you insane.

"Suguru," you pant, and he hums, hand gripping your right ass cheek a little more. Your fingers reach behind you and grab onto his hair, pushing him into your cunt even more. Your legs begin to shake violently, knees hitting the cupboard below the sink, and Suguru hums again, tongue speeding its movements up. You finally give in to the building orgasm, letting go of his locks and gripping the sink as you buckle. Suguru continues to lap at you as you come down, slurping up your juices loudly before pulling back and licking his lips.

"So good," he murmurs, standing and pushing down his pants to reveal his twitching cock. You move to your knees immediately, taking his length in your hand and licking the tip gently. Su hisses, leaning against the chair behind him, and tilts his head to the side, watching you take the tip in your mouth and suck. You work half of his cock into your mouth before he reaches his hand down and tangles it through your hair. "No hands, princess."

You obey without question, and he bobs your head up and down for you, the head of his thick length hitting the back of your throat and making a clicking noise. "Good girl," Suguru groans, adding another hand to your hair. Tears begin to gather on your waterline as he fucks your mouth, and you swipe your tongue on the backside of his cock when you can to add to the pleasure, placing your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself.

But Suguru pulls out of your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting his cock to your lower lip. "Stand up and bend over," he orders, and you do so, waiting patiently for him as he tugs at his length while watching you. With his foot, Suguru kicks your legs a little wider then steps between them, nudging the head of his cock against your pussy. "Yep, you're good and ready."

He pushes into you - or tries to, really - then pulls back, grunting. "Tight little thing you've got there," he mentions, spreading your cheeks with one hand. He rubs his cock up and down against your slit, trying again to slide into you, but finding too much resistance. "Arch your back." Your hips go a little higher, but Suguru finds his grip again, finally able to push himself into you a little. You hiss, feeling a sharp jolt of pain, but he pushes you back down with his broad hand.

"Oh, Suguru..." you whine, looking back. He swipes your hair away from your face, eyes meeting yours.

"Shh, shh... It's alright," he whispers, working himself into you with care, one hand on your hip and another resting on your shoulder. "Just relax." You groan again, tucking your head between your hands on the counter. After a few minutes, you release all of the tension in your lower body, and Suguru sighs, pushing into a little deeper. Immediately, his hips are able to connect with yours, and the sounds of your fucking echo in the kitchen.

"Fuck..." you moan, feeling his entire length shift in and out of you, hitting spots your ex couldn't explore. "Feels so fucking good."

"Yeah?" Su wonders, panting. "Such a good pussy. Never felt this perfect..." He speeds up a little, leaning over your back, and kissing your shoulder blade. "I can feel your cervix when we're like this." You groan loudly, tossing your head back. Suguru catches your neck with his hand, leaning your head back.

Your eyes cross, and he huffs a laugh, but your entire body is too full of him and thoughts of him to care.

"Please," you whisper, but you don't know what you're asking for, really. "Please." Suguru's eyebrows scrunch together, onyx eyes focusing on your expression.

"Oh, that's it," he hums. "Already cock-drunk, huh?" You try to nod, but all you can do is manage a strangled moan. A hand is lifted and smacks your ass as he continues fucking you, which is a welcome jolt of pain to add to the pleasure. Your former stepbrother eases his head back, observing the way his cock drives into your pussy. "You should see this... your pussy grips my cock so nicely, and you're creaming all over me."

"Oh, god..." you whine, keeling forward. "Suguru, make me cum."

"Say it again."

"Su, make me cum!" you cry out, shaking furiously.

"What's the magic word?" he pants.

"Please!" He reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly. "Sugur---" You break off with a deep inhale, clenching around him fiercely. Suguru's breath hitches too as he spills his seed inside of you, hips slamming into your cunt three times before his hands slacken around your body. He hunches over you, cradling your body as his head rests on your back.

"That was better than I ever imagined," Suguru finally admits.

"Better than I dreamt last night, too." He laughs, fingers holding you tighter.

"Let me be your boyfriend, y/n."

"What's the magic word?" you shoot back, smiling.

"Please."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

liar liar pt. 2

request: I have a request, the reader is dating Spencer, and she and JJ are the ones that know that Emily faked her death. I’m thinking of it taking place in “It Takes A Village,” and she has to deal with Spencer being upset with her, like he was with JJ, but it has a fluff ending? Thanks!

for: @flklrevrmre

word count: 2,192                                                                                     reading time approx: 9 mins

a/n: i hope you enjoy this ending ;) and i’m elated to have so many new friends on my taglist.

masterlist

pt. 1

My ring finger traced the circumference of the wine glass I was drinking out of, while my eyes followed the marble trails of Rossi’s countertop. The team was giggling and chatting amongst themselves as I secluded myself. My thoughts were captured by my insecurities, paralyzing every fun bone I had in my body. Occasionally, I would contribute to their conversations, but only enough that I didn’t make myself seem bereaved. 

After a while, it became apparent that I wasn’t participating in the festivities, which conjured Emily and JJ to step away from the group, joining me. “Hey…” JJ eased into small talk, stuffing her hands into her pocket as she approached me. I replied with a light smile, their presence uplifting my current state. 

I knew what they wanted to say. I knew what they were going to ask. 

Spencer. 

“How are you holding up Y/N?” Emily hesitantly brought herself into the conversation. They both gazed at me with doe eyes, tenderness evident in their touch as they resided beside me. 

I took my lip in between my teeth, shaking my head as the fatigue had finally caught up to me. My chest throbbed from being sore all week, my shoulders were frail from being uneasy all the time, and my heart burned with self-reproach. With every passing day, I felt my limbs grow limp and my soul go numb. In contradiction, the two halves of my brain battled one another till my doubts were left to torment me further. 

With the silent response, JJ and Emily shared glances of disquietude, pondering their next steps. “Y/N?” JJ called out softly, laying a tender hand on top of mine. “You took a burden alone. That doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone,” she murmured, nodding to Emily. 

“Y/N, I can’t help but feel like this is my fault,” Emily lamented. “I just...tell me that there’s a way I can help.” 

“There’s nothing either of you can do…” I smiled bitterly, glancing at both of them. I squeezed JJ’s hand, feeling a film cast over my eyes. “And Emily, you had to protect Declan,” I empathize, using my other hand to pull her into a side hug. “I would’ve done the same.” 

“I can tell,” Emily looked at me with somber reverence. “Especially for what you did for Spence.” 

Another pang hit the center of my chest, making my ribcage sting. The mention of his name made my skin crawl instead of making my heart flutter like it used to. I wordlessly winced at Emily’s notice, trying to conceal it the best I can. “And I would do it again,” I declared, meaning every word. “I’d burn the entire world if it meant making sure that he isn’t alone. I...I know what it feels like to be confined in your head--it’s something me and him share. It’s a merciless place.” 

“You really do love him, don’t you?” 

“More than I can ever fathom.” 

I  stared at the ceiling, letting my tears travel back inside of my head. I shut my eyes, feeling a deep burn envelop my eyelids from all the crying I’ve done previously. “I spoke to him,” Emily brought up. 

My attention instantly shifted to her, prompting her to elaborate. “I spoke to him when we wrapped up that case in New York,” she explained. I unknowingly leaned over, listening intently to her story. “We had a conversation about everything--you. I won’t get into details because that’s between you and Spencer, but I did encourage him to come tonight.” 

My nerves did small somersaults, unable to process the new piece of information. “Are you sure?” I falteringly asked. 

“I’m sure he’ll come.” 

But he didn’t. 

A few hours had passed, and there was no evidence of Spencer’s attendance. With another disappointment, the burden of my thoughts pried at my most vulnerable parts. 

I had enough. 

I rose from my seat, bidding everyone adieu as I excused myself to the backyard. Amid the formalities, I assured everyone of my well-being and that I would return soon. Their persistent objections were loud, loud enough to stifle the opening of the front door as I stepped outside.

I felt the cool air caress my shoulders while crickets chirped a nightly symphony. The moon glowed with elegance, and stars painted the sky in an ethereal light. From a distance, it looked as if the planets were mere neighbors greeting one another. 

It was beautiful; it took me out of the confines of my mind. 

Chatter can still be heard in the background, but somehow it blended nicely with the lively sounds of night creatures. Although what I didn’t realize was the thump of approaching footsteps behind me. 

“Hey,” muttered a hushed voice. 

The instant I recognized the presence, my entire body stiffened. The inside lights cast a shadow on the wooden porch I sat on, displaying a lanky silhouette on the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to move, let alone speak. My tongue was pierced against the roof of my mouth, petrified to unpack the situation at hand. 

He responded to my silence with a reluctant step towards me. Even in our circumstances, I can still feel his presence lingering on the soft skin of my back, making the little hairs stand. Our proximity was slowly closing in with every soft thud until he was eventually situated next to me. 

I unconsciously looked over my shoulder, opposite of him, to avoid his curious stare. I shut my eyes, isolating myself in my mind in the hopes that this was a dream. But the frequent trembles of my stomach told me otherwise. 

“Y/N?” he called out delicately. “Y/N...please,” he attempted to brush my hand with his fingers, but by instinct, I retracted them with swiftness. A bolt of electricity shot up my arm from Spencer’s touch, a cruel remeberance of the fervor we used to share. My fingertips shivered at the loss of contact, but the static sensation remained. 

“Y/N, I know that you probably don’t want to talk to me--and you have every right to…” he babbled. “...but I just--please just listen to me.” 

But I refused, every word that fell from his supple lips made the echo in my head boisterous. 

I was a mistake. 

I was a mistake. 

I was a mistake. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling my abdomen clench in misery. The sensation traveled deep into my chest, pulling me in different directions. My throat cinched up, and the coldness wandered all over my body. Every muscle in me cried out in anguish, unable to persevere through the exhaustion that I’ve let consume me. 

“Y/N-” 

“Please just go…” I whispered, choking on the aching sobs rising in my esophagus. 

“I’ll leave...I promise,” he muttered in a pained voice. “But just...please, let me say this.” 

Newfound tears threatened to spill over my eyes, the sorrow in his voice creating a void in me. With the little compassion I had left, I turned around facing his direction. Although I didn’t dare to acknowledge his gaze, instead, I settled my attention on the wood below. 

“I know that it’s hard to get through to me, and I know I get stuck in my head,” he began, lowering his head. “You and I both know how hopeless it gets being alone there.” 

He twiddled his fingers as he spoke, an implication of his distress. An infinitesimal part of me still yearned to comfort the man, to ease his worries away, but I didn’t have to courage to do so. 

“When I get into that space, I get...I get frightened by the doubts that my mind conjures up,” he admits. “Everyone looks at me as the genius--the expectation given to me. But, only you and JJ look at me for who I am instead of who I must be for the team.” 

His voice started to crack in between his words, his deliverance laced with dejection and bitterness. I rang my fingers over the textured floorboards, distracting myself from the swelling ache in my heart. 

“But you Y/N…” he whispered, gazing at me with a rueful adoration. “You alone bring so much light into the obscurity of my mind. You...you make all my pains go away with nothing but a glance of your smile, ” he chuckled pitifully. “Y/N, you-” 

“You told me I was mistake…” I croaked, ignoring the sharp twinge in my throat. 

I finally met his gaze with a weary expression. His hair was slightly disheveled, and the bags encompassing his eyes were prominent. But it was the torment evident in them that was the most striking. His irises failed to gleam of their usual autumn hazel, and the golden specks scattered across the tender hue were dull. 

“I...I know,” he struggled to admit. “But, I was wrong-” 

“You...you told me I was your biggest mistake,” I reiterated, my voice coming off shaky and unstable. “Reid, you…” I paused, my pitch elevating as a whimper loomed to escape my lips. “You hurt me...so much, Reid.” 

I scoffed, my vision going blurry from impending tears. Spencer hung his head in remorse, combing his hand through his curls as he attempted to keep his composure. An uneasy silence ensued that not even the blissful sounds of wildlife can mask the tautness in the air. 

“I...I know,” he muttered quietly. “JJ, she told me the truth after our...after what happened at the station during the case,” he confessed. “You did all that...you took all the blame, just, so I had someone to be there with me.” 

I sighed, shutting my eyes at his admission. “I didn’t...I couldn’t bear the thought of you going through it alone,” I affirmed. 

“But you…” Spencer paused, shaking his head at himself. “You...did it all alone.” 

