#the only person who pays attention to me is my therapist but i PAY her to do it

[brieflygorgeouss]

so sad today

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter fifteen — you need help (🎂)

Even if you felt an eery aura linger in the air, you counted on the warmer part of who you know to dispel it. Beidou was always that answer to you.

It’s been a while since you and her had some time to reflect on the weight of their shared past. The bakery was too busy nowadays to fathom the concept of meeting each other’s time together, any real conversation or emotions that wasn’t over text. Finding time was a simple rarity you didn’t even know you had, even lost in your own thoughts.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” Beidou paused, her eyes stared directly at the road, unmoving even once. She leaned back, the soft shuffle of her seat and clothes breaking the silence. Expression hardly there but a small smile, you turned towards her. “Not everyone is lucky to get this far.”

You looked back to the dashboard of the car, “I don’t think I’m following, I’m sorry.”

“When was the last time you got the chance to revisit your past…say, in a more effective way?” Beidou’s smile faded, more thoughtful and pondering. “Is that letter even helping you?”

You swallowed as the lump built in your throat. “Kazuha’s voice isn’t there anymore when I read it, but it’s still his handwriting.” You tried to rationalize, even though you knew Beidou was right. This letter was the only thing you could even date back to or his voice without revisiting baby photos and videos.

“I don’t know your situation,” Beidou said, still in mere wonder. “I don’t even know if this will help you in your hunt, but there’s a reason why you won’t go through your mom’s room. Don’t want to question it. I took the job of helping you out.”

“It’s okay, you were here when I needed it the most, I at least owe you an explanation.”

“Stop doing that, you owe yourself something none of us need, at the end of the day. When was the last time someone’s ever heard you out on how you feel other than your therapist?” Beidou’s tone was rough, but with little malcontent.

“I feel like that’s where I should put it anyway, all the meaty things,” You lowered your head. “It doesn’t take anything except my thoughts away, which was the point, I think? I don’t know…I think it’s better than letting someone else handle that baggage.”

Beidou didn’t answer you right away, allowing the silence settle between the both of you. A low hum of the car’s engine filling what was left of their thoughts. When she finally made out her words, she spoke quietly, almost contemplative. “You’re a very kind person to me. The least I can do for you is listen to what you have to say. It’s not like anyone else has the thought to.”

You didn’t know much about what people around you thought, having been so nestled in your own head that everything else you had going on seemed too much to ask from people. So as you began to hard focus on your thoughts, you began feeling the weight of grief settle over you. A heavy fog of regret, what’s been lost along with the heart you had, sharp and twisting in your wake, sensations that made it harder to forget now that it was back to the surface.

Your eyes welled, brain sending sharp signals to your fingertips, wet tear ducts, heart clutching in ruin. “Kazuha asked me…once she died if I wanted to leave her room alone or look through it so we could keep things in it. Looking at her room was really painful, but it was the way she left it and I didn’t want to change it. My mom really liked painting and would always paint every photo she took of us, even when the both of us wouldn’t pay attention to the photo. In those moments, mom would find strength to raise us again, even when she was still dying.”

Beidou reached over, hand finding yours on the console and giving it a squeeze of support. “We left it the way it was. I can’t go in that room ever again, not while she’s not there.” Your words poured out in liquid babble, unable to control your running lips. “I lost most of my forevers.”

Beidou squeezed at your hand ever so slightly after pulling up to her home, anchoring the weight of the situation with just a sympathetic sigh. “You’re too hard on yourself, kid. It’s disappointing,” She steadily said, “I just hope this tape makes you feel better.”

“Tape?” You blinked your wet lashes, looking up. You had to admit, your heart started sinking.

“Come inside.” Beidou could only answer with, opening the car door and locking it once you exited.

You weren’t a frequent guest of Beidou’s house, mainly because Kazuha was the sole one to come over here, but when you did have the access you venerated at the work. The home stood at a more narrow street and it was painted with a navy blue, almost black, the coating of the home standing proud and alive with the weathered fading giving it a story to tell. She walked you through the uneven path of cobblestone, moss lurking and steadily growing in the crevices.

Leading to the porch, a broad and sturdy platform that could have easily been the bow of an ancient ship dated back from centuries creaked under your feet. You entered the room to Beidou’s home, looking in amazement at tacked up world maps that were aging gradually in the living room. “Wow…” You couldn’t help but drawl.

“Like it? Things didn’t really change in the past few years, just got older.” She met in front of the shelves after setting her things down on the couch. Shelves crammed with books extending floor to ceiling, spines of the tomes cracked, faded. She took out a box, labeled with big red letters something you couldn’t exactly make out, but became ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ once she got closer.

“No, yeah! It looks amazing! Now I know why Kazuha always used to come here.” You chirped, admiring the work that was done compared to when you were last here. You sat down on the soft couch, your heart full in your body, but you didn’t know if it was from anxiousness or general expectancy.

“Here,” Beidou said, her eyes meeting yours with a more serious outlook. “Me, Kazuha, and a few other friends made this time capsule in high school. It was time to open it up, and…none of us wanted to touch his stuff, so we wanted to give his tape to you. He recorded it a long time ago, just thought maybe they’d help you remember some things.”

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers trembling while you reached your hand out to open the now cleaner box that was probably buried. You looked in, there were multiple tapes that he put in this box, some looking more wear and tear than others.

Fingers grazed against the plastic of the tape, with the words in your brother’s handwriting of his name. Beidou moved the old cassette player sitting in the corner for you to put it in. With a heavy heart, you picked up one of the tapes and entered it, deftly sliding it into the player and pressing play.

The TV lit up automatically, a moment of static in your veins, as your eyes glued to the screen. Your shoulders dropped at the familiar sight of your and Kazuha’s old school.

The camera in the moment was moving aggressively around until an unidentified voice started calling. “Kazuha, this is your tape! Say something funny!” The voice caught his attention on the screen.

His confused eyes looked around, almost expecting more of an answer. “Well, I need more than that. Give me something to make a joke about.”

“That’s the thing, it’s supposed to be on the spot!”

“I know nobody who’s able to make a joke on the spot without getting made fun of.” Kazuha replied, his soft voice ringing in your ears.

“You know damn well Kazuha has no capability of writing anything on the spot other than HAIKUS ABOUT LEAVES.” Beidou’s younger voice rang in the footage, “Leave him alone! Go find someone else to torment!” She said, her hand covering the screen.

“I DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING—”

The tape ended, your eyes were slowly filling with tears as you scrambled to take the tape out and put another one in. Each tape you watched, Beidou would make certain comments or give a laugh, letting you know of the good times they had, but all you could think about was how fortunate you were to be listening to these right now. Revelry of your brother’s successions, watching him to find a way to cope while he’s gone.

“(Y/N)! Li— listen to me,” Kazuha said in the tape, him looking at the screen while in the background there’s chaos of a New Year’s Eve party. It caused you to widen your eyes, distraught. He looked a little tipsy, his cheeks reddened in the video, but his look still remained soft. “You had a hard time tonight without your ex. You’ll be older one day. And when you do get there…realize that happiness is the most fundamental element of finding who you are. You are anything but a facade of the people who came before and after you, but an amalgamation of why you’re respected among many. Keep your dreams, keep your mind. You’re the strongest person I know…! I love you. Be that person through all tribulations.”

After that, Kazuha stared at the screen, spaced out from how much he drank at that party. But eventually someone called him over and he shut off the tape. Your body wracked into shambles, crying out after the tears built up so much in your eyes that you spilled oceans.

Everything, and you mean everything came back to you. You remembered the Sunday mornings that you two would take care of the old oak tree, you remember when your mother would join you two to bake tiny treats together, there was a rule in the home where if you wanted to have sweets you must make them yourself. You remember the laughs, the smiles, Kazuha’s joy seeing you, your mother’s joy knowing you were happy.

You remembered how soft Kunikuzushi used to be, even if it was a now fleeting memory in your heart. You had to move on.

You wailed once the tape cut off. “Beidou,” Your voice trembled helplessly, moving your body over to claw at her shirt, feeling yourself get lightheaded. “Beidou, we have to find him! We have to!” You panicked, shoulders shaking from how hard you cried. “He’s out there somewhere…he wants me to find him!”

Beidou sat there stunned as she wrapped her arms around you, who was clawing at her shirt valiantly. Steadying your shaking frame, she rested her chin gently atop your head. “Yeah,” She said, knowing the floodgates were opened at last. “We’ll find him.”

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @vxcmx @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @justpeachyteastea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha @bbysatoruuu @rvoulte

@kinvasions @kukikoooo @adriannauodi @pumpkincitrus @umiloa

@eunseok-s @state-of-grac3 @ariesloves @trulyylee @lyzeivr

@suniika @animeobsessed56 @kamisstufff @samyayaya @scarawiki

@mywillt0live @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 1*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Meeting Harry Styles at the hotel she was staying at was a surprise. But to have him invite her to his room for a drink was unexpected.

Warning: smut

Word Count: 17,748

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

Harry remembers the days when he used to go into his therapist’s office for his sessions. But after fame hit the paps knew where he was going, learned his schedule, and he was constantly bombarded. And of course, the fans caught on so there’d be screaming people trying to get his attention as he hopped from his car to the back entrance.

Lately, though, she’d been coming to his house instead. She charged more for in-house visits but Harry wasn’t bothered by the extra cost. Her time and flexibility were worth it to him so he’d happily pay the added fee.

They normally sat in his office together for the sessions. It was always like chatting with a close colleague when he’d have her over. Harry would usually have pastries and green juice or matcha to share and they’d talk about their week. She’d even talk to him about hers a little. Which always made him feel so comfortable around her. It invited him to really open up and he learned to be vulnerable with her over time.

He'd been seeing her since his One Direction days which meant in-person visits weren’t always possible if he was traveling, but Pat took a lot of late-night calls and FaceTime time sessions over the years. And Harry trusted her more than he trusted most people. She’d earned his trust. She’d heard his deepest, darkest secrets and knew all the dirty details about all of his past loves and flings. She wasn’t a sex therapist but she often gave him advice that helped him in that department.

And today she was doing just that. Listening to him drone on about his last lover, the older woman with two children who left her fiancé to be with him. He felt bad about everything in their relationship – from the beginning, he knew it wasn’t going to last and it was only meant to be a quick fling. But then he did develop feelings (Harry loved to fall in love and it was usually quite messy) against his better judgment. And then when she left the father of her children it became even more complicated.

“I just felt like I owed her. She’d given up so much for me and it was crazy of me to feed into that. I should have told her then and there that we wouldn’t end up together but I think a part of me just wanted to have the stability. But instead, it just dragged on for too long.” Harry had recently seen her at an event and she ignored him, just as he ignored her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him because here he was in therapy with Pat talking about her.

Pat tapped her pen on her notepad and nodded. She’d heard all this before. But the guilt he felt was continually bubbling up and pouring out in their sessions even though they’d been broken up for the better part of a year.

“Harry, let’s talk about that. The stability part. Do you feel like you still need to be in a relationship to be stable? We’ve worked on this in the past and it sounds like that’s still a constant in your romantic attitude.”

Harry knew he was someone that just loved being with someone. Long-term, a week, a night… he just enjoyed the attention and he loved giving attention. And he was good at it. Well, he gave a lot of himself even if the relationship wasn’t serious. That’s just how he was.

“I know I need to be more confident to be alone and not have someone in my bed or my life all the time. I mean, I haven’t even had sex in like, a month.”

Pat laughed and shook her head, “I know Harry. And probably the whole world too. I know how hard that is for you – to never be able to have any privacy even if it’s just something fun," she paused as nodded, "And so a month... That's not really that long, but I’m assuming you’re referring to the model you were with in Tokyo about month ago? Pictures of you two were plastered everywhere.”

Harry nodded and chuckled, “Oh yeah. That was just… we were drunk so I wasn’t careful but I had fun ya know? I just want to be able to have fun and not deal with the public knowing that we probably fucked. Or all the weird speculation. It’s not anyone’s business. Sometimes I make mistakes and get caught in public but it’s tiresome. I want to be able to go out and do normal things but I can’t.” 

Again, these were all things Pat knew about and had heard verbatim. She truly felt for him, though. Was even protective of him as if he were her son. Harry was so charming and likable and just a genuinely nice person that it was hard not to feel like he needed protecting at times.

But what could she do? He was a grown man now. A grown man who enjoyed love and all the kinds of things that went with it. But more than that he loved his job. Which was where the biggest problem lie. Harry’s job was a drawback for most people he’d attempted a relationship with. Some could handle the long distance, the frequent flights and stays at hotels, eating and dressing and showering on the road, screaming fans, women and men throwing themselves at him, stalking him, feeling entitled to his attention when he was out in public eating breakfast.

And he’d never give any of it up for a relationship. But that didn’t make it easy. Harry hardly remembered what it used to be like before he became famous. He was catapulted into the limelight as a teenager and was in one of the most popular boybands the world had ever known. But when he went off on his own for a solo career, assembled a talented group for his band, cut off his long hair, and began writing songs and crooning in well-fitted suits in small venues and theaters his fame rose year by year. Every album he put out was more popular than the one before.

With fame came flocks of fans. Who were willing to do nearly anything to get a glimpse up close of the charming boy with big green eyes, sweet dimples, and a deep voice. So yeah. Relationships suffered.

“You always have the option to just stop. Finish off your contract and then forget about fame. But you don’t want that. So doing normal things in public will be hard while you’re so famous.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want to stop. I love what I do. Just wish I had more privacy.”

“But I’m proud that you’re not isolating like you did for a while there. Wouldn’t even answer my calls for some time. Remember? You’re doing okay now, though. I think you’re improving. Your fame continues to grow and you are adjusting to it.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. That was a rough go. Not being able to see family or close friends during the pandemic really got to me. I am still surprised by how I responded to that all that. Doesn’t feel like that was me, you know? Feels like such a long time ago.”

“It affected many people in ways they hadn’t realized it would. People who had never struggled with depression or drug use before had to fight for their lives to get better.”

“Yeah… I was just alone with all those thoughts. Missing… her. I even called her one night. Don’t remember the conversation because I had taken sleep pills right before but saw that I’d called her the night before when I looked through my phone. Realized it was bad then.”

“Camille?”

Harry shifted in his seat and sighed. He didn’t like to say her name. That had been the hardest breakup. Because he really loved her. It no longer stung like it used to but he thought of her often, “She had a boyfriend of course. Still does. And he’s far better for her. Can go with her whenever and wherever. And I couldn’t because I was so busy. And she couldn’t come with me either because she’s got her own acting and modeling career. Just… I’m okay with that all now. But there were nights when I was alone in that big house and I couldn’t stop picking apart all the things that went wrong between us.”

“Too much time to think. Even I dealt with overthinking and dwelling.”

Harry glanced at Pat and smiled, “We’re all so similar. Us humans. Even we can surprise ourselves at times by torturing our brains and combing over details long past.”

Pat was proud of how insightful Harry was and how far he'd come.

. . .

Harry’s next show was in Chicago. He was getting himself pumped up for stage time. His outfit was being tailored once again, his hair styled, a bit of bronzer and highlighter, moisturizer on his arms and torso, lips stained a deep berry shade, nails painted lavender…

Music and his fans and being on stage were Harry’s favorite things. Well, he had another favorite thing that he could have that very night. It was easy when he was on stage and singing his heart out. A little eye contact and a raised brow to the cute curvy girl with the big tits at the front of pit, a hand wave and a wink, a tequila ordered for the pretty blond in the balcony seats he had a good view of, or calling out the tall guy in the middle of his concert and continually flirting with him in front of thousands (millions after the videos made it to social media). It was easy. Harry just had it so he could really have his pick, for the most part. If he wanted.

And like every one of his sets, at the end he was exhausted yet pumped with adrenaline. Meeting some of his lucky fans and taking pictures backstage was par for the course. Nothing out of the ordinary for a night after a concert.

But he had another show the following evening and so Jeff was giving him the signal it was time to head out and get back to his hotel so he could call it a night. The morning of a show was always early for rehearsing, a good workout, an ice bath, meditation…

Harry was ushered into the back entrance of the posh hotel he was staying at and used the freight elevator to get to the top floor to his room without anyone seeing him. Which he hated. He hated having to hide and duck away from fans. Hated being treated like a big secret no matter where he went. But on the other side of the coin, he cherished his privacy so it was necessary.

Jeff left him alone after Harry settled into his suite. He had the TV on and was about to call his mom because she’d be up at that time, but then there was a knock at his door. It was past 12:30 am so he couldn’t imagine who it would be.

Harry slowly opened the door to see a hotel employee standing with a bouquet of flowers, “These were sent here earlier, Mr. Styles, but we forgot to put them in your room. My apologies for the mistake.”

Harry took the bouquet and smiled at the young man, slipping him a tip and telling him not to worry.

Pulling the card out of the flowers he put the lovely bouquet down on the buffet and opened it to find out who it was from.

“We miss you, H. Hope you’re well. Love XX”

It was his ex. The one he’d wasted nearly two years with. He’d gotten to know her children and this card was meant to pull at his heartstrings with the ‘we miss you’. And it worked. The guilt built up again. He didn’t miss her or their relationship, but the guilt he carried for everything that happened to them during and even after was upsetting. He just wished his life was truly private like a normal guy. And then maybe he could move on and get real closure.

And against Jeff’s advice, Harry decided to go down to the hotel bar by himself which would be open for another couple of hours. A drink would help. Maybe a chat with someone nice. He hoped there weren’t any crazy fans down there but he’d rather risk that than sitting alone in his suite for another minute.

The bar was mostly empty. There were a few couples at tables, some individuals sitting and drinking at the bar. Harry grabbed a small table near the front with a good view of the bar and was greeted quickly to get his order.

He looked around casually and realized no one seemed to notice him. It felt nice. A moment of peace in public without anyone snapping photos or taking videos.

Across from his small table was a woman he suddenly took note of. She was dressed smartly. A silky green blouse tucked into charcoal trousers. She was looking at her phone and sipping a cocktail of some sort. She was pretty with delicate features and he couldn’t help himself when he noticed her pretty round bottom taking up the stool she sat on. Harry wasn’t a pervert but he had the perfect view of her. He was just a man after all and he appreciated beautiful women and men at times.

The server brought his drink to him and grinned widely, “Enjoy your whisky neat, Mr. Styles.”

Suddenly the woman turned her head and made eye contact with Harry. Her eyes widened before she quickly looked back down at her phone. She recognized him. Harry knew right away. But he was intrigued that she looked away. He decided to get her attention.

“Wish I could do that.”

The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Harry, confusion on her face as she looked behind herself and then back to Harry, “Sorry, are you speaking to me?”

Harry chuckled, “Of course I am.”

She set her cell phone down and tilted her head as she turned toward him, “You wish you could do what?”

Harry nodded toward the cell phone she had on the table, “Scroll through social media so casually.”

She stitched her brows together as she looked down at her phone and then back to Harry, “What makes you think I was scrolling through social media?”

Harry laughed and he guessed that was a fair question, “You’re right. I guess I don’t know what you’re looking at. Sorry if I offended,” he lifted his glass up toward her and then took a sip.

She smiled and lifted her own glass and then took a sip in response.

But now Harry was very interested. He wondered what she was looking at but also found her response to be refreshing. Instead of fawning she was smart and snappy with him. Even though she clearly recognized him, she wasn’t giggling and asking for an autograph or a photo.

He stood up and took a chance to ask if he could join her. He knew it was gutsy but he was rarely turned down and the woman was intriguing.

“Mind if I sit here with you? A little company is nice.”

Now Y/n was very much feeling her nerves peak when she realized Harry Styles was sitting next to her table. And then he’d made conversation with her. She was surprised he was speaking to her at all and now here he was asking to sit with her. She had no reason to say no. So when she nodded and he pulled the stool out that was closest to hers and placed his whisky on the table she swallowed down the bubbling nerves and called on her natural self-confidence. She was a confident woman. She was successful and lived a good life that she worked hard for. She was smart and grounded. But she was also hyper-aware that she was not his type. So even if for the briefest moment she thought she caught him looking at her ass she had to have been wrong.

Their conversation was surprisingly fascinating to her. She imagined he’d have a lot of things to say but she didn’t realize he was such a deep and interesting person. His insight was very spot on and he was sensitive and a good listener.

When the server came over and told them it was last call they both ordered one more drink. Y/n wasn’t ready to call it a night and neither was Harry.

“So, what are you here for, in Chicago, exactly?”

“Oh, there is an art show this weekend. I, uh… I have a bunch of my pieces at the Carrie Secrist Gallery right now.”

Harry paused. She mentioned she was an artist but he didn’t realize she was here for work, “Wow. Really? Carrie Secrist Gallery,” he said the name of the gallery quietly as if to catalog the information, “So will you be here tomorrow night again?”

“Yes. Booked the room for the weekend. I leave Sunday afternoon. Hopefully, my work gets all sold so I don’t have to repack and ship it back home.”

Harry nodded and watched her lips as she spoke and then her eyes. He couldn’t stop from letting his gaze drop to her plush lips. And Y/n noticed it too. It had her palms sweating. Maybe it was just the alcohol.

“Would you want to come to my show tomorrow evening? I can get you some really good seats – two if you’d like to bring anyone. I’d love it if you came. Maybe after we could do this again,” he gestured around them.

She was momentarily stunned. It was so out of the blue, unexpected. But it was also only an invitation to his concert. Which… still… this was a personal invite from Harry Styles and an opening to see him afterward which was quite something.

His green eyes and the smile on his pink lips were so close to her. She felt like suddenly with the way he was eyeing her that perhaps there was more to his invite. She’d been pushing that feeling down since he asked to sit with her but now it was glaring. Obvious. It was obvious that he was seeking something else. Maybe a quick one-night thing before he left for his next destination.

“What time would I need to get there?”

“Show starts at 7 with the opener.”

