#why go for each others throats if you can celebrate these two being lovers?

[spiderzlover]

Make love, not war💙💛

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (11)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships

notes. 12k wc. we're so close to the finale <3 thanks so much for the continued support and for the patience you guys have with this series :')

series masterlist -> episode twelve

For better and worse. 

Weddings are funny things. Despite the strict adherence to ceremonial traditions, they didn’t guarantee a happily ever after. Exchanging vows and the signing of marriage certificates could become meaningless when a couple faces challenges that would drive them apart. Consider the high-profile divorces of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, or Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Divorce had become so common that it almost seemed inevitable for many couples, even the ones with the most fairytale-like relationships. No one was safe from the idea of a divorce. So, was having a wedding really that important? Would it really define the quality and longevity of a relationship?

Satoru might have been thinking bitterly about it, given that his own marriage wasn’t exactly a shining success. However, he was also being rational when he said that weddings weren’t necessary to prove your love for each other. Early in his marriage, he certainly wasn’t the best husband, but over time, he learned to genuinely become a good partner to his ex-wife. There was no specific time frame for loving someone. You could be together for weeks, months, or years, yet the depth of love you share might remain unchanged. This constancy can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how deep your love was from the beginning.

Well… On the topic of marriages, Satoru had no good thing to say. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t participate in it. Weddings were still considered a special celebration for families and close friends, and He would be selfish not to share in such a beautiful event with his best friends. Besides, wasn’t it always expected that Suguru and Shoko would end up marrying each other? They were lucky—fortunate because their marriage was built on a foundation of genuine love. In contrast, Satoru’s marriage began out of convenience, which ultimately led to all the terrible things that followed.

As the best man, Satoru strode confidently alongside Suguru down the aisle, both adorned in princely tuxedos, drawing the eyes of the guests as they followed their procession. There were teasing remarks, smiles all around, and even a comment from one of the groom’s female cousins about how handsome they both looked. Despite the gentle commotion, Satoru understood why Suguru remained nervous as they reached the end of the aisle. He comfortingly stood by his side, offered a reassuring pat on the back, silently communicating to his best friend that everything would be alright.

“Don’t tell me you’ll back out now,” Satoru jested, whispering in Suguru’s ear as they observed the guests entering in accordance with the processional order.

Suguru, with his once long hair now neatly trimmed and slicked back, cleared his throat in an attempt to appear less anxious. “What if she gets cold feet?” 

Gojou couldn’t help but tease. “Shoko? You really think she’d have cold feet?” he chuckled. “She’d be the one dragging your ass back to this garden if you tried to run away.”

“Fair enough.” 

Just the night before, they had checked into the Hoshinoya Fuji to celebrate Suguru's last night of freedom. While there was drinking involved, one of the groomsmen insisted it wouldn’t be a proper bachelor’s party without some female company. So, inevitably, there were women in the hotel room, one of whom even gave Suguru a lap dance even though he showed no interest whatsoever. It was amusing to Satoru, considering his best friend used to be the biggest casanova, and now he was a committed and loyal man who, not only was terrified out of his wits on his wedding day, but was also afraid that the one woman he loved might run away from him.

Such genuine, pure love. 

As Satoru pondered, his gaze landed on Akemi, who was seated a couple of rows back among the other guests. She had just arrived, her hair tied elegantly in a low ponytail and her silky sage dress accentuating her womanly figure flawlessly. She was wearing the diamond Tiffany & Co. earrings he had gifted her, which made her stand out among the rest of the people in that garden. Their eyes also met at the perfect moment, her gaze sparkling upon seeing Satoru in his tuxedo. He offered her a smile, one that silently conveyed ‘I’ll be there with you later,’ and she immediately understood. 

How fortunate was Satoru to have her? Perhaps the reason for her late appearance was because she had been looking after Sachiro back home, fulfilling the duties that his ex-wife should have been doing. She was truly a mother who stepped up, especially during a time when both he and his son felt most abandoned.

And what about you? Who knew if you would even attend the wedding? You were meant to be Ieiri’s maid-of-honor, yet you were conspicuously absent. Perhaps you were still in Monaco, enjoying your time playing house with Toji, making a wedding like this seem insignificant to you. You would have informed Miwa in advance and picked up Sachiro if you had returned to Tokyo, right? Suguru also hadn’t mentioned anything about your arrival at the accommodation, hinting that someone else would have to step in as Shoko's maid-of-honor.

But who would it be? Shoko’s cousin? One of her other female co-workers? Her high school friend? 

“Look, mom! She’s beautiful~”

Satoru was rendered speechless, utterly captivated by the sight before him. His fingers tingled with anticipation, his heart raced in his chest, his feet felt rooted to the ground, and his eyes remained fixed on the next lady gracefully making her way down the aisle. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what struck him the most: was it the sight of you in a stunning light green dress, resembling an angel descended from the heavens, or was it the haunting reminder of his own wedding day, when you walked down the same aisle as his most beautiful bride?

His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with each step you took down the aisle. Satoru felt like a statue, frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You had become the sole focus of his attention, the rest of the world fading into a blur around him. He couldn’t comprehend it. Why was it so effortless for him to let his guard down around you?

This woman, he thought. This woman is Sachiro’s mother. This was the same woman that carried his flesh and blood for nine months, now appearing as radiant as a freshly bloomed flower, as if untouched by the stresses of unexpected motherhood. What had transpired in Monaco to transform you into this vision of beauty?

“You’re drooling.” Suguru nudged him on the chest. “This isn’t your wedding. You had your chance.” 

Yes, he was well aware. This wasn’t his wedding, and he needed to maintain composure. Yet, it felt as though he was being drawn inexorably towards the mesmerizing goddess before him. With each beat of his heart quickening, he struggled to remind himself: No, Satoru. She's nothing to you now.

And because he was lost in a trance, he remained oblivious to the bride’s entrance and even Suguru’s emotional reaction to seeing his bride. His attention was solely fixated on you as he stole glances your way whenever he could. It wasn’t until the exchanging of rings, when you two had to stand side by side to assist the bride and groom, that he snapped back to reality. With you so close yet seemingly distant, Satoru felt a pang of disappointment as you never returned his gaze. The whispers and side comments from the guests also added to his discomfort, making him acutely aware of the scrutiny placed upon the best man and maid-of-honor.

“Aren’t they divorced?”

“Yeah, their marriage was a wreck.” 

“They’re bad luck. I hope they don’t pass it onto the couple.”  

For the first time in a long time, Satoru was gripped by an unprecedented desire to retort, to refute the misconceptions surrounding his marriage. Yet, he knew it was futile. Engaging in a verbal sparring match with another guest would only ruin his best friends' special day. Moreover, he might risk causing unintentional hurt to Akemi by defending a marriage that had long ceased to exist. So, despite the internal turmoil, he remained silent, allowing the whispers to persist unchecked.

And, with that, the wedding ceremony ended. Shoko and Suguru were now declared husband and wife. 

— — 

The reception was a time for socializing, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and congratulating the newlyweds. For Suguru and Shoko, this part of the celebration felt effortless and their energies were seamlessly complementing each other’s. Unlike arranged marriages, there was no sense of haste or coercion; theirs was a union born of genuine affection. You couldn’t help but feel foolish for ever entertaining the notion that this was merely a conventional wedding experience. Here, before your eyes, unfolded a true celebration of love between two people.

Did Satoru share the same sentiments? You wondered what thoughts raced through his mind during the proceedings. Did the event trigger memories of his own past, or stir feelings of longing for what could have been?

You refused to subject yourself to the torment of dwelling on your past. If anything, your time living alone in Monaco had been a crucial step in your healing journey. While the process was far from complete, that solitary retreat had provided a much-needed respite from the source of your stress. It afforded you the opportunity to contemplate the life you were destined to lead, albeit alone for the foreseeable future.

By allowing Sachiro to spend more time with his father, you not only facilitated the rebuilding of their fractured relationship, but also acclimated your child to your absence. It was a necessary adjustment, one that would prepare him for the reality of your impending solitary existence. At least, Sachiro had a chance to live in a loving household with Satoru and Akemi, instead of a miserable and lonely way of living together with you. 

In the end, it was all for your child. 

As for the potential emotional minefield of attending this wedding, you were there for Shoko, who had always been a steadfast and understanding presence in your life. Her genuine friendship meant more to you than mere familial bonds ever could. Even at the risk of stirring up unhealthy emotions by being in a room full of people who hurt you, you couldn’t bear to disappoint Ieiri. 

Admittedly though, navigating the wedding crowd was a delicate balance of warmth and formality. Ieiri’s side of the family, who were doctors heavily acquainted with your family, greeted you with genuine warmth. While Suguru’s relatives, who were more closely tied to the Gojou family, maintained a polite distance. Although there were occasional moments of discomfort, you knew how to maintain composure throughout. 

As for Toji’s absence, while a part of you wished he could have been there as a supportive presence, you also recognized the value in learning to handle situations involving your ex-husband independently. He had an unavoidable business trip, but that also provided an opportunity for you to stop relying on him and navigate such occasions like these on your own. He was nothing more than a friend now. 

While that ex-husband, Satoru, was here with your best friend. It didn’t surprise you that he had brought Akemi as a plus one. In fact, you had expected it to happen. It just wasn’t the best feeling to be the maid-of-honor when the best man clearly had another lady for it in mind. 

It was quite amusing, too. Not once had Akemi approached you during the reception. You understood that she wanted to keep her distance, but you found it disrespectful that she was ignoring your existence. Was she scared to talk to you? Scared of what you had to say? You had heard over a million hurtful things from other people, yet she was afraid to hear a few pieces of advice from you?  

Forget it. Forget her and Satoru. Focus on the reception, Y/N. 

But really, how could you? As the moment arrived for the newlyweds’ first dance, tradition dictated that the best man and maid-of-honor should also take to the floor. You sensed the tension in the air as Satoru hesitated, surrounded by urging groomsmen, deciding whether or not he should ask you for a dance. He looked like he was battling with what was right and wrong in his mind, yet ultimately he chose to pass by you, extending his hand to Akemi instead.

It wasn’t feelings of shame that slapped you to reality. It was seeing Satoru holding Akemi’s hand, another on her waist, as they slowly danced to Can’t Help Falling In Love, a song that was played on your wedding day. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

Oh, for I can’t help

Falling in love with you

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. You were doing better. You were doing so good, you were doing… you were okay. You should be okay. Or did you overestimate your emotions a little too much? Because this, seeing the man you loved with all your heart holding another woman in his arms, was tortuous to your soul. You could feel the pains of your past tugging at your heart, wondering why he never danced like that with you on your wedding day? Why he never stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, why he never showed you off in a room full of curious people, why he never respected you enough to treat you with such… with such love. 

“Everything okay?”

You didn’t expect Nanami, out of all people, to be offering you a handkerchief. You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were already pooling of the tears if he had not cut you out of trance, offering a comforting and sympathetic smile. You had to blink multiple times just to push your tears back in. 

“Yeah,” you answered with a grateful expression. I’m strong. I’ll be fine. “Thank you.” 

Nanami took that as a sign to offer his hand. “Care for a dance, then?” 

Wiping your eyes, you nodded, smiling at the man. “Why not?” 

After the dance, the reception continued as follows. The cake cutting, the dinner service, then the toasts and speeches. If it wasn’t for Nanami, you wouldn’t have been able to pick yourself back up after the humiliation of seeing Satoru and Akemi dancing together. You just needed a decent amount of air to breathe and gather yourself together again. It was a nice help from someone who wasn’t a personal acquaintance of yours, that despite being Satoru’s right hand man in the company, Nanami still had some kindness in him that you would forever be thankful for. 

And when it was time for you to do your speech as the MOH, you didn’t let a single vulnerable emotion slip out of you. For that short moment, you tried not to think about who was in the audience, about what they thought of you, and about what other preconceived notions they had of you. You focused on the newlyweds as you stood in front of the mic stand, eye-to-eye with Shoko and Suguru, who were holding each other’s hands. 