All of my guards fell at the utterance of his words. My heart throbbed, and my chest ultimately gave out. Suppressed sobs wracked my entire being, slipping past my tired lips with ease. My head felt faint, and my shoulders slumped. Agony coursed throughout my body, feeling it prick every inch of my skin. 

Spencer shifted next to me in an instant, engulfing me in his arms. There I wailed and cried every tear that was humanly possible. I set free the entrapped painful sentiments I’ve burrowed under my stubbornness, and I let the numbness drift out of my body. All that was left was the carcass of my grief and an apprehensive heart. 

“I’m sorry Y/N...I’m so sorry,” Spencer repeated, cradling me back and forth while he tried to mask his whimpers. 

For most of the night, we stayed in each other’s embrace as the moonlight graced our figures. My face was delved into the cleft of his neck, and his chin laid snugly on my head. The rise and fall of my chest was still erratic, but it was in a much healthier state than before. Our combined breathing was the only distinguishable sound floating in the air after we had steadied ourselves. 

The party inside was subdued, and the chatter was nonexistent. The lights were still on, but it seemed that the team had moved elsewhere to celebrate their festivities. Before long, the quiet around us ceased as Spencer broke the silence. 

“Y/N?” Spencer whispered. 

I nudged my face further into his neck, prompting him to continue. 

“What I said...the horrible things that I told you, you have to know that they’re not true,” he lamented, taking my balled-up fists into his palms. “Y/N, you’re far from a mistake. The biggest mistake I’ve made to date is making you believe that,” he croaked. 

“Spencer...what you did-” 

“Wait--just--let me finish,” he nodded, playing with my hands. “Y/N, you bring color into what I see...yo-you bring color into everything that I do,” he professed, stumbling over his words. “You make it easy to wake up every day and do what we need to do because I know I get to wake up next to you.” 

His lips began to tremble, and his hands began to shake. Instinctively, I cupped his hands and brought them close to my chest. 

“I…I love you...so much, Y/N,” he whimpered. “And I hate myself for making you feel like you were comparable to anyone else, or that you were insignificant.” 

I pressed small kisses to his knuckles, knowing that it would calm him down. I felt a pang hit my torso in Spencer’s discomfort, igniting the part of me that longed to console him. I observed the collapse of his stature and the decomposed state of his demeanor, his appearance visibly in plight. 

“Truth be told, Y/N. You are the most significant thing in my life…” he whispered. “You make me whole.” 

As he finished his declaration, tears welled up in both our eyes for the last time. “Spence…” I breathed, basking in the warmth that his eyes radiated, despite his desperation. 

“Loving you...is one of the greatest thing I will ever do.”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101 @ssareidbby @kyleetheeditor @tclaerh @jimilogy @lulwaxim @jhillio @m3ssytrash @haylaansmi @meowiemari @ashwarren32​ @spencerwaltergubler​

‘liar liar’ taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales​ @foreveryoungxx3​ @goldentournesol​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @kenny-0909​ @andiebeaword​ @hercleverboy​

tags that don’t work: @crazymar15 @nighttimerain123

[highpope]

pieced together pt. one

posting here too because not that many people have seen it also sorry for the weird spacing idk what’s going on

JJ Maybank x pogue reader - season 2 fic

spoiler warning!

You laid in bed watching the rain hit your windows, the radio downstairs faintly describes the fate of the world. You can’t make out complete sentences without straining, but you have heard enough from the last few days to know there were no updates about John B and Sarah. The radio has been on for days on end, your parents not wanting to miss any possible update about your friends or the storm that seemed never-ending. It was like it rained for years. It was a constant reminder of the night your two best friends were driven out into the storm and everything changed. You could hear Shoupe’s words in the back of your mind, “we lost ‘em' ' on a constant loop. You could see Kiara’s face and JJ’s hands and Pope’s heart shatter. Like all the stars had come falling down and you were the only one left to pick up all the pieces. You prayed this was all a nightmare. You could wake up and not only would they both be here, but you’d all be safe. You would give up the gold a hundred times over if it meant John B and Sarah would be home.

Both Pope and Kie’s parents had called your mom every night since that day. When she thought you were asleep, she would creep down the stairs and sit in the kitchen and cry, praying they had some good news. Something that could take away some of the pain you were in. But she couldn’t, no one could. You had to hear half the town talk about John B like he was a murderer like he kidnapped Sarah like he was some delusional kid from the cut. All while you knew the Cameron’s were roaming free and receiving sympathy for what they’re going through. It made you sick to think about. They had a private funeral for Sarah. People gave their condolences and spoke so kindly about her. They scoffed at her recent behavior and her newfound friendship from “those dirty pogues.”

Sometime around day two, your mom came into your room asking if you had heard from JJ. He had been with the Heyward’s up until that morning when he’d completely disappeared.

For a second, you felt something other than grief, knowing he had been with Pope and not his dad, but that was short-lived. You tried to imagine how peaceful it would have been under different circumstances, a world in which he was always safe. One where Luke Maybank had no control over his life. You wanted to get lost in that daydream, live in that alternative reality for a while. He wouldn’t have to keep a duffel bag full of clothes and cash under your bed for when things got bad. He wouldn’t have to know how to do stitches on himself or how to pop a dislocated shoulder back in place. He’d be safe. He’d be happy. She asked again if you had heard from JJ, snapping you back to reality. (you had not). You watched as her forehead creased and her lips straightened into a thin line, like something in her had broken too.

She hurts just as much as you do. At first, you contributed that to her not being able to take away your pain, which is part of it. But you later realized she’s lost a person, too. You had known John B since grade school, there were pictures of the group of you sitting on your swing set in your backyard at age nine. Ones of you, JJ, John B, and Pope asleep in your living room after attempting to build a fort. He stayed for dinners and birthday parties. She watched us grow up, every first day of school, soccer game, fishing tournament. Our families had somehow combined over the years. Not only does your mom hurt for you, but she lost a child. And that weight is heavier than anything.

You stopped crying by day three. Nothing left. You were completely and utterly numb but consumed by loss all at the same time. You hadn’t initially worried about JJ. He did this. He disappeared for a little, to clear his head, but he always came back. He never stayed away for more than three days. That’s how long it took for him to feel balanced again, maybe less, but never more. He said it was because he couldn’t get a burger as good as the ones at The Wreck anywhere else in the world, but you knew how much he loved the outer banks and the people there. You also knew that he’d never leave without you. And if he absolutely had to, he would at least say goodbye. He had to, he promised. You held on to that every time his phone went straight to voicemail. And when days four and five came and went and you still haven’t heard from him, you were worried. He should’ve crawled through your window in yesterday’s clothes with a few more scratches on his arm than he left with, but his eyes would glow a little brighter and he would still smile when you insisted he spends the night. So, when you cracked your window open and slept with your bedside lamp on (so that he could see the light from outside) and he still wasn’t there when you awoke, your mourning turned into something else. You sent a few texts, in case he somehow got them, but you were doubtful.

You didn’t know what it was like to live without him. There wasn’t a time in your life you could remember when you and JJ weren’t attached at the hip. Sometime around kindergarten, you two became inseparable, ultimately meeting John B and Pope as you got older and Kie when you all got to junior high. There was a weird couple of months around third grade where he decided girls had cooties, but it was short-lived because when JJ realized that meant you couldn’t be friends anymore he thought it was dumb and started coming over again. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when your relationship changed, the lines between friendship and something more merging and becoming blurred. If you had to, for you it was the start of sophomore year. Something changed when you were together, even just sitting in silence was comfortable and exciting. Eyes started lingering, touches became more frequent, and then one day you were just together. It’s been the same since. You think back to the first time you kissed like a couple. It definitely hadn’t been the first time the two of you had ever kissed. You were sure there had been at least one during your childhood and you vividly remember a New Year’s Eve party and a couple of games of truth or dare. But this time it was different. There was something behind it.

You and JJ sat side by side in the hammock outside of John B’s. He was smoking while using his one leg to rock the two of you slowly back and forth. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and pay attention to whatever story was being told. JJ must have noticed because he wrapped an arm around you, inviting you to lay on his chest.

This wasn’t uncommon between you. JJ was always physically affectionate toward the people he cared about and you had no problem reciprocating. You stayed just like that until it was just the two of you left outside.

JJ shifted slightly under your weight causing you to wake up. “Shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, tossing the tip of the blunt into the fire.

You nodded, “mhm.” You looked around, realizing how dark it had gotten, “You could’ve woken me up! It’s late.”

“You looked peaceful.”

You pretended to clutch your heart, “JJ Maybank being nice? Dare I say sweet?”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was smiling at you like you were the funniest person in the world.

“ No, no. You care about me,” you joked, poking his chest with your finger, “you loooove me.”

“ Yeah?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said, your breath suddenly catching in your throat.

“What if I do?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question. His face was serious, a glimmer of hope in his crystal eyes.

You look slightly from his eyes to his lips. If JJ noticed he didn’t lead on. He just slowly bridged the gap between you, your noses brushing for a moment before your lips connected. It was slow and careful, not wanting to push too far, but all the same, wanting to completely unravel the other. His hand cupped your cheek, his rings cold against your flushed face as you leaned into the kiss.

You heard faint screams and cheers from inside the chateau and Pope’s “Finally!” echo out. You could feel him smiling and soon enough you were both laughing. You had finally come together and nothing would take that away.

On day six, the rain stopped and the world carried on as normal. You wanted to yell at every person you saw. How could anyone feel so neutral about anything that happened in the last week? The sheriff was dead, there was a murderer on the loose, your two best friends were gone, and your boyfriend was missing. But yeah, go ahead and go to the grocery store like any other Wednesday morning. Someone tell the earth, it’s not supposed to keep spinning after the world ends.

You were lying on your bed, staring at your ceiling as you tried to fall asleep, a breeze flowed through your window and your lamp illuminated the room. All you could hear were cicadas and the wind rustling through the trees until you heard your window creak and slide open. You tried to process everything all at once, your eyes scanning over every part of his body, trying to meet his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes he had on the last time you saw him. There was dirt under his fingernails and his face was puffy from crying. His lip was cracked and covered in dry blood and bruises littered his jaw and hands. You could cry at the mere sight of him. Before either of you could speak, you collided.

You held his head to your chest and placed kisses on his hairline. You tried to wipe your tears before he could see them, but it was no use. The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, of broken hearts and misguided minds, so desperately trying to tell the other it was going to be okay without believing it yourself.

“I miss him so much,” he sobbed. Your heart fell to your stomach and everything you had pushed down the past few days came rushing back.

“Me too,” you breathed. JJ’s arms wrapped around your stomach and he buried his head into your neck. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, thinking that if you held on long enough the two of you wouldn’t fall apart.

You heard your door open slightly and you quickly turned your head to see your mom stood there, tears brimming her eyes. You can visibly see her shoulders relax as she lets out a sigh. Your door closes softly as if not to disturb you both. You hear her on the other side of the door, “he’s here. He’s okay.”

“My dad’s gone,” he murmured into your neck.

You can physically feel your heart break for the boy in your arms and the younger version of him, trying to find a space he belongs and mourning the only one he ever found. You want so badly to hold him together, paint all of his scars golden. To remind him how much people love him, how much you love him, but no words come out.

“Guess he finally picked up and left, son of a bitch” His voice wobbled, “I went back, uh, that night to find the necklace John B gave me.”

He pulled away so he could talk directly to you. You cupped his cheeks and swiped the tears with your thumbs before they could fall. He laughed dryly, remembering, “Climbed through my bedroom window and everything. It should’ve taken two minutes tops but it wasn’t on my dresser like I thought it was. I tore my room apart looking for it. And then my dad came home and heard me, uh he was not happy to see me, as you can imagine.”

“Did he hurt you?” you ask, moving farther away from him to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or worse.

He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Is that where you were? The past few days,”

He nods, “yeah. I woke up the next day and he was gone. I was just going to get my stuff and go, but I don't know. Something wasn’t right.” He pauses to gather his thoughts, “They all really do leave, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” you urge.

“I’m just-”

“No. Do not think like that. None of this is your fault. Your dad is a fucking awful person for not loving you like you need to be loved. Like you deserve to be loved. And John B-” your voice cracks, “John B would never leave us if he didn’t have to and, and you have me. I couldn’t ever leave you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself

He kisses your knuckles, “I know, I know. He just has so much power over the way I think.”