“Hmm… the gallery where I'm showing my art doesn't close til 7. I’d be getting there too late-“

“Well just come after that’s over. I’d still love to see you even if you’re a little late.”

She nodded and tried to rationalize everything. Could she really do this? Perhaps it was nothing at all but this didn’t feel like nothing and her instincts were usually spot on. She had no reason to say no except that he was super famous and what would it all look like logistically? But looking back at his face she just saw a handsome, confident man. There didn’t need to be any strings attached or consequences. It could be fun, “Sure. That could work. But it would just be me. Anyone I’d want to bring wouldn’t be able to make it in time for tomorrow night.”

Harry’s grin widened and his famous dimples dug into his cheeks, “Even better.”

. . .

Y/n had a hard time sleeping that night. She was hoping to have a couple of drinks to wind down after the adrenaline of the gallery showing. Her evening had been excellent. She sold some of her most expensive pieces, had a fabulous dinner with the curator and a couple of other artists, and then met and had drinks with Harry Styles.

The following day at the gallery she was on fire as well. Her good mood was contagious and every one of her paintings sold. She was asked to dinner again after the gallery closed but this time she declined, citing a concert to get to as her reason for skipping out.

She received a text halfway through her day as promised with a link to the details of her ticket retrieval at the will-call window. Lifting her phone up to the person manning the booth she showed them the QR code and watched on as they called someone and got off the phone, “Just wait here for a moment. Someone’s coming to get you.”

Being ushered into the back of the venue and then through a hallway she followed behind the man until he finally led her to an area with balcony seating and a good view of the stage, “Mr. Styles has said anything you’d like is on him. Can I get you a drink?”

Y/n still felt like it was so surreal to be here at a Harry Styles show on personal invitation and now being offered something to drink. On. Him.

“Is chardonnay on the menu?”

The man nodded and left in the blink of an eye.

Harry wasn’t on the stage yet. The opener was just finishing up and the crowd was full of young girls dressed in brightly colored, outfits. Lots of feathers and fringe and glitter and rhinestones.

The man returned with a glass of chardonnay as Y/n looked out over the crowd and leaned over the balcony. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived but her spot had a good view and she was happy she wasn’t down amongst all the pretty young things in front of the stage below.

The moment Harry came on the energy in the room was thick and everything was all about Harry. Fans with signs, lots of screaming, and most everyone sang along.

She couldn’t help but to dance and sing a little. The excitement and his enthusiasm spilled over everyone. Including her. Y/n noticed that it looked like Harry was watching her from the stage. He’d look up toward where she was with a grin often enough that it made her wonder. She thought perhaps he was smiling and looking toward someone else but it was definitely her because she watched as he mimicked her awful attempt at dancing by twirling around and shaking his hips exaggeratedly. She felt her face grow warm when some of the fans began to look up toward the balcony where she stood. Luckily there were other people where she was (who she later found out all had tickets from members of the band – a sort of VIP section for friends and family) so it wasn’t immediately obvious it was her he was grinning at.

The entire concert felt like a whirlwind. Harry’s charisma and style of entertainment were so contagious and exciting. Y/n felt like she was on adrenaline as she was being led backstage. The area was bustling as well. Lots of fans, mostly young girls, a table with small bites and beverages, and sitting areas.

She saw a couple of the band members taking photos with a group of people and then she heard shrieks and turned toward the commotion. There he was flocked by a group of fans and taking photos with one or two at a time. His smile was dazzling, genuine. She noted that he’d changed out of his stage outfit into a pair of basketball shorts and a sweater. He looked so casual in his outfit, yet there was no mistaking that this man commanded the room. That he was the star everyone wanted a piece of.

Y/n decided to keep herself occupied and look around while she waited for Harry to free up a bit. She wasn’t quite sure he’d really be seeing her afterward like he mentioned the night before. And the text she received earlier with the ticket details came from an automated six-digit number separated by a dash in between. Which made sense because he probably didn’t want her to have his number.

But she’d stick around to at least say hi.

“You came. Thank you,” Y/n turned to see the man behind her, with his handsome grin looking right at her.

“Oh, well, of course! Figured why not? It was a great concert by the way!”

They chatted for only a few minutes before they were interrupted again. Harry gave Y/n a look of apology, “Meet me at the hotel bar in like an hour?”

“Okay. I will try to be there in an hour,” she was going to just say absolutely yes, 100% she’d be there but that all sounded a little too desperate for her taste. She preferred to keep things level. And who knew if he’d even show up?

In her room, Y/n went back and forth between changing into something more comfortable or just keeping her current outfit on. She decided to keep on what she had and instead freshened up her hair and dotted on the smallest bit of undereye concealer.

It had been a while since she’d been interested in anyone. And she didn’t know what Harry wanted but the night before she was picking up certain vibes. She could be wrong. Perhaps she’d misread the whole situation. But she thought it could be fun to get out a little. Try and move on from the trauma of her last relationship. She tried not to think of it when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Moving on had been something she’d been attempting to do for a while. A fun night with a handsome pop star could help a little. If that’s where things led. Hopefully.

At the bar, she ordered soda water to start. She didn’t want to get sloppy, just in case it turned into something more than just a friendly chat. It was around the time Harry said he’d meet her. She’d give him a little leeway since he had just gotten finished putting on a concert for thousands of adoring fans.

But when another thirty minutes had passed she checked her phone to find that there was nothing from him and no sign of his cute dimples in the bar anywhere either.

She waved at the bartender, “I’ll have a glass of house chardonnay please.”

She figured she might as well have one more glass of wine for the evening before calling it a night.

Looking at Instagram while she waited for her drink she realized she had a dm. It was from Dante. An artist she hit it off with at her last showing. They’d been messaging back and forth a bit but nothing had come of it. He lived a few hours away from her so getting together again hadn’t really been brought up. Except now.

Hey, I’ll be heading your way for an art exhibit soon. Would love to catch up in person if you’re free. Would you be interested in seeing me again? I’ll let you know when I’ll be in town when I find out more.

Smiling she began to type her response when the bartender placed her glass of wine down along with an envelope with her name written on the front.

She looked up at the young man in question

“Concierge handed this to me right after you ordered.”

“But how did you know this was for me?” She lifted the envelope up and flipped it over to open it up.

“Because I have your credit card with your name on it when you started your tab. Plus they described you. It’s from a very special guest I’m told.”

A very special guest.

She pulled her lips into her mouth to hide the grin that was about to take over as she looked around the bar, still, with no sign of Harry.

Pulling out the contents of the envelope she took a sip of her wine.

Sorry, I ran late. Take a drink in my room with me? p1900 - H

Blinking her eyes she felt her pulse pick up as she folded the note and tucked it into her purse. She gulped down another bit of chardonnay and grinned to herself, already having completely forgotten about Dante.

So she had read this right. The nerves in her belly bubbled up as she waved at the bartender, Check please!”

After making a pitstop at her room to really “freshen” up she realized that the floors stopped off at 8. After that was P.

Penthouse.

Hitting the P, she leaned her back into the wall as the elevator took her to the top floor.

The moment she stepped out of the elevator she was greeted by a man, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh!” She suddenly remembered who she was dealing with. Harry Styles, a world-famous, A-list pop star. Of course, he’d have security. “Yes, I uh… Harry invited me up-“ She reached into her purse and pulled out the note, “Here.”

The man unfolded the note and then looked at her with a smile, “Y/n?”

So he’d told them her name…

She nodded as he handed the note back to her, “Follow me.”

She figured this was something Harry had done before; had people brought to his room. The occasional one-night stand. Some fun for the weekend.

The man knocked at the door and only a handful of seconds passed before Harry was standing in the doorway, wearing the same after-concert outfit he’d been wearing when she left the venue earlier.

He smiled at her, “Come in,” and then looked at the man, “Thanks, Shamus.”

The suite was huge. That was no surprise. She’d seen a few nice suites in her days. Being an artist wasn’t always so lucrative but she was always invited to the good after parties. She had a lot of artsy fartsy friends, some very well-off.

“I’m really sorry about being so late. I just got caught up and then before I realized the time it was too late. I’m glad you were still at the bar.”

“Yeah,” she said as she walked around toward the sitting area with the large woven rug and plush couches, “about that… what if I wasn’t in the bar? I was about to go back to my room.”

“Well, then I guess we would have missed one another. That would have been a shame.”

“But you have my number. You could have reached out.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck as she sat down. She was acting far more confident than she really was. But this was part of what she did. She was constantly put into situations where she needed to be confident and sell herself. Her art was an extension of herself. So when she needed to make some sales at shows and galleries she learned just how to do that. Her art sold itself for the most part. But there were enough people who wanted her story. Sometimes, she was what sold her piece. She’d do whatever it took to not be a starving artist anymore.

“I know I could have. But… I hope you don’t take offense. I have a rule not to give out my number so easily. Not that I think you’d use it to do anything but I’ve just had some really bad experiences. People I’ve trusted have betrayed me and changing my number is something I have nightmares about,” he laughed as sat down next to her on the couch.

She laughed with him. She actually could sort of understand it. Being a woman was like that in a way. Giving out her number to someone could be risky. It was a gamble to have her information out there with someone she didn’t know well.

“I’m not offended. But I really thought you’d changed your mind. Though, in all honesty,” she stretched her arms overhead with a yawn and leaned back into the very shockingly comfortable couch, “I was sort of looking forward to my bed. I’m exhausted.”

Harry leaned back and draped his leg over his knee, “I know what you mean. If I were you I’d much prefer a comfy bed than to spend any time with me either,” he laughed and then put his arm along the back of the couch, “but really… if you’re tired, don’t feel pressure to stay. I am glad you’re here, though.”

There it was. He gave her the choice. So he could have the green light. The thumbs up. He was clever. Telling her she didn’t have to stay but also letting her know he wanted her there. The ball was in her court.

“I’m curious as to why you think I’m interesting enough to invite back to your room for a drink, of which I’ve not yet been offered,” she teased with a chuckle. She didn’t want to seem like some pushover but at the same time, she felt a little flirty. She’d had such a good night at the gallery and she hadn’t been alone with a man nearly as attractive as Harry in… well, she’d never been alone with a man as attractive as Harry. And he was very much giving off the air of flirty himself. The way he kept putting his finger up to his lip, the eye contact, his arm reaching across the couch behind her… His body language was a dead giveaway.

 “You don’t think you’re interesting?”

Y/n smiled. He was good. Of course that was a good line to use on someone he didn’t know. She was wondering something very specific that he’d yet to admit. That she was there for some fun. A quick romp. He had a need that he wanted filled and so did she. The reason he’d asked her to his room was for that. Yet he insisted on playing coy.

“I know I’m interesting. But you don’t know me. So why is it that you’ve asked me here?” She raised her brows at him as he stood and walked to the buffet across the room.

“I felt comfortable with you from the start. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone new once in a while. Not someone in the industry,” Harry turned back with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in his other, “and sorry I didn’t offer you a drink. Wine?”

Nodding her head she watched as Harry sat back down next to her, a little closer this time as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses.

Clinking their glasses together Harry sat back into the couch again. The silence had been a little awkward as he poured their drinks and Y/n was feeling a bit unsettled. She wasn’t sure what to say. As confident as she normally could be, this was getting very real and her mind wouldn’t stop wandering to what would be happening in thirty minutes or an hour from then. Would he be really going all in with her? Trying to get laid? She wouldn’t mind it, not at all. She’d happily let Harry Styles fuck her if he wanted. But would he be thinking about how her thighs and her tummy were plump and soft (mushy really was the better descriptor)?

She’d looked up his past exes because what else would one do before meeting up one on one with Harry Styles? She knew it was a bad idea but once she got a peep of some of the women he’d been with in the past… well, she certainly didn’t fit that mold. She didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all. But she wasn’t a model. She wasn’t a hot body, lush-haired, perfectly put-together wealthy woman of the world.

She was an artist. She made a good living nowadays, but nothing crazy. She lived in the Midwest USA and would go six months without getting her haircut, much less even visiting for a style. She dressed cute, she thought, but not high fashion. Not with leather, and silk, and cashmere and braided linen… Her makeup style was a crapshoot. She wore a nice, tinted moisturizer (with sunscreen because she couldn’t be bothered with the extra step), cream blush, mascara, and if she was going out, red lipstick. That was her bold makeup move. Red lips. Contouring was a foreign concept to her.

“The wine is good. Thanks,” she said lifting her glass up before taking another sip.

“Oh yeah. I enjoy a little wine once in a while. Not really much of a connoisseur but this is one of my favorite red blends.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at her glass. He was obviously feeling the nerves as well. She felt him shift next to her as he put his arm back behind her on the couch again.

She thought about just putting the moves on. Getting it over with. But then he started to talk.

“Tomorrow afternoon I fly out to Brazil. Haven’t been there in a while. Feels like with the pandemic everything just stopped. Glad to have things sort of going back to normal. Ya know? But… What about you? Do you live near Chicago? You mentioned you live in the suburbs.”

They chatted a bit, revealing small things about themselves little by little. Eventually, she even wound up telling him her age and that she’d been in a long-term relationship that ended tragically but she didn’t give him all the details. She didn’t want his pity. But it felt natural to tell him a little bit more after he opened up to her about his last girlfriend and how it was his longest relationship but that he had felt stuck in it halfway through. That she had kids and how difficult that made everything.

Y/n knew who he was talking about as well. He didn’t need to say her name because she’d googled it all beforehand.

And she was aware that she wasn’t as old as his last girlfriend. She was only about a year older than Harry was but he was so sincere and mature that he felt older. Yet, there was a playful edge to him that was refreshing. And he was an excellent listener. Just as he had been the night before.

That was another reason she felt comfortable revealing small things about herself to him. He acted like what she was saying was worth being heard. He didn’t look at the clock on the wall, or let his eyes glaze over in boredom as she spoke. He asked her questions about what she’d said, remembered her sister’s name when she mentioned that she had two nieces, and even asked her about how her art show went – remembering the name of the gallery.

“And how did it go tonight at the Carrie Secrist Gallery? Did you get all your pieces sold?”

She laughed at his question – the way he said the name of the gallery. She thought he was probably showing off a little. He was naturally very charismatic and charming and she was falling for it hard. He’d bump his knee into hers every so often and his eyes never left her face which had her skin growing warm. He was flirting in the most subtle way.

“It went well! Actually, I sold all of my pieces. I did give a discount for one of them to be displayed at a restaurant because I figure that’s like advertisement, right? But yeah. It was a really good night.”

Harry cocked his head to the side and she noted how he watched as she sipped her wine and licked her lips. He wasn’t being coy anymore. His obvious gaze was his way of moving it along.

She stared back at him and felt her skin start to prickle with nerves. It was bold to look him directly in his sharp green eyes when he was sat so close to her. She watched as his lips turned up in a small smirk and he leaned in closer, “What perfume are wearing?”

She had to pause to think. It was her travel perfume. She liked nice scents and had a few back home but when she traveled she didn’t bring her usuals with her because they were too costly to risk being broken. And normally when she was traveling it was because she was participating in an exhibit or show and that meant she would wear very little of anything scented. Mostly out of respect. Like being on an airplane and wearing a beautiful spicy perfume that you’d put on before a date. You just wouldn’t.

“I think it’s like… um… I honestly don’t know the name. It’s a sample of something that I bring when I travel. Like a powdery, clean scent. Something nonoffensive. Would hate to lose out on a sale because I was wearing some wild cotton candy, musky, floral perfume or something,” she laughed.

Harry nodded with a small smile as he watched her mouth move around her words. She couldn’t help but notice how he looked from her lips and slowly brought his gaze back up to her eyes.

“What about you? You smell nice.” It was true. He did smell good. Clean and a little bit masculine. It was definitely some kind of cologne.

He looked down over his t-shirt and scrunched his brows in thought, “You think? Felt like I might be smelling a bit off.”

Y/n shook her head with a grin, “No. You smell nice. Clean.”

“Well, I did shower after the show. I get so hot and sweaty on stage. Sometimes the outfits don’t breathe at all. Just like, my hot skin trapped under saran wrap is what it feels like,” he laughed as he spoke but the visual had Y/n’s mind going into dark and dirty places. Perhaps he’d said it on purpose.

She stayed quiet as she sipped the last bit of her wine and then leaned forward to place the glass on the table in front of them.

“Would you like another bottle of wine? Or… something else?”

Clenching her jaw she looked at his empty glass next to hers.

Or something else…

“Well, I don’t know about having more wine…”

“Okay. Me neither to be honest. Also not quite ready to go to bed just yet. Do you want to like…” he pulled his lips into his mouth and raised his brows as he bumped her knee with his.

He didn’t need to say it. She knew what he meant. She kept her eyes on his with a grin on her face as he leaned in so close she could smell the wine on his breath, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She was compelled to pull him toward her and put her lips to his instead of answering him verbally. She’d been watching his pink lips wrap around his words in the unique way he moved his mouth for long enough. They looked smooth and she was curious how they’d feel against hers. But the moment she felt his tongue slip out and wet the bottom of her lip she felt her mind go blank except for the thought that she was kissing Harry Styles. Sitting in his hotel room way past her bedtime with security outside of his door and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table at her feet.

His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, to which she happily allowed herself to be moved toward his body. Her own fingers flitted into his thick hair, the curls winding between her fingers, just as soft as it appeared. 

To her surprise (and delight) he didn’t try rushing from kissing to trying to take her clothes off. In fact, he continued kissing her and pressing his tongue into hers and lapping over her lips, squeezing the back of her neck with one hand and her soft hip with the other for longer than she might have ever kissed anyone before. His mouth against hers was erotic and wet and a bit eager even. As if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. But she matched that energy because she actually hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time.

He pinched her thigh a bit harder as she moved closer, her blouse-covered breasts brushing against his taut shirt-covered chest. She knew he was in good shape because she’d seen the pictures of him wearing open vests and jackets baring his well-built upper body while prancing on stage. Tonight’s outfit showcased how beefy he was with a well-fitted t-shirt and leather pants. A reminder of where she lacked.

As his hand slid upward to the curve of her waist she pulled away a little, really not feeling like he’d enjoy her extra bits once he touched them, “I… sorry…” she shook her head and sighed, feeling embarrassed.

Harry’s lips reached for hers again, brushing them softly over hers, “Sorry for what?”

But his mouth on hers was intoxicating and the way he was still grabbing at her and pulling her in made her forget what it was she was worried about.

The truth was that Harry loved what he saw and the way she felt so soft and plush under his hand. Her mouth, her hip, her waist. And she smelled pretty and her eyes were making him lose his mind. He wanted her in his bed and on his cock (if she’d allow that). Her voice was soft and feminine and she was smart and funny.

Harry had no trouble finding someone for the night. He’d been very lucky since his One Direction days but fame was like that. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome with a deep voice and a big cock. But recently he decided to start being a little more choosy. Perhaps to find someone he could spend more than a night with. It was hard to do, though. Because he was on the road a lot and most people couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle unless they could go on the road with him. Which was usually an impossibility.

And after Y/n had left the venue a young woman was flirting heavily with him; batting her lashes and touching his arm, and giving off all the signals that she was a sure thing. Normally he’d have just stuck with that and had a good time with her for the evening. That was the easy route. A pretty girl very willing and eager whom he could send away after without feeling too bad. Did that make him a bad person? He didn’t think so. It was just sex most of the time. He was always safe and respectful and the kind of sexual tension that would build up while he was singing and dancing (and honestly that was when he was feeling his most attractive and confident) was normal after every show. It wasn’t like he had sex with someone new after each concert. But the option was always there.

But tonight he really wanted to see Y/n again. The cute girl was the easier option, but Y/n was the kind of woman he wanted to keep with him until morning. Let her sleep in his suite and have a couple of rounds with her. There was no way to know if it could ever be more but she was something different. His therapist, Pat, had told him to stop going with what was easiest. To take a step back and look for more substance. She told him he was clearly looking for something deeper and while there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun, deep down he needed more. And he knew she was right.

Harry’s hand roamed upward to the underside of her boob and even with the blouse and the bra covering her flesh he could feel how soft and heavy her breast was. He wanted to tear her shirt off and take a look but he’d let her lead the way because she seemed like she knew what she wanted when she slid her palm over his thigh and close to his crotch. Harry was solid and already thickened under his shorts, which was quite obvious from the way the fabric tented outward. He pulled her in closer again, hoping she’d grasp him over his shorts.

But instead, when Harry pulled at her she lost her balance and so the hand she was slowly moving upward as she worked up the courage to palm over his obvious erection suddenly was planted firmly over his cock, her hand trying to steady herself so as not to crush him under her palm and so she didn’t fall forward into him like she was about to.

They both parted from the kiss, Harry laughing and Y/n apologizing and quickly removing her hand, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

Harry was more than okay when he looked into her pretty eyes and saw how flustered she was, how swollen her lips were from kissing, and the way her eyes were blown out.

He put his hand over hers and pulled it back to cup over his hard dick, “As you can tell, I’m just fine,” he grinned and looked down at the state of himself and her eyes followed him. She knew he was hard, she felt it when she fell into him. Which was quite exciting now that she was having her hand guided over him, he squeezed around her fingers so she had to tighten her grip around him. She panted and looked up at him. He was girthy and the way his dick was stuffed under his shorts, bent a little bit as it was constricted by the elastic. She could tell he was hung. Very much so.

“Do you want me to… can I?” She asked, licking her lips and looking back down at his big bulge and Harry leaned back, putting his arms back along the couch.

“If you want. But if you do that then be warned that I am gonna want to return the favor.”

A laugh was forced out of Y/n’s nose as she looked back into his eyes curiously, “Be warned? As if that would be a bad thing?”