“Shoko,” you began, smiling genuinely at the couple, “Through the laughter and tears, you’ve been my constant, my confidante, my rock. And today, as I watch you embark on this new chapter of your life, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with emotion.” 

The bride returned your smile, and you can tell Shoko was holding back tears of her own as she glanced between you and Satoru. 

You continued your speech, observing Suguru’s supportive gesture towards his wife as you spoke. “Shoko, I recall our late-night conversations, the tears shed over broken marriages, and the pain of shattered relationships. Yet, through it all, you’ve remained steadfast in your belief in love, in hope, in the possibility of a happily ever after.” Turning to Suguru, although he still had that lingering discomfort around you, you offered him nothing but heartfelt words. “As I look at you and Suguru, I’m reminded that true love exists—a love that is patient, kind, and enduring. My wish for you both is a lifetime filled with laughter, joy, and unwavering support for each other. May you cherish each other’s hearts, protect each other’s dreams, and weather life’s storms together, stronger in your love. Suguru, during your challenging days as a married couple, I pray that you always look at Shoko and remember why you love her. I pray that you will always have the capacity to cherish and respect her as your wife and the future mother of your children. May you keep her in your heart, no matter what challenges may come your way.”

As tears welled in Ieiri’s eyes, your voice faltered, the magnitude of your wishes for their marriage weighing heavily on your own unfulfilled desires. You weren’t trying to make this about you, and you hoped they thought that, too. 

“As I raise my glass to toast this beautiful union,” you said, raising the champagne glass on your hand, “I do so with a heart full of love and a silent prayer—that your love story will be one of triumph, of healing, and of endless happiness. Congratulations, Shoko and Suguru!”

— —

Satoru was deeply affected by your speech. Both in good and bad ways. On one hand, he was touched by the sincerity of your words and the genuine wishes you extended to the newlywed couple. On the other hand, he couldn’t shake off the pang of guilt and remorse that accompanied your words, knowing all too well the history behind them. When you expressed your hopes for Suguru to always cherish and respect Shoko, Satoru couldn’t help but reflect on his own behavior during your marriage and the ways in which he may have fallen short.

Each action he did definitely had a lasting impact on you. 

But what about the good ones? Had you forgotten about the times he treated you well? Had you forgotten the lengths he took just to prove to you that he was a changed man? That at one point in his life, he would do everything in him just to show you how much he loved you? 

It was unfair. Why did you only ever look at the bad things he did and never the good ones? Why did you still see him as a villain in your marriage when he knew he had paid his dues after he lost you?

It was truly, honestly unfair, that you get to be happy with Toji, but he ought to feel guilty for being with Akemi. 

“I think they’re about to do the bouquet and garter toss,” spoke Akemi, tugging at Satoru’s arm while they sat on their designated table. She held a napkin on her other hand to wipe her partner’s chin, smiling in excitement. “You should go and join.” 

Where were you? After your speech, Satoru couldn’t seem to find you anymore. Where had you gone off to? Did you leave already? 

“Y-Yeah,” Satoru answered, looking around the venue before turning to Akemi. “What about you? Won’t you join the bouquet toss thing?” 

She shook her head, hesitantly. “Isn’t it only for bridesmaids?” 

He grabbed her hand and urged her up. “No, it’s for all unmarried female guests. Come on.” 

The reason Satoru dragged her along was because Akemi loved weddings, and she especially enjoyed the traditions that came with it. She herself once dreamt about the picture perfect wedding, but never got to fully have her own, so attending such occasions made up for the lack of personally experiencing it. 

Gojou couldn’t exactly remember if he did the garter toss in his own wedding. If so, who had caught it? Who had caught your bouquet? His eyes swept across the entire venue once more, searching for your familiar figure among the guests. He was too occupied to realize that Shoko had already tossed her bouquet, and the frenzy of eager ladies ensued until it landed in Akemi’s hands.

He genuinely felt happy for Akemi. The joy in her eyes upon catching Shoko’s bouquet was unmistakable. Yet, as the playful teasing about a potential wedding for him shifted in his direction, Satoru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pressure. It wasn’t supposed to weigh on him like this. It was too soon to have that expectation of him. 

“Looks like someone’s getting married next!”

And while he was feeling suffocated from the pressure placed upon him, the receiver of the tossed garter happened to have been Nanami. 

Immediately, the teasing ensued, with the other guests urging Nanami to wear the garter on Akemi’s leg. Out of respect, Nanami looked at Gojou for permission, but honestly? He was just grateful he didn’t have to do all that and be pressured about another wedding that he had not yet thought about. Fuck it, thank God Nanami had caught the garter because Satoru was sure as hell starting to feel uneasy there. 

“Go for it,” was the only thing Satoru said to Nanami, gesturing his chin at Akemi’s direction. 

While everyone was focused on the situation between Nanami and Akemi, Satoru took that opportunity to escape from the crowd and find his peace at the balcony. He hastily made his way out of the reception hall, feeling a sense of relief as he could finally breathe. 

And there you were, standing alone, lost in contemplation, and your gaze fixed upon the tranquil expanse of the lakeside. The chill breeze caressed your hair softly, as if mirroring the calm that enveloped your countenance. In another universe, this would have been an opportune moment to hug you from behind, sharing the warmth of his embrace around your figure. But he was living in a universe where you and him weren’t meant to be together.

In fact, you were probably thinking about another man as you stared at the lake, hoping that he was there with you. 

“Did you have fun in Monaco with Toji?” Satoru was crazy for going straight to the point, and he knew it was a blunt inquiry, bordering on intrusive, but it tumbled out nonetheless, revealing the thoughts that had been plaguing in his mind. His words spilled out before he could rein them in, a question born of curiosity and perhaps a touch of jealousy.

As for you, with your peace in the balcony now ruined, you briefly opened your mouth to respond, but held back against it as you met Gojou’s eyes with a distant stare. You were even quick to look away and sigh, like he was not worth the conversation. You had not spoken a word to him since the wedding ceremony and you were definitely going to keep doing it. 

And man, did that hurt his ego. 

So, for a very stupid reason, he felt the need to hurt yours in return. “Do you know Sachi calls Akemi ‘mama’ in his sleep?” 

Your eyes remained empty. “Good for you, then. You won’t have a hard time getting him accustomed to it.” 

“Y/N.” Satoru’s voice came out as a warning, and he was about to start an argument on why you were abandoning him and Sachi over Toji, but he was interrupted at the appearance of Akemi carrying Shoko’s bouquet as she tried to search for her lover. This meant that the conversation with the ex-wife was over.

But as he glanced between you and Akemi, his bitter past and his sweet present, why did Satoru’s heart still lingered with you when it shouldn’t?

“You should go,” you briefly muttered, walking in the opposite direction, “Your future wife’s looking for you.”

Satoru’s sudden grip on your wrist halted your steps abruptly. His voice carried a bitter edge as he reminded you of the agreement you had made. “Y/N, we agreed to co-parent Sachiro properly. Why are you choosing Toji over your own son?” 

The accusation left a tense atmosphere, eliciting a sharp response from you as you yanked your hand away, a flash of anger igniting in your eyes. “You have no idea what you're talking about, Satoru.”

— —

“Welcome to Hoshinoya Fuji, Ms. L/N!” 

You stepped out of the car, taking in the serene beauty of the lakeside cabin that would be your sanctuary for the next three days and two nights. Nestled among towering pines and sturdy oaks, the cabin exuded a rustic charm that blended seamlessly with the natural landscape. Its weathered wooden exterior, adorned with a green tin roof, seemed to have grown organically from the earth itself.

The cabin sat on a gentle slope that led directly to the water’s edge. A wooden deck wrapped around the front, offering a perfect vantage point for gazing out over the tranquil lake. Your room also had the best view of Mount Fuji, which you thought was the highlight of this luxurious accommodation. 

After the newlywed send-off, you were quickly ushered in by Shoko and Suguru’s staff, who were in charge of attending to the special guests staying a few extra days at the cabin. Though the couple wouldn’t start their proper honeymoon until their 6-month long cruise trip in two weeks, they wanted their guests to enjoy the accommodations they had arranged. You were relieved to hear that, despite Satoru and Akemi also being among the friends staying, each guest had their own private cabin reserved.

The thing was, you could leave any time if you wanted to. Shoko also reassured you that it would be okay and that she would understand if you wanted to go home right away. She knew that the situation may be uncomfortable for you, and that she felt bad you even had to deal with it during the ceremony, but you made a promise to her. You were her maid-of-honor for a reason, and part of your duty was to help with the post-ceremony tasks to ensure that Shoko can focus on enjoying her pre and post-wedding activities. 

So, in some ways, you felt obliged to stay. You didn’t need to interact much with others during your stay, anyway. You were content staying in your room, perhaps taking some occasional walks outside. Satoru could do whatever he wanted with Akemi; you were determined to avoid crossing their paths.

Besides, inside the cabin was a cozy retreat. The main living area featured large windows that framed the picturesque view, allowing moonlight to spill in and illuminate the space. A stone fireplace, complete with a rustic mantel adorned with pinecones and candles, stood as the centerpiece of the room. Plush armchairs and a worn leather sofa invited relaxation, while a handwoven rug added a touch of warmth and color.

As you moved towards the bedroom, you found a comfortable queen-sized bed covered in a soft, plaid quilt. The scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of fresh linens, creating an atmosphere of peaceful haven. An old-fashioned dresser and a bedside table, topped with a simple lamp, completed the room. The windows here, too, offered a glimpse of the sparkling lake, ensuring that the beauty of nature would greet you each morning.

Stepping outside, you walked down a short path to the water’s edge, where a small wooden dock extended into the lake. A pair of Adirondack chairs sat invitingly at the end of the dock, perfect for soaking in the sunset or stargazing at night. Nearby, a fire pit surrounded by stones and logs as seating promised cozy evenings under the stars, with the gentle sound of lapping water providing a soothing backdrop.

On your first night there, you ended up falling asleep right away. The physical and emotional exhaustion, combined with jetlag, knocked you out. However, the next day promised a few tasks to complete the post-wedding cleanup. 

The second night, however, was a different story.

When you returned to the cabin, the cool evening air was crisp against your skin. The temperature went down a couple of celsius compared to yesterday, so as you walked down the path toward the lakeside, you were drawn to the flickering glow of a fire pit illuminating the area near the water’s edge. Drawing closer, the soft sounds of laughter and conversation reached your ears, mingling with the gentle crackle of burning logs.

The fire pit was surrounded by a group, their faces lit by the warm, golden light of the flames. They sat on a circle of logs and foldable chairs, leaning in to feel the comforting heat. Some held mugs of steaming cocoa, while others toasted marshmallows on long sticks, their tips glowing bright orange before transforming into gooey, sugary treats.

You paused for a moment and took in the scene. Was it a safe space for you to be in? You noticed familiar faces among the group—some of the couple’s old friends from the wedding, now relaxed and enjoying the peaceful night. One of the guests strummed a guitar softly, the melody adding to the cozy, inviting atmosphere. Another guest told a story, their animated expressions and gestures causing bursts of laughter from the listeners.

There was no sight of Satoru and Akemi. Perhaps, it might be okay to join in.

As you approached, Suguru emerged from a nearby cabin, smiling in a way that felt unusual. Why was he being friendly all of a sudden? Last time you checked, he still held a grudge against you. But now, he showed no signs of antagonism, and was even approaching you with his usual friendly demeanor.

“Y/N,” he said, the fog of his breath visible in the cold air, “I never got to thank you properly for helping us with everything here. I didn’t think you’d make it last minute.”

You wrapped your shawl tighter around yourself to ward off the chill. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad to help out and be here for you guys,” you replied warmly. And while glancing around, you noticed the absence of Shoko. “Where’s the missus?”

Suguru’s smile took on a mischievous edge. “Sleeping. She’s still pretty tired and…”

You interrupted him with a laugh, catching onto his suggestive tone. “Alright, you two. You’re wild.”