“But you know. You know you are nothing like him.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes.

“These past few days, J. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“Never.” He pushes his lips to yours, urgent and longing. You move your hands to his head, bringing him closer, trying to pour yourself into him.

[kikis-writing-world]

Pregnancy Announcement HCs

Drabbles under the cut for how Pedro boys would react to your pregnancy, and how you’d share the news. Trigger/content warnings: Pregnancy (both planned and surprise,) mention of abortions as an option, talk of contraception, smut (including cum play, cock warming,) mentions of PTSD and past drug addiction, mentions of dead former partners, blood, periods, doctors/obgyns, single parent/father not wanting to actively participate. If I missed anything, please let me know! Lack of editing as usual... 

Pics are for inspiration, not always an exact replica. All take place in a sort of modern AU where there might be a social media to post pictures to.

Dave York

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dave already has a family and he made it very clear that he wasn’t leaving them for you. When you found out, you were terrified he would demand you terminate the pregnancy - heck, you considered it briefly yourself. You thought long and hard about your options even before telling Dave.

His first reaction was about as bad as it could get: he said nothing, got up and left. He returned a few hours later when you had already cried yourself hoarse. He held you in his arms as he spoke clearly and carefully. He asked if you wanted to keep the baby, and when he said yes he almost seemed torn. You don’t know if it was wishful thinking that he was excited to have another child, but you swore you saw a sparkle in his eye… of course, it wasn’t that simple.

He told you it wouldn’t be easy for you since he would never be with you like that - you were just the nanny he was fucking. If you wanted to go it alone, he would help financially and support you as much as he could, but he couldn’t claim the baby as his and risk losing his daughters.

You were going to have to go the single mother route, and if anyone asked you’d have to either say it was a fling or the father wasn’t interested in being in the picture.

Din Djarin

In all honesty, you were surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Din loved to cum inside of you. He’d lay with you, his softening cock still inside you to make sure nothing slipped out. When he finally did, he’d watch with amazement as your body twitched as it adjusted to emptiness. Gently, he’d push any dripping cum back into your fluttering hole. His deep, gruff voice was laced with exhaustion and lust as he would talk about filling your pretty pussy, not wasting a drop…

When you started getting ill, you at first thought it was just a passing bug. It was inevitable with all the travel that you would fall under the weather. Two weeks into the churning stomach, you realized you missed a period. 

When you brought it up to Din, he changed all travel plans - the bounties could wait, he had to get you to the nearest clinic ASAP. The test coming back positive had him glowing with pride. It was hard to convince him to wait until further along to announce the pregnancy, knowing anything could happen in these early stages. As soon as you gave him the all-clear, he did everything but shout it from the rooftops. By the time the picture was posted -your headgear, his helmet, and a tiny helmet between - everyone already knew anyway.

Ezra

It was a surprise, but not a shock. You and Ezra, although you tried to be safe, definitely had a habit of being caught up in the moment and forgetting certain precautions. A walk through the forest that led to a beautiful field of flowers, a picnic on a moonlit beach - there were times Ezra was so overwhelmed by your beauty and the beauty around him that he just got swept up. It was hard not to get swept up with him.

He was ecstatic when you told him you thought you might be pregnant. He could hardly wait for you to take a test. His knee bounced anxiously as you waited the 2 minutes, holding your hand tightly in his. The positive result brought tears to his eyes as he embraced you close but gently, already scared of hurting the baby. He saw it as nothing less than a blessing. He dropped to his knees as soon as he let you go, already talking to the bundle of cells, calling them his little shining star. The nickname sticks throughout the pregnancy, leading to a beautiful space-themed nursery and all events leading up to the birth, including the announcement.

Frankie Morales

You’re absolutely terrified to tell Frankie. You knew he wanted to be a father, but the two of you had talked so much about the fears you shared about being parents. Mental health, substance abuse, financial stability - it made the concept of “starting a family” overwhelming.

Your stomach rolled the whole time you waited for him to get home from work, little plastic test taunting you from the table. What if it set him off? He’d been sober for years, but you knew every day was a new battle. You were so consumed by your own thoughts, playing out how he might react in your head, that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Are you…” He half-asked the question, eyes darting between you and the test. You couldn’t find your voice, only nod. The facial change in him was immediate: broad smile and wonder in his eyes as he laughed, scooping you into his arms. You clung to him just as tightly as he started laughing, too much joy coursing through him. As he started crying “holy shit, I’m going to be a papa,” how could you have possibly doubted he’d be anything but ecstatic?

You each tell your closest friends and your families, but you manage to keep it under wraps for the first months until posting your announcement and shocking everyone. Toes in the sand at the beach of your favorite camping spot, imagining the sandcastles and other games you’d be playing in the near future - it was everything you could ever want.

Jack Daniels

The two of you were religiously careful. You had talked about a family, but had agreed that until Jack was ready - which may or may not happen - you were going to prevent it. But life finds a way…

You find out much later than you would have liked - nearly 3 months in, you missed the whole first trimester. Looking back, there were obvious signs of pregnancy but you just didn’t think it was possible. You and Jack find out together at a doctor’s appointment. You leave the office shell shocked with a stack of pamphlets to consider your options and an appointment for next week. When you get home, Jack doesn’t even talk about it. You try to bring it up a few hours later, but he ignores you.

Finally, 3 days later, you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re in this completely alone at this point as you yell at him “ignoring it won’t make it go away!” Jack breaks down and tells you he’s so damn scared. He cries in a way you’ve never seen him cry, talking about how he wants a family with you but he can’t go through that kind of loss a second time. It nearly killed him the first time and he wouldn’t be able to handle it again. You talk long into the night about all of it - both of your fears, worries, dreams, thoughts - nothing is off limits as you talk about all the possibilities lying in front of you. Even through the fear and trauma, one thing is clear: you both want this.

It’s not easy, but your doctor helps relieve some worries. She speaks frankly to you about the development of the baby along the way and suggests a therapist that might be able to help, as well as classes you can take on parenting. It doesn’t take long for the worried “what ifs” to be paired with excited “whens.”

Javier Peña

When Javier Peña walked into your small town police station, you thought you were dreaming. Sent to help with a case that your rural forces didn’t have the experience to handle, he was only supposed to be in town as long as the case took. You never imagined you, just a lowly admin, would catch his eye.

It didn’t take long for you to tumble into the bed of his hotel room. And your bed at home. And your car. And his truck. And just about any possible surface in between. What you thought was a one night stand turned to three, then four, and soon into a full fledged fling. You knew the expiry date hanging above your heads, so you kept your feelings for the charming (if a little gruff around the edges) agent locked deep away. The case took about two months, and then he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived.

A month after his departure, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even left you his number, so you were sure he had no plans to see you ever again. Should you track him down and let him know, or just carry on with this on your own? You spent night after night talking to the growing baby, asking what you should do.

Javier ended up answering the question for you, when he unexpectedly walked into the station once more. He asked to speak with you privately before admitting he had missed you. He told you about trying to forget you, only to spend most of his evenings telling his father about you. Eventually you cut him off with a kiss, telling him you’re glad he came back. You take his hand, placing it on your stomach when you tell him you had been thinking about him too.

Javi helps you secure a transfer to Laredo and even though you technically have your own place, you’re spending practically every night with him anyway. If anyone wondered why the move, well the recognizable mustache on your announcement answered their questions.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus doesn’t believe you the first time you tell him “I think I’m pregnant.” He remembers his wife’s pregnancy with Missy, and you haven’t shown any of those signs. You roll your eyes and tell him that every woman and every pregnancy is different, but he still doesn't believe you. It isn’t until he’s staring down at three tests, all positive, that it clicks in his head he’s having a second child.

He’s excited, but he admits he’s scared. He’s older now, what if he can’t keep up with a baby? More than that, he’s worried about Missy.

You both know you don’t want Missy to feel left out or replaced by a new sibling. The two of you have a good relationship, but of course there were speed bumps to get there. She understood you weren’t trying to replace her mother. Would she be as understanding, knowing that you weren’t trying to replace her?

You and Marcus sit her down and tell her together. Before you can even start on your planned spiel about how the family is growing and no one is getting replaced, she is talking a mile a minute about having a little sister. You and Marcus share a relieved breath and lock eyes before you have to remind her that it might be a little brother. This seems to dampen her mood a little bit, but overall she’s still excited… even if she is adamant she isn’t touching any stinky diapers.

Another way you make sure to include her, is how you announce it to your friends and family. You’re sure, with Marcus’ status, it will get out to the public eventually, but you start by sending close friends and family a picture of Missy wearing a shirt calling her a “Big Sister.” She loves the photoshoot, making all kinds of faces as you snap away on your phone. Happy, sad, pouting, crazy… they all go in the baby book.

Marcus Pike

It was only a few months after your wedding that you and Marcus were ready to start a family. You didn’t “start trying” as much as you “stopped preventing.” There were a few false starts when your period would be late or the time you caught the stomach flu, but a few weeks short of your first wedding anniversary, you were pregnant.

Marcus spent many nights laying next to you in bed, hand on your stomach as he just stared at you - to the point where you actually started to get annoyed by it. He was amazed at your body changing, at the growing child inside of you, that he was finally getting the “happy ever after” he’d been looking for all his life.

The announcement was hilarious to shoot. Marcus and you were covered in paint splotches, laughing with love shining in your eyes. You held a palette Marcus knelt in front of you with a paintbrush, painting “Masterpiece coming soon” on your stomach where the bump had just started showing with the right angle.

Max Phillips

Max knew before you did, even if he didn’t put it all together. He started complaining that you tasted different, smelled different. Not just your blood, but as he spent hours trapped between your thighs. His keen senses had him identifying a change, but neither of you knew what change it was. After all, as far as you knew, a vampire couldn’t get a human pregnant.

Max whined when your period was late - he loved your time of the month. “Best of both worlds” he would say as he feasted on you for as long as you could stand it. It had happened before, your period being late due to stress or illness, but this time it wasn’t just a day or two. A few weeks later nothing had happened. A quick trip to your gynecologist confirmed it.

“I thought you said there was no way you could be pregnant,” she teased as she showed you the results.

Max was shocked, scared, and then proud as a pig in shit. He was terrified to be a father, but he hid that behind a swagger and a “yeah, I knocked her up. Not even death can stop these swimmers.”

Even if you did try to hide it for much longer, the vampires he worked with could smell the change in you too. Put together with Max’s protectiveness over you being ramped up even more than it had been… it was easy to figure out.

You took the picture as a joke - it was supposed to be a compromise that if you took this photo, he’d take the cheesy ones you wanted - but damn if it wasn’t your favorite of the bunch.

Maxwell Lord

You know that Maxwell had a bad history with family. First his parents weren’t as supportive as they could have been, and then his ex-wife had all but used Alistair against him anytime she could. You knew he may be nervous when you shared the news, but you didn’t expect him to turn into Maxwell Lord, television personality instead of your Max.

The first question out of his mouth was “is it mine?” Which broke your heart and set a fire in your gut. You threw anything you could get your hands on at him screaming at him for accusing you of cheating on him. You had just started to calm down when he mentioned lawyers and set you off again. You knew his past, but you truly thought he loved you and that you were his future.

You left, booking yourself in at a hotel. You didn’t leave the room - not only had you not packed anything and knew the paparazzi would devour a picture of you looking so disheveled, but you just couldn’t find it in you to go anywhere. You stayed in the room, ordering room service, watching TV, and crying. In a fit of rage, you had thrown the bottles from the mini bar across the room, needing to channel your anger and knowing you couldn’t drink your sorrows away anyway. 

He showed up a few days later, having followed the credit card charges to the hotel, looking remorseful. He apologized for the way he reacted, and you heard him out despite still being upset. There was a long talk in which you reminded him that you’re not his ex or his mother. You’re not trying to screw him over or get anything from him by having his child. It takes him a long time and a lot of groveling for you to truly forgive him, but you go back home that night.

A few months later, as the two of you take a picture on his yacht, both of your hands holding your growing bump, you can hardly tell the fight had happened at all.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Ellaria noticed before you did. A mother herself, she picked up on the glow in your skin, the change in your body, and the complaining about aches in your back or your breasts. When she pulled you aside and suggested you were pregnant, all you could do was blink. The three of you didn’t use protection with each other, only when others were invited into your bed. You’d never gone out of your way to prevent pregnancy, so while it shouldn’t have been shocking, it still caught you off guard. Ellaria brought you to her doctor, sitting with you while you found out for sure.