Harry shrugged, “You never know.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and slowly tugged at the elastic of the shorts he had on to reveal he was sans underwear. The shock of seeing his thick deep pink tip so quickly had her gasping unexpectedly and pausing her motion. She could tell he was big just by the way he felt, but seeing it bare before her eyes…

Looking back up at him he nodded at her to continue so she pulled at the material, pushing it down and then finally getting a full at him, long and pretty, hard as a rock. He was fully engorged and heavy in her hand when she slid her palm over him. Yes, this would do.

Getting to her knees on the floor in between his legs she kept her hand on him, not wanting to let go. It was unbelievable that she was holding Harry Styles’ thick cock in her hand and he was hard for her. She clenched her thighs just imagining what it might feel like wrecking her insides because it would.

She licked her lips and leaned over him slowly, leisurely pumping him upward. Spitting over his tip she looked up at him and pressed her mouth to his slit with a tiny peck and used her hand to coat his cock with the saliva. She spat again to give her hand more glide and on her upward stroke, her palm squeezed around his frenulum. Harry moaned and leaned his head back. His pink lips parted.

Positioning herself more comfortably she lowered her mouth again to the underside of him, licking upward until her tongue glided over his tip and she popped his bulbous crown into her mouth and sucked. He reached down to put a hand into her hair and grunted as she got lower over him.

He tasted good. Of course, he hadn’t come yet but he was clean and smelled nice. She was never a fan of the taste of come but she was certain with Harry, she’d gulp him all down with a smile on her face despite whatever he might taste like.

Harry loved getting head. He didn’t always ask for it, and he didn’t technically ask for it this time either but she wanted it and he wanted to feel her warm mouth and plump lips wrapped around him since the night before when he first met her.

He was not disappointed either. She was taking him in well. He knew he wasn’t easy to take all the way, which was part of the reason he didn’t always ask for a blowie. But Y/n was good. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, wanting her to go at her own pace but he did grasp the back of the couch with his free hand and found himself letting out a pathetic whimper when she swallowed around his tip.

She was enjoying this. She was pretty good at giving head, though it had been some time, she was a bit rusty but it was like riding a bike really. After a few swallows and deep strokes, his tip hitting the back of her mouth and making her gag lightly, she began to get the hang out of it again. And he was clearly enjoying it.

She was making a bit of a mess too. Drooling and coughing… the fabric of his shorts that was pressed under his balls was wet. Which reminded her…

Using her free hand she began to roll his scrotum in her palm gently. His balls were round and full and heavy and when he gasped she could tell that was a good sign.

“Oh my god… ffffuck, Y/n!” Harry couldn’t help it when he tightened his fingers in her hair. He was going to come already. A little bit embarrassing but she was good and the noises she was making and the way she was sucking him in, wet and warm… plus… he was getting a very good view of her with her mouth wrapped around him. Drool dripping down her chin and she’d look up at him every so often and that was doing him in. The fact that she was pushing him down her throat so deeply and then looking up at him as she gurgled around him was making him lose it.

Now, Harry was a bit dominant in the bedroom. Well, a lot actually. He didn’t always show it, especially not with one-night stands or with someone he’d just met. He liked to ease them into it unless they were clearly into it. And there was something that told him she liked it a bit rough. So when he pushed her down a little further and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she moaned around him he coughed out a gasp and clenched his teeth to hold himself back. He wanted to have her on his cock like this for a while longer but she was conducting his perfect ideal for a blow job.

“Open that throat up for me, baby… gonna choke you with my come…” he panted his words and watched her closely as she hastened bobbing up and down over him. He took a risk to say what he wanted and she liked it. He had a feeling she would.

Y/n moaned at his words and the way he handled her hair and pushed her down over him. His sudden dominant display was welcomed and felt her arousal drip past her thong onto the insides of her thighs when he told her to open her throat for him. It was the hottest thing she’d heard in a long time.

And she did choke on his come. Salty and bitter, with an edge of sweetness. She swallowed and around him coughed as he flooded her throat. Tears poured from her eyes as she gulped him down the best she could and listening to his moans and grunts was satisfying to her.

Eventually, he released her hair and let his body melt into the couch as she licked him clean until his cock was softening in her mouth. He watched her when she sat back and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth with a small smile. The tears on her cheeks were mixed with streaks of black from her mascara and her mouth was puffy and wet.

“Come here,” Harry grasped the front of her neck and leaned in as he pulled her close so he could kiss her hard. She put her hands over his thighs to steady herself as he pulled her up and then moved her onto the couch under him. He pushed her down and lowered himself to her neck and licked upward toward her jawline, “Let me see you. Want to see your tits and your pussy. Can I, Y/n?”

She nodded as he pulled at her top. She sat up a little so he could pull the material off and she was quick to undo her clasp at the back. She was wearing a bra that was slightly complicated because her breasts were large and heavy so it was quite the device. She doubted he’d be able to figure it out fast enough.

“Holy fuck…” Harry groaned as he put his large hands over her tits and caressed the soft skin before lowering himself to attach his mouth to her left nipple and then her right one.

She hissed when he pulled at her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and squeezing gently at the other side. She hadn’t had anyone play with her tits in a long time. She’d really been missing intimacy. He sat back a little and pressed her boobs together before dipping back down to use his tongue all along her smooth flesh, tucking the wet muscle in between her breasts and licking upward toward her neck.

He continued kneading her tits as he settled himself onto his shins and sat back and looked at her face, “So fucking pretty.”

She arched her back, causing her hips to roll upward and Harry looked down to her hips, moving his hands down to the waistband of her skirt. He massaged her soft hips and watched as the material of her skirt lifted the slightest at the way he was squeezing her. He clenched his jaw and looked back into her eyes and raised his brows as if to ask her permission to keep lifting her skirt upward. She’d already nodded in response when he asked her moments ago but he wanted to know if she’d changed her mind or not.

Y/n brought her hands down and lifted the hem of her skirt up to just the part where her thighs were wholly exposed but her panties weren’t in view yet. Keeping her eyes on his she pushed at his hands to lower them so he could finish the job if he wanted. It was her way of giving him permission to pull her skirt up so he could see her.

And it wasn’t that Y/n was super confident in her body. In fact, if there was anything she was insecure about it was her weight and her body. She did well to push down the anxiety she felt about that and didn’t like to make it known she felt self-conscious, but she was. And here was Harry Styles between her legs and looking at her half-naked body, finally getting a view of her panties as he lifted her skirt. She knew she was wet between her legs already and watching the expression on his face she held her breath hoping he wasn’t grossed out by what he saw.

She watched him lick his lips as his brows set in a serious expression. He shot his gaze up to her eyes and then back down to her wet panties. She breathed a gasp when she felt his finger slip along the topmost part of her thigh just under the crotch of her panties, “You’re wet.”

She gulped hard. She knew there was nothing she could do to hide how wet she’d gotten from sucking him off. But when he thumbed at her thigh and collected her arousal before sticking his whole digit into his mouth and licking it clean, she dropped her mouth open in surprise.

“Mmm… do you know one of my favorite things to do is to put my face in between a woman’s thighs and make her come on my tongue?” He licked his lips again and pressed his thumbs to the elastic of her panties, pushing just under the fabric over her hips as he looked at her.

“I… no. I didn’t know,” was all she could respond with. She was anticipating what was to come and she couldn’t believe it so her brain wasn’t quite connecting with everything else at that moment.

Harry kept his eyes on hers as he began to lower her panties. He wanted access. Wanted to get his mouth on her and have her shaking and coming, getting his face all wet, dripping down to the couch below…

When Harry pulled the fabric down to her upper thighs he shifted to pull the material down and off her legs. He needed to have her spread apart for him so the panties needed to go.

When he finally allowed himself to look at the soft skin and the bit of hair she had all around her warm and wet pussy he closed his eyes and moaned when he gripped onto her hips, letting his fingers sink into her skin.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Okay? You want that, Y/n?” He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his well-defined chest and scattered tattoos. He must have planned on making a mess.

She nodded and looked down over her body and back into his eyes as he lowered himself over her. He went in tongue first and closed his eyes as he made the first lick upward through her slit and coated his tongue in her.

She moaned softly but then he quickly reached a hand down to the leg that was nearest the edge of the cushion and gripped onto the underpart of her thigh, making her spread out for him as he nudged into her further, lapping and sucking at her.

“OH!” She panted as his lips lowered to her entrance and his wide nose swept over her clit as he shook his head and pulled at her so he could push in further.

She grabbed onto the back of the couch with one arm and her other hand pushed into his soft hair. She rolled her hips upward and moaned at the way he felt on her, but he kept pushing her back down which was driving her nuts, in the best way. He was going in like a starved man and forcing her hips down to keep her still.

Harry wasn’t shy to eat pussy or do it his way. He found that women generally enjoyed the way he did it. His objective was always for it to feel good and for whoever was on the receiving end to come. And he really wanted to make Y/n come because of how good she’d just sucked him off. Swallowed his cock halfway down her throat and choked on his come. He wanted to give her something in return because he wanted to show her how good he could be. Hoped that he was better than anyone before him (because he liked being the best at everything he did).

“Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit!!! God! Harry, f-ffffuck!” When Harry shifted and stuffed two fingers inside and began to pump them in and out as he kept his mouth over her clit she knew she was gonna be a goner. Because this was her own go-to move when she masturbated.

She had a slim dildo she used that was curved and hit her insides nicely and loved combining that with her clit sucker[TK7] . It always got her off and Harry’s mouth and fingers were hitting all the spots she needed.

Going into this with him she figured it could be fun. Might get some pleasure, perhaps something to think back on fondly. She hoped for more than just that (if he could give her an orgasm that would have been preferred) but was prepared for just some fun but doubted an orgasm or anything like what was happening. The man was just as charming with his face between her thighs as he was talking and singing into a microphone. The humor and his charisma didn’t stop on stage. Harry was good. And sexy.

She stiffened as her muscles began to vibrate. Harry seemed to know that she was coming as he pumped his fingers into her harder and faster and continued slurping at her clit.

Only when she began to come down did she realize how loud she’d been. Her moans and cries were sure to have been heard by anyone standing near the door. Her slight embarrassment was quelled when she felt Harry’s lips still sliding over her pussy as he moaned. She was a mess and from what she could see of his face, that was too.

Pressing at his forehead as she giggled her words, “Harry! Okay… okay!” She wiggled away from him.

Harry sat up and looked down at her with a small smirk on his damp face. His eyes were hooded and he looked like he was ready for more, which she was not expecting. Figured he’d gotten what he needed and would have her on her way.

But instead, as he stood up she noticed that the strain at the front of his shorts was back with a vengeance. After pulling his shorts off, he pulled at her hand, helping her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers as he led her to the bed.

She watched him walk in front of her, tall and well-built. A tush she could bite into. Would love to sketch and paint him in bronze, pink, olive, and brown. His thick dark hair, the lean neck holding up his big, yet handsome, head. Broad shoulders and a smooth back, strong, meaty thighs atop his sinewy lower legs. She could do his frame justice on a canvas. Add in a bit of gold and red, and plenty of dark, fine strokes to delineate his muscles. She’d use her script brush for the scattered hairs…

His mouth met hers and erased her thoughts and her gawking at his naked physique. The first thing that was apparent was the way he tasted. Like her pussy. She was not quite expecting it. She’d been out of the game like this for a bit and so kissing someone was already a fairly exciting prospect. But to have it be Harry Styles and then to have him taste like he’d just eaten her out? Now that was never something she’d had on her radar for sexual conquests. This felt like a bucket list item that would always just stay there, on the list. Except it was so far out of her realm of possibility that it never would have made it to such a list. But as it were, here she was, being pulled to his bed, his cock hard and long next to her, his mouth damp with her arousal, and then what?

“Take your skirt off for me, love.”

He didn’t ask her. He told her.

She knew that once her skirt was pulled off she’d be completely naked. In front of Harry Styles. With that body. But she complied. Bringing her skirt down over her hips and thighs until it fell into the floor in a small pile. She looked down over herself but tried not to think about the way she looked naked to him. He didn’t seem to mind her extra bits. In fact, he seemed to be rather enjoying her as she was. But she couldn’t help the way she felt so exposed.

He bent down to kiss her again, his fingers running into her hair with one hand and his other hand moving down her back and to her bottom, squishing her flesh and rutting his hips into hers.

Harry parted with a gasp and held her out so he could look at her, “You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. Climb on the bed for me.”

Her whole body was vibrating. The way he was looking at her had her nervous and vulnerable. She sat her bottom on the bed and watched him as she scooted into the middle of the mattress. Harry stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. He wasn’t shy about where he let his eyes roam. Right between her sticky thighs, over her belly up to her big tits.

“Lay back and spread your legs.”

She wasn’t used to being told what to do during sex. Her husband was the last man she slept with (years ago) and he wasn’t commanding in bed at all. This was all a first for her but it made her feel something she hadn’t really felt before. Being bossed around this way was exciting.

So she did as he said, putting her back on the comforter and hesitantly spreading her legs apart, bending at the knees and putting her feet flat onto the blanket.

She felt the bed shift as Harry climbed up next to her and he put his hands on her shins and looked at her shiny pussy.

His small moan vibrated through his chest as he looked the pretty girl in her eyes, “Can I fuck you? Is that all right?”

Y/n nodded quickly and shot her eyes down to Harry’s cock. She couldn’t believe he was so hard again. But she felt like that was probably somewhat of a compliment, “I don’t have any condoms, um-“

Harry crawled over her, his thighs spreading between hers, causing her legs to part further, “I have some. Are you on birth control?” He grazed his mouth over hers and as he pressed his lips to hers she felt his cock against her pelvis.

Panting her words and rolling her hips upward, “Yes I am.”

Harry’s lips slotted between Y/n’s as he settled his hips against hers, slowly putting himself through her labia to feel her first. Without having to put on a condom. He knew it was necessary but to be able to feel her warm against his skin, wetting it, the hair scratching it…

Y/n gasped when his cockhead nudged at her entrance before he slid up through her crease and it bumped into her clit. It was salacious. Almost as if he were testing the waters to not put on a condom. Her body and her mind were beginning to synch up into lust and want again. He’d just given her an orgasm but she was on her way to that point of no return once again.

And Harry never went without a condom with a one-night stand or a quick weekend fling. Of course, once the relationship was established there was no need but never before had he wanted so badly to enter a woman without really knowing if he could trust her or not. She said she was on birth control but how could he know?

Reluctantly he got off the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase and paused next to the bed to roll it down from his tip to his base.

Y/n watched. He was thick and long. The hair at his base was dark and masculine. He crawled back in between her legs and kissed the insides of her thighs and lapped upward quickly over her pussy one last time for good measure before positioning himself over her with his shaft in his hand, aiming himself at her cunt.

The room was lit with only one lamp and the bed was soft underneath her body. She couldn’t quite believe that she was in that moment, with Harry Styles above her. She hadn’t had sex with anyone since her husband. But here she was, with a man’s cock pressed at her entrance, waiting for her to finally give permission so he could push into her. So he could fuck her. So Harry Styles could fuck her.

Rolling her hips upward slightly and grasping onto his lats, “Please.”

Harry panted out a breath as he fit his cock into her, the initial entry needing a bit of force to squeeze his thick head past the threshold of her tight muscle. She gasped at the widening of her opening. It felt good to have a man poking into her rather than her silicon dildo for once.

She held onto his back for dear life as he doused himself in her. She was soft and thick and tight. It was incredible and warm. His strokes were long, slowly sinking in deeper and deeper with each rock inward.

“How’s that feel?” Harry’s cock was feeling very good, he hoped the noises she was making were a good sign. He thought it was but wanted her to be more vocal.

“Oh my god, Harry… fuck that feels good.” She purred.

Harry put his hands over her tits and continued fucking into her, his thighs giving him leverage for each plunge.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me what you like, baby. What do you need?”

Her mind went blank as his long dick slicked in and out of her, spreading her, touching her deeply… What did she like? What did she need? It had been so long and never had she needed to vocalize it before.

“You, Harry,” She hissed when he bucked his hips inward, a deep thrust that sent her body surging upward from the force of his drive.

“Me? Oh baby, you have me, can’t you feel that?” His words came out pinched in ecstasy, “But talk to me. What do you like?”

Slowly moving a hand upward to her neck he wrapped his fingers around and squeezed only the slightest as he continued rolling his hips into her. He tweaked one of her nipples with his other hand and she gasped as her lips parted.

“What about this? You like when I do this?” He dug the pads of his fingers into the side of her neck before loosening but keeping his hand over her throat.

She nodded quickly, not expecting to have enjoyed it but she did, “Yes.”

“And this?” Rolling her nipple between his fingers and giving her a good hard jerk of his hips inward she grunted and nodded again.

“Good girl. You like it a little rough then. Let’s see what else we can learn…” he spoke as he gripped her neck solidly, but still giving her space to say no if she needed. He leaned over her, his face directly above, “Open your mouth.”

She complied and parted her lips.

“Tongue out.”

She jutted her pink tongue past her lips and Harry spat down into her mouth and then cooed at her as he watched his saliva drip down her tongue and into her throat, “I can tell you like that too. Is that right? Are you my dirty girl?”

Moaning and feeling her body floating away from her brain she nodded, “I’m your dirty girl.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at her words. It was just what he wanted to hear.

“You are, aren’t you? My dirty girl likes getting fucked nice and hard,” he punctuated his statement with a harsh thrust, “Choked, spit on… Fuck baby I think you might just be my favorite girl. What else do you like?”

She was officially stunned and gushing from his words. And his cock too of course. But the way he was talking to her and showing her what she liked made her feel like a new woman. It was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Aww… poor thing. Having a hard time speaking, dear? Need some help?”

She gurgled a moan and nodded. Her belly was on fire with how deep his cock was. Everything around her was fuzzy.

Suddenly Harry pulled out and grasped her hips, pushing her to roll to her front, “Hands and knees.”

She whined as she pushed herself upward, spreading her legs and pushing her knees and palms into the blanket below.

“Shh, shhh… no need to cry, baby. Daddy’s here.” It was a risk. To say it. To call himself Daddy. But it was his favorite. He loved being called Daddy when he was fucking anyone who was even just a little bit submissive. And Y/n was quite submissive but he had a feeling she didn’t even know it. Based on how confident and cheeky she was when he met her and when she got to his room earlier he knew he had the potential for a brat on his hands but for her to also be a bit submissive? And this pretty? He’d hit the jackpot.

He smacked her bottom, both sides with a solid whack causing her to jump and groan, her head lolling downward as she reared back, her pussy and ass on display for him.

“And you like that too don’t you pretty girl?”

She nodded her head and moved her hips back again, most likely searching for his cock to fit itself back into her but he needed her to start talking a little more.

“I knew you would. But I need to hear your words my lovely little thing. Can you talk to me? Do you want more spankings? Or do you want something else?” He grinned as he squished the plump flesh of her thick bottom, the view something he’d sear into his memory and bring with him on tour until he could have her again. He knew he’d want to see her again after this.

“Fffuck…” she moaned softly. She didn’t know what she wanted. She just wanted whatever he was doing to continue. She was absolutely loving it. And the Daddy thing? She had never called anyone Daddy before. Not even her own dad. It would need to grow on her.

Harry grasped the base of his shaft and dragged his tip through her folds gently, up and down, pressing himself at her center and she pushed back to make him go in but he backed away, smacking her bum again and making her jolt.

“Ah, ah, ah… Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. I need to hear it from those pretty lips.”

Y/n swallowed as her heart raced and not just from how turned on she was. From nerves. She was surprised by the reaction he was pulling out of her. But she did want a couple of things and there was something in how dominant he was being that made her feel like she needed to comply.

“Fuck me and spank me. Please.”

Harry smiled and slid his cockhead into her folds again, “Yeah? I love it when you say please. Makes me very happy. I’ll give you what you want. But I want something from you too, Y/n.”

Harry watched as his tip parted her shiny crease as he pushed upward, spreading her arousal all around.

When she stayed silent Harry brought his free palm down to her bottom, the smack sounding in the room, “Well aren’t you going to ask what I want?”

She gasped and took a breath, “Sorry. What do you want?” Her words were coming out breathy and light.

“I need you to keep telling me if you like something. And ask me if there’s something else you want. Understood?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head and bit her lip, waiting for him to slip inside again.

Harry removed his palm from her bottom and gathered her hair between his fingers and pulled her head up gently, “Can you guess what else I want? What else makes Daddy really happy?”

Shaking her head and peeping the word no Harry leaned in to speak into her ear, “I just gave you a hint little girl. Let’s see if you can use that brain of yours to figure out what I like.”

Her eyes fluttered at the feel of his breath at the back of her ear and his fingers pulling at her hair. It wasn’t registering to her what he wanted. He gave her a hint?

“Come on… I know you can figure this one out. It’s not that hard. Or are you kind of dumb when my cock is right here, nudging into you? Hmm?” He pushed in the smallest bit, allowing his tip to tuck into her for a moment before bringing it back out.

She whined and licked her lips. It was true that it was hard to think when he was handling her the way he was.

“Sorry. I’m not sure.”

Harry’s dark baritone vibrated off her ear as he spoke, “S’okay. We’ll take our time til you figure it all out. Do you want Daddy’s cock?”

She nodded quickly and Harry chuckled as he spoke, “Yeah? Well then tell me, dear, who’s cock do you want?” He nudged in again, prodding her crease and pushing just into her opening. It was taking all of his resolve not to just hammer into her at that point.

But hearing him say that, it clicked. She knew what he wanted, “Yours, Daddy.”

It felt odd coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she liked it but the moment he stuffed her again with his large cock she keened and moaned and knew that he deserved to be called Daddy if that’s what he wanted. He gave her what she wanted so she’d give him what he wanted.

“Yes… good girl. I knew you could do it, baby,” Harry spoke through gritted teeth when he sunk in to the hilt. He pulled back and then fucked into her quickly. His pace soon became harsh as he let go of her hair and pounded her from behind. Smacking her bottom with his palm every few strokes her flesh grew red slowly and her moans grew louder.