His grin softened into a sincere expression. “No, seriously. I never got to properly thank you. I never got to apologize to you either.” Suguru looked down with guilt. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I was focusing too much on Satoru’s point-of-view, dismissing how it must be like to be in your position amidst all that mess. Shoko helped me understand why you made certain decisions, why you had no other option. She helped me see things from your perspective, to realize the extent of your suffering. We all knew that, I guess. We all knew you were constantly dealt a bad hand, yet you remain kind and resilient. You continue to show empathy to others, even when the world hasn’t been fair to you.”

In the ensuing silence, your heart seemed to thunder in your chest. His words carried weight far beyond what he might have intended, and you genuinely appreciated his apology. Even if he didn’t need to say them. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a gem, Y/N.” Suguru gave your back a gentle pat. “You deserve to be happy in your own special way. And just like how you wished us well with our marriage, I hope you’ll find your own path to a happy marriage, too.” 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down with a forlorn smile. 

“We’re here for you, okay?” he offered, “Shoko and I. You can count on us if you need us, if you need help with Sachiro, if you need help with life in general.” 

“I appreciate it, really.” 

And by then, he cleared his throat, opening up a topic that caught you off guard. You didn’t expect it from Suguru out of all people. “Y/N, I know why you were in Monaco.” 

Of course. He’d know it from Shoko. 

“I also know,” he continued, dark narrow eyes staring straight at yours, “why you left Sachiro with his father.” 

You were a deer caught in the headlights. You wouldn’t say it felt invasive to have someone be aware of the reasoning behind your personal decisions, but it was just an altogether different feeling to know that it was your ex-husband’s best friend who knew. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” he asked, referring to Satoru, “That you broke up with Toji?” 

You took a deep breath. “I don’t see the point of telling him.”

“What if I were to tell you that he’d come running desperately to you the moment he finds out?” he posed another burning question. “You still love him, right? You and him would likely get together without much difficulty if he were aware. So, why hesitate?”

“Because I don’t want that,” you answered, feeling words caught in your throat in a moment of vulnerability. “Because I’m scared to get back with him. Because he has Akemi now. Because I don’t wanna keep ruining the lives of the people around me. We’re better off this way, Suguru. I don’t want to mess up the second time around, and I definitely don’t think Satoru would be able to fully move on with his life with me still in the picture. He seems to be happy with Akemi already.” 

Suguru smiled sadly. “You don’t even wanna get your revenge? Don’t wanna get back at your best friend for dating your ex?” he paused to correct himself, “Well, dating is the wrong term. Satoru insists they’re not exclusive, you know?” 

You shook your head, sighing. Satoru, you haven’t changed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine with the way things are.” 

He was on the verge of continuing, poised to persuade further, but the arrival of the very individuals in question brought an abrupt halt to his words. Descending the cabin steps was Shoko, trailed by Satoru, who, in a gesture of warmth, had draped his jacket around Akemi, with his arms encircling her.

All five of you found yourselves in an awkward situation, now faced with two couples, one of which was at the core of your distress. The tension was palpable, and it didn’t help that Satoru’s vivid blue eyes met yours, seemingly trying to decode the conversation between you and Suguru. That was none of his business. He could continue his affectionate display with Akemi, while you had other matters to attend to than be part of an awkward quintet.

“I should go,” you declared, avoiding eye contact with everyone, unwilling to play the fifth wheel. You were hoping to evade Satoru and Akemi’s presence, but both Shoko and Suguru already caught your arm. 

“Y/N, please,” Shoko urged, her arm reaching out to you. “Don't isolate yourself tonight. Come join us.”

The memory of Bora Bora flooded your mind, a painful reminder of a similar situation when Shoko had extended the same invitation, leading to the discomfort of witnessing Sera’s closeness with Satoru. You knew that wasn’t Shoko’s intention, but it was your ex-husband who couldn’t stop catching himself in these situations. 

This was a bad idea. You knew that. 

So, why did you agree? 

Despite your reservations, curiosity got the best of you. You would vehemently deny it if asked, but deep down, you pondered whether Suguru’s words held any truth about Satoru’s lingering feelings for you. It wasn’t out of pettiness, but rather a desire to confirm if Satoru was truly committed to Akemi. You knew this could potentially hurt you, but after enduring so much pain, you couldn’t imagine anything worse.

“Hey, you guys!” 

“It’s nice of you to join us!” 

“What’s up newlyweds?” 

Upon joining the group at the fireplace, you were partly grateful that you weren’t exactly a fifth wheel in the situation. There were about ten or twelve people in total, with the earlier group still remaining in their seats. It just so happened that you were seated right across your ex-husband, who was too busy trying to keep Akemi warm and cozy. 

“So, Y/N…” spoke a man from the group, who appeared to be Suguru’s colleague. “Are you single?” 

The unexpected question caught you off guard, especially the tension it seemed to create, particularly with Satoru who sat stiffly next to Akemi. Even Shoko and Suguru seemed apologetic for their friend’s behavior, but you brushed it off, recognizing that he had probably indulged a bit too much with beer. He was harmless enough when sober.

“Don’t be asking questions like that,” Suguru intervened, tapping the back of his friend’s head in a playful scold. “That’s rude.” 

The friend protested, still oblivious to the discomfort he had caused. “I was just asking! She’s attractive. I have the right to know.”

You forced a smile, accepting the can of beer he had offered. “Thanks, but I—”

“Even if she’s single, she’s not interested in you,” Shoko chimed in, keeping a casual mien. She had to keep things cool, especially with an explosive Gojou around. You were just thankful that she didn’t exactly reveal the status of your relationship with Toji, and that she was doing her best to divert the attention away from you. 

In this little scene, you caught a glimpse of Akemi tugging at Satoru’s arm, like she was uncomfortable with the conversation. Why? Did it trigger an insecurity within her? She couldn’t even return eye-contact, constantly avoiding your eyes and reacting to any conversation remotely related to you. But Satoru was there acting like a concerned boyfriend, whispering reassurance into her ear, and rubbing her knee in a comforting fashion. 

“You two make a lovely couple,” remarked one of the girls, directing her compliment to Satoru and Akemi.“Weren’t you the girl who caught the bouquet? Looks like there might be another wedding on the horizon.”

“Oooh!” 

“They’re an attractive couple, too.” 

“You guys planning for any children?” 

Just like Bora Bora. A bitter smile lingered on your face, but you decided not to look at Satoru anymore. He must be enjoying this. 

Shoko leaned in and placed an arm around you to whisper her apologies. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This was a bad idea.” 

“It’s okay,” you assured, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I’ll leave after I finish my beer so it won’t be awkward.” 

As the night wore on, conversation flowed easily at first, with everyone exchanging stories and laughter, and eventually more beers and liquor were passed around. Shoko and Suguru were lost in the glow of newlywed bliss, while you found yourself increasingly uneasy as memories of the past mingled with the present.

Satoru’s presence beside Akemi was a constant reminder of your failed marriage, and you struggled to suppress the weakness in your chest that threatened to surface. They held hands and watched the fire together, her head resting on his shoulder, his lips on top of her head. She was trying to voice out a specific concern to him, and he was sweetly listening to her. Did they even realize the ex-wife was in the same area with them? It was insensitive. You never knew Satoru could be this insensitive around you, no matter what his reasons were, his romantic gestures towards her was a clear slap to your face. And he succeeded, because you would be foolish not to admit that it broke your heart in half to witness him choosing another woman over you. 

Again, Satoru. Here we go again. You tried to stop the pounding on your chest. Here we fucking are the second time around. 

Desperate to ease the tension, Shoko and Suguru attempted to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but their efforts only served to highlight the underlying tension in the air. You forced a smile and nodded along with the conversation, but inside, your heart was heavy with unresolved emotions.

And then someone had to bring up that stupid truth or dare game. 

“Satoru-kun, I dare you to kiss the prettiest woman in this group.” 

“Whoo! Do it! Do it! Do it!” 

Satoru was initially hesitant as he clearly found himself at a crossroads. He had two options here. Should he risk hurting Akemi by refusing to kiss her? Or should he risk hurting you by kissing another woman in front of you?

The clear winner was Akemi, because as soon as Gojou pressed his lips onto hers, you were already walking out of there. You had already excused yourself from the group, your footsteps as heavy as your heart. And unbeknownst to you, Satoru watched you go with a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was too late for apologies or second chances. The fire continued to crackle and pop as you left, its flames casting long shadows across the empty space where you had sat.

It was game over. Satoru had won his game. 

— —

Satoru was puzzled by your behavior since the wedding. You seemed determined to avoid him, which made sense with Akemi constantly by his side, but there was also an air of desperation to your avoidance. What baffled him even more was the jealousy you exhibited, as if you weren’t involved with another man, to the point where you even flew to another country just to spend more time with him. 

Like you said, you two were no longer married. It was about time you moved on. Yet, how come you were acting heartbroken over seeing Satoru with another woman?

Did you really think leaving the fire pit so abruptly had gone unnoticed?

Did you really think he had taken his eyes off you?

If not for Akemi telling him that she was having pelvic cramps, Gojou would have run off to follow you the minute you left the fire pit. Clearly, you still had an issue seeing him with another girl and he wanted you to voice it out. But if there was anything he learned during your time together, you would never be the first one to admit that you were jealous. Heck, didn’t you even allow him to bring Sera to Bora Bora that one time?

Look, he didn’t want to hurt you all over again. And if you had walked up to him and called him an asshole for having Akemi around, he would even agree with you. But it was your decision to choose Toji, it was your request for Satoru to find someone else, so why did it seem like you were suddenly changing your mind?

“I’m sorry for being a party pooper,” Akemi groaned in discomfort as Gojou helped her back to their cabin. He quickly refocused on their conversation, reminding himself not to dwell on thoughts of you when Akemi needed his attention—it wouldn’t be fair to her. She was suffering from a terrible illness that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone and he had to be her rock. “It’s been hurting quite a bit lately. I really should start with my treatment.”

Once inside their room, he swiftly settled her into bed. “Where does it hurt?” He applied a gentle touch to her pelvic bone, massaging the area to alleviate her discomfort. “Here?”

“Mhm. Thank you,” she lightly spoke, her soft hand caressing his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“You look really pale, though. I’m worried,” he remarked, sympathizing with her. Her complexion betrayed the pain she was holding back, though she likely hesitated to admit she wanted to go home and rest. “Do you wanna go home? Even if it’s in the middle of the night, I can have my driver pick us up.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Please, I'll be fine. You won't get to see Shoko and Suguru for a while once they’re on their honeymoon, so I want you to spend time with them here.”

“You sure? But you always come first.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

As Satoru continued to massage the area where Akemi felt pain, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He recalled the time when you were pregnant with Sachiro, experiencing frequent lower abdominal pain as your body adjusted to the baby. Each night, Satoru stayed up, gently rubbing your belly until you drifted off to sleep. It was one of his happiest memories during your marriage—the domestic bliss of being your husband and the memory of him caring for his wife. He wasn’t sure if he was missing it, or if he was just recalling a past memory, but looking at Akemi, Satoru wondered if he was prepared to have all that again but with another woman. 

He couldn’t give himself an answer. 

“I’m such a terrible person.” 

He should be telling himself that, but it was Akemi who said those words out loud as her brown doe-eyes stared at him solemnly, an expression that reflected guilt and remorse in equal measure. 

“How come?” Satoru’s voice was barely above a whisper as he asked, gently tucking the sheets around her while perching on the edge of the bed.

Her smile held a touch of sorrow, yet there was a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve failed Y/N. She treated me like family, like a sister, and now I can’t even face her properly. I’m just terrified, you know? I don’t want to keep letting her down. I never meant to cause her pain.”

For a moment, Gojou fell silent at her admission. “It’s all my fault. You two never would have been in this position if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Absolutely not,” Akemi persisted before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Tonight, you’ve shown me that you’ve truly moved on from her. I was starting to worry, afraid that I could never fill the space she held in your heart. But since the wedding, you’ve never sidelined me or made me feel like an afterthought. You’ve never made me feel like second best. You’ve always prioritized me. I understand it’s hard seeing your ex-wife, but I appreciate your efforts more than you know. You make me feel incredibly special.”