You were nothing but excited to share your news with Oberyn. You knew how he felt about you, about love and passion, about the children he already had. You had no doubt that he would love your child just as much as the rest of his daughters. The night you told him was spent making love while he waxed poetic about you, your body, your child... If you hadn’t already been pregnant, you’re sure you would have been at the end of the night.

With sand snakes spread across Dorne, you struggled for a way to tell them all. Sending letters didn’t seem to do the moment justice. This may be Oberyn’s 9th child, but it was your first and you wanted an extravagant way to share the news. 

Ellaria helped you to plan gathering all the children together. It wasn’t easy, but a month and a half after finding out, you had the whole, huge family together. You posed them all for a picture with you, Oberyn and Ellaria front and centre. You were handed a sign to hold for the picture - supposedly showing the family crest. However as soon as the picture was taken, you turned to show them.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ ​ @din-damn-djarin​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @kesskirata​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @dihra-vesa​  @vonschweetz​ ​ @insideafictionaluniverse​​ @driedgreentomatoes​​ @computeringturtle​​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @thottiewinemom​ @mrschiltoncat​ @anaaaispunk​

[auburnaudry]

Fractured Family - Matthew Tkachuk

Chapter 1:

A/N: So this is the first time I have ever written literally anything. If you have any suggestions or feedback just let me know! I kinda want to make this a series, so if you are interested or have any suggestion on where to take this story I’m all ears!

Next Chapter —>

Summary: You and Matthew had a long history, dating for two years, until you guys “mutually” decided to split. It was civil and seemed liked the best option at the time. But shortly after splitting, you found out you were pregnant with Reign and everything in your life, including your relationship with Matt, became more complicated. (Flashbacks are in italics.)

Word count: 3293 words

It was really late at night and you just wanted to get your son to sleep. Him being only 3 months old, it was hard to get a consistent sleep schedule going, especially when you were sharing custody with someone who lives a completely different lifestyle than you.

After spending two nights with his father, your sons usual 10 minute bedtime routine turned into a long, drawn out, difficult ordeal, that you would be trying to correct for the next week. And once he was finally adjusted back to your routine, he was off to stay with his father again to continue the never ending cycle.

You rocked Reign in his chair for almost 40 minutes and finally settled him down enough to lay him back in his crib. You reached over to the changing table and turned the sound machine on, hoping that it would put him to sleep for even just a little while. You needed a break from the loud crying.

Walking over to the dresser sitting by the door, you grab the baby monitor and walked out towards the kitchen.

You mindlessly stared at your phone as you made your way down the hall. Distracted by your new notifications, you hadn’t noticed the handsome young man still sitting at your island waiting for you to return.

“Y/n/n”

“Oh my god, Matthew you scared me” you shouted, dropping your phone as your body jumped slightly from the shock of seeing someone unexpected in your apartment.

“I thought you left already, what are you still doing here” you continued as you picked your phone up off the ground, checking to make sure the screen wasn’t cracked.

You were caught off guard and slightly confused because Matt always left right after dropping your son off. You two had an arrangement that worked, minimal interaction that only revolved around your son. So when Matt was still lingering around your apartment almost and hour after dropping your son off, you couldn’t help but let your mind travel to the worst case scenario.

“Did something happen today with Reign?” You asked before he had a chance to respond to your first question.

You and Matt had a long history, dating for two years, until you guys “mutually” decided to split. It was civil-ish and seemed liked the best option at the time. But shortly after splitting, you found out you were pregnant with Reign and everything in your life, including your relationship with Matt, became more complicated.

“You should have been honest with me from the start then” you screamed at your boyfriend. You had been arguing for what felt like forever with no end in sight.

“I didn’t know what I wanted at the time y/n” he calmly responded “Fuck, I still don’t even know what I want, but I know its not fair to you, to keep going the way we are”. You two had been talking about where you see your relationship going in the future and this was the first time Matthew was really opening up to you.

As much as you begged Matt to express his emotions more over the course of your relationship, this time you wished he had kept them to himself.

“Y/n, you want to take the next step in this relationship and I’m not ready. I don’t know why I’m not ready but you are and I can’t hold you back.” Matthew sounded so sincere that you almost believed this was what you wanted too. “You need someone who is gonna take that step with you” key word was almost.

The past couple of weeks you had been hinting that you wanted to move in with Matt. You loved him and were sure you wanted to start the next chapter of your life with him. You never thought in a million years this would be his reaction but maybe you pushed him too much? Or maybe this was inevitable and he wasn’t looking at you as a long term investment. Whatever the reason, you now regretted even bringing it up.

“Okay, so two years down the drain I guess” you said as you rolled your tear filled eyes. His face fell at your words, he truly did love you and just wanted you to be happy. You were looking for forever and he admitted to not being ready for that kind of commitment. Instead of continuing a relationship that seemed to be at a stand still, the only option at this point was to end it. You weren’t going to sit there and beg him, you had too much pride to do that.

“I’ll just pack my shit and go” you walked past him to his bedroom to collect all the things that no longer belonged in his space. You almost expected him to follow after you, to fight for your relationship, but he didn’t, which hurt your heart even more. So you continued to pack up the things that had migrated from your apartment to his over the two years of being together. Your thoughts were now consumed with figuring out how you were going to move on and find someone to spend the rest of your life with, while he continued to live the bachelor lifestyle he was all so famous for.

Even though you rarely voiced it in your two years of being together, you were madly in love with him and broken hearted that he wasn’t willing to put in the effort to make your relationship work. You left his bedroom and made your way down the hallway, past the living room where Matthew was still sat, and out the front door with your bags in tow. You didn’t bother glancing back at him, out of fear you might do or say something you would regret.

2 weeks later…

You woke up and still hadn’t gotten your period. Your period had never been even a day late since you got it back in the 7th grade, so waking up for a 4th day in a row with no period, was worrisome. You didn’t think there was even a chance you were pregnant since you were on birth control, so you made an appointment with your gyno to ensure everything was okay. You were convinced it was just the stress of your recent breakup that was causing this irregularity in your cycle, but you couldn’t be sure without getting checked out first.

...

You pulled up to your doctors office for your appointment feeling extremely anxious. You just wanted to get it over with so you could stop stressing and go back to feeling sorry for yourself for getting broken up with.

You sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. You scrolled through Instagram and somehow found yourself on Matthew’s page. It was definitely an unhealthy habit you had picked up since splitting. You couldn’t help it though, he was following new ig models everyday and in a sick way, you liked to compare yourself to them. It was a reminder that you weren’t what Matt wanted and Matt couldn’t be what you wanted anymore.

“y/n y/l/n” you looked up from your phone as your name was called “We’re ready for you”

You followed the nurse back to a bathroom located right next door to the exam room you usually got checked out in. The nurse handed you a cup to pee in, as you usually did at these types of appointments, and instructed you to change into a gown in exam room #2 once you finished up in the bathroom.

After you changed into the gown, the nurse came back to collect your sample and left you sitting on the exam table as you scrolled on your phone again, waiting for Dr. Cooper to come in.

“Y/n, congratulation you’re pregnant” Dr. Cooper walked in holding your charts. You had been going to Dr. Cooper since you were 16 and you had built a nice relationship through the years, talking about your personal lives and future plans during appointments. He was aware of your long term relationship with Matthew and by his enthusiastic tone and happy energy, it was clear that he was unaware of your recent breakup. You obviously didn’t expect him to know, the breakup was new and you only see him a couple times out of the year.

You couldn’t even process the news or anything else Dr. C had to say after that. Everything went fuzzy and it felt like you were in some crazy nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. The only thing you did hear him say was that he expected you to be 8 weeks along from the information you told him and the ultrasound he performed.

You were a traditional person and always imagined you would be married or at least in a committed relationship before getting pregnant, so this entire situation had you in shock.

You were so numb from the news that you continued on throughout your day as normal, unsure of what else to do. But as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, you rushed to get inside so you could finally breakdown and feel everything you had pushed aside for the past few hours.

You were silently praying your roommate wasn’t home when you walked through the door of your shared apartment so you didn’t have to face anyone. To your dismay, she was sitting in the living room calling for you when you walked through the door.

You hadn’t told her that you and Matthew broke up because you were so ashamed that the man you thought you’d spend the rest of you life with , didn’t feel the same way for you. The past 3 weeks you had been pretending Matt was away on a road trip or too busy with hockey to hang out whenever she asked about him. At this point you needed to get this off you chest so you walked right into the living room, sat down next to her, and unloaded the entire story before she even had the chance to say hello. As you spoke, her face turned from confusion to concern.

“Kay idk what to do, I don’t even want to tell him because I don’t need his help, but i feel icky when I think about having his baby and keeping it a secret.” You guys were talking through what you were gonna do about the situation.

Kaylee was the perfect person to ask because she also knew Matthew really well! Kaylee was the one who introduced you to Matt in the first place almost 3 years ago. They continually ran into each other while out at bars and talked so often they eventually became good friends. Being Kaylees best friend, you were later introduced to Matthew at a bar and you guys hit it off right away. You became really close friends and later started dating after a typical drunk love confession.

“And you’re definitely sure it’s Matt’s? Like there’s no chance it’s someone else’s right?”

“Yes of course I haven’t talk to anyone since the breakup, let alone slept with anyone!”

“I just want to make sure cause you didn’t even tell me you guys broke up, I wasn’t sure if I was missing any other important parts of the story” she paused for a second giving you a sympathetic look. The father was indisputable since you had only been with one man in the last two years.

“he’s a good guy y/n/n, I think he will be really understanding and a good father, it’s important you tell him, him and his family would want to know” She was right, she always is.

Before your talk with Kaylee, you fully prepared yourself to raise the baby on your own and expected nothing from Matthew. But when you thought about his family, a family that you had become a part of in the two years you were together, you couldn’t help but think of how disappointed they would be if they ever found out that you kept a part of them a secret. You had become extremely close with Brady and Taryn and their parents treated you like one of their own. They loved you and would unconditionally love your child, it wasn’t fair to them and more importantly, it wasn’t fair to your baby to keep them apart.

...

After a week of thoroughly thinking through all your options, you finally took Kaylees advice and reached out to Matt. You almost hoped he wouldn’t see your message or he would see it and just ignore it since you two hadn’t communicated since the breakup.

Y/n:

Hey Matty, it’s y/n, I’m not sure if you have free time in the near future but I kinda need to talk to you!

To your surprised he responded within minutes of your text.

Matty:

I’m happy you reached out, lets meet up! Can you do lunch tomorrow? Our usual lunch spot?

This all seemed too familiar, why was he texting you like you had never broken up and why did he respond at all? He could have easily said he was busy or trying to move on and didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t.

Y/n:

I was actually thinking we could do takeout or something and eat at my apartment?

You figure a private setting would be better for the news you were about to spring on him since you weren’t sure of the reaction you were going to get.

Matty:

Anything works babe

He had practice the next morning and a free afternoon so it was the perfect opportunity to tell him, giving him time to process since he had nothing going on for the rest of the day.

Matthew walked up to your apartment door the next day giving it his signature knock. You slowly walked to the door, opening it to find him standing there, carrying the to-go bags, filled with your favorite meal and wearing his perfect smile that almost made you forget why you called him over in the first place.

As you went to greet him, you caught a slight whiff of the food and the nausea that washed over you was so sudden and instantaneous, you almost didn’t make it to the bathroom.

On your run to the bathroom, you heard Matt’s footsteps following closely behind, but luckily you had enough time to lock the bathroom door before emptying the contents of you stomach in the toilet.

Matthew sat outside the bathroom knocking lightly “y/n are you okay” he waited patiently for your response.

When you felt the wave of nausea had completely passed, you stood up, flushing the toilet and making your way to the sink to rid your mouth of the taste that plagued it.

As you opened the door to the bathroom you were met with Matt’s concern filled face. If throughout your lunch date you wanted to change your mind about telling him, that option was completely off the table now. You had no choice but to explain what was going on and you just wanted to get it over with.

Matthew stood there staring, waiting for a response. “I’m pregnant” was all you could come up with.