“Oh! Yess! Ffffuck!” Her body was rocked forward at each strike of his hips into hers. The sound of skin thudding wetly and smacks of his hand to her flesh were loud in the room. 

Harry held onto her hips, squeezing tightly as he gave her bottom a break from the strikes.

“My dick is coated in your cream. Ffuuck little girl. Goddamn best girl I’ve had. Can you rub your sweet little pussy for me? Put your fingers where you need them. Show Daddy you’re a good girl.”

Harry’s deep voice and the sound of his fat cock penetrating her wet hole were egging her on as she brought her hand between her legs to get herself closer to the edge as she rubbed her clit.

His engorged cock twitched when he felt her fingers brush against his balls as he thumped into her over and over again.

She began to see stars as she sputtered inarticulate words. Harry was going in hard but he felt so good inside of her. The way he was holding her hips kept her grounded as his balls whacked into her on each thrust. She could feel how wet his scrotum was from her arousal soaking him.

But then her eyes popped open and her whining and choked moans halted when he released one of her hips and put his fingers over her bum. On her anus. She hadn’t expected it.

Harry slowed his movements as he spoke, “Oh did that surprise you? How am I supposed to keep my hands off your tiny hole here,” he rubbed it as he spoke, still fucking into her deeply but slowly now, “when she’s looking directly up at me all empty and needy?”

She felt liquid drip over her bottom when Harry spit down onto her puckered hole and rub his saliva around, “Can I? Just a finger. It’s going to feel so good.”

Y/n panted and nodded, “Okay.”

Never once had she done anything sexual with her bottom. She’d never played with herself there, nor considered having anyone do it for her either. Her husband had certainly never tried. 

More spit was rubbed over the hole and she felt Harry’s finger slowly push in as she continued rubbing her button and Harry continued filling her cunt with his heavy cock. It felt odd. Not like being fingered in her pussy. A very different sensation but it wasn’t bad. Well, she’d say that it was actually pretty good in combination with everything else.

“Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger fucked into her ass as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his hips.

“Ahh!” She squeaked out as he dipped into her cervix and she clenched over his cock and his finger at the ache.

“S’okay. M’cock’s getting in there deep, isn’t it? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking her head she spoke with her words coming out in punches between his thrusts, “Please! Don’t stop! Need you!”

She did need him. Needed him to keep doing what he was doing. Needed his dirty words, his big cock, and his long fingers. She was going to come if he continued.

Harry panted and groaned at what he was seeing and feeling. Not only was she making him feel so good, but watching her pussy being fucked and her ass being fingered was a dream.

He slid his finger in and out gently and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little. A good sign. He’d love to fuck her bottom one day. Get her nice and open and just wreck all of her holes.

Harry’s long, fast strokes into her pussy were devasting her insides. She knew she’d be limping the next day but that thought only excited her.

Applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit as she rubbed, feeling Harry’s finger slipping in and out of her, and with the way his cock was working into her so deep she could no longer stop her body from shaking and her lungs from gasping for air loudly.

Harry felt her walls squeeze and pulse around him as he continued rolling his hips into her steadily, fucking her through her orgasm, her moans and gasps, her fingers at her clit, and her thighs shaking… he smiled as he threw his head back to feel it. To feel her in her orgasm. Her soft insides, wet, and contracting around him.

“Fuck, baby… it’s that good is it?” Harry looked down at the scene below. Absolutely filthy. His wide cock parted her fluttering pussy as it gripped him tight. Her arousal was slathered over him.

As she began to loosen up and he could tell she was done he gently pulled out, both his cock and his finger, “Good girl. Can you lie on your back? I’m almost there. Just need a little more. Want to make you come one more time.”

Y/n gulped and adjusted herself onto her back, “I’m not sure I can come again.”

Harry climbed over her and put his palms over her tits again, “You’ll come again.”

She watched him as he allowed his gaze to look over her body. She really wished he wouldn’t look too closely like he was. She felt a bit embarrassed. Being chubby was always something she contended with for as long as she could remember. As confident as she conveyed herself in her day-to-day, the truth was that once her clothes came off she felt well below average.

Harry gently brushed his fingers along her cheekbone and slowly pushed back in, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of hers.

The feel of him re-entering her was sharp and achy. He’d already done quite a number on her. She was positive she wouldn’t have another orgasm. Impossible.

“I love how you feel. Fuck, baby.”

He angled himself so he was pushing down into her, splitting her pussy and pressing deeply.

“Ahh!” She hadn’t expected the way it would feel when he pushed her hips upward and fucked down into her. It was tight and he was long and it pinched the smallest bit but when she looked at his face she saw ecstasy. He was definitely close.

“So tight isn’t it? Taking me so good, Y/n. Wanna feel you come once more. Just squeezing the fuck out of me again so when I come I can feel you milking me, sucking my dick into your cunt, begging for my come.”

Y/n moaned at the words. It was hot. Harry’s strong body and his roughness, and the way he spoke were so hot.

He moved his hand from her cheek down to her neck and softly squeezed, “It’s so messy down there sweet girl. Just drenching me. Can you hear that?” His question was punctuated by the noises their bodies made together. His lengthy prick pushing into her and dragging back to the tip before impaling her again. Over and over. The slick sounds of his condom coated in her, spreading her open. Her body felt it all. She had been so sensitive after her orgasm and now her insides were aching in delight. The feel of him wide and thick inside and then deep as he dipped all the way in sent zips and currents through her body.

Harry enjoyed the way his body felt inside of her. It was lavish and soft and warm and she was so wet for him, so needy. Her big tits were swaying as he thrust deep and her nipples were peaked. He loved how she looked with his hand over her throat. He wanted to do so much more. Preferred it far rougher but this was their first, and perhaps only time. He didn’t generally enjoy scaring them off on night one. A few rounds on separate occasions and he’d show what he was really into. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last time. He felt like she’d enjoy what he was into. Felt like she might be too. She liked to be choked a little. She called him Daddy even which was making him lose his mind. She’d be into the idea of playing into his breeding kink too he bet.

And that thought sent him so deep into his fantasy he began to feel his orgasm swell into his balls. Just imagining her plush body and wide hips taking him like he needed. He needed to fuck a lot. He normally masturbated about twice a day when he didn’t have someone to come inside of. But when he was in a steady relationship he’d drain his cock all day long when there was time for it.

He could just see Y/n’s cunt dripping with his come and he’d make her lie flat and keep it inside of her so it would soak into her. The idea that she could get pregnant by him. Fill her with his sperm and make her body grow thicker and softer with his babies. Her tits would swell and engorge.

But that was just a fantasy. Now he was fucking so hard and so deep into the hottest woman he’d had in a long time. Her plump hips and soft pussy were begging him for more. Even though she insisted she couldn’t come again, he could already tell she was getting even slicker for him. Her body preparing for her third orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her mouth was wide open.

“Y’gonna come for me, little girl. Come on Daddy’s cock. You can do it. I know you can. Can feel you fluttering around me already. So needy for more aren’t you?”

The words she wanted to say were yes and don’t stop, please! But instead, she gurgled and choked her moans when his pelvis rubbed over hers, offering her clit the friction needed. A few more of his harsh strokes and the way their bodies connected, rubbing and pushing into one another had her button being worked just like she wanted.

Harry coughed out a laugh but then groaned when he felt her begin to shake, “Oh, baby. Ffuck… thought you said you couldn’t come again? Hm? Look at that…” his strokes were long and deep as he felt her body give way to another orgasm. Her spasming cunt squeezed his cock deliciously and Harry pumped himself into her so she could come properly while getting railed and having her clit stimulated all at once.

And just as she was beginning to relax Harry finally released. He choked out a moan and stilled his hips, pushing in so his cockhead was pressing deep into her, wishing he was coating her insides, filling her with her sperm. But as it was, this was not bad either. In fact, even with the stupid condom, it was really good. The best. He hissed as his cock throbbed inside of her, his long dick pumping his come out to the tip and into the condom.

She felt him twitching inside of her as his orgasm shot through his cock. He was a glorious sight to behold above her. His panted breaths and mouth dropped open as ecstasy took over his features. Her pussy was doing that to him. It made her smile as he stilled his hips and let out a low rumble. She did that to him. She’d made him come twice in one night. She made Harry Styles have two orgasms and he gave her three. Unheard of. Absolutely insane.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavily as Harry opened his eyes and looked down at her. She felt it, the way he looked at her. How connected they were. This wasn’t just sex. Or maybe it was, she really wouldn’t know because she’d been out of the game for some time. Perhaps this was just how he was with everyone he fucked. Made them dreamy and drowsy and feel things deeply for him. His charm was off the charts. Perhaps it was just that. Maybe nothing more.

Harry leaned down kissed the edge of her mouth and then pressed his lips firmly over hers, his cock still half-hard inside of her. He could get used to this. She was so open with him and somehow they just worked together. And even though this was all physical, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this connection went beyond the physical. He did like her. A lot. Already. But that was how he was. He’d fall in love and then fall out of it just as quickly. He had to be careful. Not to hurt himself. Not to hurt her. He gazed down at her with a tired smile.

“Stay the night. Want you again in the morning. Would like to have you here with me in bed. Keep me warm.”

She swallowed and her heart thrashed in her chest. He was too good. This man could make anyone fall in love. She knew it. But she wasn’t going to say no. She likely would never have the chance with him again. And if the following morning was anything like what had just happened, well, she quickly found herself nodding, “Yes. Okay.”

. . .

She felt her thighs tingling and her hips were aching when she squinted her eyes open. She couldn’t read the clock on the table next to the bed. Her vision was blurry but the sun was peeking through the cracks of the curtains. It was morning. And the only reason she’d woken up was because Harry was lying behind her. He was moving the slightest with his chest pressed against her back and his breath on her neck.

She lifted her head and Harry perked up when he realized she was awake, “Good thing you’re awake. Was getting lonely here,” he spoke as he softly grazed his hand up over her tummy and then indulgently squeezed at her breast.

She swallowed and croaked out her words, “I would have slept longer I think.”

“You can go back to sleep if you really want,” he suddenly shifted and rutted into her bottom and it was then that she felt his stiff cock pressing into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more of him, “Um… I’m a little sore-“

“Yeah? Did I go too hard for you last night?” Harry continued pushing his cock into her cheeks. They were both naked so the sensation of his warm, big, prick pushing into her plump flesh was quite salacious.

“I actually loved it. Never thought I’d like anything like that…”

“Mmm… loved it you say? And you’re sure you’re too sore for one more? I can go in gently and make you come again. One more for the road?”  He kissed her neck as he continued humping her. His cock was already leaking he was so hard for her, so needy for her pussy again.

Harry was quite convincing. And she was already getting turned on by the way he was pressing into her and kissing her neck. And he wanted her again?

“Well, if you can be gentle then I think I’d like that.”

Harry smiled into her neck and massaged her breast in gratitude before bringing his hand down to her hip and pulling at her so he could see her pussy lips peeking out between the back of her thighs when he backed up just a bit and stroked his cock through her soft labia.

“You’re already wet for me, baby. So needy for Daddy’s cock even when she’s sore. Gonna take good care of you okay?”

Pressing his tip to her entrance he groaned when he realized he needed a condom. He felt like soon enough, if she wanted to stick around, they’d forgo the safety measure. He wanted so badly to fuck her raw but it was too soon, “Fuck. I need to grab a condom. Stay right here.”

Harry was back behind her in only a handful of moments. She’d already begun rubbing her clit in preparation for him. She wanted to make sure she was fully aroused and ready for his wide cock.

“Good girl. Keep rubbing yourself like that. See how juicy you are already? Perfect…” he nearly purred as he pushed into her tight muscle. It was especially taut as he snapped forward and his wide crown finally popped into her. Once he had the swollen tip inside of her he pushed in until he was met with a bit of resistance. She was extra sensitive and snug but the sensation was incredible as her soft walls squeezed around him, the deeper he got the tighter it felt.

He was slow and gentle just like he said he’d be. He massaged her tit and kissed her neck and her jaw as he slowly rolled his hips into her.

“S’like fucking an angel. Your pussy is so goddamn perfect, baby. M’obessessed. Your body,” he pinched her nipple, “your tits, your lips,” each part he commented on he fucked inward with a slightly harder push, just to make his point as he lowered his hand down the curve of her waist to her hip, “your fine ass. All so perfect.”

Y/n breathed his words in as his cock drove into her deep, filling her so fully and perfectly. Those things had never been said to her before. Not in that way. She slipped her fingers back and forth over her clit and the tips of her fingers were grazing his cock as he fucked into her slowly, deeply. Everything was wet and perfect. He was right. This did feel perfect. Felt better than any other fucking ever. Harry was so good in bed. He hit all her spots (mentally and physically).

“I need it. Harry, I need it so bad,” she surprised herself as she moaned the words.

But suddenly Harry stopped, pushing his cock as deep as it could get and he grabbed her chin and turned her head so she could see him from her peripheral, “Call me Daddy when I’m fucking you. Be a good girl and I’ll let you come again.”

Why did she find that so hot? So fucking appealing? She had no idea. It was like something had been turned on inside of her that she had no clue was lying there beneath the surface. Maybe it was just Harry. But whatever it was she’d be fantasizing about this and needing this dominance in bed from any future partners.

“Sorry. Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

Harry groaned and released her chin and began to pump into her plump folds and she sped up her fingers as he spoke into her ear, “Say it again. Say you need me.”

She swallowed and her face was boiling hot as Harry’s long cock pressed into her guts and then backed out, punching her walls apart with each plunge, “I… fuck… yesss! I need you, Daddy. Please…”

Harry choked out a groan and smacked her bottom, “God I’m gonna imagine those words coming from your mouth every night. Say it again. Louder. Come on baby…”

Her voice was shaky like her thighs as her brain began to unravel and her orgasm started to spring out from her center, “I need you, Daddy! I’m your good girl!” She moaned as loudly as possible and Harry smiled with his cock happily coated in her.

Just then a knock came to the door, “Mr. Styles?” Someone spoke from behind the wood.

“Fuck,” Harry spoke lowly. He never stopped rolling his hips into hers as he shouted, “I’m busy!”

“Sorry to bother you. But we’ve been trying to call you all morning. We have a package delivery for you from the Secrist Gallery. Shall we just leave it out here?”

Everything paused. Y/n craned her neck to look at Harry and when their eyes met she saw his dark pupils and wet pink lips, messy hair. He was an angel, grinning at her, “Just leave it out there. I’ll be out soon.”

“Secrist Gallery? Did you-“

Harry pushed his mouth to hers and began to thrust again, speaking against her lips, “Keep rubbing that pussy for Daddy. It’s time to come. Need you to come.”

Her half-melted brain complied and as Harry increased his pace their bodies began to slap together, wet noises coming from them on each stroke. Harry kept his tongue in her mouth and his fingers pinching her nipple as they writhed together.

She felt him slicing into her, his cock suddenly harder than steel inside of her and her fingers slippery over her clit. He was shaking, holding back his release and his kisses became sloppy, wet, wide-open-mouthed, tongue all over her lips and inside of her mouth.

She inhaled sharply when the dam broke. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned into hers as they both came at the same time, she pushed against him to get him deeper inside and he stuffed himself into the hilt, his balls thick and bursting tucked up against her as he spilled into his condom. Her vision went dark and her ears began to ring as Harry continued to kiss her, lick her, suck the life out of her.

It was insane how hard she came. She had never had a man so effortlessly work her up and make her come like Harry had. Wave after wave of electricity zipped through her body as she pulsed and sucked his cock in, gripping around him.

Eventually, they stopped moving and began to breathe again. Heavy pants and soft coos fell from their lips. The afterglow was incredible. Harry hadn’t felt it like that before. And he hated that he had to leave. That he needed to send her off and go away to his next destination.

When her brain began to fit itself back together inside of her skull she turned again to look at him as he slid out, “Did you buy a painting? Of mine?”

Harry rolled onto his back and smirked at her, “I did.”

She laughed and smacked his chest, “Which one? Why didn’t you say anything? How did you do it? I didn’t see you at the gallery.”

Harry sat up and pulled at Y/n’s arm, needing her closer, “I had one of my assistants go and take a photo of each one. I picked the one I liked the most. You named the piece The Lonely Dark. Love it. I loved a lot of them. But figured for now just one will do since I’ve got to have it shipped to LA.

The Lonely Dark. A sort of nod to her husband. What had been and the way she felt at night when she was alone with no one. She swallowed and Harry kissed her cheek, “Is it okay that I bought one? Is that weird?”

Y/n laughed and shook her head, “No. I’m flattered that Harry Styles wanted to buy a painting of mine. I’m gonna tell everyone that you own one of my pieces now.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll invite you to my house in LA when I get back to the States after the next leg of my tour so you can see where I’ve hung it.”

She pushed at him in jest, “Yeah right. Don’t tease. You don’t actually want me at your private home.”

Harry grabbed her hand and brought it up to his chest with a frown on his face, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaking her head she blinked her eyes, “Because. You’re Harry Styles. I’m some girl from the Midwest who paints. I’m just saying, don’t say things like that when you don’t mean it.”

“But I meant it. I really like you, Y/n. I want to see you again.”

It was unexpected. She didn’t imagine he’d actually be inviting her to his home or telling her he wanted to see her again. But she was so stunned by his admission that she couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Well then you’re gonna need to give me your number.”

 Chapter 2

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @daphnesutton

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[abilouwrites]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Mat Barzal x fem!oc

Series Masterlist

ONE

I only like the bookstore during the night, when it’s slow and nobody’s around. The lights are flickering and the town suddenly goes quiet in contrast with the bustle of the busy mornings and heavy traffic of the day.

I only work here on the weekends for the closing shifts or the opening ones. Something to make a little more money to fall back on besides my adult corporate job. My parents are proud, more my father than my mother that I’ve begun my climb up the corporate ladder.

I don’t hate my job, far from it. Simply the long hours and bossy bosses that make me pull at my fingers and tug at my hair. Especially with my youth and admitted naivety, those at my job can be wary about me either in the break room or being hesitant to invite me out for drinks.

I’ve been told by my therapist that I rushed my childhood, skipping grades and taking collage classes while also taking highschool classes at the same time. I want to fight her on it, claim that I did have a childhood and had dreams but I know that I’m defending something I never had.

Two parents who were always fighting; hated eachother but swore to stay together because of their vows, “Hey Bella” I smile at the older lady standing at the counter as I tuck behind into the back room and set my purse onto the table and wrapping my apron around my body, “slow day?” I ask as I switch from heels to converse.

“Yeah, it’s the middle of the school season so all the kidlets are probably studying” she sighs out rubbing her tired eyes, “ok, I’m off. Be safe. Please” she reminds me as she pats my shoulder, “I’ll need you to come in a bit earlier tomorrow for the opening shift, we’re getting a new shipment of books for the month”

“Uhh, yeah yeah I can do that, so 5:30 instead of six?” I clarify, as I clock myself in on the timetable next to the register.

“Yes, thank you Emma. You’re a doll” She smiles and blows me a kiss exiting the building as the cold wind brushes against her; gently pulling at the greying blonde hair that’s always been tucked into a a little bun.

I turn on some music to keep my mind from straying as I walk around the store. Gently brushing my fingers against the creased spines and occasional leather covered book. Those nice collectors editions are always Romeo and Juliet, or Hamlet.

Personally I’ve thought Romeo and Juliet a bit childish and immature, but I’ve always been told I’m looking at it from a modern perspective. I believe that Romeo and Juliet is the way to not fall in love.

But then again, that’s coming from the girl who watched her parents try and fix an already broken marriage by having an abundance of kids and forcing themselves to stay together even though, everyone’s known they’d be better apart. Even their own kids.

I tidy up the reading corner, setting the old book. Princess and the pea back onto the shelf and searching for the one tomorrow.

My my fingers pull and push against the covers of the kids books, looking for something different. I don’t pay attention when the bell jingles and jangles while I hear a heavy step quickly become softer. I hear them physically relax as they walk the isles.

I eventually decide on a book with a unicorn and a blonde girl. Something I fondly remember of my own childhood.

I stretch up a little and let my hair down from its clip, it falls unevenly against my shoulders but I don’t mind or even care that much. This bookstore is my happy place; where I am safe and content within my own body. Here I will never care what I look like.

I view the man searching in the fiction section, something specific I can tell by his body language. If he needs help I’ll allow him to ask; yet I’m wary of going up to a man and guiding him to the book.

When he finally notices me watching him he turns around and asks, “do you know where I can find ‘The road’ it’s uh. Geez by I think by Cormac McCarthy?” He stumbles out; slowly dragging a hand across his face and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

His face is soft but sharp; his eyes evoke a warm bubbly feeling inside me. Eyes that make me feel comfortable being alone with him, “yes, I believe we only have a few left” I tell him, walking off to a different section of the store, “I know, our shop is set up weird” I explain.

“And why’s that?” He inquires, his pace isnt rushed or faster than mine. But relaxed and nonchalant. As if he has all the time in the world.

“The original owners, she has a special section called ‘Meine Leibe’ which I think translates to ‘My loves’ or ‘my life’ once she passed her daughter kept it the same so this little section would always be here for her. I find it endearing” I know I ramble on a bit but I’ve suddenly grown afraid of having a silence against the two of us

“It is, it’s just a little place with all her favorite books?” He keeps asking, as I turn into the cozy little corner. I thumb through the alphabetical order.

“Yeah, her favorite chair, pillows. Shannon was such a kind lady” I reminisce, “here is The Road, is there anything else I can help you with? Or will that be all for today?”

“Uhh, ha unless you have ‘The deal’ by Elle Kennedy then I’ll take that too” I think he’s being sarcastic but I can’t really tell.

“I think we do, are you a hockey fan?” I ask walking to the romance section.

“I guess you could say that, do you watch?” He asks, “do you need a hand?”