Satoru swallowed hard. The mention of your name sent a pang of guilt coursing through his chest. He knew he had hurt Akemi with his lingering attachment to his past and his inability to fully let go of the woman who had once held his heart in her hands. He wanted to agree with Akemi, to reassure her that he had chosen her, but the truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception. He even had to close his eyes for a minute, unable to meet her gaze as a tumult of conflicting emotions swirled within him. He wanted to tell her the truth, to confess the depth of his feelings for his ex-wife, but the words were caught in his throat.

In that moment, Satoru felt more lost and alone than ever before, trapped in a web of his own making, and unable to confront the truth behind his true feelings. Moved on? Had he truly moved on from you, or had he simply buried his feelings beneath a facade of indifference?

“You should rest your eyes,” was the only thing he could tell her, planting a kiss on her forehead before he had turned off the lights. 

With the clock ticking past 11 o’clock and their recent conversation still echoing in his mind, Satoru felt an urgent need for clarity. He knew he had to confront his thoughts alone. So, without disturbing Akemi’s peaceful slumber, he quietly slipped out of the cabin, seeking solace in the night air. Immediately, as he got out, he was met with the apologetic eyes of his best friend. 

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, confused by the urgency in Suguru’s expression. “What’s up?” 

Suguru took a deep breath before he rubbed the back of his head. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

— —

You had been standing at the edge of the lake for a while now, the cool night air sending shivers down your spine as you gazed out at the shimmering expanse of water before you. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the tranquil scene, its soft light dancing on the surface of the lake like a thousand tiny stars.

The temptation to dive into the dark waters below tugged at your heart like a siren’s song, beckoning you to leave behind the pain and sorrow that had plagued you for so long. You longed to feel the icy embrace of the lake envelop you, to lose yourself in its depths and wash away the memories that haunted you every waking moment.

Is this how it feels like to finally let go? 

As you stood on the shore, your toes just inches from the water’s edge, a wave of despair then washed over you, threatening to pull you under like the undertow of a riptide. You thought of Sachiro, your sweet, innocent son, asleep in his bed back in Tokyo, his laughter and smiles serving as an antidote to the pain in your heart.

And then him… 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought of Satoru. Despite the pain he had caused you, it was impossible not to yearn for him still, because his memory was a ghost that haunted you in every waking moment. But you knew that you couldn’t continue to live in the shadow of your past marriage. You had to escape being trapped in a cycle of longing and regret. You owed it to Sachiro to be strong, to find the courage to let go of the man who had once been your everything.

With your empty gaze, the calm lake shimmered in the moonlight like a blanket of liquid silver. You had come to the lake seeking solace, seeking escape from the unbearable pain that gnawed at your heart like a relentless tide. But as tears left your eyes, your emotions threatened to drown you in a sea of despair. 

Without hesitation, you dropped your shawl to the side, shedding yourself off of the cloth with a sense of reckless abandon. The fright of swimming in open water, especially at night, could have you passed out in a matter of seconds, but you paid it no mind as you waded into the water. 

Is this how it feels to finally give up? 

The lake embraced you like an old friend, enfolding you in its cool embrace as you swam out into the darkness. Each stroke brought you closer to the center of the lake, closer to the heart of your pain, and yet you felt strangely at peace, as if the water itself held the key to your salvation. You took time floating on your back, staring up at the stars that glittered like diamonds in the night sky, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. You knew that your love for Satoru was a burden you could no longer bear.

But more than that, you knew that you couldn’t let your own pain dictate the course of your son’s life. Sachiro deserved better than a mother consumed by sorrow, better than a life overshadowed by the ghosts of the past.

With a deep breath, you let go of the pain that had held you captive for so long. You submerged yourself into the depths of the lake, watching as the night sky vanished beneath the surface like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

In that moment, you felt a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever known. You just had to stay still. You had to keep yourself underwater, hold your breath until you no longer needed it, and… 

And…

You struggled to breathe, your mind consumed in panic telling you that you would die if you had kept yourself submerged for another minute, but you were adamant on staying there. You fought battles in your own mind, despite your body fighting back to keep you alive. 

At least soon, you would finally meet your mom again. 

“...”

“......”

“....Y/N!” 

“.......Y/N!” 

Feeling your vision blur and your limbs growing limp, you surrendered to the natural sway of the water. Bubbles escaped from your nose, your mouth tightly sealed shut. And the next thing you knew, you were back on the water surface, drawing breath like a fish out of the water. You could feel someone tugging at your arm, could feel the presence of another person dragging you out of the water, his arms pulling you into an embrace. 

“Y/N! What the hell are you thinking?!” 

You sobbed uncontrollably, your heartache pouring out as Satoru cradled you in his arms, his white hair damp from his efforts to rescue you from the water. How and when did he arrive? Your mind couldn’t process the details amidst the turmoil. All you could do was surrender to the flood of tears, feeling paralyzed from head to toe as you cried into his embrace.

Is this another dream? 

Is this another hallucination? 

You released a bitter laugh. Please. You closed your eyes, laughing and crying like a mad person. Please stop the pain. 

“Y/N, please,” his whispers were tender, yet tinged with a sorrow that amplified your heartache. “What about Sachiro?” He, too, shed his own tears, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight as they filled with tears, his voice breaking. “What about me?”

Your face was pressed against his chest, anguish coursing through you, feeling as if your very soul was being torn asunder. “Th-That’s the... the same thing... I’ve been asking myself,” you managed between sobs, struggling to draw a steady breath. “I’m... I’m always th-thinking about other people... and never myself.”

He fell silent, his response lost in the weight of your words, perhaps laden with guilt or his own sorrow. But his presence there, holding you close, as if he still harbored love for you, tore another piece from your already battered heart. He shouldn’t be here. He should have been with Akemi. He should be anywhere but near you. With a surge of adrenaline, you began to push him away, propelling yourself through the water, racing toward the shore despite the weakness in your limbs. Satoru called out your name, his voice a desperate plea, as he followed after you, his movements slower but filled with urgency.

“Stop!” Your voice rose, echoing against the night as you stood on the shore, water cascading from your body in sync with the tears streaming down your face. “L-Leave me alone... Please. Why are you here?”

You knew Satoru well enough to understand what had driven him to chase after you. Perhaps he had grown concerned, either from noticing your absence or from someone informing him of your uncharacteristic nighttime swim. His actions were undoubtedly unusual; he knew all too well of your fear of open water, prompting him to leap into action to rescue you.

But you didn’t need him to be here. You didn’t need him anywhere. He wasn’t yours anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of confusion and concern, his steps cautious as he approached you. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, his expression vulnerable and pleading, like a child seeking comfort, desperately hoping to be understood, to be heard. “You’re not with Toji anymore.”

“Why should I?” You struggled to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that blurred your vision. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking matters, Y/N!”

“It shouldn’t matter!” Your voice cracked with emotion, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. “Why should it matter, huh?”

“Because I love you!” His words echoed through the night, raw with emotion that had never been confronted until now. “Because I can’t fucking get over you. Because I’m a fool for you!”

You pushed him away, a surge of anger and hurt rising within you. “H-How dare you,” you choked out, your fists trembling as you struck his chest. “How dare you say that to me when you’re with someone else! You n-never truly loved me, Satoru. Y-You never did!”

“You wanted me to find someone new, Y/N,” his voice cracked with emotion, pained by his own words, “I just did what you asked me to do, even if that wasn’t what I truly wanted.” 

You vehemently denied his assertion in your mind, shaking your head in refusal. “Stop saying that. Just stop. Please.”

He already had his grip on your hand, pulling you closer. “Y/N—”

You jerked your hand away sharply, but then a wave of despair washed over you. “Every time I see you with her, I convince myself that I’m fine with it, that this is what I wanted, what I chose.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled every heartbreak. “I tell myself that I deserve it, that you deserve to be with someone who can make you happier. But then I remember our past…” You paused, closing your eyes to stem the tears. “And then I compare it to your relationship with her now. I can’t help but wonder, why didn’t I receive that kind of love and respect from the beginning? Why did it take me nearly drowning in an ocean for you to realize and try to make things right three years ago?”

His grip on your hand tightened, as if he wanted to hold onto you and never let go, as if he wanted to reassure you with his touch that he was there, listening, understanding, feeling every word you uttered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the crashing waves and the heavy weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry for everything I did wrong, for every moment I failed to show you the love and respect you deserved, Y/N.”

You hated it. You hated hearing his words now, because it was three years all too late. You had already gone through so much suffering, so much anguish that you didn’t deserve, just because you wanted a happy marriage. Just because you wanted to love and be loved. By him. By the person you married. 

“It d-doesn’t change anything,” you murmured, your voice breaking with sorrow. “I can’t undo the pain, the heartache. I can’t erase the memories.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his eyes filled with remorse. “But let’s try again. Let me try again, Y/N. Please.”

You wanted to believe him, to believe that he meant every word, that he was sincere in his intentions. But the wounds of the past were still fresh, and the memories of betrayal were still lingering in your mind.

“You know what hurts me more?” you asked, “It’s the fact that you didn’t lose your memories of me, but you still ended up falling for her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru’s silence felt like a confirmation to you. Perhaps he had indeed fallen in love with Akemi, and you were the obstacle standing in the way of his complete commitment to her. You were just a relic of his past, a piece that he needed to discard in order to embrace his future with Akemi. It seemed that fate had already decided that you and Satoru would never find happiness together, and this should serve as nothing more than a closure. 

But god be damned, it was tearing you apart. 

You tugged at the necklace around your neck, the pendant bearing half of his heart, and in your trembling hand, you ripped it off. As painful as it was, your next action was to hurl it into the darkness of the lake, discarding the last remnant that linked him to you, watching as it disappeared beneath the surface of the lake with a soft splash.

You know the difference between us, Satoru? You thought silently. I dove into the ocean just to find our wedding ring, but you would never plunge into that lake to retrieve that necklace.

With determined steps, you turned away before he could react, walking away from that place, walking away from him. You resolved that this would be your final encounter with Satoru Gojou in your lifetime, because there was no need for him in your life, just as he no longer needed you in his. You two would remain in the past, a memory best left behind.

This was you letting him go. 

But then, just as you were about to walk away, you heard a faint noise from the darkness behind you—a splash, followed by the sound of another frantic splashing.

Your heart pounded heavily in your chest. You turned back toward the lake, your eyes widening in shock as you saw Satoru thrashing in the water, his arms flailing as he searched desperately for the necklace you had thrown away.

“Satoru, you idiot!” you cried out, your voice filled with disbelief and concern and pain and overwhelming heartache. Without a second thought, you ran back to the cold water, your feet sinking into the soft sand as you waded into the lake. “Satoru, what are you doing?!” you called out again, your heart racing as you reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I have to find it,” Satoru gasped, his voice strained with exertion. “I have to find the necklace you threw.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperation and determination that burned within them. You knew then that you couldn’t let him risk his life for a piece of jewelry, no matter how sentimental it may be.

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s not worth it. Let it go—”

But Satoru shook his head, his gaze fixed on the dark waters below. “I have to find it," he insisted, his eyes tearful. “It’s my heart. I gave it to you.”

 I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. 

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air. In that moment, all of your walls came crashing down, your heart laid bare before the man you had once loved with all your soul.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you reached out and pulled Satoru into your arms, your lips meeting his in a desperate, longing kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotion, a bittersweet union of love and pain that left you both breathless and raw. Your lips moved together in a tender dance, each kiss a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a second chance at the love you had lost. It was a kiss that spoke of regrets and what-ifs, of dreams left unfulfilled and promises broken.

For years, you had been strangers, your hearts closed off to each other in an attempt to shield yourselves from the pain of your past. But in that moment, as you clung to each other in the darkness, you couldn’t deny the truth that still lingered between you—that your love for each other had never truly died.