He stared at you in complete disbelief but then realization washed over his face. “Who’s the father” was all he could manage, as if you would invite him over to tell him you were pregnant with someone else’s kid.

You wanted to roll your eye but they were so full of tears, you were scared that if you moved them, the tears would start running and you would fall apart in front of him.

“Yours” you whispered with a cold tone trying your best to keep your emotions at bay.

Matthew had alway wanted to be a dad and was great with his teammates kids, so you weren’t entirely surprised when he told you he wanted to be a part of your kids life.

You two spent countless hours and had countless lunch dates over the course of your pregnancy, talking about how you were going to co-parent and make everything work. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t secretly wish that you and Matt would end up back together, raising the family you always dream of having, but it seemed that ship had sailed for Matthew. His only concern was making sure his kid lived a happy and healthy life.

You were now waiting for a response from your ex on why he was still sitting in your kitchen so late at night.

“No no, Reign is fine everything is fine, I just need to talk to you about something” he said, not making eye contact with you. You were even more nervous now because you had no guess as to what he could possibly want to talk about.

“I’m talking to this girl” your entire world stopped spinning and your ears started to ring a little. You still weren’t use to Matthew talking to other women, you probably wouldn’t be for a long time, and now he wanted to talk to you about one of his hoes?

“Ummm okay” you said, unsure how you were even suppose to respond. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Things between us are getting a little more serious” you could literally feel you heart aching in your chest, but you continued to act unfazed by Matt’s admission. “I was just wondering what the appropriate time would be to introduce her to Reign”

You were almost stunned that he was even asking you such a stupid question. If it were up to you, Reign was never going to meet some trashy whore his father would bang every once in a while. Your son was only 3 months old, so to think that introducing him to a random, clout chaser was even an option for Matthew, made you extremely angry. Or maybe you were just jealous he had been seeing someone and it had gotten so serious that he was willing to introduce her to his newborn son.

You can’t even describe the feeling of the love of your life breaking up with you because ‘he wasn’t ready for commitment’, and then not even a year later he is in a serious relationship again but with someone else. You couldn’t help but think everything Matthew had told you was a lie, that he wasn’t afraid of committing, he was just afraid of committing to you.

“Y/n/n, did you hear my question?”

“Obviously” you spat “I just have to think, I wasn’t exactly prepared for this kind of question tonight or honestly at any point in the near future so I need time to think about it” you were bitter but you tried your hardest to not make it seem that way as you spoke.

“Take all the time you need, no rush, we’re obviously new to this whole parenting and co-parenting thing so we don’t have all the answers yet, but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” He finally made eye contact with you for the first time all night. You forgot how pretty his eyes were.

“Thanks for checking in with me, ill let you know when I figure it out” and with that he got up and made his way out of your apartment.

“Goodnight y/n” he said as he opened the front door and pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

“Night” you responded as you close the door behind him. Just as the door closed, Reign’s screams came over the baby monitor, distracting you before you had too much time to think about how alone you actually were.

[ratmonky]

Checkmate

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: incest, breeding, gaslighting, manipulation

AO3 Link

Moving out from your parents’ house had been refreshing so far. You had the privacy you never thought you could have which meant that you could do whatever you wanted at any given time without being judged.

There was something so alluring about being able to live so freely. You found yourself relaxed and much calmer. At least it would be if it weren’t for your brother coming in to check on you whenever he wanted.

Annoyingly enough he had taken your spare key without your permission so there was no way of keeping him out of your apartment. When you came back home from your classes or part-time work, he would be sitting on your couch with his foot on your table or sometimes you found him messing up your room, going through your clothes and everything.

No matter how many times you told him to not visit your place when you weren’t at home, he didn’t listen.

“I’m just looking out for you.”