“I watch a bit, just the New Jersey Devils with my dad. Yeah it’s just above there” I point, even on my tip toes the store has ceiling high bookshelves. And because it’s night the ladders been locked up. I move to the side as he grabs the book.

“Are you from Jersey?”

“Yeah, I lived there before I came to New York for a work deal”

“I’m going to assume it’s not this job.. right?” As he makes his way to the register and I slink behind the counter

“Yeah, my uh big girl job as my mom likes to address it as” I hear the roll in my eyes as I scan the bar codes and ring him up, “will that be with cash or card?”

“Card” He pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jacket, “thank you”, he checks for my name eyes staring just above but also at my chest.

I poke my eyebrows up at him praying to god this man isn’t looking at my tits directly; not even with the slightest bit of discretion.

“I’m uh looking for your name to thank you— I swear I’m not looking at your uh. You know boobs” he almost whispers out the last bit before continuing, “not that they aren’t nice or anything but uh” the tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks suddenly become flushed, “I will just pay now” he groans out softly; handing me his card and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

I ring him up and he puts his pin in, “thank you again, you never told me your name” he questions for that piece of information

“Emma”

“Thank you Emma, have a good evening” he purses his lips and grabs his books. Hands shaking as he smiles and starts to leave.

“You too, wait” I lean over the bar slightly, “you never told me your name?”

“Mat”

“Alright then, have a good evening Mat. Come back soon”

The door jingles as he leaves and I watch him through the window, I see him sigh and smack his books against his head. Though I don’t exactly hear what he says; noises muffled through the glass and the music.

“Huh. What a strange guy”

[jewish-vents]

Being ethnically Jewish, adopted by goyim, and only connecting to my heritage and my culture as an adult was hard enough considering I became an adult in 2016. Since then my dad has become a full-blown conspiracy theorist, Trump supporter, and rabid Islamophobe. He's gotten involved in this weird offshoot of Evangelicals who think nothing bad can happen to "the Jews" (he NEVER calls us Jewish people, or people at all) so according to him there is no rise in antisemitism. Things have been like this forever. There is no rise in hate crimes or hate speech. The CIA, FBI, NSA, NAACP, and Jews are all lying or mistaken because his conspiracy buddies say so.

I get called slurs and babykiller and pedophile every day when I go to work on campus. (Apparently goyim think we lick babies' private parts? Their kinks baffle me.) My coworkers make pointed remarks or talk about hoping Hamas wins and look at me just daring me to get offended or fight them or report them to the department head, who they and I both know would side with them. I am taking care of my disabled father and my newfound stray-who-chose-me dog, I have been repairing the attic and spare room because my sister and her daughter have to move in at the end of the month due to their rent being hiked up suddenly, and I am recovering from having a bleeding ulcer back in December, during which I lost over half the blood in my body.

And added onto all of this work, I can't even come home to peace and quiet. I come home to more and more conspiracy garbage. My adoptive dad was always emotionally abusive and has untreated Bipolar Disorder. He's never been kind to me. But now he's dehumanizing me, saying things like "the Jews and people" as if those are separate categories, rambling about "the mystery of the Jews" which appears to be how we survived if people actually hated us (which is apparently in question), and constantly, consistently, repeatedly talking about the Holocaust. I got up to get peanut butter for breakfast because I'm so busy that breakfast is two spoons of peanut butter and I couldn't even get that this morning without being told actually, it's Jewish people's fault for dying during the Holocaust because they knew it was coming and could've gotten out.

I'm a bad person.

I snapped. I just started screaming. Not words, not even syllables, just full-body, loud, long screams to drown out everything he said. I screamed until my voice gave out and then I clamped my hands over my ears, shut my eyes and waited until I had enough breath to bolt for my room, throw on non-pajama clothes, and went to work. I can't take it. I can't take this. I can't deal with this. I didn't apologize and I'm not going to because if I do I might have to hear more of it and it's too much. When I was a kid he used to get angry and refuse to talk to me for days, sometimes weeks. I am actively begging Hashem to let that happen because I just can't take this anymore.

I'm 24. I'm not even 30 yet and I feel ancient. Childhood feels like a half-remembered dream. I don't remember what it was like to feel safe anymore. I had a fine day at work because I've started... I don't think it's exactly dissociating? I imagine myself as a main character in a video game narrating the contents of a visual novel. 'Angry Coworker #2 is overly dramatic. You wonder how much of it is performance,' I narrate to myself in the second person, eating lunch, 'and how much, if any, of her emotion is genuine. She is giving a 2012 early YouTube caliber performance. Your smile should look appropriately strained so she thinks her attempt has succeeded, lest she escalate to full-on theatrics.'

This cannot be healthy. But the last therapist I had just taught me to feel guilty for thinking about the part or things I can't control because that means I have only myself to blame for feeling bad. The therapist before that I caught zoning out on me mid-session and totally not paying attention. The one before that kept telling me that the things that stress me out don't actually effect me and I was self-victimizing because the rest of the world doesn't "have" to effect me.

I am coming apart at the seams. I am consistently narrating my own life in the second person and not eating dinner because then I'd have to encounter my father and working on something because if I work I don't have to think. I don't know how long I can keep going like this. If I ever scream at work like I did at home, I'd be fired, and pretty rightfully so.

I'm so tired. I can't deal with everything. I can't kill myself because there's too much work to do, too many people depending on me. I can't keep patiently gritting my teeth and listening to another hot take on "the Jews" every morning. I just want to sleep. I just want to lay in bed and forget about everything. I can't do this anymore. I also have to.

.

[trappedinthewalls]

I know I shouldn't be reading the Poppy and Zena vs Noehflake drama tabloids people have been maintaining here, cause it's a bunch of Internet toxicity that does absolutely nothing for my mental health (same thing with the Lily Orchard bullshit), but it's definitely a train wreck effect. Gossip, drama, shitty behavior. It's all gross and I shouldn't be paying attention to it. But drama is a drug.

That being said, having read the Poppyamory documents put up by @poppyandzena I have some thoughts. This is all speculation because I can't read people's minds. I can never know what's actually going on inside someone's head or personal life. I can only guess.

Poppy engages in a rather odd combination of covert and overt abuse. It's very strange to read about. She whines and complains about all the emotions she has in hopes that she'll guilt trip her partners into coddling her and capitulating to her whims, and when that doesn't work she turns into a raging bitch.

Poppy does not want partners. She does not want polyamory.

What she wants is a harem of mommies and nurses and therapists she can vomit emotions all over and fuck. People she can control and use to boost her own ego.

Or maybe even more simply, she wants more Zenas. One isn't enough to satisfy her hunger for power and sex. I can only imagine how long it took her to mild Zena into the perfect enabler, but apparently she thinks that because she did it once, she can just keep doing it.

Is Zena completely innocent in this? Absolutely not. They're manipulative and cruel and as much of a self center prick as Poppy is. But given the lengths they go to micromanage Poppy' so-called partners (aka victims) so that they'll comply with Poppy's abhorrent behavior, I can't help but feel like Zena is always on a knife's edge. They act responsible for Poppy's entire life. They're like a helicopter parent that tells the teachers they're not allowed to give their child a bad grade because their child can't handle anything but praise and worship every moment of every day. But they're behaving that way for their supposed partner. Someone who is like twice their age by the way.

This behavior is not normal.

It gives very "when I say don't worry about me I mean worry about me" vibes.

Unless it's casual, a relationship should be a partnership. Something you share. Not something one party is forced into to bend to the will of another person for...what, not being alone? Self worth?

Being alone is better than being someone's emotional footstool. Don't date people online unless it's temporary until you can meet them for your first actual date. Go outside and meet people in real life. And know you deserve to be happy as long as it's not at the expense of someone else.

[funishment-time]

(more miuposting) thank you all for

being mature and understanding that just because some of my faves are the Problematic Girls doesn't mean i think it's good they behave that way or that we should all put up with people who behave that way etcetera. i'm so traumatized by Twitter Tactics still ha ha.

anyway

it seems we've all come around on Toko but i know a lot of folks still shy away from the golden girl Iruma Miu. and i get it. i would never say you Need to like Miu, nor am i offended when people dislike her: she is extreme in a way that i think even surpasses Toko.

Miu is selfish and Miu crosses boundaries and Miu is really horribly rude at the worst times. however, Miu also, canonically/semi-canonically:

has psychotic breaks/delusions and depersonalizes (Shuichi FTs)

is so excited someone's paying attention to her that she doesn't mind if it's a fight/negative (Kaede FTs)

admits that her personality is an act (Love Hotel)

is so lonely she's willing to have a baby just to ensure her partner doesn't Leave (Love Hotel)

doesn't have Friends (Kaede FTs/Summer Camp)

is actually quite bothered she has no Friends but Toko does (Summer Camp)

acts surprised that Kaede is worried about her (Kaede FTs)

admits no one pays attention to her Inventions very much (Shuichi FTs) and invites Kaede for a sleepover the moment Kaede does (Summer Camp)

gets provoked by Kokichi for no reason, constantly, in a weird sexualized way (most of her English interactions with Kokichi - i'm told it comes off differently in Japanese)

continually talks about how no one understands her (every FT ever)

immediately falls in love with Shuichi in an Obsessive way because he acted like any person would and stopped her from self-harm (Shuichi FTs)

is genuinely sad when she thinks Shuichi doesn't want to be near her (Shuichi FTs/LATU scenes)

this is all unsurprising to me, because most people don't even try to talk to her like she's a Human Being, and when they do, they immediately get mad/aggressive and won't de-escalate. no, i don't expect Therapist Talk out of DR characters, but man, fucking...of course she's a weirdo who thinks she's a cyborg, when you even have Shuichi saying it's creepy when she's happy:

in her mind, he only ever Cares about her when she's having a breakdown! he considers her Pube Blood Food a sign of a "genuine" love confession! Miu's behavior makes total sense to me.

this does not Justify how she is, no. but i see a lonely and alienated girl who decided to act out in an attempt to get some attention, even if it's bad. Miu reads as severely mentally ill to me and just because her mental illness isn't cute, aesthetic, or quiet doesn't mean she doesn't deserve healing.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 16 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: So much happens in this chapter and so much tea is spilled here....and so I must warn you of a few things. There are some trigger warnings for this chapter and mentions of sexual abuse and past attempts of assault. Don't come for my head??? Anyways, other than the warning, I'm excited to hear your thoughts and please let me know what you think!

Getting her brother to acclimatize was easy.  All it took from her was the promise of the Sharpe competitive spirit and the fact that surely, she was going to decimate him in croquet.  A smile had broken out on his features as the two siblings, oldest and youngest, violently fought over the croquet mallets and who would be what color. 

That seemed to jar some of the other men into relaxing a little bit—and given Abe’s resilience and youthful spirit, he represented a bright and shining moment that they could relate to and get back to.  Ruth would consider it a win.  The only person who stayed out of their particularly vicious croquet game was Robby, though she had an inkling as to why. 

The two of them were cut from the same cloth.  And if it had been Ruth who had gone up in the air and survived and done those things, she would have wanted to throw herself into work as well.  But there wasn’t work to be done here, not in the same way that Robby would have a purpose with.  

“You’re making that face again,” Abe advised quietly—this time was the second go around for croquet and he was bound and determined to make certain that his sister lost. 

But Ruth wasn’t really paying attention to the game.  She was paying attention to the walkway, where Robert Rosenthal was currently walking.  If she could just get him to let loose and relax a little bit—to let go of the handles and let someone else drive for a change—then maybe these men stood a chance at escaping the burnout.  

“Hmm?” Ruth questioned, gaze falling back on her brother.  “You didn’t steal my turn, did you?” 

“No, we’re just waiting on you,” Abe said, gesturing emphatically at the hoops on the ground. 

Ruth lined her mallet up and gave a grin as the mallet collided with the ball.  It went straight through another hoop and she smirked at the men.  “I believe that’s another point for me.” 

“Ugh, we’re never going to stop her.  She’s more formidable than the Germans,” Pappy exclaimed. 

“As lovely as that is,” Ruth replied.  “I’m a bit parched.  I’m just going to grab a drink and then I’ll be with you gentlemen.” Before they could so much as protest, considering the fact that they were in the middle of a game, Ruth was off and out of sight.  She was a woman on a mission and if that mission entailed getting Robby Rosenthal’s head screwed on straight, then she’d be damn sure that she’d do it correctly. 

Ruth’s heeled feet clicked against the pavement and then the sounds stopped as she hurried onto the grass.  It didn’t take her long to catch up with Robby, catching him by the arm and giving an innocent smile. 

“Take a turn around the grounds with me?” 

“What is this, a regency novel?” Robby said, swatting her arm away in annoyance.  

“Maybe I just want to talk to you.” 

“Okay, Miss-Always-Has-An-Ulterior-Motive,” Rosie nearly snorted at the thought that she just wanted to talk.  The last time that Ruth had just wanted to talk, the two of them had nearly ended up verbally murdering each other in the hallway after a deposition.  

A slight frown curled on her lips and she glowered at him for a moment.  “Fine.  The therapist here says that you’re being uncooperative.” 

“And he thought that talking to you was going to make that better?” 

“Oh please,” Ruth scoffed.  “That’s not his intention in telling me.  They just think that a swift smack to the head might do the job better.” 

“Well you always were a woman of godly violence.” 

“Obviously,” Ruth said with a slight sniff as they walked.  “You’re deflecting though, even in this conversation.  Which is not like you, Mr. Always-Has-To-Be-Confrontational.” 

“I do not—” 

“I believe you just proved my point,” Ruth retorted smugly.  

Rosie let out a huff of air as they started down a hill towards a maze.  “Listen, I just don’t think it’s in my best interest or in the army’s best interest to have me here right now.  That’s all.” 

“Okay, so what is?  Letting you fly every single day until your brain just goes numb from what you’re seeing?” Ruth pointed out.  

Before he could retort to that, the two of them stopped short at the sound of a sob.  Ruth didn’t fail to notice the way that Robby’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched up.  He looked like he wanted to go to the boy sitting back there and crying.  But his heart was just as clenched up as his fists were.  His feet remained rooted to the ground and Ruth just gently guided Robby back out of the maze. 

“Listen,” Ruth said in a quiet tone.  “The Brass is worried about you.  And that means they’re worried about your men too.  Don’t make me knock you upside the head because you’re being stubborn.  Got it?” 

Rosie just let out a deep sigh, gaze falling on Ruth finally.  “Yeah alright. I got it.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth sat in the library, paper in hand and a pen.  She wasn’t quite sure what to say about what had happened in the last few weeks.  The fact that her brother was now here and at Thorpe Abbotts.  The fact that she had lied and was helping him stay in the military.  The fact that nearly everyone in the Hundredth had been downed or killed in action.  

How do you go about even beginning something like that?  But she had done her best.  About halfway through her letter to Dick Winters, Ruth just felt weary.  How was it that the only person she was really telling everything to was hours away from her and she had never felt further from humanity than she did at this very moment?  

The music from the next room was almost overpowering as she set down her pen, staring at the letter in front of her. How to express loneliness in a simple sentence?  She didn’t regret leaving him, she didn’t—but she missed him all the same.  She missed feeling like she was an actual person and not just an appendage by which the war was being fought.  

I feel out place here.  It’s not that my job isn’t important, because it is.  You know my job has always come first.  I just get thinking that everyone is going to go up in the sky and they won’t come back down.  And I’ll just be left here in the in-between, wondering what’s left for me when it’s all over. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you burning the midnight oil,” Robby’s voice flooded Ruth’s ears and she glanced up from her spot in her armchair, finding him standing in the doorway in his pajamas. 

“And you’re clearly sleeping as well as finals week,” Ruth retorted. 

“You and that therapist—” Robby just shook his head.  “He told me I’d find you in here.” 

“He thinks you should talk to me?” 

“I think it was his way of encouraging socialization, given how tense dinner was earlier,” Robby amended.  “Abe doing okay?” 

Ruth set down the letter, gaze flickering at Robby.  He had cautiously taken a few steps inside of the library, sitting down in an armchair not too far from her.  “He’s a good kid, he’ll be okay,” Ruth insisted.  “He’s tough as nails, that one.” 

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Robby cracked a small smile at her.  “Who are you writing?  Let me guess, Timothy—” 

“I would never write to him,” Ruth’s tone hissed out so quickly and in such a venom, Robert felt like he had missed something significant. 

“I thought that you two—” 

“Yeah well—” Ruth huffed out.  “I would never write to someone as awful as he was.” 

It was silent for a long second and when Ruth glanced up, she thought she saw something softening ever so slightly in Robby’s eyes.  And she didn’t like it one bit.  “I guess I always just assumed that—” 

“That I was the colossal bitch for breaking up with my fianceé a few months before the wedding?” Ruth deadpanned.  “Everyone thinks that they know what happened but they have no idea what kind of man he was.” 

Robby seemed to be struggling with his words.  “And—and what kind of man was he?” 

Ruth fell silent for a long minute.  “You remember the deposition we had to do together?  You said I was off my game and I looked tired?” 

“Well yeah.  Why?” 

“The night before, he had gotten back a few scores.  We had gone out for some drinks,” Ruth’s hands began to fiddle together in her lap.  A nervous tic given the topic at hand.  “And he was nice, as he always was.  But then I got him home.  And I’m not much of a drinker.  Maybe I should have been that night.  He wanted me to sleep with him—didn’t see much sense in waiting since we were getting married anyway.” 

“He didn’t—” Robby started. 

“Well I told him no,” Ruth cut him off.  “And then he told me that it’d be better if we just started now.  Because no wife of his was going to be a lawyer anyway.  His wife was going to stay home and have his babies.  I thought that was bullshit and told him so.  I guess he was so angry that he—uh—he wasn’t himself.  And he grabbed the nearest pan in the kitchen and he just….started hitting me with it.” 

There was a long beat of silence.  “Holy shit, Ruth.” 

“He must’ve hit me fifteen or sixteen times before stopping and trying to get on top of me.  But you know me, I’m so petty and competitive.  So I grabbed the pan and slammed it into his face.  It must’ve been one hell of a hit because he sobered up and began crying and apologizing.  But I was out of there, left the ring and everything. I told him that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t hesitate to prosecute the shit out of him,” Ruth admitted.  “I went to a clinic in Queens so that mama wouldn’t find out.  He broke two of my ribs and left some permanent damage to some other things,” Ruth admitted. 

“But—but—you were there the next day.  At the deposition,” Rosie’s heart sank in his chest as he stared at her. 

“Well I don’t like to lose,” Ruth replied dryly.  “I never told anyone that story until now.  I guess it’s because I really do think you’re a good person, even if you annoy the hell out of me.” 

“Ruth,” Rosie started in a soft tone. 

“Oh don’t get all sentimental and weird on me.  I prefer being at odds with you,” Ruth said. She glanced at the letter on the arm of the seat and gestured at it.  “And as for who I’m writing, it’s my last boyfriend.  From Aldbourne.  Good man, good friend.  I guess I ran away when he wanted to get serious because of the Timothy shit.  Because I’m not going to stifle myself for anyone.  Not even myself.” 

It was a lot to take in.  And for a moment, just a shining moment, Robert Rosenthal thought that he saw behind the curtain to where the real Ruth Sharpe had been hiding.  She had been nicer before that engagement.  And afterwards, she had turned ice cold and bitter—and now that he knew why, it made him sick.  

“You know,” Robby started slowly.  “You coulda come to me.  I would’ve helped.” 

Ruth just let out a sigh.  “If I want help, I’ll ask for it.” 

“Would you?” He challenged. 

“Are you?” Ruth retorted.  “The way that I see it, you and I don’t get along because we’re too much alike.  And I hate to even admit that much, but it’s the truth.  You want to get the hell out of here because you need to be busy. You need to have things to do so that you don’t feel useless or so that you don’t break down.  It’s simple, really.” 

“Then what’s the solution?  Oh wise Ruth Sharpe,” Robby snapped in a sarcastic tone. 

Now there was that bite that she had been looking and waiting for.  Ruth let her lips curl up into a smirk.  “Well for one, your men need you.  So get your head on straight.  And two?  You’re a damn good pilot.  You compartmentalize as much as you can so that you can be at your best all of the time.” 

“Simple as that, huh?” 

“Simple as that,” Ruth retorted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abe was awfully suspicious that last day at the Flak-House.  He seemed to be more and more nervous the more downtime that the men had.  Because the more downtime there was, the more questions that they had for him.  And he had no clue on some of the things they were asking him. 

So that last day, he pulled Rosie and Ruth over to a table and began to lay out his plans. “Listen, I’ve told them that I was accepted into college.” 

“What college?” Ruth and Rosie immediately questioned at the same time.  

“NYU,” Abe admitted, running a hand through his hair.  “It should be fine, right?” 

“I mean, probably,” Rosie said with a shrug.  “As long as you remember that, yeah.” 

“You know,” Came a voice from the other table.  “You three are always looking like you’re conspiring about something.” 

And before Ruth or Robby could so gracefully handle the conversation, Abe had spun around and blurted out the source of all of their problems henceforth.  “That’s because we are!” Abe exclaimed. 

“You are?” Pappy questioned, gaze narrowing. 

“Yeah, I found these two kissing!  They’re in love and trying to get me to cover for them!” Abe blurted. 

Ruth couldn’t help the fact that her jaw simply dropped as she and Robert Rosenthal stared at one another.  This was hell, they were officially in hell. And there was no going back from that particular statement, however false it was. 

“I—what?” Pappy asked, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, we’re in love,” Rosie just looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Uh huh,” Ruth agreed blankly, unable to form a single thought process in her head. 

Abe leaned forward, a grin on his face.  “Oh you two are the best, thanks for covering for me.  I owe you one!” 

[officerrrfriendly]

The Taken, 'All I Think About Now'

stranger things conjuringAU! priest!steve harrington x demonologist/clairvoyant!fem reader.