As you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked into Satoru’s eyes, seeing the depth of his pain mirrored in your own. “I hate you,” you whispered, your voice laced with grief and surrender, "so much."

Satoru reached out and brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “I hate me, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with guilt, “for hurting you.”

You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But as you stood together in the middle of the lake, your hearts entwined once more, you found solace in the simple act of being together, of sharing your pain and your love in the darkness of the night. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again. 

Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, and the taste of his tongue was met with the familiarity you two shared. It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head. In your mind, it was all Satoru. It was the man you love. The man you married. The man you share a child with. 

You were too engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, you could feel him lift you up, never breaking the kiss as he carried you out of the lake. With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your marriage, and you were intoxicated by the feeling of kissing him again. 

Of feeling his lips around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours, not realizing you were stumbling inside your cabin, desperate to find somewhere to lay on. 

And before you knew it, the night had played way differently than expected.

Both your wet clothes were on the floor in a tangle of fabric, forgotten in the heat of your passion. And now, with your bare body on top of him. His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust. As you moved your hips slowly, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes were locked in a silent exchange of yearning.

Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to shift the position you were in. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements. You have had sex with Satoru multiple times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. You could feel the difference with the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you. 

“S-Satoru—!” 

“Mmm… I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

And then, finally, you came together in a flurry of hands and lips and skin, your bodies melding into one as you gave yourselves over to the exquisite pleasure of your lovemaking. 

At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, you knew that you were home.

— —

When Akemi woke up, she could tell something felt wrong. 

It didn’t help that Satoru was not by her side as she opened her eyes, blinded by the sunlight that peeked through the window. Was he out for a morning run? Or perhaps he was indulging in a leisurely bath? She entertained the idea of joining him, wanting to express her gratitude for his care and support.

Her heart swelled with love for him, despite all the risks and uncertainties. He was her rock, her confidant, her everything. In him, she found solace and strength, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Despite the troubles of his past, she felt blessed to have crossed paths with him. She longed for the kind of deep connection and lasting commitment that she saw in others’ marriages, a dream she harbored for her own future. And in Satoru, she saw the perfect partner to share that dream with, to build a family and a life together that she had always yearned for.

Akemi wasn’t ashamed by how smitten she was with him. In fact, she was beginning to have more confidence in her decision to pursue a relationship with him. She just hoped you would understand, that you would eventually let go of the grudge in your heart. At the end of the day, she wasn’t trying to hurt you. She was only trying to pursue her happiness. 

And the exact source of her happiness was someone she endeavored to find that morning. She put on a robe and searched every room in the cabin, calling out for his name, wondering why she couldn’t hear his voice. 

With no response forthcoming, Akemi decided to exit the cabin in search of Satoru. Assuming he had likely been with Suguru all night, she scanned the vicinity, expecting to spot his tall, white-haired figure. Yet, after several minutes of fruitless searching, she couldn’t find him and instead, encountered a hotel staff member. That was when she decided to finally inquire about his whereabouts.

“Excuse me,” she began, halting the staff member’s stride, “Have you seen my boyfriend? He’s tall, with white hair and blue eyes.”

“Ah, Mr. Gojou?” the hotel staff responded, scratching her head as realization dawned. She then gestured toward the last place Akemi wished him to be. “Um, I think he’s in there.”

Akemi’s heart raced as if she had seen a ghost. Her complexion drained of color, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized that the cabin she had been directed to was yours. And in a twist of fate, just as she stood there in shock, the man she loved emerged from the cabin, equally wide-eyed.

“‘Kemi…” he began, frozen in place, “Let’s talk first—”

But she cut him off with a scoff. Her hands trembled with a tumult of emotions—anger, pain, and betrayal—threatening to overwhelm her. She was on the verge of collapse, her mind reeling with questions. Was he going to explain his actions? No, there was only one question that demanded an answer.

“Did you… did you do it?” she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with accusation.

Satoru didn’t need to respond. As Akemi pushed the door open, her worst fears were confirmed as she saw you standing behind him, draped in nothing but a blanket. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could think, her body reacted, her hand connecting with Gojou’s cheek in a resounding slap.

“You never changed!” she cried out, her voice cracking with anguish. “You’re still a cheater!”

Satoru struggled to deflect each fist she hurled at him, but her rage and despair overwhelmed any attempt to reason with her. She was consumed by her pain and the looming betrayal she anticipated, unable to comprehend that her worst fears were coming true before her eyes.

“‘Kemi, please,” Satoru pleaded in vain.

“...Akemi, I'm sorry,” you interjected, your voice heavy with remorse as you wiped your tears. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

Upon hearing your words, Akemi erupted. She disregarded your friendship, cast aside your shared memories, and denied that she had ever considered you a friend. Her tear-filled eyes bore into you with accusation. “Y-You,” she began, her voice choking with sobs, “You’re a hypocrite, Y/N!”

You remained silent, absorbing her words.

Akemi pressed on with her onslaught. “You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married,” she accused, recalling the anguish you endured during Gojou’s affair. “You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me,” she paused, betrayed by the anguish in her voice, “Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

She fled before she could hear your response, but Satoru’s whispered apology lingered in the air, unclear of who its intended recipient was. At that moment, she didn’t care anymore. She raced back to her cabin, tears streaming down her face as she hastily packed her belongings.

She moved mechanically, tossing her belongings into her luggage while grappling with the overwhelming pain of his infidelity. Try as she might to focus on the task at hand, her tears flowed freely, and she surrendered to her grief, cradling her face in her hands.

Amidst her anguish, she couldn’t ignore the escalating pain in her pelvic region, a physical echo of the agony in her heart. Each sob seemed to intensify both sensations, leaving her feeling utterly shattered.

With that confrontation, Satoru faced a pivotal choice: to stay with you or to pursue Akemi. 

While Akemi had anticipated that he might choose you, she was taken aback when she swung the door open,

bags in hand, 

only to find Satoru Gojou standing on her doorstep.

[ovaryacted]

Insoportable

Summary: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader. Miguel couldn’t stand you, the more you refused to listen to him and his orders, the closer he got to snapping. After another failed mission, he’s had enough, and takes it upon himself to put you in your place.

Warnings: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn with plot. Dom/sub elements, throat/face fucking, degradation & praise, slight size kink, slight choking, rough sex, bare backing, mention of fluids.

WC: 5.2k

A/N: Took me a while to write this but I hope it’s enjoyable. Originally was an enemies to lovers plot but it’s more of a passionate stress relief type thing, I’ll do actual enemies to lovers/hate sex another time. For the record, I speak Spanish, so the Spanish you see in this piece is how I’d personally speak. Title is also in Spanish lolz. :)

You were insufferable, a nuisance every time you walked in the room or were in close proximity to Miguel. A firecracker that hated following orders or being told what to do. He didn’t even know how you managed to last this long as a spider-person or why you were chosen to become one since you behaved so recklessly. In his mind, you were a hazard to have on his elite strike force, but Jess was the one that convinced him you would be a good addition to the team. That was a few months ago, and he continues to figure out whether or not having you around was a good or bad thing. So far, it was definitely leaning towards bad.

You never listened to him, often going off on your own on missions or making small mistakes that would throw him off. It was almost as if you enjoyed seeing him upset, making it harder to tolerate you and leading to more arguments. The constant bickering and fighting was a daily occurrence, a game of pull and push to see who would make the other crack, and usually, it was you pushing Miguel to his limits.

This was how your relationship was, if he can even say you guys had one, and he still remembers how your eyes gleamed with mischief when you were introduced to the Spider Society. At first glance, he comes off as intimidating, even scary with his size and demeanor alone. But with you? It was the complete opposite, like your ego was as big as him and then some. He couldn’t understand why you didn’t take him seriously.

Of course, today was no different.

“This isn’t how we organized this!”, Miguel yelled at you from the other side of the street, climbing up one of the buildings to catch up to your rapid swinging.

Currently, you were tracking down a lizard variant that Miguel had ordered you to capture and bring back to HQ. It was intended to be a solo mission, but instead of listening to him the first time around, you brought your newest friend Hobie to keep you company. As if the brunette’s stress couldn’t get any worse, seeing you two together creating havoc across the multiverse blew his blood pressure through the roof. The second you joined his team, you and Hobie instantly clicked, becoming almost inseparable when you met each other. Two rebels, two people who hated authority were brought together by fate. If Hobie’s anarchist tendencies were bad then, they’re worse now, and it only wore poor Miguel out knowing that headache number one found its match.

The variant from Earth-374 was tracked down in the sewer system, both you and your favorite rockstar managing to slow it down and trap it in one of the underground tunnels using your webbing. In celebration, you stopped by to get hot dogs, feeling you deserved a break and cheering at a job well done. Excitedly, you reported back to Miguel of your successful capture, hoping that maybe for once, he wouldn’t look at you with such dismay. Only when it was time for him to come to retrieve the anomaly, he was dumbfounded to see traces of webbing and no lizard. It escaped right under your grasp, your clumsy mistake of not securing them properly and forgetting to set up the sensors caused this to happen. You could practically see the tick in Miguel’s jaw as he all but looked at you in vexation.

Now you were attempting to amend your mistake with Miguel and Hobie alongside you, chasing the creature down through the streets of an alternate New York City. Despite both of them being there to help you, you still managed to go off on your own.

“I almost have it! Just let me get this!”, you called back to Miguel, distancing yourself from the other two as you launched your body towards the reptile underneath you. Miguel constantly called you out on this, how you always put yourself in danger instead of actively trying to get away from it. Your spider-senses were the same as everyone else’s, yet you behaved as if you didn’t use them half of the time, enjoying the thrill of being put in such precarious situations.

Hobie followed your lead while Miguel continued to grumble under his breath. You landed on the lizard’s back, shooting your webs to cover their eyes and blind them momentarily. They thrashed around the bustling streets, scaly skin rough against your feet and sharp claws reaching out to grab you.

A backflip here, another dodge and curve of your body there, you landed on top of the lizard’s head. They snarled when you shot another array of webs at their jaw, creating a makeshift lead and pulling upwards. In the mayhem of the chase, Miguel shot his own red webbing at its feet, yanking backwards and watching the mutated reptile slam into the concrete face first. Hobie mimicked the larger man’s actions, the both of them working in tandem to bring the lizard down to the ground and secure it thoroughly. You busied yourself with webbing its mouth shut, taking extra care to ensure you wouldn’t repeat your initial mistake.

Even if this was considered a personal redemption, you didn’t have the time to recover your breath before Miguel was on you again, his tone harsh and condescending.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you just did? How many times do I have to tell you to do things the way I say?!”, Miguel spat out, scolding you as if you were a child that lacked common sense.

“We still caught them no? The damage isn’t so bad”, you said stubbornly, putting your hands on your hips and looking up at Miguel defensively. From the way the outline of the eyes on his mask curved downward, you could tell he was irked. Perhaps this was his last straw with you.

“You destroyed half of the damn city! Are you really this stupid and hasty?”, he said almost exasperatingly. No matter how hard you tried to talk to him, Miguel never listened. He always wanted things done his way, and he just couldn’t stand the fact that you never saw him through.

“I wouldn’t be this hasty if you would just get off my back! You’re always so uptight!”

“This conversation isn’t over, you hear me?”, he hovered above you, not wanting to prolong this argument any longer. Messing with the buttons on his watch and opening a portal back to H.Q., he entrapped the lizard variant and threw them through the bright colors of the interdimensional opening. He took one last glance at you before walking through, leaving you and Hobie behind as you sighed and looked down at your feet.

“I messed up, didn’t I?”, you asked Hobie, who started walking towards the portal with you close behind.

“Nah, it’s not that bad. The big man will get over it”, he said with a shrug, tone of voice slightly teasing and doing nothing to calm your nerves.

You only silently hoped that Hobie was right.

-

Miguel exhaled with his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, breathing through his nostrils as he tried to regain some peace of mind. After today’s fiasco of a mission, he called you and Hobie back to his lab to discuss it. Whether it was just to talk or simply yell at you again for your failure, you were about to find out.