Both of you knew that wasn’t the case.

~~~

The second cup of instant coffee in the middle of the night was enough to cause heart palpitation, you rubbed your temples, shutting your eyes and groaning silently. The headache from lack of sleep was almost unbearable but you had to bite it. It was another late night of trying to finish your assignments on time, you had been at work all day so the nighttime was all you had left to finish them before Friday.

This week was going to be brutal, you leaned back in your chair before getting up to get some painkillers.

You went to the kitchen, opened the small cabinet and grabbed two pills, swallowed them without the help of water. You checked the time from the clock sitting on the wall, almost midnight. You still had some things left to do but you also had to get up super early in the morning the next day for a morning lecture, you groaned silently once again, not really ready to walk back into the living room to finish the work left as soon as possible.

The kitchen table was empty save for the cigarettes you had bought a couple of days ago. While you did smoke, you liked smoking in secret. People all had expectations from you and you didn’t want to disappoint them. You couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

The windows were open so the house wouldn’t stink of cigarettes when for the next time Gojo trespassed. Or if. You weren’t sure if he would be able to return back after how you scolded him last time. You kind of hoped he would because no matter how childish he could be, you still had a soft spot for him.

A thump at the door interrupted your night smoke. It wasn’t a knock and it made you throw your cigarette out the window when you heard the soft click noise from your lock being unlocked. In a hasty fanning motion, you tried to get rid of the rest of the smoke you had exhaled before closing the window.

Although from the giggling you could easily tell that it was your brother, when you went to the entrance of your apartment, you were still surprised to see him.

Gojo’s cheeks were flushed faintly pink and he had a large grin on his face, he was giggling to himself as he tried to shimmy off from his jacket. His motions were sluggish, somewhat not as smooth as they usually were.

He was drunk.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

He tried to take off his shoes, still unaware of your gaze on him, and lost his balance, falling onto the floorboard with a loud thud. He giggled to himself before finally managing to kick off his shoes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a serious tone.

Gojo whipped his head around and as soon as his eyes met yours over his sunglasses he smiled brightly, “Ahh, (name)! Listen, I was at this Korean barbeque restaurant with Nanami and he said he would pay for everything so I ate a lot of beef. I don’t think I will eat your food again so don’t worry about that.”

He was already back up on his feet, had taken off his sunglasses, and was swaying as he walked towards the living room.

“I’m not worried about that,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn’t deal with him today. “Satoru, you’re drunk.”

“Is it that obvious?” He rubbed the back of his neck while snickering. His eyes landed on your laptop on the table next to the couch. “Don’t worry, I’ll crash on the couch and will be gone by the morning, you won’t even know I am here.”

You opened your mouth to reject it but he already had thrown himself on your couch. With an audible sigh, you sat in front of your laptop once again to finish up your work.

Like he promised, Gojo was quiet, he didn’t talk or tried to start weird conversations as he would. It was past two o’clock in the morning when you were done writing all of your assignments. You stretched your arms above your head, going to the bathroom with just glancing over Gojo’s back, he looked like he was sleeping. You had to go to bed as well.

Once you returned to the living room, you crouched next to the couch to watch his sleeping back. Your hand hesitantly reached to touch his hair, you knew he had his infinity turned on almost at every time so you wouldn’t be able to touch him but unlike any other time, your fingertips were able to dive into his soft hair.

A sharp gasp left you and you carded your fingers through his hair slowly. When was the last time you had managed to touch him like this? You didn’t know the answer.

It was always him who usually flicked a finger on your forehead or had his knuckles digging into your scalp to tease you but it was never more than that after you made him promise. In the end, it was your promise who made him feel uncomfortable.

Twisting his silky straight hair around your finger, you tried to see if it would hold the curl but as soon as you let it fall, it went back to being straight.

You wished you could be like this all the time but he was always pushing you away from his life. You knew it could get you in trouble if you were around him yet you couldn’t help but wish to spend more time with him as you used to when you were younger.

You missed him, you missed his arms embracing you and you missed the way he would give you affection. Nowadays it was impossible with his infinity stopping you but today was different.

“Satoru?” You called out to him, he didn’t respond as you started petting his head. Ahh, you had missed him more than you could put it into words. “Satoru.” You poked his cheek with your finger, “You should sleep in the guest room.”

He suddenly pulled you in his arms. You squeaked in surprise but kept it quiet since he was playing around. He was faking to be in sleep to toy with you like he used to. A muffled laugh escaped him as you struggled to break free from his hold.

“You smell so good.” Gojo buried his face to the crook of your neck, which made you chuckle happily, “It’s my perfume,” you stated. Gojo hummed in response, inhaling your scent deeply and pecking on your cheeks.

“You’re drunk,” you breathed, trying to pull him flush against yourself, giggling mischievously to hide your blushing cheeks.

“And you’re so warm.” He pressed himself against you and you acknowledged something firm pressing on the cleft of your ass.

“Satoru,” you let out an enticing moan suddenly. Gojo lifted his head up to look at you with his blushed cheeks. His bright eyes looked right inside your soul and beyond, you saw nothing but; kind, gentle affection in them. “We said we’d stop.”

There was a long pause.

“What?” Dumbfounded, he stared at you for a little longer, giving himself time to think and realize that it wasn’t a dream he thought he was having. “I- Sorry.”

The way he looked away from you in shame made your throat clench. It was just an embrace between the two of you and it was you who ruined it. You were the one who made it weird or were you just trying to give him the idea.

When he made a move to move away, you held onto his shoulders to keep him in place, “Stay.”

He froze in his place and didn’t dare to move.

Your small hands pulled him into your arms and he meekly laid back on the couch as you placed your head on his chest. With your ear pressed on his chest like this, you could hear his heartbeat. It was beating abnormally fast.

“Let’s stay like this for a moment,” you said, coaxing him into relenting. Liar.

Gojo was trying to be careful, trying to leave some space in between but you didn’t let him. You got him where you wanted, he had nowhere to run between you and the couch’s pillows.

“I missed being like this,” you whispered. So sly. “Why don’t we embrace each other like this anymore?” You pressed your chest against his.

He gulped loudly, eyes looking anywhere but your deep cleavage that was visible through the oversized shirt. That was his shirt, he noticed. Biting his lip, he tried to calm himself down as your tits were being pushed against his chest.

“I-I don’t know.” You clearly weren’t wearing a bra. There was nothing that could distract him in this room from how soft the supple of your tits felt against his chest no matter how hard he looked.

“I miss you, Satoru.” Like a spider threading a web to catch its prey, you were discreetly moving your hips towards his, planting the idea in his head so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty. “Your body feels so lean, have you been working out?”

Good, as long as you talk about stuff that seems innocent enough you could convince him. He liked getting compliments, especially when they came from his little sister.

“Yeah,” he replied, he gulped again.

You placed a hand on his chest to feel his muscles over the thin fabric of his shirt. “Yeah,” you echoed, looking up to him as your hand went to feel his abs. “Ah, it feels so tight .”

His breath hitched from the way you said it.

Just a little push.

One single push.

After that, he would break.

Gojo could never resist his little sister.

“(name),” he uttered, his voice faint. Alcohol was still slurring his mind, it was impossible for him to think straight. No, he realized. I’m not drunk. He was completely sober. The alcohol he had consumed was mostly gone, he could think normally and it wouldn’t affect his decision-making. He only hoped he was drunk so he could blame his feelings on the alcohol.

“Big brother,” you called. “Are you okay? You look feverish.”

He was being held by a single thread.

Your wiggling hips or puppy eyes or wandering hands could make him snap at any time.

Gojo grabbed your wrists and took you under him. “Stop that,” he hissed, his usual bubbly tone gone.

“Stop what?” You stared up at him with feigned innocence.

He was taken aback by your answer, staring back at you with wide eyes. Confused. How depraved did he have to be to think that you were trying to seduce him? He felt ashamed of himself, as always he was blaming you for his feelings.

At least that was what you made him think.

“(name),” his voice softened as he spoke. “I think you should go to bed.” He let go of your wrists and dragged a hand down his face instead. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“Satoru, it’s okay,” you whispered gently, sitting up on the couch to further provoke him but when you reached to touch him, your hand stopped in mid-air.

Ah, it was over. You missed your chance.

Silence filled the room.

“I get it,” you suddenly said. You couldn’t hide that you were upset. “It’s my fault again, isn’t it?”

“No,” Gojo replied. “I’m the one who said we would stop and I’m the one getting weird ideas. It’s not your fault that I failed as your big brother, (name).”

“You didn’t fail anyone. You’re the best big brother I could’ve asked for.” You looked into his eyes, fuck me, big brother, fuck me, fuck me-

You were feeding his ego, hoping to make him drop his guard.

You weren’t even bad, you were evil.

Somehow it worked. Gojo’s infinity disappeared and you felt him pull you into a hug. “Don’t look so sad,” he said, tightening his arms around you, “I wouldn’t break our promise.”

This wasn’t working. He was never going to stop blaming himself or make a move on you. For this time, it had to be you who needed to make a move.

Take the blame.

“Your promise,” you sulked as you reminded him. He pulled away from the hug to stare at you. “It was your promise, I didn’t promise anything. It was all you like you always do. You didn’t even think about my feelings.”

His mouth opened to say something but you continued, raising your voice.

“You act like nothing happened when you were the one who made me this way. I moved out so I wouldn’t have to see you when you visited but you just keep coming back. How do you expect me to move on when you’re not letting me?”

It was like time had frozen, the two of you were alone in a void.

“I-I didn’t know you felt that way-”

“You didn’t care,” you snapped. “I’m not just some mistake. I’m your little sister. You can’t keep seeing me as a mistake.”

Your words must have affected him deeply because the next thing you know it, he had his arms around you once again, apologizing continuously. “What can I do?” he asked, broken.

“I want you to embrace me.” Fuck me until my pussy is oozing with your cum.

“(name) we can’t, you know that I can’t hold myself back.”

“Then don’t.”

The thread holding together Gojo’s urges snapped.

I barely took him a second to pull you up to his lap, his clothed cock was already painfully hard against your ass.

You gasped and he harshly pressed his lips against yours, sloppily kissing you until you started drooling. He had forgotten how easy it was to make a mess out of you.

His lips moved to your neck, biting your neck as he placed your hands to his chest. His hands moved south, one hand groped your ass and the other went inside your shirt.

“You’re a bad sister,” he murmured, earning a silent chuckle from you. “Always seducing me.” He moaned into your ear, making your lower part tremble in need. He used his fingers to tease your nipples, hoping to get cute moans from his little sister.

He moved his hips, pressing his rock-hard erection onto your ass, rubbing himself on you. He was still wearing his jeans and you were wearing your pajama pants, the friction was stronger on your end.

“Satoru, I-I can’t wait anymore,” you begged. “Please…” Your breath tickled his face as your hips stopped moving.

“If you want it so bad, then do it yourself.”

You had never thought there would be a time in your life where the word ‘ it ’ would be used to identify your big brother’s cock.

“I-I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I-I want you to touch me.” You blushed bright red and pressed your face into his neck to cover your embarrassment.

“I won’t touch you,” Gojo said, gaining confidence while you lost yours. “You have to touch me if you really can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

You realized how you had become the prey in your own game.

A shiver ran down your spine as you lifted your head to look at him. He was serious. Defeated, your hands started fiddling with his pants, once you managed to unzip his pants, he lifted his hips up to pull them down to give you a little bit of help.

Next came his shirt, with shaky fingers you unbuttoned it and helped him take it off. Now, he was under you, sitting on your couch, only in his underwear.

Your eyes were locked on his lean muscles, you faintly caressed his abs with your fingers before your gaze dropped further down. His rock-hard cock was aching to be released, if you wanted it, you had to do it yourself.

His clothed erection was already poking at your stomach when you decided to stroke his cock over the thin fabric with your hand.

Gojo bit back a groan as you slipped down from his lap and onto your knees, your hand still massaging his clothed cock. His eyes landed on you, you looked like you belonged there. Right between his legs and on your knees.

You hooked a finger under the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down, Gojo lifted his hips to help you once again to get the last piece of clothing from you touching him out of the way.

With one hand planted on his knee, you wrapped your other hand around the base of his cock after licking your palm to make it wet.

Gojo’s cock throbbed in your hand, it was heavier than how you remembered it to be. You slowly pumped his cock once and then again but this time you tightened your grip around the tip to pull the excess skin down to expose his glistening tip to your eyes.

Like hypnotized, you closed the distance between your face and your brother’s cock. Opening your mouth, you lolled out your tongue to trace it over a vein from the base to the pink tip.

Gojo hissed through his teeth, his large hand grabbed a chunk of your hair, pulling you towards his aching cock.

You continued jerking him off and finally decided to take him into your mouth. As soon as your lips closed around the girth of his cock, Gojo let out a moan.

He placed a hand on the back of your head and moved his hips, thrusting into your mouth out of a sudden. His cock grazed the back of your throat, making you tear up but Gojo was lost in chasing his own pleasure.

He pushed your head down to his cock until your nose touched the colorless pubes on his groin. When you panicked as you tried to take a breath, he managed to push himself even further down in your throat before starting to fuck your face.

By the time he remembered that you needed to breathe and pulled himself out, his cock was already twitching. Released from the pressure of your throat so suddenly made him unable to hold himself from cumming.

Thick spurts of his seed landed on your face and you managed to catch some in your mouth. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed the salty fluid at the same time as you were trying hard to catch your breath.

Never the one to be considerate, Gojo grabbed you by your waist and lifted you easily up to get you back on his lap. He was still hard, his cock hadn’t deflated at all. Holding the hem of your shirt, he quickly pulled it up and over your head, exposing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He used your shirt to wipe his seed off your face, chuckling to himself when you whined.

His warm hands copper your tits, kneading the supple flesh as you were trying to get rid of your pajama pants because you needed him so badly. You needed to have his cock inside you.

It didn’t take you too long until you got naked and positioned yourself on top of Gojo’s cock. He was watching you intently as you guided the tip of his cock into your entrance and slowly lowering yourself on the length.

His cock was stretching you out, it almost felt like you were a second away from being split into two. You never managed to get used to his girth and from the way you can see, he had never gotten used to how tight you were. Gojo’s eyes were hazy in a burning desire, he looked like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.

Knowing your brother was watching you carefully, you slammed yourself down on his cock, taking his entire length inside your little cunt all in one sitting. Both of you moaned loudly, the couch creaked and Gojo’s hands grabbed you by your hips, nails digging in your flesh.

After a moment to catch your breath, you lifted yourself up and started picking a pace for yourself to bounce on his cock. One hand on your clit, rubbing tiny circles over the muscle and the other on your brother’s throat, you lost yourself in pleasure.

You weren’t sure if you were squeezing his neck because of all the build-up from when all the times he refused to fuck you or because you wanted to feel in control but it was helping you get off.

Gojo was enjoying himself as much as you were, he was helping you bounce yourself on his cock and giving you words of praises. He knew you liked to be praised for how well you were taking his cock or how much of a good girl you were.

That was all it took for your gummy walls to clench around his cock, trying to milk it for all he was worth.

Cursing under his breath, Gojo threw his head back on the couch, he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you were this needy. His hips started to move and he started to slam into you as you were slamming yourself down onto his cock.

You came loose almost immediately. Your hands rubbing tight circles on your clit fastened and your legs started shaking.

Gojo didn’t want to waste an opportunity and slammed into your twitching pussy like his life depended on it, chasing after his second orgasm. Both of you came at the same time, your orgasm rocked you to the core and you left limp on your brother. Gojo snapped his hips one last time and buried his cock deep inside you to cum inside your pussy. The thought of him breeding his little sister made his cock throb violently but he could never say that out loud. You were smart enough to use your brother’s depraved thoughts against him.

As he came inside, his seed filled your womb and overflowed in your pussy. The rest started leaking out from you and dripped onto the couch, leaving a stain like many others.

Without pulling out, he wrapped his arms around you and brushed some of your hair away from your face to press a kiss against your forehead, whispering goodnight.

You mumbled it back, tummy full and satisfied.

In the morning, you woke up in your bed, wrapped in your Gojo’s arms. His sleeping face was peaceful, lips parted slightly, and face relaxed. An endearing smile spread across your face and you decided it wouldn’t hurt to skip the morning lecture to spend more quality time with your big brother.

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[americasmarauders]

Hey Luiza!! Ok so I don’t know if this is too big of an ask BUT would you maybe consider, if you’re comfortable with it, writing up (from prompt list 1) #24 that leads into #11 with Tim Drake?

author's note: has this been sitting in my ask box for, what, 4 months? yes it has. I'm deeply sorry for that, love, but suddenly life got in that way, and I found myself unmotivated and uninspired. But now, hopefully, I'll have a couple of weeks of peace and I managed to complete this request. I hope you don't mind, but I put my own spin on the prompts, slightly altering them. Hopefuly it's up to par with what you expected. I re-worked an old draft of mine, one that was supposed to be a royal!au based on Love Story by Taylor Swift, to fit the prompts. It's still a royal!au and it still has some colors of Taylor Swift, nevertheless I hope you like it.

prompts: #24: banter in which one of them’s like… “i love you” and the other person’s like “ok” and the first one’s like “say it back” and the other one’s just like “no 😝” and the first one gets frustrated because “why wouldn’t you say it back we always say i love you before we leave”

#11: when one of them is hurt by the antagonist… and their lover goes… absolutely ballistic and does everything in their power to get to the person they love, to the point in which the antagonist and it’s crew have to physically restrain them… and it still doesn’t stop them… they just keep kicking… doesn’t matter what happens to them… doesn’t matter if they get beaten in the process… as long as their lover is safe… words: 3,982

masterlist

request masterlist

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She leaned to the railing of the balcony, summer air gently brushing on her skirt and her skin, a small smile playing at her lips. Her hands fidgeted nervously as she waited for her love to encounter her in that abandoned corner of her family’s palace.