"And what did he say?" you poke nervously, leaning forward into your desk as you await a reply from the timid girl in front of you.

"Well he...uhh...okay so-agh," she groans, shaking her head before continuing "you're not gonna be pleased with me, well- you'll be pleased with me but not my answer to your current query-"

"Just spit it out, Robin." you shoot her a suspicious glare as you wait for her reply. She looks like she is about to explode into a poof of smoke, her face red and flustered with heat.

"He's on his way right now andhewouldn'tletmereplysoi-"

"WHAT?!" you would openly admit to anybody who asked that perhaps, at that moment- you had been unnecessarily loud and angry at poor, nervous Robin...who now stood frozen before you, eyes wide and fearful. She tries to ease your stress by joking "I would say April fools but you know boss, it's October!!...that and I'm not really kidding but- he's coming over because he's worried about you! isn't that sweet? yeah? that's...okay that's not- yeah that's clearly not helping you." she rambles, pacing back and forth around the room whilst you spin in your chair to look at yourself in the mirror behind you.

You almost gasped, an army of rollers currently situated themselves within your hair, a booger-green clay face mask piled thick onto your face and an ugly curtain-like patterned robe tied tightly around your waist, covering your person.

"Okay...this is-okay," you take deep, regulated breaths -just like your therapist had recommended - and turn to face your very apprehensive assistant once more, you question "Did he say when he was coming?"

DING-DONG!!

"About that..." Robin retorts, high-pitched as ever. She grimaces, bracing herself before you even respond.

"FUCK!!"

.•.•

You move at an inhuman speed as you scrub the clay mask off your face, not pausing to take any breaths. "Get off of my face, slimy bastard." you groan, using the flannel (or washcloth) to get the remaining contents off of your face, scrubbing with an endless amount of vigour.

Fortunately, it worked. You pat your face dry using the towel hanging on the rack beside you and quickly make work of removing the rollers sitting pretty in your hair. You knew you only had so much time to do so, as Robin could only distract him for so long. Ignoring the aching pain of ripping out the rollers from your head, you are onto the last one. This is the moment where you consciously decide that luck, is indeed not on your side today. It gets stuck, deeply embedded into the archives of your head. "Oh fuck!" you shout, slamming your hand on the bathroom sink.

The loud noise could be heard from the lower floor of the house, where Father Steve stood in the doorway whilst Robin rambled on about something he stopped paying attention to about ten minutes ago.

He immediately panics, as the loud shout is met with a deafening silence after. Politely moving himself past the dazed assistant in front of him he begins to run vigorously up the stairs without an ounce of hesitancy. He reaches the top of the stairs and calls out your name anxiously.

'Great, just fucking great' you mumble, tugging harder on the stubborn roller that sticks to your hair like it's superglued there. You sigh, deciding to not be a total asshole you reply, easing his concerns. "I'm fine Father Steve!! I'll be with you in a second."

.•.•

A short eternity later, you join Robin and Father Steve downstairs after successfully winning the fight against the tenacious nylon roller. And surprisingly, you didn't look like a total wreck...thank God. Now, you are sitting in your living room with Father Steve as you try to explain the situation at hand with the Byers family and how his assistance is required in this situation whilst Robin prepares some tea in the kitchen.

Notes of all different sizes and colours are scattered all over the wooden coffee table along with the polaroid of the young Byers child, smiling happily whilst holding a replica of a proton gun from Ghostbusters. The picture had been what had drawn you to take on the case in the first place. His smile held such child-like innocence, radiant joy...you felt anger in knowing that an evil entity had taken advantage of this blameless, pristine boy with a bright future ahead of him.

"I can see why this concerns you, I mean...this seems all too similar to...you know..." Father Steve mutters, hands clasped tightly together as he squeezes them, anxiously. And you did know, you knew all too well of what he was referring to. It had been all you'd thought about for months now, even heavier on your mind since visiting Maxine at the hospice. The sound of bones snapping, blood spewing, screams tearing through your earbuds and inhuman mumblings spoken from the tongue of the devil himself.

It makes you shiver in dread. You nod at Father Steve's implications before you return with "I'm going to visit Joyce, his mother, tomorrow to look at the house and possibly speak to Will. I need to gather some evidence to get permission from the Vatican for an exorcism...hence why I need your help. Please." You explain, tone rich in desperation as your sentence nears its end.

Your pleas don't fall on deaf ears - they never do when it comes to Father Steve - as he nods, lacking any form of reluctance. "Yes, of course. You don't even have to ask," he says your name softly before he proceeds further, "you know I'll come running whenever you call." As he speaks, he places one of his hands on top of yours- they're warm.

There's that funny feeling again. That one where your insides twist and slide about. It's sickeningly sweet, yet uneasy.

And before you can thank him, Robin waltzes in holding a fancily patterned tray you didn't even know you owned, holding three cups of perfectly made tea. You both quickly separate your hands from one another. "Who wants some tea, folks?" she asks in a fake British accent, raising her eyebrows up and down repeatedly with a smug smirk.

.•.•

July 4th 1983, The Hargrove Residence.

The wind swirls like a category 4 hurricane outside the diminutive white-painted house with the dull blue roof. Billy Hargrove groans deeply as he sits, tied to a wooden chair pulled straight out of the kitchen with some rope his father had lying around in the shed. His complexion was as pale as the porcelain vase stuffed with pink tulips that sat contently in the kitchen, blissfully ignorant of what was occurring in the next room.

Father Steve grips his bible like a vice, determined to exorcise the evil out of this boy. Lucas and Max are standing coyly behind you in the living room, holding hands. Billy's father Neil, furrows his brows, apprehensive of what's to come with Max's mother, Susan on his arm- shaking. And you...you are standing your ground.

A bead of sweat trails off of his forehead and falls onto the top of his thigh- staining his tight jeans with a circular wet dot. The inhuman-looking black veins in his arms grew darker- if that was even possible and he cried out, "Untie me fuckers!! fucking untie me now!!"

You sigh in frustration and walk over to the heater on Billy's right, dialling up the heat...but not without wincing before doing so. "Aaghhh! You fucking bitch!" and as he screamed, you could hear more than one voice spit those venomous words at you. The floor began to shake, like that of an earthquake- but you keep your composure. Father Steve goes to step forward with his bible- but you get to Billy first.

"No, you listen you son of a bitch!" you began to speak, leaning down in front of the taken one who sits before you, now face to face. "You are going to free this boy of your evil! Whether you like it or not, with the power of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit I condemn you from carrying out your devious intentions!" you spit out, with just as much venom in your tone and as soon as you uttered those very words he began to cry in agony.

This time, he doesn't look at you- he looks at someone behind you with pleading eyes. "Max, please!! You have to help me, you have to believe me, Max!!" he cries, his bottom lip violently wobbling with 'sadness' but in his eyes held no tears. Lucas steps in front of her, protectively, glaring at the boy bound to the chair in front of him.

You glance back at Max briefly, shaking your head "Don't believe a word he says, Maxine!" you warn. She gets up from her original position- leaning against the wall - Lucas grabs her arm softly, and she gives him a look of reassurance before mouthing 'It's okay.' She begins to walk in your direction. And for a moment, you think she's going to untie him...but she doesn't.

Instead, she moves the other heater and dials it up all.the.way. She looks at you and nods with sincerity- drowning out 'Billy's' cries of pain before moving her left hand to her forehead, swiping off a trail of sweat that began to moisten the top of her forehead.

The shaking of the floor intensified and items on shelves around the living room began to fall and shatter on the ground. You look to Father Steve and he nods his head, flicking to a certain page in the bible and you grip the bottle of blessed holy water that sits in the crevice of your cardigan pocket, itching to be opened.

But before you can act something unexpected occurs. Something sinister...the beginning of the end. Max is suddenly thrown to the other side of the room, her back hitting the wall on Billy's right. Susan screams and goes to run to her daughter's aid but Neil grabs her by the waist, stopping her. You're frozen in time and apparently so is Father Steve but not Lucas.

Lucas sprints to the other side of the room where Max was tossed and gets about halfway before an unknown force suddenly pulls him back. "No! Max, no!! Let her go, you asshole!" he roars in fury, storming over to the chair-bound devil. Father Steve holds an arm out to stop Lucas before he begins to read out of the bible. Max slowly finds her footing, standing up.

"I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all of your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgement, that you tell by some sign your name and the day and hour of your departure. I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness; nor shall you be emboldened to harm any way this creature of God, or the bystanders, or any of their-" Steve stopped reading when he saw the horrified, pale look on your face. He turns to look at what you're seeing.

Max is floating in the air.

Susan becomes scared and tells Father Steve, "Please stop this!! I can't lose my baby!! Please!" she kicks and cries.

You utter to Steve, "Carry on, we have to get this out of him." as you pull out the much-awaited bottle of holy water, popping open the corked lid and begin splashing some at Billy. The floor began to violently shake and objects began to fly around the room, the wind picked up even heavier outside.

"-Possessions...they shall lay their..."

A blood-curdling scream rips through the entire home before a thud shakes the floor. When you look back at Max you gasp, feeling all of the breath fall out of your lungs. You run over the frail, weak girl and scrape her into your arms.

You look at her face, it's not a pretty sight to see.

One of her eyes had been gauged out, a stream of blood pouring out, whilst the other eye bears a long diagonal slash across it, the cut deep. She cries, "help me...please help me."

"It's going to be okay, honey...It's going to be okay I promise you that. Lucas!" you comfort, before calling to her boyfriend who you realise was right behind you this entire time. He shared the same look of utter, and sheer terror with you. You get up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay with her, okay? Stay." you give him a look of sincerity before handing him the bottle of holy water. "Protect yourselves."

The lights began to flicker in the living room. The shaking of the floor is so intense that it makes you feel sick to your stomach- but you know that that isn't the only reason.

Steve sighs in apprehension before he continues with the prayer- this time he speaks it with more fire in his tone, and determination.

"And by the power of God, I condemn you back to Hell!!" he demands with a furious yell. Just as he nears the end of his sentence, the old clock in the hallway outside the living room chimed four times.

The lights go out completely for a moment, but the physical darkness of the room was shortlived as the lights jumped back on.

Billy Hargrove lay limply in the wooden chair, lifeless.

His head hung low and his eyes, nose and mouth poured with blood. His throat had been slit.

So.much.blood.

.•.•

You hadn't realised you had been daydreaming until you clock that a finger is mere centimetres away from your face, snapping constantly. "Oh, there she is!! She's back. Hi!! we missed you...you haven't touched your tea yet, Psychic Sally." It's Robin, her tone burns with amusement but her gaze is full of concern.

You manage a dry laugh, shaking your head. Before picking up the cup of tea and bringing it to your lips, taking a sip.

"Sorry...sorry yes- yeah just got distracted, s'all." you lie, placing the cup down onto your favourite 'The Beatles' coaster. And if there was one thing about the people who had spent enough time around you to actually know you, it was that they knew when you were lying.

He knew.

He would ask you about it later, he had decided. But as of right now, he would remain professional. Right now, he was Father Steve- but after you've discussed tomorrow's plans...he would just be Steve.

A 'friend.'

"So...let's make a plan then, I thought it oughta be best to be more prepared this time because- well you know..." you suggest, face scrunching up in frustration at your inability to even utter words about that night. Father Steve nods knowingly, before smiling at you with reassurance. You glance back at him and realise that this is the first time in a while, that you have been able to properly look at him.

That dirty blondish-brown hair of his was styled perfectly into a short mullet, it was longer than it was the last time you had gawked at it- more unkempt. And even though it was fall, he still had that sunkissed glow on his skin like aphrodite had kissed it herself, and that smile- that goddamn smile. Pardon your French, sorry God.

Robins looks between the two of you as she takes a gulp of her tea, hiding her smirk in the crevice of the cup. She will heavily quiz you on this later. Why hadn't you both talked sooner?

The phone in the hallway began to blare out receptive 'brrrlliingggg's and Robin sighed, getting up from her spot on the couch before she turned to you both. "I'll be back, lovebirds."

You huff, trying to avoid the heat you feel travelling towards your face. He does the same, chuckling lightheartedly. You missed that sound, you didn't get to hear it a lot.

It was admittedly, very nice to hear, the nicest.

Whilst the two of you began to arrange meeting times for the morning, Robin made it to the kitchen to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Robin answers, twirling the wire of the landline around her finger whilst she anticipates an answer.

"Oh...um...hey, I think I may have the wrong number- I'm looking for," she says your name, nervously, and there's a silence after that ensues for only a short period before Robin intervenes. "Oh! no not at all, she's just in the living room...hold on," she covers the phone with her hand and shouts your name followed with "phone!"

To which you excuse yourself from Father Steve, who is sitting looking through the file you had written earlier that night regarding the Byers' case.

You arrive at the kitchen and thank your lovely, yet sometimes painfully annoying assistant as she hands you the phone and you say, "-Hey there, who's calling?" whilst propping yourself up against the kitchen counter.

"It's Max, we need to talk...like- right now." She quietly whispers, sighing. You stop leaning up against the counter and stand up, concerned. "Yeah yeah, what's...what's up?" you ask, unsure of what her answer will be.

"I had to whisper for a moment, sorry. My carer was just here- she helped me dial- doesn't matter...But it's happening again...isn't it?" Her voice wavered with fear, and full of solemn dread you muster up a reply.

"How do you know that, Maxine? How do you...?" you blurt out with a mixture of confusion and fear coursing through your veins. You hear her sigh on the other end of the phone before she shuffles around in what you assume is her armchair.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it's Max," she jokes, trying to diffuse the tense atmosphere. You sigh, not in a joking mood when it comes to her safety and involvement in the situation at hand.

She huffs... before she speaks again.

"Joyce Byers called me today."

.•.•

HEY!! sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, had a super stressful and jam-packed week!! but things should be back on schedule now! thank you all so much for the support and thank you to @stveharringtn for being there for me so much!!

taglist: @stveharringtn, @be-the-spark-bitch, @ravenhellfire86 , @kitdjarin1 , @sage-glowstick

let me know if you would like to be added!! i’m posting some extra bits today, like pictures of readers house, pictures of maxine’s home at the hospice, etc!!

[starrynightmuse]

A Character Study: Aemond from House of the Dragon

Almost 4k words. My thoughts on Aemond Targaryen. This is me trying to make sense of his character and guessing his motivations. I'm focusing mainly on the show so I did not mention Daeron.

To the greens, Aemond was the spare. To the blacks, he was even less than that.

In the show, he was born after The Green Dress stunt at Rhaenyra's wedding, when Alicent got rid of her Targaryen red and black dresses in favor of Hightower green, signaling her true allegiance. Sides are declared. The die is cast. In the book, Alicent's stunt wouldn't be pulled until a year after Aemond was born, but I like the show's timing better.

I like the idea of Alicent being in full-on war mode while she was pregnant with him. It would be fitting, knowing she would give birth to a baby boy with a choleric temperament. The boy who would one day grow up to be the young man whose actions started the Dance of the Dragons.

Aemond as might as well pull an Athena and come out of the womb fully dressed in armor and ready for war.

From the time Aemond was old enough to understand, the tension between his mother and half-sister had been so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

In the show, Aemond and Jace are roughly the same age, so Jace was probably born not long after Aemond (I'm guessing their age difference is a year max). Then Rhaenyra churns out two more bastard kids throughout the duration of Aemond's youth. Growing up, this boy would’ve been mighty familiar with hearing questions about his nephews' legitimacy as more and more rumors of Rhaenyra's trysts with Harwin Strong spread throughout King's Landing. 

To properly understand Aemond's childhood, we need to talk about Aemond's momma, Alicent Hightower. Mommy dearest.

Alicent was literally a teen mom who had been forced to grow up too quickly. After Viserys fired Otto and her friendship with Rhaenyra disintegrated, she had almost zero allies in court. She was scared, paranoid, and bitter. Alicent was nowhere near prepared for the motherhood and queenship that was thrust upon her. I'm pretty sure that she often found herself needing someone to vent to, and I think Aemond would've been that someone for her (My Son is My Therapist).

Alicent was, by definition, an emotionally immature parent. In this scenario, it’s common for parents to turn to their children for emotional support. She couldn’t turn to Viserys, Aegon was rowdy and does his own shit, and she and Helaena never quite connected. That left Aemond, who strikes me as a naturally attentive and observant child.

This is just a theory, but I don’t see why it couldn’t have happened given the circumstances. It would certainly explain why Aemond and his mom are so close. (And why Aemond gives "older sibling who acts like a parent" vibes.)

I mean, have you seen this scene? The softness they have for each other? How in tune they are with each other’s emotions? They act more like equals than Mother and Son.

With Viserys being a shitty father who'd rather play with his legos than pay attention to his son, Alicent would also be the only person Aemond would look to for guidance, to make sense of the world.

I'm imagining Alicent ranting about Rhaenyra's irresponsibility while a young Aemond listens, absorbing every word.

Here I am, upholding the kingdom, the family, the law, while she flouts it all to do as she pleases.

The audacity of her to name her common-faced bastards as heirs while you and Aegon are pushed further down the line of succession.

Where is duty? Where is honor? Where is sacrifice?  

It’s a wonder to me that her sons’ eggs ever hatched. We all know what they really are.

Aemond takes Alicent's words to heart and he treats them with a level of seriousness that is rare for most children his age. He strikes me as a very precocious kid. I see him as an overthinker, which would mean he has a tendency to mull over things for long periods of time and find deeper meanings where most would fail to. (A trait that would serve him but ultimately destroy him in the end.)

Like the good student he is, Aemond takes in everything that Alicent has to say. And if my My Son is My Therapist theory is correct, then out of all of Alicent’s children, Aemond would be the one most privy to her thoughts. It would explain why he's so similar to her in beliefs and personality. Everything he knew, he learned from Alicent.

Helaemond shippers like to point at this scene and say Aemond had a crush on Helaena and idk about you but it sounds like he's just echoing his mother. This is a 10-year-old boy.

Thanks to Alicent, Aemond would see the world as being split into two groups: the “worthy” and the “unworthy”. The worthy are the ones who uphold honor and duty. The unworthy are the ones who do not. 

His sense of worth would be directly tied to this metric. Aemond has a strong desire to prove himself worthy by being the perfect prince, the perfect son. He cares deeply about how others views him, and he becomes a perfectionist.

Aegon being a useless drunkard and Rhaenyra being a lawbreaker would only motivate him further. (Yes, Rhaenyra naming her bastards as heirs is literally illegal. It's high treason. It's an offense that would result in being disinherited and even executed, I can't stress this enough.) I can do better, Aemond thinks.

So, being the only boy in the family without a dragon would do monumental damage to his self-esteem.

I'm imagining him listening to Alicent rant about how Jacaerys and Lucerys are unworthy of having their dragon eggs hatch. Being the over-analytical little shit he is, Aemond would've come to the conclusion that the eggs only hatch for true Targaryens. And suddenly he's worried because what if I'm not worthy of my name?

Even my idiot older brother and my bastard nephews have dragons. What does that make me? He thinks. Aemond would've felt so small.

As if it wasn't bad enough to know that he was only the spare to Aegon's heir, to watch his father neglect him while pouring affection to his half-sister and her kids, to know that he was the least important member of the family. (Knowing you're not the favorite child hurts even for normal people; imagine growing up in a family system where every child is ranked from most important to least.)

It sure didn't help that Aegon, Jace, and Lucerys took advantage of his biggest insecurity to bully him.

Now, we don't know exactly when this bullying started or how long it had been going on, but the Pink Dread incident was nowhere near the first time. To find a pig and to attach wigs on it takes a bit more effort than your average taunts. There's a lot that has to build up for that to happen. I'm guessing the bullying had been going for a few years.

But the pig was definitely the crescendo. With each taunt and sneer the boys had thrown at him, Aemond's self-esteem had gotten worse and worse. When the Pink Dread happens, something in Aemond snaps.

It was more than just a pig with wings. It was utter humiliation. It was telling him no matter how perfect you try to be, you will always be lesser.

Knowing this and all the pent-up anger that Aemond would have towards his brother and the Velaryon/Strong boys, it probably took him a lot of self-control to not explode right there and then.

In Fire and Blood, Aemond is described as being a feisty kid.

"Aemond was said to be half the size of his elder brother but twice as fierce."

In the show, he's more chill, but I don't think the book is wrong. F&B is written like a history book, and history only remembers what was notable. Aemond has this sort of vibe that says "I'm chill on the outside but I'm screaming on the inside." Like his mother, he holds in all his feelings for the sake of appearances but you can bet that during the times when he does let it out, this boy would have an anger that burns hotter than the seven hells. And it would be enough to give him a reputation.

Aemond tries to be on his best behavior and bottles up his emotions... until he can't anymore. Being a perfectionist, he has a do-or-die mentality. This aspect of him was ever so apparent when he sees Vhagar at Laena's funeral.

The oldest, largest, and most dangerous dragon in the world... out in the open, without a rider. And one desperate boy who has had enough of feeling weak and inferior.

Hell, it was like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit.

This is my one and only chance, Aemond thinks. My brother and my nephews want to laugh at me? Fine, I'm going to claim a dragon that'll make theirs look like a pig.

At this point, Aemond could care less about the dangers. Give me the biggest dragon in the world or give me death.

Vhagar sees Aemond and goes, "This little shit has balls... I like it. But let's see how he does in the air." She tests him by flying like an absolute maniac but when she realizes that Aemond has persevered regardless, she deems him worthy of being her rider. Vhagar likes her riders strong-willed and courageous. Aemond didn't claim Vhagar, Vhagar claimed Aemond.

And that validation from Grandma Dragon was all Aemond needed to go on a freaking power trip. This lonely boy — who had been bullied for years, whose only "friend" was his mother — was suddenly given the highest level of approval from an ancient war dragon who people write songs about. Becoming Vhagar's rider gives him newfound confidence and Aemond feels on top of the world. He's still riding that high when the Strong boys and Daemon's daughters attack him.