“Miguelito, you’re going to pop a vein at this rate with the way you’re stressing out,” you teased, looking over at the very agitated Spider-Man.

Oh, he hated that. He loathed how easily the nickname slipped past your lips whenever you antagonized him. You always found more ways to get under his thick skin, and this was one of the things you did from your long list that seemed to upset him the most.

“Dios dame paciencia”, Miguel muttered under his breath, huffing and puffing as he paced around.

“I lied before, he’s definitely pissed at you now”, Hobie said next to you, smugly glancing between you and your mutual boss from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not so bad, I swear”, you put your hands up in fake innocence, and Miguel just chuckled dryly under his breath.

“You’re joking right? You let the anomaly go because you weren’t paying attention, and I have to clean up after your mistakes, again”, Miguel turned his back to face you, red eyes looking at you fiercely.

“Okay, I may have done that, but we caught them right after. What’s the big deal?”, you said, shrugging, which only seemed to tick Miguel off more, feeling his shoulders tense and his left eye beginning to twitch.

“And that’s my cue to leave. Good luck, mate”, Hobie says, saluting you and leaving you to face Miguel’s wrath alone.

“What’s the big deal? You just don’t get it, do you? You’re always so careless, you never listen to me, and then you act oblivious when you mess up. How the hell are you even a spider-person?”, Miguel retorted, stepping closer to you as an act of intimidation, but it didn’t affect you much. You held your ground while he walked forward until he stood right in front of you, looking down as if you were merely a pest.

“I still do my job, don’t I? You’re stressing out over nothing, and you don’t have to be breathing down my neck all the time if you’d just let me do my own thing. The multiverse is still safe Miguelito, lighten up!”

“Stop fucking calling me that! God, you annoy the shit out of me I can’t stand you.”

“I’m aware of that, you remind me every day!”, you countered defiantly, and Miguel was on the brink of losing his last nerve.

“Coño, for once, will you just shut the fuck up!”, he yelled now, reaching an arm out to wrap his hand around your throat, holding you in place instinctively as you gasped.

He wasn’t choking you, his fingers not daring to tighten around your neck but acting as a placeholder. He bent down the slightest bit, whispering in your ear with a tone of voice that was borderline threatening.

“You’re a pain in my ass, an ungrateful brat, and I don’t know if you get on my nerves on purpose, but you’re going to learn to stop fucking with me like a plaything. ¿Entiendes?”, Miguel snarled, his lips grazing the outer shell of your ear. This you weren’t expecting, your mind short-circuiting as your breath hitched at his words.

Miguel pulled away, his hands still around your neck while he stared down at you. He was taking in your reaction, watching how your breathing increased, your eyes were filled with a curiosity he hadn’t seen from you, and he could practically feel your pulse pounding against his thumb that pressed into your skin.

He was trying to figure out the sudden change in your demeanor, half expecting you to say some sassy remark back to him, but nothing came out of your mouth. If anything, you seemed to like this.

“Ah, so that’s what it is? You’re a brat on purpose?”, he smirked then, finding your sudden silence amusing. “You think you’re hot shit, acting all defiant around me when in reality, you need to be put in your place.”

Your cheeks blushed, both confused and aroused at the sudden change in the dynamic between you two. Have you thought about Miguel like this? Sure, once or twice. But the big scary Spider-Man was a tough nut to crack, so instead, you compromised for teasing. There was no way he would act out on those very sudden desires, right? Right?

Oh how wrong you were.

“You put up a show all the time when you just want some attention. Ain’t that right, muñeca?”, Miguel said, leaning his face closer to yours so the tips of your noses barely touched. He was teasing you, playing with the idea of giving you something you didn’t even know you would crave. His grip tightened around your neck the slightest bit, bringing your attention back to him when he spoke again, “I asked you a question, answer me.”

“Y-Yes”, you stuttered, the neurons in your brain working just enough to formulate one word. At this rate, you could feel your body warming up with how Miguel spoke to you. It felt taboo to be in this situation right now, but some part of you wanted to indulge in this small fantasy.

“Hmmm, maybe I’ll remind you where you belong so you can stop acting out. You want that?”, Miguel’s voice was playful now, noticing how your blush intensified the closer he leaned down. One of his hands reached for your hip, bringing you closer to him while the other stayed on your neck, your jaw tilting up towards him. It was an invitation, a calling for a kiss, or whatever else he may have in mind.

“Fuck, yes”, you found yourself saying a bit too quickly, your brain telling you to just shut up and listen to him for once, to relieve whatever tension the both of you have developed for so long. Miguel took one last look into your eyes before he closed the distance between you two, his mouth meeting yours with force.

Your lips meddled together in a flurry of need, a mess of tongue and teeth as you both forgone all sense of professionalism. These weren’t the lovely, soft kisses one would expect from someone they’d been pining after. They were possessive and dominating. Miguel’s grip on your hip tightened, pinning you to his body as you stood chest to chest. He practically loomed over you, needing to crane your neck up to kiss him properly. You moaned when his tongue slipped between your lips, grazing the roof of your mouth and curling around your own. The hand wrapped around your neck slipped from its grasp to cradle your jaw, stroking your cheek in a way that opposed the harsh kisses he gave you.

When Miguel pulled away for a breath, your face was slightly flushed with plush lips to match. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, pressing into it and looking at you with newfound desire. He sighed when your lips closed around it, sucking it into your mouth gently and tracing the bottom of his digit with your soft tongue.

“You just need something in your mouth to be good right?”, he smirked, pressing the pad of his thumb on the middle of your tongue as you hummed against him with a nod. The red in his eyes darkened, watching you stare at him in desire. Miguel chuckled, taking his thumb out of your mouth and stepping away from you slightly with a toothy grin on his face.

“Let’s see if you can do more with your mouth than just piss me off”, he grunted, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed you down to your knees in front of him. If you thought Miguel looked big before, he looked much larger in comparison now, the shadow of his body swallowing you whole.

You looked up at him needily, your attention diverting to the bulge hidden underneath his spider suit. Mouth watering at the sight, your eyes widened when part of his suit disappeared in pixelated bits, his hard cock bouncing towards your cheek. An unintentional gasp slipped out of you, biting your bottom lip and rubbing your thighs together as your lower gut bubbled in warmth. Now you know why Miguel acted the way he did, why he was so hard to handle at times. His words and size matched the rest of him, big and intense all around.

“Don’t be scared of it”, you heard Miguel say mockingly, bringing you out of your admiring trance. You could tell despite his dominating demeanor, he wanted to be touched, his cock almost pulsing in front of you.

“Who said I was scared?”, you taunted back, grinning when you saw the same annoyed look Miguel does that seemed reserved for just you.

“You want to prove me wrong? Go ahead then”, his hand went to your hair, grabbing it in his fist as he felt you caressing his tip in light kisses. He sighed when your lips moved under the base of his shaft, kissing the prominent veins that pulsated against your warm mouth. It took everything in him not to thrust into your face, but he knew what you were doing, playing with him even when he was the one in control.

Your breath hitched again when your head was yanked back, ogling him as you saw how pent up he was, how badly he wanted you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. Now open wide baby”, he muttered, putting both of his hands on your head to get any flyaway hairs out of your face. He wanted to burn this picture into his memory, taking in the view of you having his dick down your throat for the first time.

Slowly, your lips wrapped around his member, encasing him in your hot mouth as you relaxed your jaw to take more of him. You didn’t know if you would be able to take all of him at once, but you sure as hell were gonna try. Breathing in through your nose, you moved further down, feeling more of him resting against your tongue before deciding that was enough for now.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you pulled back, moving your head over him while one of your hands went to his thighs for support. Your other hand held him at the base, jerking the rest of his cock that couldn’t fit. He groaned shamelessly, letting you have a small bit of control as your tongue traced over the underside of his length. It felt good, better than he imagined, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes to immerse himself in the pleasure.

You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head harder while taking more of him into your mouth. Tasting the saltiness of his precum against your tongue, you moaned around him, his fingers tightening around your head as you kept working over him, not caring for the slight tingling in your jaw.

“Knew you were good at this”, Miguel mumbled, his fangs digging into his bottom lip as he watched you. You looked almost precious to him, your hand growing slick with saliva along with the rest of him, your lips pinker than usual. He couldn’t help himself, grabbing the top of your head and thrusting towards your face.

You choked a bit at the action, the sudden intrusion forcing him all the way down the base of your throat until he pulled his hips back. He did it again, pushing your face against his pelvis until your nose rubbed into the soft brown curls against his skin.

“See how pretty you look when your mouth is shut? Just get your throat fucked like the slut you are, taking me so well”, he lost himself to the sensation of you deep-throating him, struggling to take all of him at once. But you tried, your hands on the top of his thighs as you happily let him fuck your face.

Tears started to gather on your lash line the more forceful Miguel got, an audible gagging sound filling the room every time he plunged deeper into you. Spit was coating your chin and cheek, his balls hitting your face with every drive of his hips. Blowing someone wasn’t new to you, but the way Miguel used you to get off intensified the burning heat in your gut. Hearing the sounds he made, feeling how he throbbed and twitched in your mouth, how his thighs slightly shook the closer he got to his climax. It was arousing seeing him like this, and you enjoyed it like it were your favorite movie.

“I want to cum down your throat, you gonna let me?”, Miguel asked, sweat starting to build up on his hairline as he looked down at you. Your eyes were hazy, pupils dilated and almost lost as they met his. He could feel your harsh breathing against him, the drool pooling in your mouth, and the vibration of a pleasurable hum as you answered him with enthusiasm.

“Mierda, swallow it all for me, I don’t want you to waste a drop”, he said hastily, thrusting up into you a few more times before he shuddered with a loud grunt. Miguel’s hips stayed flush with your face, tears dropping down your cheek as you choked around him and felt him cum down your throat. You clutched his thighs, breathing shakily and trying to remain calm to the best of your ability. He felt you constricting around him, taking everything he had to give while his fingers dug into your scalp.

With ease, Miguel pulled his hips back, watching you catch your breath. You moved your head up, opening your mouth to show him how you followed his directions, no traces of his release left behind. Not a single drop was wasted. For the first time since you’ve been in the same room with him, there was a smile on his face.

“I should give you a treat for being so good to me just now”, Miguel purred at you, bringing you back onto your feet and kissing you deeply. He could taste himself against your tongue, groaning into your mouth as he chased the flavor of his release. You clung to him, gasping when you felt a claw on your back tearing at your spider suit as he slipped it down your body, leaving you bare before him.

“Fucking hell Miguel”, you whined against him, the brisk air of his lab making your nipples hard, biting your lip when a rough thumb caressed a perked nub. He was handsy and impatient, lifting you up by the bottom of your thighs and bringing you to a spare desk on the other side of the room. You sat on the cool surface, legs instantly parting for Miguel as his hips pressed against yours.

With hungry lips, they wrapped around your other nipple, sucking lavishly and humming around it as his hands explored over you. His other free hand trailed down your stomach, gracing your bare hip and reaching towards your warmth. Your hands went to his brown hair, running through the strands and arching towards his touch as a thick, calloused thumb ran circles on your clit.

“You always get this wet when you have dick down your throat?”, he chuckled, releasing your nipple to kiss your neck, nipping the soft skin while he continued his rubbing. You couldn’t even answer him, throwing your head back to grant him more skin to touch and crying out when two of Miguel’s fingers slipped inside you.

The soft squelching that filled the room was almost embarrassing, feeling your arousal drip onto his skin with every plunge of his digits. You were already so wet and pent up from the earlier usage of your throat for Miguel’s pleasure, sending you that much closer to the edge. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers curled into the soft spot inside you, your thighs twitching under him and pulling another whimper out of you.

“Please, fuck please”, you gripped onto his bicep, grinding your hips against his hand to chase your own pleasure. Miguel’s sharp eyes observed you, watching every stutter you gave him and how your eyebrows creased the closer you got to your climax. He was mesmerized by your soaked heat, knuckles deep into you and hitting every sensitive spot he could find.