A sigh escaped her lips as she attentively listened to the noises around her. The rumble of the party could still be heard, even if faintly. There were barely any rounds in that part of the castle, especially with the big ball her father had decided to throw. She had millimetrically chosen that balcony: something far enough from the ballroom, so they wouldn’t be bothered, but not too far in case they got caught. She could see the moon clearly from where she stood, its light illuminating the fountain down below beautifully. She thought about how his eyes would be beautiful under the Moon’s light and her heart fluttered.

She had been warned about the Waynes, mostly by her adoptive Father, who wasn’t exactly a fan of Bruce Wayne, King of Gotham. Their relationship was civil, but it wasn’t safe from animosities, many that had happened in their past, when both were still young princes trying to get their bearings of their upcoming roles. A war was brewing back then, a war that had not ended as of yet, and she remembered her Father telling her how palpable the tension in the air was, how exasperated his mentor was that he was as prepared to be a king both militarily and educationally. She only imagined King Bruce’s mentor felt the same.

Unfortunately, the antipathy extended to the plethora of adopted children King Bruce had. Her father always spoke of them with a corner of disdain, his lips twisting into a frown. He had to have contact with them, the trades of their kingdom depended on Gotham a whole lot, but he had shielded his children from the Wayne kids. When she was smaller, when she had just arrived in the castle fresh from the streets, she had believed every word from her Father. She had stayed away from them, actively avoiding them when she saw a pair of raven hair and bright eyes looking in her direction. When she grew up, she stopped thinking about dodging their attention so attentively, but still stayed out of their way, not wanting to get on her Father’s bad side.

The way she saw it, she didn’t exactly mess with the Waynes, in fact it was the other way around. Tim had stumbled onto her life, and he had been quite persistent, in spite of her trying to be cold towards him. He knew she really couldn’t resist him somehow, he always knew more than he ever let on, he saw the way she smiled when he’d pass through her on a stupid ball his Father threw for whatever reason. She pretended to not see him, to not feel his smile etched into her brain forever.

Tim managed to crawl his way to her heart and now she couldn’t imagine a life without his clever remarks and easy going smile. She remembered vividly when they danced for the first time. He had asked her, the first time he’d even whispered anything to her. It was like every eye was on her while she was hesitating to grab his hand. Her eyes flickered to his face, his smile faltered for a second. She remembered feeling her heart tightening at his deflation, and grabbed his hand immediately after.

His grip tightened on her hand, his smile firm and reassuring. She felt herself tense when they finally arrived on the dance floor, his other hand respectfully laying on her back. He whispered to her gently, begging to not let her eyes drift away from his. She listened to him, her heart beating fast, a mix of anxiety and something else, something better and new. He made snide comments about the people present at the Wayne ball, making laughter bubble underneath her skin. He had vanquished her nerves with a smile and bright eyes.

Hands slipped on her middle, hugging from behind. Tim’s scent flooded her, a smile blooming on her face. She moved to turn in his arms to face him, his hands allowing her movement. He was classically handsome, his blue eyes accentuated by the moonlight, sending butterflies to her entire being. His smile floored her, her hands finding his face, caressing lightly his cheeks.

“No one saw you?” she whispered, her forehead leaning on his, her breath mingling with his.

“No,” he shook his head, his forehead grazing on hers. His hands cradled her face, his eyes closed. “You look breathtaking tonight,” his voice was steady and precise.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she smirked, her hands falling to his shoulders delicately. Her eyes were filled with an inexplicable love, something that consumed her wholly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his lips ghosted over hers, tempting her to close the tiny gap between them. She chased the smile growing on her lips, closing the space between them and interlocking their lips. Tim had promptly responded to her kiss with a gentleness only he was capable of, kindness that made something inside her explode.

She rested her forehead on his, looking deep into his moonlit eyes with an adoration that couldn’t be contained by the vessel of her body anymore. Her heart felt calm again, next to him it was like every cell of her body was finally settling into some level of tranquility. The sinking hole she felt when he was miles away back in his kingdom was rapidly filled when he smiled at her and rested his hand on her cheek. The world was filled with screaming colors once again.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he confessed, his voice barely over a whisper, his hands cradling her face carefully.

“I know, Tim,” the whisper fled from her lips, “I feel the same, but we have to, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” a sigh escaped his lips, defeated and resigned. He took a step back, putting space between them. She immediately felt his absence, a coldness settling inside her. His elbows rested brutally on the railing of the balcony, his knuckles as tense as his jaw. She felt it in her bones that something was deeply wrong with him, something inside him had shifted. “We could run, you know?” he suggested, his eyes finding hers once again, full of hope. “I have a safe house far away, Kon helps me keep it. We could settle down there, live a calm life.”

“Where’s this coming from, Timmy?” she whispered, her eyes closed imagining the life Tim had laid out for her.

“I’m so tired, love,” his head shook from side to side, “I'm so tired of fighting, of briefing meetings and seeing innocents die. I don’t know if I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know,” her hands rested on top of his, “but, Tim, we can’t. We can’t leave everyone behind, this is bigger than us.”

“Why not?” his voice grew with a strong tone of anger. “I just want one thing, Y/N, one thing. I want to be able to love you, without all this weight on my back that I’ve been carrying ever since my parents handed me to Bruce when I was 12. I’m exhausted all the time, I miss you like I’m missing my own heart all the time. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Tim...” she started, her voice soft and understanding, but he quickly interrupted her.

“Marry me,” he turned to her abruptly, grabbing her hands tightly. Her mouth was agape, her heart beating out of her chest. “We can get married quietly at dawn, and then we’ll live at my safe house, we’ll make it a home.”

Her eyes flew crazily over his face, looking for any hint that he was playing a prank on her, pulling purposefully on the strings of her heart. His face didn’t betray any signs of any lies, her mouth got dry and her hands started to sweat. Her brain ran a thousand different scenarios, trying to grasp onto some hope that maybe what Tim had suggested to her might work. She found none.

She shook her head, her throat tightening up. “We can’t,” she whispered, her hands slipping from his. “It wouldn’t work, Timmy. We would be hunted down, we wouldn’t have peace at all. We’d have to live a life constantly running from our past.”

“So we’d do it,” he went to grab her hands again, but she didn’t let him, his hands grasping into summer air. “I can find other houses across the continent, I can make sure we are not found.”

Tears escaped her eyes, betraying her feelings to Tim. She shook her head, her arms crossing over her stomach. “No,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

“Hey,” his fingers lifted her chin, making her look at him, “penny for your thoughts?”

She couldn’t handle being touched by Tim, his touch poisoned her thoughts. If he touched her, she’d make a decision she’d regret, and she wouldn’t have that. “I can’t do it, Tim, I can’t leave everything behind.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” he started, “but we’ll make it.”

“You’re not understanding,” her voice showed the bubbling anger and fear inside her, “I can’t abandon everything like you’re suggesting, Tim. I can’t leave all those people who depend on me, all those families that expect me to show up and give them some comfort,” she sniffed, brushing off a couple of tears running on her cheeks. “If I leave, Tim, I’d be miserable.”

He took a step back at the brutality of her words. “You’d have me,” he whispered, “I’ll love you until the end of my days, I’d never let you be miserable.”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” she replied, her knuckles tight. “I love you, Tim, with everything in me, more than the number of stars in the Universe, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover the guilt I’d feel.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, his hands gripping the railings angrily. “I’m leaving to battle tomorrow,” he stated, his voice steady and impassive.

“I know,” a mutter left her lips.

“This is your last chance before I go,” he turned to her briskly, “please, run away with me.”

“No,” she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

Tim huffed and left, his footsteps heavy and angry. But it wasn’t that that had broken her heart. They always said ‘I love you’ when they had to say goodbye.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’.

#

#

Out of everything Tim was expecting from his day -- to dying on the battlefield, to ending a war, the list was practically endless -- he hadn’t expected receiving the letter that was in his hands.

He didn’t even know Roy knew about them. He must have guessed, though, she told everything to Roy, she loved him deeply, a love he sometimes wished resembled the love he shared with his own brothers. But things in the Wayne household were different, more secretive and cold. Sometimes, Tim thought back on how different his life would have turned out if his parents hadn’t dropped him off at Wayne Manor to run. Maybe, he would have followed in his father’s footsteps and became a fine swordsmith, maybe worthy enough to work for the Wayne family like his father before him. Maybe, it would have happened what his parents feared the most: they would have run out of business, losing every penny they owned and living in poverty for the rest of their existence.

Tim was ultimately glad his parents had made that tough decision, he wouldn’t be a Prince if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met his soulmate if they hadn’t.

Her. He had royally screwed up with her, he shouldn’t have pushed her too far, he knew where she stood on the subject. But he felt his impatience grow inside of him, his frustrations got the better of him and soon he was blinded only by his undying love for her and the anger he felt at the world for failing him once again.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to her when he left. It was that realisation that pained in his chest even now, as Jason handed him a foreign letter from Roy, her brother. It was that regret that flooded him when he read the rushed words scratched on paper, his heart picking up a beat as his eyes processed the fatalistic words presented to him.

He stood up briskly from his seat, ignoring Dick rambling about the strategy they were supposed to adopt to overturn their enemy. He heard some complaints, Bruce calling after him asking where he was going. Tim ignored, only capable of focusing on the letter and his last conversation with her, the things he did not say to her and the regret he felt on the things that had been said.

Tim didn’t have anything on him other than his sword and that cursed piece of paper, but he still made his way to the stables, overlooking the weird stares he received on the way. His horse was softly munching on some hay, unaware of the ride she was about to be put on. The letter found its way to Tim’s pocket hastily, as he put on his saddle on his mare, his jaw tight with emotion.

“So that’s it?” Tim heard, closing his eyes at the voice. “You’re just gonna march to Star City, because Roy sent you a letter?”

“It’s not that, Jason,” Tim muttered, hyper-focused on securing the saddle on his horse.

“I wish I could make you do shit that easily, I would’ve made you do my field notes ages ago,” Jason liked teasing his brother, Tim guessed it was because it was easy to get a reaction out of him.

“It’s not that,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, aggressively releasing the lock of the saddle. His mare complained at the gesture. Even her found a way to scold Tim.

“Then what is it? What’s more important in Star City than here, with your army, fighting for our people?” Jason cleared, watching the anger rise in Tim’s expression quickly and overwhelmingly.

Tim shook his head, not allowing his brother to have the satisfaction of gaining a reaction out of him. He promptly got up on his horse, gently guiding her towards the exit. Jason got in front of his horse, stopping the motion completely. “Get out of the way, Jason,” Tim’s voice was low and menacingly, “I won’t warn you a second time.”

“You don’t scare me, Timothy,” Jason scoffed at his brother’s attempt of intimidation. “Get over yourself, baby bird, you can’t scare me. Now, tell me, why such a rush?”

Tim’s eyes hovered on his brother’s face, looking down at him. The letter was fished out of his pocket and tossed to Jason. His brother caught it, and hastily read its contents. “So? If they needed help containing these rebels they wouldn’t have sent you a letter,” Jason argued, his hands motioning to his brother.

“Jason,” Tim softly said, “read it again.”

His brother looked at him weirdly and did as he said. His eyes moved more slowly now, taking in the words that had ripped Tim’s heart out of his chest. “Oh,” Jason muttered, looking up at his brother once again, “oh.”

“Get out of the way, please,” Tim begged, his voice breaking.

“What are you gonna do when you get there?” Jason asked, confused at his brother’s reaction. “It’s not like you have any medical expertise, Tim, you’re not going to be able to help her.”

“I don’t know, Jason, I just have to be there,” he responded, briskly. His voice was full of contained emotion, like if Tim mad one false step everything would overflow and he would inevitably break. “I can’t lose her, I just can’t.”

Jason sighed, one of his hands resting on the holster of his sword the other on his waist. It was like he was thinking everything through, analysing thousands of scenarios Tim couldn’t even fathom. Jason was the brother everyone underestimated. He was exceptionally strong and big, he had a knack for violence no other Wayne boy had, but he was an incredible strategist, maybe the best out of all of them.

He stepped out of the way not before saying “I’ll cover for you, but I can’t promise they won’t find out.”

With that Tim ran off, the wind whipping angrily at his hair, reflective of the storm inside himself.

#

#

Tim dismounted from his horse just outside the gates of her family’s castle. The guards looked at him suspiciously, as he strode proudly toward the gate that separated him and her. He eyed the guards with an austerity he reserved for a few occasions, he never liked making people feel inferior, but his morals were askew in light of the news weighing down his chest.

“I demand to be let in,” he ordered, his voice stern and tight.

The guard in front of him raised an eyebrow, appalled by Tim’s audacity. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Prince Tim, of Gotham, and I will get in the castle, so please move,” he gathered all the authority he could muster inside him, and spoke as if he was the monarch of that kingdom.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you do not have authority here,” the guard shook his head, his hand sliding to his sword slowly. Tim took that as a sign of hostility, trying in a peacock kind of way to show he was the one with the upper hand in the situation.

Tim scoffed at the pathetic demonstration, jumping at the throat of the guard and slamming him to the wall behind him. “Listen here, I have been riding for the past 5 hours, I have not stopped once and, at this point, I’m fuelled by spite and anger,” his voice was low and threatening, and he could see fear rise in the guard’s eyes. He couldn’t scare Jason, but he could scare other people. “I’m not going to be stopped by some mid-level pathetic guard,” it was weird saying insulting things to other people. Tim rarely bad-mouthed, but at that moment it felt liberating.

“Tim,” he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, “release the guard.”

Tim looked over his shoulder, Roy standing there with a calm expression, something that contradicted the feeling in his eyes. Tim shoved the guard out of his hands, dropping them violently to his sides. Roy ordered a guard to take care of Tim’s mare, gently leading Tim inside the castle’s grounds.

“She’s been asking for you,” Roy stated, his voice elusive and calm. “No one understands why, but I do.”

“How is she?” the words that Tim was afraid of saying slipped past his lips. Asking how she was made everything that had happened to her, something he had just found out, incredibly real.

“Considering that she spent the past few days being held hostage, considerably well,” Roy conceded, rubbing his hands behind his back. “A bit bruised and shaken up. But, as far as I know, well.”

“Good,” Tim swallowed the lump inside his throat, relieved to hear what Roy had said. They walked down a straight hallway, something he guessed took them from the main gates to near where she was staying.

“She told me what happened between you,” Roy manifested, filling the awkward silence growing. “She’s been beating herself up for it.”

“It’s my fault,” Tim shook his head, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I already knew her answer, it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t, trust me, if I was in the same position as you, I would’ve probably done the same,” he shrugged, turning a sharp left, “probably worse.”

Tim laughed, humourlessly, at Roy’s comment. “Listen, kid, I get it, truly. But with this,” Roy waved his hands around, “sometimes, you gotta play the long game.”

“I hate the long game,” Tim muttered, like a little kid.

“No one said it was going to be easy,” Roy scolded him, like his brother would have done. “But if you truly love her, like you say you do, then play your cards right.”

They stopped, in front of a dirty pink door, Roy’s hands gripped the handle, a small smirk on his face. Tim straightened his posture, shedding the young brother façade he unwillingly slipped on and reverting to the young Prince ways. He took a deep breath, shuffling to organize his emotions inside his brain. Roy opened the door and pushed Tim inside the room, rapidly closing the door back up.

He had never been to her room, even of all those years of courting secretly, sneaking into dark hallways, and kissing under the moonlight. Her room had always felt off bounds to him, even if it had never been expressed as such. He slowly walked into the room further, watching how every corner had her imprint in it.

She was sitting by the window, the curtains opened, a soft summer breeze gently moving her hair out of her eyes. She only wore a simple gown, almost a nightgown, making Tim feel incredibly overdressed. There were bruises littered over her arms and neck, and he felt a mixture of anger and guilt bubble underneath his skin. He struggled to contain it, hoping the people that had done that to her were already six feet underneath the ground.

Her gaze flipped to him, and his stomach somersaulted inside him. She opened a shy smile, waving timidly for him to approach her. He walked calmly towards her, his hands behind his back fidgeting nervously. She got up from her seat, and stood waiting patiently for him.

“Hi,” he whispered, in front of her. His hands itched to touch her, bring her closer and cradle her as if she was the most precious and delicate thing in the world. To him, she was.

“Hi,” she looked down at the ground, her feet bare. “I’m so--”

“No,” he interrupted her, “don’t. I’m the one who should be sorry, I’m the one to blame.”

“Tim, you didn’t do anything.”

“I did everything,” he admitted, “I didn’t say ‘I love you’,” tears sprung to his eyes, ones that he had been trying to keep at bay for a long time. “I left and suddenly you were in danger and I wasn’t there to help you. All because I was stupidly proud and bitter and I--”

“Stop,” her hands found his face, her thumbs brushing carefully on his cheekbones. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I certainly didn’t.”

“I should have…”

“No, Timmy, you’re just a man,” she took a step closer, her body hovering next to him warmly. It was like the ice that had settled on him instantly melted when she stepped next to him, “one that I love very much. But I made mistakes that night, and so did you. And it’s okay.”

He breathed right for the first time in days. The guilt he had been carrying like a cross on his back felt lighter, almost nonexistent. A smile made way to his face, albeit a timid one, and he grabbed her hands, the warmth she irradiated seeping into him. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him, a smile no longer free of hurt, but full of more meaning than before. “There was a question you asked that night,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his, “one I didn’t answer.”

“There was?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her nose brushing on his delicately. “Ask it again.”

“Are you sure?” Tim looked into her eyes, looking for a sign of uncertainty or regret.

“Just ask it.”

“Will you marry me?” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

“Yes.”

#

#

[souljoon]

Like a fool (pt.1)

pairing: teacher!jungkook x cafe owner!reader word count: 2k genre: fluff, smut, ex lovers au warnings: sexual content, slight dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe loves!)

synopsis: Everyone in the neighborhood knows you and Jungkook will inevitably end up in a wedlock despite the complicated status of your on-and-off relationship. While you want to keep a civil relationship with him, Jungkook learned not to care about labels long ago since the first time you two broke up. Whatever you’d say, he intends to keep his place in your heart taken for the rest of your life.