It's this same rush of power that makes him utter the forbidden word.

Bastards.

I don't think Aemond actually hates Rhaenyra's boys for being bastards. I mean, look at this scene where he goes up to Jace during Laena's funeral. The look of sympathy. He wants to say something to offer condolences about Ser Harwin's death, but he knows he shouldn't. And the future love of his life is literally a bastard of House Strong.

During the fight, Aemond calls Jace and Luke bastards as a way to get back at them for making him feel weak. He's saying, look who's the inferior one now.

Then Lucerys stabs him in the eye and all the euphoria he felt a few minutes ago goes down the drain.

It only got worse from there.

Instead of giving him sympathy, his half-sister politicizes his trauma, makes the entire thing about her and her sons, and accuses him of treason. His father is angrier over the fact that he called his nephews bastards than the fact that he was maimed. The little shit who took out his eye doesn't even apologize.

And where had his useless older brother been all this time? Drunk beyond repair.

The only one who seems to care is his mother, and Aemond watches as she gets excessively gaslit for wanting justice on his behalf.

He's sitting there in the armchair while all this goes down, one of his eyes is literally gone, and his injury is probably so painful that his head feels like it's going to burst.

I let my feelings get ahead of me one time and this is what happens, Aemond thinks.

Any other kid in his position would've felt entitled to act out, but Aemond swallows down his emotions and puts on a brave face. He protects his mother from his father's wrath and even steps in to defuse the situation by placating her. Mommy's little therapist.

This ten-year-old boy was forced to take on the role of an adult while his eye had been freshly slashed from his skull. The trauma of that night would stay with him for years afterward.

Three things were certain in Aemond's mind:

He can't count on his father to defend him.

He can't count on his older brother to defend him.

His half-sister cares more about the throne than his safety and most likely his life.

When the family returns to Kings Landing the next day, Aemond leaves his childhood behind at Driftmark.

He develops hyper-independence and spends the next several years trying to compensate for his disability while preparing for the Targaryen Hunger Games that will come one day. Aemond would be the first one up at dawn, already in the training yard, and he'd be the last one to retreat to his chambers at night, reading page after page in the library and sometimes even falling asleep there.

Well, okay, maybe he's not exactly the last one to bed.

I'm imagining pre-teen Aemond coming out of the library at the hour of the owl, only to bump into a staggering teenage Aegon who was just sneaking back into the Red Keep after a late-night rendezvous, high as a kite.

This is the idiot who is to be king, Aemond thinks. (Rhaenyra's gang can delude themselves as much as they'd like but Aemond knows the precedent set by the Great Council of 101 AC, the primogeniture, was bigger than the wishes of a dying king and an entitled princess.)

No matter how hard he tries, his clown of a brother would always get what Aemond had always been more qualified for.

Because Aemond was only the second son.

Worse, a second son with just one eye.

Aemond's quite insecure about his looks; I'm sure he thinks his scar looks ugly and horrifying. It's canon that he wears the eyepatch to not frighten the ladies. The sapphire is there so he looks cool when he does want to frighten them.

I don't think he would've had a lot of crushes. Not because he doesn't care about romance or sex, I think it would be because he's scared of getting rejected. He hears the court calling him Aemond One-Eye and people whispering about his fiery temper behind his back. As a side effect of that traumatic day in Driftmark, I think Aemond would now anger quite easily, as trauma survivors often do. And when he isn't angry, he's putting on a stone mask of confidence to seem indestructible. It would definitely come off quite cold to others, but after all the helplessness he had felt, Aemond adopts the "I'd rather be feared than loved" mentality.

He knows he's not crush-worthy material (don't fight me on this, it's different for fandom girlies because we know his story, but imagine if you didn't and you met him in real life, only knowing him based on the rumors? and, while I think ewan mitchell is handsome af, he's not conventionally pretty.).

I have other things to do than think about girls, he tells himself.

Then Aegon takes him to a brothel on the Streets of Silk on his thirteenth birthday. His older brother basically rapes him by proxy via a woman who is twice Aemond's age. (We don't know if this trauma did anything to affect Aemond's sexual preferences but we do know that teenage Aemond would never look at girls his own age. He falls in love with Alys Rivers... who's like 40. Aemond also has mommy issues so there's that.)

When Aegon marries Helaena, Aemond does his best to protect his sister from his brother's abuse because he knows what it's like. Both being victims of Aegon, he forms a special bond with Helaena and takes on the role of being her protector. This protectiveness he feels is extended down to Helaena's children.

A few years go by and Aemond settles into a routine that consists of him picking up after his brother, taking care of his sister and her children, being a confidant to his mother, and essentially taking the position of the family patriarch. On top of this, he has a rigorous training regimen and he's studying everything he can about history and political philosophy so that at least someone will know shit about ruling when Aegon becomes king.

This boy had so much on his plate.

Eventually, the matter of Driftmark's succession brings Rhaenyra's clan back to court. Bro definitely had flashbacks when he heard the news that they were coming. During the petitions scene, he's tense and on guard. He's trying to act like seeing Rhaenyra and her kids doesn't bother him, but his hands are clasped high behind his back as if he's trying to keep it all in.

At this point, it was about more than the loss of his eye. It was about more than just that night. More than the pain of the injury, and more than the phantom pain that he probably still feels occasionally in the place where his eye had been.

(Edited: I found this amazing post explaining that Aemond most likely had chronic pain resulting from nerve damage. So he probably had more than phantom pain. Which makes his trauma ten times worse.)

No, this boy has been hurt mind, body, and soul. He looks at the blacks and he sees all the years of helplessness, loneliness, resentment, anger, and insecurity that he had been through as a result of their actions. (I've said before that Aemond is a ruminator, and ruminators are often the best grudge-holders.)

Daemon beheads Vaemond for saying the same thing he did when he lost his eye, showing absolutely no mercy. Then, during dinner, the little shit who took out his eye had the audacity to laugh at him when he saw a pig.

Aemond's like, y'know what, I've been acting cordial all day for the sake of being respectful but these people don't deserve it. Fuck it.

After Vizzy T dies and Aegon runs off, Aemond volunteers to find the fool. He prides himself in being dutiful and loyal, it's literally his entire sense of identity, and if it means tracking down his idiot of a brother just so the fool could be crowned — so be it.

That doesn't mean he has to be happy about it though. Aemond finds himself alone in the streets of Flea Bottom with Ser Crispy — the man who taught him how to fight, the man who has been there for his family ever since he was born — and decides to take the opportunity to vent and grant himself some much-needed catharsis, if only for a few seconds.

I think all the resentment that he had felt during the last few days finally boiled over when he saw Luke at Storm's End.

There he was, selling himself up for marriage, trying to do what's expected of him even though he probably feels like a puppet on a string — just so Eggy gets to keep his crown. And this boy, this boy who took his eye out, who bullied him, who laughed and never apologized, waltzes in. The same boy who, a few days ago, was named heir to Driftmark, even though he was a bastard and a second son.

Aemond is triggered. He's a trauma victim; his mind immediately reverts back to the state it was in that fateful night in Driftmark. Mentally, he's no longer the dutiful young adult. The helpless little boy in him comes out and he sees red.

"I want you to put out your eye."

My theory is that Aemond had been dreaming about taking Luke's eye as retribution for years. It's pretty common for victims of violence to fantasize about attacking their abusers — it's a defense mechanism to prepare them for violence to come, and in Aemond's case, violence was guaranteed to come. My dude has probably been suffering from intrusive homicidal ideations for while.

The show told the tale from Luke's POV so we see the boy running out the hall after Borros ends the conversation, only for a mean nasty Aemond to chase him on Vhagar. In the book, however, another secondborn decides to stir shit up after Luke leaves the room.

And there it might have ended, but for the girl Maris. The secondborn daughter of Lord Borros, less comely than her sisters, she was angry with Aemond for preferring them to her. "Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?" Maris asked the prince, in tones sweet as honey. "I am so glad you chose my sister, I want a husband with all his parts."

So what I'm thinking is that Aemond did try to drop his anger when Luke took his leave. But then the girl picks at his insecurity (bro doesn't know shit about girls and he takes everything so seriously, there's no way he could've seen that she was just jealous).

And that was the final straw. The boy who has tried so hard to be perfect loses control. Honestly, this moment has been a long time coming.

Aemond chases Luke on Vhagar to scare him. He wants to make Luke feel as helpless as he did when they were younger. It makes him feel powerful, and after feeling stepped on for so long, he's letting himself enjoy it while giggling like a maniac in the pouring rain.

Vhagar, however, had other plans. I think she sensed his anger and madness, just like Arrax sensed Luke's fear and anxiety. Aemond might've been playing around, but Vhagar had a mind of her own.

Aemond's only friend (who doesn't also double as a mom or a training teacher) is his geriatric dragon, so of course he would be a tad overconfident in their bond. He definitely wasn't planning for Vhagar to dive in for a little snack.

And that's the story of how the lonely boy who tried and tried and tried to be the perfect son went down in history as a kinslayer.

I can't wait to see him in season 2, absolutely wrecked with guilt. And who's going to believe that mean ole Aemond One-Eye never meant to kill Lucerys? Kinslaying is a serious offense in Westeros. Aemond fucks up one time and now he's going to be ostracized for the rest of his life (which isn't too long 💀).

I can't wait to see how his dynamic with Alicent is going to change since he's no longer this golden boy.

I can't wait to see him become absolutely deranged when Blood and Cheese happens. Aemond thinks he knows what guilt feels like? Think again. The guilt of killing Lucerys was only the prologue. With Blood and Cheese, Aemond wouldn't just be losing a nephew, he'd lose his sister too. Helaena becomes a ghost of a person, and Aegon... I think Egg would be so mad at Aemond. The roles between the brothers would suddenly reverse.

Also, I can't wait to see how they'll portray his relationship with Alys Rivers. (I will sue if they make Alys a skinny, young cottage-core girl. Give me an actual middle-aged woman and make her a witchy girlboss with a fire that matches Aemond's. Give me Katie McGrath.) I want to see him meet Alys and be like "Fuck the Baratheon girl, I'm going to hell anyway so I as might as well enjoy life while I can." I want to see the dutiful side of him unravel as his desires get the best of him. I want to see him drunk with power when he becomes Aegon's regent.

[random-person10]

Heartbreak High

The new one, not the old one.

This show has always managed to confuse me and I don't know if it's an Australian thing or a writer's thing. I'm pretty sure it's the former coz it happens every time I watch anything Australian.

But this season was even more confusing than the first. Like in the first season, it was chaotic to me how everyone ended up fucking almost everyone, I could not guess who was going to get together at fucking all. All it took is for these fuckers to make 4-second eye-contact and BAM sex, get a grip. Ig teenagers are actually like that and I'm just a loser. Anywho, this season, the only thing that confused me was Rowan's whole character arc.

Let me break this down:

He said that when he came to Hartley High, he was just ready to move on from his brother's death, or maybe he wanted to move on in Dubbo, I dunno I kind of didn't pay attention. But like, he started killing birds and terrorizing Amerie with them on the first fucking day of being there, because she didn't remember him?

This motherfucker went into the forest, while Ant was busy threatening to cut his dick off, killed a bird, and put it on her bag? Sorry but how fast does this man act? What a machine.

Then he dated her ex-boyfriend? For what reason? Was it strategic? I still haven't figured that one out yet. Like sure it'll make Amerie jealous but he seemed genuinely into him so I don't think that's it. Actually, thinking about it now, Malakai is hot and Rowan was all "forget Amerie" or whatever so that bit does make sense tbh. I cried when they broke up go away, imagine the person you're dating calls u by their ex's name? ugh sad

Then after breaking up with Malakai and getting his heart savagely broken, he just starts dating Amerie? At first, I assumed that was because he planned to hurt her emotions, but he literally spoke about her to 'Jett' like he was into her, so that confused me. I thought he hated her?

Like bro seemed to not have a plan. I know he's not mentally stable and all that but like what was going on in his mind? He's trying to ruin her life, but also likes her, but also thinks she murdered his brother.

And why did he tell Malakai to fuck off when he started dating Amerie? Like was that genuine possessiveness or was that part of the plan? (My little brain was like "awe he wants to protect Malakai from whatever he has planned at that dance so he's telling him to go away, cutee he still likes him" but I'm delulu so ignore that)

AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF

His delusions just vanished with Amerie saying: "he died because he loved you" and a clip of Jett not being a part of Rowan's hallucination anymore... like excuse me, I need a clip of this man going to a therapist and actually acknowledging his schizophrenia, not whatever this form of fucking 'closure' is.

It was so half-arsed, it made me mad.

Man, I genuinely liked the guy, but it seemed like they created his plot 4 episodes into the season. Nothing linked.

Still was very obsessed with the show tho. The sarcasm and the sibling vibes were very entertaining. STILL THE PLOT MAKES VERY LITTLE SENSE. But, again I'm very bad at paying attention so I might've got it all wrong.

Side note: the principal's dog (Joan of Arc) with her little fuchsia-coloured vest were the highlight of this show for me, isn't that kinda sad? There is a scene where the principal is talking to Cash, and Joan is facing the opposite direction and I laughed at that for like 30 minutes, tragic.

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

cw: vent as long as should be expected from reddit refugee, r*ssian psychiatry being as dehumanizing as every other things in this country, english at the level of a non-native who got lost in reality while writing at least twice;

massive tw: forced hospitalization, suicidal troughs mention, abusive therapist and cruelty i suppose?

i don't even want to start it with "NPD culture is" cause i honestly (desperately) want that no one here will relate with my experience. i also will completely understand if this rant will not be posted, it's long, terrible, it's about may be specific to my doomed country's doomed medical care only. even i myself wish to having no idea about it. i not even goin to be anon here since i have a little fate in this end up posted.

well, NPD culture is dissociating each time anyone share they ideas about how often they supposed (they always supposed that is "never") pwNPD are searching for a therapy. i was the one who did search indeed and found out unpleasant fact that not only i won't get any help, but the one who should help me eventually will try to utterly destroy me. it's was what happened last time, i believe now i could have PTSD and here's the story.

after some dramatic events my npd symptoms slowly started getting much worse. i won’t describe everything, it’s enough to mention that during the year since the dramatic events™, i almost completely isolated myself from society and almost stopped doing anything for my studies, trying to avoid negativity from people around me. i tried seeing a counselor in college to address at least this issue, i can't remember anything about her other than she blamed me for my "parenting stance" and kept telling me i didn't want to work on myself and just wanted to blame everyone but myself for my condition. i tried to visit another psychologist. and another. while i was spending my last money trying to find a specialist who would at least hear me, it was getting worse, maybe because of the my belief that everyone would always be against me. when idea about getting lost in a river nearby my house became more common through than "go brush your teeth" i went to a town psychoneurological dispensary... i should have go to work spending the rest of my vitality to pay for another attempt at private psychotherapy.

just going to the dispensary was humiliating, and by that time I had already lost the idea that it was shameful to seek help. i had to describe troubling symptoms to the psychiatrist on duty... standing in a room full of strangers, only some of whom were medical staff, and the psychiatrist himself looked at me like i was a maggot. and I had to go through this procedure twice, because the first time, “I’m constantly thinking about throwing myself into the river,” apparently they didn’t hear. when i finally got to the dispensary, all those tests that were done to assess my sanity.... the wording of the questions was humiliating to say the least, and even with my belief that i was the most honest person in the world, i admit that lied on that tests. again, no one listened to me, patients in general were given as little attention as possible. when one of the conversations with the therapist she touched on a topic that was painful for me and i couldn't hold back my tears, i was threatened that if I didn't pull myself together i would be sent to a hospital. which exactly what happened.

this was supposed to be the longest part of the story, but it's physically hard for me to describe what happened, so I'm just listing it. i was not allowed to contact my family, to take any things, at least clothes from home, they just put me in an ambulance and took me to this prison. they took my phone and I didn't see any of my stuff until I was discharged. when they brought me in, they injected me with something and did it for the three days i was in the isolation ward where they put all the newcomers. later on, they transferred me to a general ward and again every day they gave me a hell of a lot of medicine. I don't know what they were. i know how it sounds but alas this is how russian psychiatric hospitals work and this horror can be confirmed in the stories of other... survivors? we were not allowed outside (because of covid they say), there were no family visitation days, the only thing we did was to walk along the corridor along the wards. no privacy, no emotions allowed, YOU a nothing.

i spent a month there. for crying. i could have gone longer, but I was able to convince the superintendent at the weekly meeting that i could be returned to the care of the dispensary. when I left, i was told that my good behavior would get me bipolar instead of schizoaffective disorder so they "wouldn't ruin my life." what does schizoaffective disorder have to do with anything? ut's what in this country they like to diagnose when they don't know what to diagnose. doesn't really matter if you fit criteria. i didn't fit any of them, so thanks for... not ruining my life i guess.

it took me two years to recover from all this. i think i'm mostly fine as long as no one mentions how bad narcissists are for not going to therapy. like even though I know I need therapy, i can't bring myself to do it. i know there must be normal therapists, but I feel too deep a dislike and distrust of people in this profession. you know... it could cost me life?

.

[anxious-witch]

Inertia 7

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: None, I think? Please do tell me if I'm wrong I'll edit ot immediately

Notes: AO3 link

urprise! Early update of the last chapter. Thank you everyone who made it this far, especially people who consistently commented throughout. I have several things to say before you jump right in.

1) I am aware JO didn't actually preform at the EMA, but since this is already and au and I really liked the concept of the scene, it is here. Just roll with it 2) There will (hopefully) be two fics following this one, one with the focus on Bojan and the other on Kris. I am not sure exactly when I'll be writing and post them though, since December is quite busy, but until then, at least this is finished.

Anyway, this part is pretty much all fluff and very cheesy at the end, but I figured we all deserved it after all the angst

I believe that witness is a magnitude of vulnerability. That when I say love what I mean is not a feeling nor promise of a feeling. I believe in attention. My love for you is a monolith of try.

The woman I love pays an inordinate amount of attention to large and small objects. She is not described by anything. Because I could not mean anything else,

she knows exactly what I mean.

Once upon a time a line saw itself clear to its end. I have seen the shape of happiness. (y=mx+b) I am holding it. It is your hand.

What Space Faith Can Occupy By TC Tolbert

Jan wondered if light green walls of the therapist's office were suppose to somehow elevate the space. Made it seem more colorful.

Personally, it only reminded him more if a hospital.

Still, just as in all previous sessions, he had to remind himself he wasn't there just for himself. Kris had been genuinely worried after his breakdown. Jure and Bojan didn't know about it, but they likely suspected something had transpired.

He would need to tell Bojan about him and Nace eventually. But that, at least, was a problem for future Jan.

There was also Nace to think about. In the past three weeks, there had been slow, almost painful progress made between them. Still, he was trying. That counted for something, right?

He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

His therapist was a young woman, Jan would guess somewhere in her thirties. She hat jet black hair and looked perfectly put together. She reminded him of Kris in that regard.

Which made sense, considering he only got a spot so quickly due to Kris' connections. Jan really, really didn't want to think about how he managed that.

"So, Jan," Nina said, "do you want us to continue on where we stopped last time, or do you have something from this week you'd like to discuss?"

Her voice was unkind, or even cold, but Jan still had to force himself to talk sometimes. His trust issues weighted heavily on him in moment like these.

"Well, no. Except that Nace and I actually went to play basketball, but I mentioned we will last week anyway."

Nina patiently waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she spoke again.

"How was it?"

Jan sighed. It was awful. Jan felt genuinely bad for even going along with it, considering how much Nace hated any sport that you had to play with the ball. It ended when Nace didn't manage to catch the ball one time Jan threw it. It hit him in the face and made his nose bleed.

Jan supposed there was a metaphor there somewhere.

"It wasn't great. Nace is...really bad at basketball."

She quickly wrote something down and Jan tried his best not to feel judged.

"And how did you feel about it?"

"Shitty, I guess. I didn't make him play, but it kind of felt like I did."

Nina tapped her pen to the notes.

"From what I have here, it seems Nace usually initiates these activities and they seem to be activities you like. Am I correct?"

Jan shrugged.

"Yes."

"And what do you think about that?"

How many times could she ask him that? Wasn't she supposed to tell him what to think about that? Jan felt increasingly annoyed.

"Why do you keep asking that? If you want to say something, then say it."

She pursed her lips.

"I am not here to tell you how to feel, Jan. I am here to help you verbalize it."

That was the dumbest fucking answer he ever heard.

"I already said I feel bad about it. What more do you want me to say?"

"Have you thought about doing the same for him?"

Jan paused. He haven't. Or well-he had, but he wasn't really sure there was an activity Nace liked that they could do together.

"I don't know if we have anything in common. Other than music, I mean. I know he is trying, but maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all."

Nina nodded, his face neutral. Always so goddamn neutral.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"What, and break his heart? He'd just try even harder. I don't-"

I don't know what to say to make him give up on me. Jan clenched his teeth.

"I think you should consider trying one of his activity. Surely, there is something he likes that you don't hate."

Jan took in a deep breath. He was fighting the urge to mess up his nails even more, but if he started bleeding during practice again, even Bojan will notice.

"I guess. But that doesn't solve the main issue, does it?"

Nina sighed.

"Alright. How about you think about it, and we talk about something else for the rest od the session?"

Jan agreed and they moved on, but the thought stayed with him. Was he simply not putting enough effort?

The question haunted him enough for him to drive to Nace's apartment few hours later. He only sent him a text asking if he was home, and once he got a confirmation, he sat in the car and drove here.

It was probably rude, but Jan figured that if Nace had an issue with him being rude, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

It wasn't until he rang the doorbell and heard the barking did he remember Nace had a dog. Ollie.

He knew that, of course. It was just that the two of them usually met outside of Nace's apartment and several times they came here, Ollie was being babysat by Nace's sister.