“So needy, fucking into my hand like a whore. You want to cum on my fingers muñeca?”, he said against your ear, biting on the lobe as you shook underneath him and weakly nodded. His thumb came back into the mix, rubbing fast circles on your clit that made you keen. You were dripping down his wrist, your hot walls fluttering around him and your nails leaving indents in his biceps from where you held on to him.

“Cum for me so I can fill your pussy up just right”

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, closing your eyes and mewling out Miguel’s name in the crook of his neck. He groaned at how tight you got, sucking his digits deeper into your body as you flexed around him with trembling legs. He didn’t stop moving his hand against you, making sure to milk your orgasm as much as he could. With a soft kiss to your lips, he pulled his touch away from your center, marveling at how your fluids glistened in the dim light of his lab. Staring at you lustfully, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste with a lewd sigh.

“I’ll get a better taste of you later, but for now let me fuck that defiant attitude out of you”, Miguel said, his hands going to your thighs and lifting them up. He put one of your legs on his shoulder, bending down closer to you as your back was resting on top of the desk. You could feel how hard he was for you again, grinding his length against your wetness, his tip bumping into your clit deliciously every time.

“Just fuck me, please Miguel”, you begged, clenching around nothing and feeling how badly you needed to be filled with something. You expected some sly comment from him, but he surprised you, positioning himself above your entrance and pushing forward.

“You’re so fucking tight. No wonder why you act the way you do”, he hissed at the way you throbbed around him. He didn’t stop moving until his body was flush with yours, reaching the deepest parts inside you and stretching you so deliciously you whined. It would be an exaggeration to say you felt him in your chest, but you swear you could.

A choked moan left your throat when he pulled his hips back to pound into you again, setting a rough pace from the start. The smell of sex started to fill the lab, Miguel’s face digging into your neck and biting the skin as he huffed under his breath. He leaned forward towards your body, your leg that he had on his shoulder bending towards your chest, making him slip deeper into you. You yelped at the action and fucked back into him, your hips meeting his with an audible slap.

Miguel was unrelenting, his hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs and hips as he looked down at where your bodies met. His pelvis rubbed into your clit with every stroke, tilting his hips the slightest bit to hit your g-spot every time he plowed into you. The annoyance he once felt towards you evaporated from his mind, now only focused on screwing you into the desk. It was a lot, he was a lot, but all you could do was be good and take what he gave you with no complaints, holding on to the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. He was also silently thankful his lab was farther away from everything else, his ears taking in every delectable sound that came from your bruised lips unabashedly.

“You’re so loud. Do you want the entire HQ to hear how much of a slut you are? Letting your boss fuck you like this for being a brat”, he teased in your ear, feeling you clench around him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts against you. You liked the mix of his degrading and praise, common sense so far gone from your current mind that it left you stuck on cloud 9.

The sneaky hand on your hip moved down your body again, rubbing the pulsing nub as you rambled incoherently against him. He could feel you getting close, doing everything in his power to ruin you for any other person, if that were even an option. You didn’t have it in you to warn him of your impending release, your thighs shaking against his body. But he already knew, slamming harder into you to the point where the desk underneath you screeched against the floor. He was getting close too, his eyes trailing down your body and seeing the white ring at the base of his cock.

“You’re so close baby. Need you to cum around me so I can fill you up, let everyone know who’s fucking you so good”, Miguel grunted against your ear again, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and clinging to his body. Your nails dug into his back, scratching down the firm planes of muscle and leaving angry red streaks in their wake. He shuddered at the touch, growling into your skin and biting at your shoulder.

Head thrown back in ecstasy, the tension in your gut snapped as you spasmed and wailed under him, the pleasure overwhelming you the second time around. Miguel held on to your hips to keep you from jerking against him, whispering praises into your ear and telling you how good you were, how good you felt squeezing around him. His pace grew sloppy, pumping into you a few more times before his release hit with a guttural moan. Cursing in Spanish under his breath he came inside you, filling you to the hilt with some of his seed spilling out of you.

The both of you panted against one another, Miguel’s body slowly relaxing as he placed one final kiss against the new marks he left on your neck. He lifted his head back to look at you, your eyes half-lidded and face flushed as you caught your breath. Your heart was going a mile a minute, knowing your body would feel sore, but you felt satisfied beyond measure. With a hiss and much protest, Miguel pulled his softening length out of you, watching his cum slip out of your slit and run down your thigh.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice no longer laced with anger or irritation. You nodded, licking your lips as you tried to find words for him, but your mind was still fogged with the high you just experienced.

“You should listen to me more often you know. I don’t want you causing any more trouble”, Miguel told you, voice softer than usual as he caressed the soft skin of your quivering thigh.

“And what’s the fun in that if this happens when I piss you off?”, you told him, a dopey grin on your face as your eyes met his. The same mischievous glint he always found was there again, something he initially hated now being something he wanted to see more often.

“Then I’ll hold you to it. Don’t be surprised if I put you in your place again”

“I’m looking forward to it, Miguelito”

He found himself chuckling at that, the nickname that made the hairs at the back of his neck rise in aggravation now felt like a blanket of comfort. He knew down the line this wasn’t the end of your antics, that you would continue to get on his nerves. Only this time, he found a way to get something out of it.

Maybe just maybe, having you around wasn’t so bad after all.

©️ ovaryacted 2023

[readychilledwine]

Runaway Love

Summary - Amren and Rhysand's sister have begun to grow closer since Feyre took her duties from her. Amren, seeing she's hurting and needing time away, invites her friend to Summer, she just didn't plan on happened next or having to explain it to Rhysand - Tarquin x Rhysand's Sister reader - told from Amren's pov

Warnings - none I can think of. Lots of italics?

A/N - a side from some Tamlin smut, we are at the end of my maternity celebration, which means we will go back to our regular updates 💜 part of me wants to turn these two into more, but that may be a project for another day

Amren watched from the hill as Tarquin and you sat facing each other in the sand. Your foreheads were rested against each other, fingers laced together.

You two had done the one thing your brother had made Amren promise to prevent from happening. You two had left the seaside Palace late in the night, when everyone else was fast asleep and gotten married on the very beach Tarquin now held you on. Married under the watchful gaze of Summer’s high priestess and the stars.

By time Varian and Amren had found you, the ceremony was done. Vows had been exchanged, the kiss had been shared, the priestess had left. You two had been there, standing as the waves lapped your glittering white dress, just staring at each other.

A throat cleared next to her, turning to her own lover the ancient being sighed. “How will you tell him,” He asked softly. “He will want to know why she refused to come home.”

Amren looked down at you again, a smile forming on her lips as Tarquin tilted your chin up and kissed you. “I will tell him the truth.”

Rhys sat down, Feyre having left the room with Nyx as soon as tension began Building over Amren's avoidance of her mate's questions.

Violet eyes stared at her, waiting for an answer to the question that was hanging in the air like a cold unwelcome breeze. Rhysand rose a brow to Amren and Varian. “Do not make me ask again.”

Amren finally answered, voice showing no signs of emotion as she sighed. “She is not coming back. She is staying in Summer with Tarquin.”

Rhysand's gaze darkened, “And why Amren, did you as her chaperone allow her to make that decision?”

Varian answered, feeling the need to defend his own lover. “Your sister is a grown female. She does not require permission from-”

Rhys growled, gaze going to the visitor in his court. “I did not ask you. I asked my second in command why SHE did not perform her duty to protect my sister and bring her home.”

Something in Amren snapped in that moment. Her loyalty to y/n coming forward.

She couldn't help but to growl at the High Lord as Varian shifted uncomfortable next to her. "When was the last time you paid attention to her, boy? The last time you actually listened to one of her mission reports instead of telling her to leave it in your office?”

Rhys opened his mouth to defend himself only to pause as Amren snarled at him. "You have not given y/n a single ounce of care since your mate came. You even stripped her of her duties to her home and court so your mate would have a place." Amren settled back into the chair, not even realizing she had stood in her anger until Varian gently grabbed her small hand in his.

"They married, Rhysand." He said softly. "Unless you plan on ripping the bride of the High Lord of Summer away and starting a war, there is nothing you can do but ask to visit.”

The High Lord's face fell. “They-” He shook his head, “She wouldn't have willingly married him without myself, Azriel, and Cassian there.”

Amren looked at him again, her eyes then lingering on Rhysand's wedding band. “There was a time where she believed the same of you.”

His head hung in shame. “Show me.”

They both shook their heads. “We weren't there,” Amren said calmly. “They knew I had specific orders and made the choice to get married in the dead of night. By time we found them, it was done.”

Rhys stood turning away and walking to the window to hide the tears that were about to fall. “Then show me them leading up to the decision. Show me she is happy.”

Amren couldn't help the small smile, a rare thing gracing her face, as she thought back to their first day in Summer.

Tarquin smiled down at Amren, welcoming her back to Summer as he motioned towards the veranda where a table was set for 4. Cressida was there already, eyes wide as she stared behind Varian.

She stood immediately, telling a servant to get another chair and moving so she would not be at her cousin's right hand. "I brought another guest with me,” Amren stated coolly. “I hope you do not mind.”

A soft gasp was heard, followed by the voice that would haunt the Night Court until they heard it again. “Amren! You did not warn him you were bringing me? You-”

Tarquin was moving to her, to his mate, immediately, taking her soft hands into his. “Y/n,” his voice was breathless as he studied you. Eyes locking on your own the second he had decided you were well. “This is the most wonderful surprise. Even the sea has become more fair in your presence.”

Amren chuckled as a blush spread from your cheeks to your softly pointed ears. “I believe your seas only reflect their master's emotions, Tarquin,” you stated softly.

“Then they calm while my heart races at the sight of you alone.”

Varian had his own favorite memory in mind. One from a night spent on the Pleasure Barge.

Varian watched like a hawk ready to attack anyone who may approach you or Amren. The two of you had your arms linked, whispering secrets to each other as he watched the sheer skirts you two wore sway in the soft salty breeze.

You had not been on the barge before, having been banned from it during your last visit by Rhysand, and the two older fae were excited to bring you to watch the activities taking place.

Tarquin had come beforehand, ensuring the private balcony you would be watching from was perfect for his mate.Varian knocked on the door as Amren told you to behave as she went to their own balcony.

He opened the door and ushered you in. “I trust you have an idea of what will be happening here tonight?” Varian led you in by your waist, holding you close to him as the guards watched. “If at any point you are uncomfortable, tell my cousin.” You nodded, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you stared ahead.

Tarquin was standing there, his back to you two as he moved pillows exactly how he wanted them for the night. He had brought in expensive champagne for the two of you, chocolate covered fruits, flowers.

It was clear to Varian you had never been truly courted in that moment. You had never had another fae ensuring everything was perfect for you and you alone. That they had brought the best for you and you alone. He bent down to your ear, “Be good, little star.”

Amren had thought of another memory, smiling again as she heard your laughter echoing in her mind.

Varian and Amren had found a shady spot on the beach, enjoying cool wine and fresh fruits and cheeses on the beautiful, warm day.

The ocean was gorgeous today. Soft waves rolling in, a breeze cooling the air.

That same breeze carried your laughter as Tarquin chased you through the sand. The two of you had just come out of the water after you had decided a swim was absolutely a must.

Amren immediately froze as you screamed, panic setting in until she realized it was because Tarquin had caught you and lifted you into his arms. Your back was to his chest, legs kicking out as your head fell back and your laughter filled the air again.

“He's moved her things into his room,” Cresseida mumbled. “Tell me, dear Amren. How will Rhysand feel about his precious baby sister breaking all of his rules while she's here without him? Sleeping in Tarquin's bed. Wearing a Summer Crown. She is sitting with him during court meetings. Need I bring up the nights on the barge?”

“Let them be, sister.”

“Do you plan on dealing with him if be storms here with his Illyrians in tow?”