~~~

“Your beau is here,” Jimin prompted behind you.

Without turning in his direction, your attention to the carrot cake remaining glued to the carrot cake you were currently frosting about.

At this point, you wouldn’t even be surprised to see Jungkook on the opposite side of your bed in the morning. He seems to find it amusing to see you evidently pissed whenever he’s around. How couldn’t you? He not only takes over Jimin’s job but he often causes a scene with the customers in the cafe—which, to fuel more of your unspoken frustration, are students from the nearby community college.

You couldn’t admit how the attention he was getting from people of different gender identities still bothers you despite the mutual decision to call the engagement off. You understand your ex-fiance is a very attractive man. And his charisma could probably stir attraction from married women regardless of their age.

Over the course of six years of a complicated relationship with him, you two had already been in two break ups in college, citing his laid back self in college and your endless insecurities that urged you to try to get away from him, from the spell he had on you.

While you decided to pursue your dream to start your own cafe business post-graduation, Jungkook surprisingly landed on a teaching job in Jung-do High School which is also located in the same neighborhood two years ago. 

Footsteps are, again, back in the kitchen. “He just wore an apron. So I’m guessing he’s here until the shop closes.” It was Jimin, informing you yet again as if it was part of his job to report Jungkook’s every move to you.

This time, you sweep a brief glance behind. “Don’t let the counter vacant, Chim.” You say, cleaning up the cake board as a finishing touch to your masterpiece.

“He took over the counter, _____. How am I supposed to make him go away when he’s our own human advertisement. He’s attracting more customers!”

With a glare darted to his direction, you suggest, “Then I guess I should replace you with him, instead?”

Jimin visibly sulked, not really wanting to argue with you—his boss. “Fine!”

Six months. That’s how long you’ve been single since. Sure he had you wrapped around his fingers back then. But you wanted to prove to him and to yourself that you can live without him. However, it’s too impossible to keep up with it when he freely deems himself welcome wherever you are, maintaining his act of indifference toward the real score between you.

Intending to place the cake in the display, you finally went out of the kitchen-- ironically, just in time to run into him. Jungkook being the shameless ex-boyfriend that he is, took the cake in your hands.

He was wearing a gym class outfit— a pair of black adidas sweatpants, and a plain, white shirt over a black hoodie. If only you were not trying to stay as far as possible away from him, you’ll probably tease him about his own dress code. He doesn’t look like he just got out of his class as the teacher. He looked like he just went out of bed before he came here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” You ask from behind him.

“I’m bored,” he simply replied.

“What do you mean you’re bored? Haven’t you just got off work?”

He spun around, startling you when you came face to face with him. If you couldn’t properly see his entire face before, you do now much to your annoyance.

He sighs. “I did. Look, I’m just helping Jimin-hyung out here. I won’t bother you, I swear.”

“You don’t have to because you’re not my employee, Kook.”

“Well, I could use some part time if you’re hiring.” Jungkook shrugs.

Here we go, again.

Your eyes narrowed to which roused him to raise his hands up defensively.

“Jagiya—”

“Lovebirds,” Jimin suddenly interrupts.

“What?!” You both snapped back at Jimin’s direction.

“Whoa, tone it down— you two. Restroom is right there in case you need to release the sexual tension. It’s getting intense out here.” He jests, making a shooing motions with his hands.

Jungkook wasted no more time and took it as his cue to grab your wrist, dragging you with him as he navigated the way past the kitchen into the storage room.

A temporary relief washes through you when Jungkook brought you in this enclosed, rather safe space instead of the restroom. However, dread slowly consumes your whole being when you hear the familiar sound of the knob locking.

Jungkook pivoted back, facing you. “Let’s talk here.”

Your eyes lingered down where his hand maintained his grasp around your wrist. “Why? There’s nothing else to talk about.”

“For the umpteenth time, I saw the landlord across the street like he was waiting for someone,”

You look up, quirking up an eyebrow at his sudden shot of a subject relating to Seokjin. “What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust him.” He deduces, childishly.

“What do you want me to do, find another leasing property? This shouldn’t concern you in the first place. You never once heard anything from me about Joohyun.” You mentally cursed, unable to stop yourself from mentioning the name of the woman he was seen in a restaurant a week ago.

“What’s Joohyun got anything to do with this?”

You scoff. “You know what, I don’t need to answer that. We’re not together anymore so it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook seized your attempt to leave, latching onto your arm just in time. As he pulls you back, you were met with the subtle amusement plastered obnoxiously on his face.

“We’re not done here, baby. So... Joohyun, really? My colleague?” A laugh slips out of him, seemingly pleased. You, on the other hand, felt insulted on his take of your serious remark. Your blood started rising up. So the rumors aren’t true?

You jerked away. Well... tried to, because your hand stayed locked around his firm grip. “Let me go, I need to go back to the kitchen.”

You stepped back when he abruptly inched forward. You were puzzled for a second, but when your back touched the surface of the door, you knew you fell from his trap as he steadied himself with his palms pressed flat above your head. You turned your face away, avoiding his heated gaze. But the gesture only gave Jungkook a room to nestle his head on the exposed skin of your neck.

The moment you felt his warm lips touch your skin, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’ve been pretty good at keeping a safe distance from me, baby. You have no idea how much  I fucking miss you, missed keeping you all to myself like this.” He expresses in a thick, sultry tone.

You shake your head, knowing full well what he meant. “We c-cant, Jimin is--”

“--not here.” He finishes, pressing his lower body against yours and teasing your sweet spot with a gentle suck. The bulge on his mid-region was enough to make your panties wet instantaneously and your body heats up too quickly.

“Jungkook,” his name slips out of your mouth.

“Please tell me you’re still in birth control.” He desperately murmurs against your skin on the curve of your neck.

You frantically bobbed your head, lost at the hot trail of kisses he’s leaving on your skin.

With an eager pull of the strings on his nape and back, he rids the apron off of his front followed by a swift pull of his sweatpants with his boxers, just enough to release his hard member.

Your mouth instantaneously watered at the sight of the maddeningly pink head and aroused length, thick and hard just the way you remembered it the last time Jungkook fucked you. It happened in his car three months ago. You were too intoxicated then to control yourself from jumping up into his lap as he drove you back to your apartment. To keep your pride intact, you tried to steer clear from repeating the same mistake again. Not when you’re not officially back together.

Right now, you’re too sexually neglected to care about anything.

“I want you in my mouth,” you beg, not believing you sounded incredibly hasty than you actually have estimated.

He swats your hand off when he sensed your hand extending towards his crotch, “I’d love to fuck your mouth baby, but we don’t have that much time. I need to be inside your pussy,” You felt his palms scooping you up through your butt, sandwiching you between his body and the door. Your legs automatically weaving around his hips to steady yourself.

Then pushes your underwear aside, “This is probably the only reason why I love you wearing skirts. Easy access—fuck baby, so tight.” He barely sank his cock in, yet you could already feel the sting of your walls as they stretch around him.

Your hand flew to the back of head, eager to bury your fingers beneath his curly locks.

Just as you part your mouth to speak to encourage more his entrance, he suddenly propels his hips forward, pushing his dick to the hilt which roused a cry from you.

“Fucking tight! I’m gonna break you so much you won’t ever forget about me. You understand, darling?”

“Yes, yes, please fuck me!” You cried out, reeling from both the sting of your muscles caused by his forceful entrance, and the familiar warmth filling you full.

Without bothering to warm you up, he began a breathtaking pace despite his overwhelming intrusion. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, his thrusts were making your moans irrepressible and your thighs tremble in delight.

Jungkook places his head between the valleys of your covered mounds, not missing his faint grunts, lost in his own pleasure.

“You like that, huh? You like the idea of being fucked outside, baby girl? I’ve had enough this bullshit,” He growls with a series of rough jerk of his hips, forcing a cry of his name out of you.

“That’s right, moan my name. Just wait until I get you all alone tonight, I’ll make sure you won’t ever think of breaking up with me. Do you hear me?” He warns darkly, emphasizing the severity of his threat with a shove of his dick so deep his tip was heavenly kissing your precious spot from your insides.

“Oh god,” you lamented, deliriously.

You could already feel the building up in your abdomen just as fast as he started rocking into you. You’ve known him long enough for you to easily sense it was the same for him too, concealing his moans with his mouth latched onto your prickly skin.

“That’s right. Come for me!” he grunted in between powerful thrusts.

His command did the trick, sending your body forward as you exploded, your walls tighten around him with each snap of his hips against your pelvis. Soon enough, he jerked off his load inside you with a growl rumbling on his chest.

Grimace creases on your expression as he cautiously pulls his cock out, following his load combined with your juices gushing out of your pussy down to the insides of your thighs.

Barely recovered from the earth shattering orgasm you had for the first time in three months, you heard a series of banging coming from the other side of the door.

“You done, lovebirds?” Your eyes clenched shut in realization, quietly plotting the assassination of some guy named Jimin.

“Thanks for ruining the moment,” Jungkook retorts back. “Not a problem. You guys seriously need to get the fuck out, I ran out of beans in the jar and try not fuck each other here next time, yeah?”

Amused with the scene unfolding, Jungkook casually pushes your underwear back to its place, smoothening your skirt down as if nothing inappropriate had occurred here. He kisses the tip of your nose, before turning the knob of the door.

Couldn’t this get any more embarrassing?

~~~

Thank you for reading and apologies for any spelling/ grammatical errors. I havent edited this yet.  Part 2 will most likely be posted on Monday or Tuesday :)