Well. Jan supposed it was bound to happen to or later. If Ollie hated him, did that mean he was immediately disqualified from soulmate status?

Nace opened the door, trying to keep Ollie from rushing into the hallway. Jan felt caught off guard, despite the fact that he was the one who rang the doorbell.

Nace was wearing a tank top. Had Jan ever seen him in one before?

"Please get in before he runs out, I don't feel like trying to catch him."

Jan quickly stepped into the apartment and Nace closed the door behind him. The Nace carefully let Ollie come closer.

Jan kneeled down, offering his hand for him to sniff at. He liked dogs well enough, but he was always at a bit of a loss on what to do with them.

Cats you had to build a bond with. Usually just being in their general vicinity was enough at the start. You let them come to you. Even if you offered them treats, you had to leave them at the same distance at first.

Dogs? Dogs were unpredictable. They could love you or hate you your smell. Or whatever it was that they could feel around you.

"Dogs can always tell if a person is good or bad", his brother used to say. Jan, who had dogs both love and hate him for no clear-cut reasons over the years, couldn't quite agree.

Dogs could feel something, certainly. But that something was only a first impression and they choose that intangible thing as a base to be loyal or not.

Cats, at least got to know you first before making any judgments.

Ollie sniffed his hand and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to gauge if he was alright or not.

"Hello," Jan said awkwardly.

Ollie came closer, nudging his snout against his hand and Jan carefully petted him on the head, waiting to see the reaction. When he started wagging his tail, Jan felt relieved.

Nace's dog hating him wasn't something he wished to deal with. There were plenty of other things that made him want to turn back and run away.

"He seems to like you," Nace said softly.

One bad call he share with his owner, Jan thought grimly as he stood up.

"That's good. I think we should talk."

Nace sighed.

"As much as I love how direct you are, that sounds very ominous."

Jan simply took his shoes off and shrugged off his jacket.

Ollie followed them as they went into the living room. Jan wondered if they were creating some sort of bad karma for the place, having all their fucked up conversations here.

Or perhaps he spent too much time around Bojan and his superstitiousness was starting to rub off of him.

"Do you want something to drink first or-"

"How about we just get this over with and then after you can offer me stuff if you want me to stay?"

Nace awkwardly sank into the couch, far enough that Jan would have to stretch to be able to touch him, despite his long arms. Was it for his own comfort, or for Jan's?

They were closer physically since they talked the last time. Sitting closer, hand brushing against each other, squeezing each other's shoulders on occasion. That sort of thing.

Now, though, there was no of that. As if Nace was already getting used to the distance. Which Jan supposed was fair, even if he felt a familiar burning at the soulmark.

Before Jan could say anything, though, Ollie jumped on the couch and attempted to nuzzled at his chest. Jan felt thrown off balance a bit as he petted him, which only prompted Ollie to settle in his lap.

"I don't think I am doing this whole thing right," Jan confessed, not taking his eyes off Ollie.

"Could you please be more specific?"

Jan scratched behind Ollies ear. Matej's dog liked that. Ollie made a content sound so Jan continued.

"You keep putting so much effort into liking things that I like and trying them out. And I-I mean I can do it too, but I don't know if it's even right. Like, shouldn't we already have matching interests? Is it even healthy if we both have to change?"

He took his hands off Ollie and clenched them in frustration. He hated how his tongue always felt like lead when he was supposed to talk about these things. He harshly pulled at his hair and tied it back with the tie around his wrist.

"This works like any other relationship would, Jan."

Jan scoffed.

"Does it? I don't remember any of my friends tailoring their interests to fit me."

Nace took in a deep breath. Jan learned he always did that when he was frustrated, like he was stopping himself from saying anything before he was ready.

"Really? Kris never tried listening to metal for you? He knows you favorite brand of tea on accident? You always keep ear plugs in your car if he gets overstimulated because, what? You did that before you were friends?"

Jan felt speechless.

"That's-

"Different? Yeah, of course it is, because this is Kris we are talking about."

Nace sounded resigned. Hurt, even. Jan slowly looked at him, but now it was Nace avoiding his gaze. He was staring at his hands, his expression troubled.

"I don't mean to say discard your and Kris' friendship. I think it's amazing you have him, but I'm jealous. Not because I think there is anything going on, but because you seem to allow others to get close to you while keep me at arms length. And I don't know what to do at this point to change your mind."

Jan's heart squeezed painfully. He never heard Nace so resigned. He was always the one to try and find a solution and not give up.

He gently set Ollie on the couch, despite his small, protesting whine. Then he stood up sat closer to Nace. Close enough that their shoulders touched. This time, he was the one to take Nace's hands in his.

"I'm sorry. You are right."

Nace's head slowly rose, like he barely dared to be hopeful and look at Jan straight on.

"I was, well I am scared. We said we'll be friends, but I don't think I can be your friend. From the moment we met, I kept you at arm length and for one single moment I didn't, we ended up hooking up. You terrify me, Nace."

Nace's breath stuttered. Jan leaned his forehead against Nace's and closed his eyes.

"I had all but convinced myself everything about soulmates was bullshit, that all that was stories and people kept confirming them because they were desperate for it to be true. But that was all it was, a placebo effect. And then you came along. Shattered everything I thought I knew."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nace's hand touched his neck, just a bit below the soulmark. Jan took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"May I?"

"Yes."

The first time Nace touched the soulmark, Jan was too terrified to even appreciate the sensation. But he did now. The feeling was warm and safe. Jan expected his heart to race, but instead it calmed down, as if soothed by Nace's touch.

Something about a gesture made something deep inside him uncoil and words just started pouring out of him.

"When I was fifteen, I started secretly listening to metal. The first time I did, I felt so guilty, I ended up crying and not allowing myself to eat for a day, as a penance. For weeks, I had been worse off than if I had never listened to it. It took me months to gather the courage to try again."

Jan hoped Nace would understand he was saying. He wasn't sure he could say it outright. Nace hummed.

"You are afraid, but you also know that doesn't mean this is bad because you are afraid."

Jan nodded, but Nace didn't say anything immediately after. When he finally spoke, he didn't say what Jan expected him to.

"When I was twelve, I was bullied a lot because of my weight. I remember being terrified of going to school. The only place I felt safe in was the church, because nobody bullied me there. I felt safe. Even if the conditions and rules weren't perfect, it was still better."

Jan opened his eyes, almost indignantly.

"I am not a church."

Nace cracked a small smile.

"No. But you are a safe space, even if the conditions and rules you impose aren't perfect."

Jan's answer was to kiss him. Not roughly, like he did before, but softly and slowly. Giving Nace time to pull away.

He didn't, instead he kissed him back and pulled him closer. One of Jan's hands curled around Nace's nape and the other reached for his wrist. He knew exact moment he touched his soulmark, because Nace shivered.

The only way Jan could describe the feeling was that the bond between them sang. Like the world slightly tilted and found a perfect balance.

Like they were perfect together.

Jan had to pull back from the kiss, fighting a near overwhelming fear that washed over him. Nace didn't let him go far this time, instead pulling him in a hug.

"It's okay."

Nace's voice was soft, and he was warm and comfortable and it was almost unbearable.

"I know it's fucking okay," Jan said, his voice breaking.

He buried his head in Nace's chest and hope he didn't feel the tears soaking his shirt. Nace didn't say anything after that, he simply held him as he cried.

Until the tears dried out and the fear slightly pulled back. Still, some doubts remained.

"What if the rules and conditions can't be improved anymore? What if this is just...who I am?"

He pulled back a bit, to study Nace's face as he answered. Unexpectedly, Nace grinned.

"Well, if a church gets a new priest-"

Jan rolled his eyes at the awful joke.

"You've been hanging with Bojan too much."

Nace was still grinning.

"A priest can also recommend new way of worship-"

Jan groaned loudly and pushed Nace back, so he landed on his back, laughing openly. He had a beautiful, infectious laugh that Jan couldn't help but laugh along as well.

"Please don't use church metaphors anymore. They are awful."

Nace stretched his arms over his head, exposing his muscles and tattoos even more. Jan couldn't help, but let his gaze linger on them.

"Make me."

Jan was never the one to avoid temptation. And Nace had always been so tempting. Almost like a red apple in a garden without color. Jan leaned down and kissed him again.

Nace melted into the kiss and reached out to him again. His hands reached Jan's hair and Jan tense slightly, but Nace gently pulled at the tie, until his hair spilled from the ponytail.

Jan was distracted enough by the kiss to let him. He wanted Nace closer and-

They were interrupted by a loud, insistent whine. Jan pulled back enough to look in the direction it came from, finding Ollie looking at them with the saddest expression he could possibly muster.

Nace burst out laughing, his whole body shaking.

"I think he doesn't like me hogging his new favorite."

Jan chuckled, sitting back up. He held his hand out and petted Ollie gently, immediately receiving a lick on his hand.

"Maybe I could have some sort of tea, if the offer still stands," Jan said, not looking away from Ollie.

"It absolutely does. I have mint tea Kris mentioned you liked."

Traitor, Jan thought, giving away my secrets.

"Nace?"

"Yeah?"

"Which one is your favorite?"

Jan turned his head to look, catching a surprise that flitted across his face before it melted in a soft smile.

"Probably chamomile."

Of course. The calming thing one always drank when they felt unwell to soothe and comfort. It fit him.

"I'll remember that."

With that Nace went into the kitchen, and Ollie brough Jan a ball he could throw for him. Jan took in a deep breath, feeling as if he just climbed a mountain. Whatever happened after this, he had a feeling he could handle after.

As terrifying as it could get.

Jan was nervously tapping his fingers against the wheel, resisting the urge to bite his nails. It was not a smart thing to do while driving.

"Are you really not going to tell me where we are going?"

He chuckled a bit at Nace's pleading tone. This really was an unusual role reversal for both of them, wasn't it?

"I told you, it's a surprise."

Nace huffed and settled back in his seat. Jan sneaked a glance at him when he stopped at the red light. Nace had his arms crossed over his chest, his warm brown jacket tightly wrapped around his biceps.

"One would think I am taking you to get shot," Jan teased, turning his gaze back to the road as the light changed to green.

Nace laughed at that, at least, his shoulders relaxing.

"No, I just-I am not used to surprises. You barely gave me any hints on what to wear!"

Jan smirked.

"I said wear something comfortable that you don't mind getting dirty."

He could feel Nace's unimpressed stare on him.

"Very helpful."

Jan chuckled and took a left turn, parking to the side. Nace immediately started glancing around, trying to gauge where they were. Jan couldn't help but think it was kind of cute.

He unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, waiting for Nace to do the same. When he did, he led him to a nearby building.

Nace was frowning, trying to piece together what they were doing. Jan decided to take pity on him.

"It's a pottery class."

His head immediately snapped towards Jan, his eyes widening.

"You are taking me to a pottery class??"

Jan swallowed, growing nervous all of a sudden. Did he misjudge? Did Jure mix something up?

"Jure mentioned you wanted to try it since your sister did pottery. I thought..."

"No! I mean, yes, I love the idea!"

He sounded so eager, so terrified that Jan would change his mind and snatch the offer away from him. Jan felt bad. Was he truly treating him in a way that made him think he'd play him like this for a joke?

"Alright then. Let's go."

There were people inside already, and their teacher quickly introduced himself. He gave them instructions on hand-building techniques with clay, saying they need to get used to that before they can move to the pottery wheel.

The process was messy and Jan underestimate just how bad he was at shaping the clay. When Nace looked over and saw his wonky cup, he doubled over laughing.

Jan side-eyed him, before taking a bit of clay and smearing it over Nace's shirt. Nace gasped.

Then he grabbed a piece of clay and smeared it over Jan's cheek. Jan slapped his hair away, trying to rub it off.

"If this gets into my hair Nace, I swear-"

Nace laughed again and someone shushed them.

"Can you two please let the rest of us work?" A blond man left of them said.

He was short, with blind hair just below his ears. He was frowning at them intently, reminding Jan of an annoyed cat.

His tall, tattooed friend-or partner, how could Jan know, really-gently pulled him by the sleeve.

"Lovro, com'on. They are just having fun. Look at this."

The man, well maybe even a boy, with how soft his features looked, immediately turned to the other man. He looked at him like...oh.

Jan looked at Nace, who was clearly eyeing the situation, seeing if Jan could handle it or if he needed to get involved.

Jan was hit by the sudden realization of how much he had come to care for him. Despite all the back and forth and his own grievances, he was-

He stopped his thoughts before any bigger words came to mind. It was still too early to think that. But maybe it wouldn't be, eventually.

Jan never thought of himself as someone who could settle down and yet that spark of hope still lived, nestled deep in his chest.

Maybe.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Nace asked, titling his head to the side.

Jan shook his head.

"Nothing. Let's try to shape these into something decent before we do that...wheel thing, yeah?"

Nace smiled, like a sudden light igniting in the dark.

"Yeah."

As Jan tried to save his clay cup, he suddenly felt bolder. He could ask, right? At worst, Nace will refuse, but when did Nace refuse him before? Jan cleared his throat.

"You could...come over after, if you'd like. You didn't meet Igor yet."

He didn't look up as he asked the question. It would be easier to take a no when he didn't have to worry about which expression he was making.

"You want me to come over?"

There was that tone again. Like Nace was shocked by this. Like Jan wasn't trying to do better for weeks now. He supposed he'd just have to keep trying.

"If you'd like to, yes. I did get some chamomile tea recently."

He sneaked a glance in Nace's direction. His eyes were soft and his mouth was lightly open, as if in wonder. Jan's heart started beating fasted.

"I would like that," Nace said quietly, looking directly at him.

Jan had to look away, but he couldn't help but smile slight. There was slight fear in his stomach still, but there was no ringing of the church bell, or an urge to reach for a necklace that wasn’t there.

He was still himself and he was still in control of it all. Simply taking steps in the right direction. It had been as if he was in inertia for very long time. After being stuck for so long, it was hard to get back into motion, but once he did, he knew it would get easier.

All he had to do was keep moving.

All Jan could hear was a drum of his own heart as they waited for the host to announce them. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was finally time for them to preform at EMA. To try and get chosen to represent Slovenia at Eurovision. The importance, the fragility of the moment made all the colors more intense, almost as if they were in new, swirling patterns.

Jan took a look at his bandmates. Each of them in a different outfit that fit them perfectly. Bojan, in his loud combination of green shirt and pink pants, that he somehow managed to pull of regardless.

Kris, in a gold sleeves shirt and lighter pink pants that match. Of course-Kris always knew how much attention to draw to himself. Not too much and not too little.

Jure, with sky blue button up that perfectly fit his sunshine personality and darker purple pants for contrast.

All of them looked amazing, really. But it was Nace that Jan couldn't look away from.

Nace, who finally wore color. A purple suit with a silver shirt underneath. The suit had intricated details that made Jan want to run his fingers over the material and feel it's shapes.

When he arrived, he was always pale beige in their mix of chaos and color. Slowly but surely, that changed. And here they were now.

Jan shuffled closer to him, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. He could feel it, but he found it more comforting now, rather than scary.

"Ready?" He whispered, smiling at him.

"Ready," Nace answered, briefly brushing his hand against Jan's.

"And next up, we have Joker Out!"

They stepped on the stage as the people clapped and Jan could feel the adrenaline fully hitting him. He couldn't concentrate on whatever Bojan briefly said before he started singing.

All Jan could focus on was playing. His fingers slid over the strings just as perfectly as they did the very first time he nailed a song when he was sixteen.

Everything else faded away, like looking at the world through a sort of fog. Only music existed. Even Bojan's singing was slightly muted in that moment. Like Jan was alone with his guitar.

Then his gaze slid to Nace and he found him already looking in his direction. Nace, who still had the ability to be in Jan's bubble that one else could touch.

He didn't mind the company, though. Not anymore.

He sent him a little wink and watched as his cheeks turned slightly red. Then he turned back to the audience and took a deep breath. Then let the bubble snap and all the sound and sensations rush back to him.

Because there was never really a need for the bubble at all. Not when he was at the safe space.

There was no divinity here. None other than the music itself, that they shared with the audience.

When they played the last note, there was a thunderous applause and part of Jan already knew. He could feel it in their bones that they won.

The knowing of being at the right place, at the right time. With just the right people, too.

The rest od the night passed in a blur. Jan knew he talked to people, but later he'd be unable to recall what he said. He'd remember the high of the announcement that they won and all of his friends rushing into a group hug.

It wasn't until they all changed back to their everyday clothes and were waiting for Bojan in the cold, that the realization finally started to sink in.

"We won," he whispered into the night air.

"We did," Kris said, smiling.

Whatever makeup they put on him made him look more ethereal than usual. He looked more content than Jan had seen him for awhile.

"What is Bojan doing for so long?" Jure wondered, his eyes lingering on the doors they all cane through.

It was odd. As much as Bojan paid attention to his looks, he never took this long.

"I'll go check," Jan said, getting to his feet.

Jan felt slightly guilty, over how little he talked to Bojan outside of the practice in recent weeks. Being caught up in the whole soulmate dilemma, he didn't take the time to pay as much attention to his friends.

Well, that was another thing he could start fixing now.

He found Bojan in the changing room, completely dressed, but staring off through the window.

"Bojan? Is everything okay?"

Bojan flinched, as if woken up from a very deep sleep. He blinked at Jan, confused.

"Ah, yeah! Yeah, I was just a bit lost in thought. Did you guys wait for me for long?"

Jan stepped closer, putting his hand on Bojan's shoulder. Bojan leaned into the touch, breathing out slowly.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

"I-" Bojan bit his lip, his gaze jumping around the room almost frantically, never staying for long and completely avoiding Jan's face.

"I just...this is a lot. It feels enormous. And of course, of course I am happy we won. It just feels like we set a new course all of a sudden, if that makes sense. Like it feels like my life already changed."

Jan pulled him into a hug. Bojan took in a sharp breath and then relaxed, hugging him back. They just stayed like that for a moment.

"I know. It's terrifying but it's going to be okay. You have us, alright?"

Bojan's arms tightened around him for a bit.

"Yeah."

They were silent for a bit and Bojan already pulled away from the hug when Jan spoke again.

"I actually owe you an apology. With how I reacted when you brought up soulmates for all these years."

Bojan shrugged.

"It's fine. I figured it was a sensitive topic."

Jan shook his head.

"Yes but it's not an excuse. I am sorry, Bojan. You were allowed to be excited at prospect of meeting them without me putting you down for it."

He rubbed tips of his fingers against the nail of his thumb. Resisting the urge to mess it up more.

"I won't say I completely understand, even now with Nace. I still very much love being independent from him. But I am saying I understand more."

Bojan smiled, reminding Jan that if Nace was the light in darkness, Bojan was certain a sun, his rays bringing about a new day.

"Thank you for saying that. I am excited to meet her, one day. Whenever destiny decides we are ready."

Jan rolled his eyes, more for the dramatic effect than anything else. That was still extremely cheesy, but it was very on brand for Bojan.

"Sure, lover boy. Now, can we go before the rest of them freeze outside? It is December, y'know?"

Bojan laughed and grabbed his bag. He dramatically pointed to the door.

"To wherever destiny may lead us!"

Jan cracked a smile, unable to keep up the brooding persona.

"To whenever destiny may lead us," he repeated quietly.

Then he stepped over the threshold after Bojan and for the first time in many years he knew everything would be alright. As long as he had his family, soulmate included, by his side, everything would be alright.

No matter the challenges that awaited them.

[nightinghoul]

Just Another Autistic LARPer

(I need to vent.)

I was so brutally bullied into submission growing up, I consciously forced myself to learn to mask. Then I was taught to make accommodations for people who didn't or couldn't mask. It hurt, because I was never offered the same considerations. Of course I believe they deserved accommodations - I just wanted that, too. Now I'm angry, but trying not to be. I had to find ways to manage.

When I was twenty, I started LARPing. I invented a character who was loud, rude, and stupid. This way, when I opened my mouth, I didn't have to be afraid of what people thought of me. If they hated my personality, I was just playing my character right. Sometimes, even when I played her, I just wandered around quietly, staring. As in my real life, I felt unwanted. But sometimes I forced myself to hoot and holler - enough that I had a reputation as a loud ditz that followed me to my social interactions with LARPers outside of the games.

At least, I learned the basics of interacting. You open your mouth and make sounds. People react. You try to make the right sounds.

I used that to get along for the rest of my life. I learned to make eye contact by working at a grocery store. Customers get angry when you don't pay attention to them. The more I masked, the more I learned to mask. The more I LARPed, the more autistic people I met. I felt like they were my people, but I felt like they were looking at me as an outsider now, too, like everyone else.

For a while, I only played "weird" characters at LARPs. Characters that would be outsiders because, I told myself, I was acting. Then I played characters who had what I didn't have - self confidence and self love. Characters who just assumed they were the best and the most beloved. Characters who didn't feel guilt for being alive. That felt good, I'm not gonna lie.

The more I played outgoing characters, the more I learned to mask. But there were always these moments, even in chatacter, where my throat went silent, and nobody invited me to sit by them, so I still felt wrong and unwanted.

I used everything I learned there in my real life, to work. That's what we train our whole lives for. I had a hard time keeping a job. I have a hard time understanding what people want from me. I have a hard time managing my job, and my temper. I never felt cut out for great ambitions.

When I finally worked up the courage to be tested for autism and adhd, my therapist at the time said, "You can't have those. You're good at holding a conversation, and you make eye contact. Plus, autistic people don't really know how to have feelings."

I will be 43 in a month. I was just diagnosed - ADHD a few months ago, autism a few weeks ago (plus ADHD confirmed.) But I feel like my sense of self has been absolutely and completely bullied and trained out of me. I feel like I don't belong in any world.

I'm not in any danger of hurting myself or leaving this world. I'm just sad, and busy picking up the pieces.