Amren rolled her eyes. “Rhysand has hardly paid y/n a single mind since Feyre came to the Night Court. She was brought here on that first visit as a distraction without knowing what was happening. If Rhys wants to be upset, he can speak with me.”

Tarquin was carrying you over, holding you bridal style as he smiled down at you. The tail end of his sentence could be heard. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” you whispered.

“And then they married,” Rhysand concluded at the end of Amren's memory. He sat back down, head in his hands. “Did-” his throat tightened as Azriel and Cassian walked in. “Did she look beautiful?”

“Breath taking,” the Summer general answered immediately.

Amren ran to the hillside by the beach they had spent the day on. “No no no no,” she kept muttering under her breath. “This damn girl-”

Varian shot an arm out to stop her. “Do not say-"

“It's done, my goddess.” He pointed down the beach. There, just barely in the water, you and Tarquin stood. He had both hands cradling your face as he kissed you. The white dress you had packed, the one that was lightweight and shimmered like glitter, was sparkling until the light of the full moon. Your hands were resting on Tarquin's chest, hair flowing in the wind.

You were glowing, like starlight during Starfall, as your foreheads came to rest together. Varian sat in the grass, pulling Amren down with him as he did. “Beautiful little creature,” he said, nodding down towards you. “and her beautiful chaperone should not take this as a failure on her end.”

Cresseida joined them, tears in her eyes as she sat next to Amren. “It's the perfect ending, is it not? A runaway wedding?”

Amren shook her head as you and Tarquin turned towards them, hands held and fingers laced together. As you walked, you looked up at him and only him, trusting him to guide your feet to your friends. “No,” Amren finally said. “It is a perfect beginning.”

Silence had filled the room as Cassian sat, and Azriel just nodded. “So, she isn't coming home then,” Cassian said slowly. “And our little sister now resides over a court I am banned from.”

Azriel nodded, moving to the window Rhys had previously stood in front of. “Did she say anything to you before you left, Amren?” Azriel looked over his shoulder at her. “Anything at all?”

Varian nodded. “Be happy,” the couple said together. “Be happy and take the leap.”

Amren held her own left hand up. There sat a sparkling large diamond centered in gold and rubies. “I will be packing my things as well, High Lord.”

Rhysand sighed heavily, nodding. “Do you plan on a year-long engagement?” The two nodded. “I am happy for you, both of you.”

“And your sister?”

Rhysand shook his head. “Her I will deal with later.”

Taglist - @kemillyfreitas @biancabldss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @hnyclover

[leclsrc]

congrats on 2k!! <3 can i have a [five brushes] with mick in some sort of friends to lovers scenario? tysm :*

hold my hand – ms47

genre: fluff, 2k celebration

auds here... sry this was a 4+1 and not a 5! love u

send for the for the five times our muses almost hold hands and the one time they do. 

Maybe it was the chill of November, or the shots of vodka you’d thrown back to celebrate the start of month. 

It’s vague when you try to pinpoint when all this started, this wholly new light on your best friend of your entire life, Mick. It’s hazy at the edges, like it’s still a dubious thing—is it really him? Mick? The one you’d watched fall into the lake when you were twelve? 

Or maybe it was the popcorn Gina had brought in for the both of you to enjoy as a late Halloween snack. Yes, maybe that. 

“It’s butter,” she says, following the wafty scent of popcorn into the living room. “No salt. Sorry. Mick’s trainer’s been on him about dieting.”

“Mmm, I heard,” you say, stuffing a fistful of the snack into your mouth. “You’d think he’s dancing ballet or something.”

“You two just looove talking about me like I’m not here,” pipes up Mick, clicking his tongue. Gina laughs, apologizes in German, and then makes up some excuse to leave you two alone. 

Freddy Krueger is just about to kill an unsuspecting dreamer when you and Mick seek popcorn at the same time, and your fingers brush against each other in the sea of butter. You jolt immediately, a reaction as instinctive as it is foreign. 

“Thought you were on a diet,” you tease lowly, snatching the bowl away.

So maybe that was it. And that was that. Except it really, really, wasn’t.

—

“Code red,” pants Mick breathlessly into the phone, “Red. I’m on my way to your hotel room.”

You and Mick share an emergency code system, modeled after any other, and used in cases where one needs the other’s help badly. There’s code blue (no fare for the bus/train, no gas money), code green (need to ditch this date, no ride home), code orange (creep is following me, fan has been stalking me), and code red, which covers about anything urgent.

Granted, you both created the system at thirteen, but is anyone really complaining when it’s being used at 23?

It also means code red is never used by either of you, reserved for dire situations. Like now. Your door is pushed open and Mick emerges, sweaty and fussed. “I need,” he says, breathless, “um, a—” But he whispers the last word quietly.

“Sorry. What?!”

“A, you know—” he does it again, scandalized.

“Mick, what do you need?”

“I can’t find a private enough space for me to buy a pack,” he says conspiratorially, “of condoms.”

Your chest caves in. “Oh. Why?”

“Eva asked me out.”

“Huh. Eva, Eva?” You dig through your bag. “Paddock engineer’s sister Eva?”

“Yes. Cool?”

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah,” you say, tossing him a rubber and walking closer. “But you look a mess, Mick.”

“Right. Fix me up, would you?” He smiles, raising his arms up.. “Code green.”

“You’re using up all your codes,” you mutter, pinching the hem of his tee and tugging at it to fix the wrinkles on the bottom. Then you move upward, to the collar of his polo, smile and tease him a bit to get his wound-up nerves loosened up a little more. “Good luck.” 

You accidentally fiddle with a button the same time he does, and your fingers stick to each other. Your breath catches a little, but it’s nothing, you tell yourself, avoiding the grip. It’s quiet, your eyes both evading the other’s, your hand scratching absently at your jaw. 

“I should—I should go.”

“No, right, yeah.” You clear your throat, nodding and shooing him away. GOOD LUCK VIRGIN BOY you text him when he’s gone, to alleviate the tension.

Went pretty well! :) He texts back two hours later.

“You sure you’re not up for a date?” Eva asks disappointedly across him.

“Sorry. My mind’s elsewhere,” he says. And that’s that. Except it’s really, really, not.

—

“You two used to dance a lot. Michael and I had a tape of your and Mick’s favorite songs.”

“Gina told me,” you giggle, reviewing a photo album with Corinna. “God, it’s crazy. I can’t even imagine Mick dancing now.”

Of course the declaration leads to Gina finding an old tape player in the stockroom and playing it for everyone to hear, so Mick can put on a show of lanky limbs and awkward dance moves for you, his sister, and his mom. It’s awfully endearing, sickening the way he manages to look cute even while botching the dance.

You and Gina join eventually, to appease Corinna’s pleas. In between one scratchy song and another, you both lose yourself in the music and your fingers almost tangle.

You flex your pinky when it almost locks on his. Sorry, he whispers, low in your ear. Your stomach erupts with thrill and excitement. Your mind’s focused on the rough pad of his finger, the whispered rough apology you haven’t quite accepted.

You hug Gina instead, dancing with her, and that should be that. Except it really, really, isn’t. 

—

“If you keep moving it’ll look ugly.” You readjust your grip on Mick’s pinky, painting an angry red on the nail there as a totem of good luck for the race weekend. You take the chance to do it when you can, the tradition started in Formula 3—paint the pinky nail red.

“You’re taking forever.”

“Fine, good luck DNF-ing again on Sunday.”

You poke your tongue out in a fit of concentration and finally finish dotting over the tiny mistakes. Your eyes glide up, and then stop where Mick’s already meet yours behind a blond curtain of damp post-shower hair.

What? You ask, mind clouded it feels like your voice is disembodied. His gaze is so intense, all blues and soft edges and a smile that reaches his eyes.

You do know the nail lacquer is just placebo, right? I have another good luck charm, and that one actually works.

No it isn’t, and no you don’t, and whatever the charm is—no, it doesn’t.

Except it really, really, does.

—

The fine line between friends and whatever lies behind it—when is it crossed? 

How many times will your fingers brush in a chaste dance? Your eyes flit down to lips, chapped or smooth, like it’s water in the desert? How many times will Mick dance, even if he hates to dance, because he likes the nearness of it? He wakes from dreams of you. He wakes waiting to text you. 

It may have been doubtful before, but now it’s anything but: he’s in love with you. And love is dizzying, it’s blurry and miraculous and could cloud even Einstein’s brain, but Mick at least knows the answer to one of his many questions. 

Four. Four brushes of your knuckles.

“Hey. Code red,” he says into the phone, walking to the lobby elevator.

Seriously, again? What is it this time?

“Just open the door when I get there,” he says, smilingly. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.”

[jamesunderwater]

Jily Microfic - Opponent

@jilymicrofics - feb 27th, prompt: opponent - words: 911 Summary: Lily might have a heart murmur, might have a crush, it's hard to tell, but she's definitely a feminist, and in case you were wondering, she doesn't care at all if another girl shows interest in James Potter. read the rest in this lil academic rivals to lovers series on my AO3, here! (and stay tuned as this is part 1 of 3 for a little end-of-the-month academic rivals finale ;D) Read Part 2 here & Part 3 here!

Lily Evans is a feminist – she’s obviously a feminist. She’s not about to treat another woman like an opponent just because the girl's got a crush on a boy Lily only mildly, maybe, a little bit – she isn’t even really sure she – likes. Especially not if that boy is James Potter. 

(Again, she isn’t sure – it could just be a heart murmur, she’s looking into it.)

So Tamara Campbell told her friend Maritza Acebo who told Mary Macdonald that Tamara thinks James Potter is cute – so what? When Mary asked James what he thinks of Tamara, he only said, “She’s cute, yeah,” and that’s not exactly I’m going to ask her out this instant sort of language. And so what if he does ask her out? The only reason Lily has to care is if some ninny gets James Potter distracted from his studies, leaving Lily without a challenge.

Sorry, not ninny – she’s a feminist. Some girl. Some lovely, “sure, she’s cute” girl, who is probably of at least average intelligence but – it’s only a fact, nothing subjective about it – surely is no intellectual equal to James Potter, and probably only likes him because she thinks he’s some gorgeous quidditch star with sexy hair and a great smile. And, you know, it isn’t Lily’s fault that Tamara’s high-pitched laugh sounds like the laugh of a ninny. Maybe she shouldn’t squeal so loud the entire corridor hears her just because Potter told one stupid joke…

—

“Happy anniversary,” James says, a proud grin on his face. He’s standing in front of Lily’s desk in their office, bouncing on his heels. He’s sure this is an idiotic idea, but since Lily already thinks he’s a fool, James figures there’s no harm in trying his luck. And whether she smiles or just smirks and rolls her eyes, either expression will be better than the perpetual frown she’s worn the last week.

When Lily lifts an eyebrow, he brandishes a plate from behind his back, placing it before her.

“What’s this?” she asks him, her tone flatter than he’d imagined it would be.

“Lemon tart,” James answers, his smile wavering a bit. “It’s your favorite…isn’t it?”

She stares at the plate for what feels like a century, and James can’t make any sense of what’s happening behind her blank expression. Finally, she says, “Yeah, I like it fine,” her voice lifting forcefully. 

James wishes he were being buried alive, or burned at a stake, or plummeting from three hundred feet in the air – anything besides standing here in this moment.

“Oh,” he manages through desert-dry lips. Clearing his throat, James attempts a recovery, his entire face on fire. “Well, I just thought – it’s been two whole months of being Head students together…” This explanation is going terribly. Is there a spell for turning the floor to quicksand? Can it be done non-verbally? “And we haven’t killed each other yet, so…” He forces a chuckle. “Thought we might celebrate.”

Lily looks at him then, finally, and the green of her eyes is wrong somehow. Too bright and too dull all at once. “Yeah,” she says, her lips down-turned. “Quite a feat.”

His heart squeezes in fear and warning bells chime loudly in his ears, but he asks anyway, “Are you alright?”

She clears her throat, and suddenly she’s standing and gathering her books into her arms. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dessert.” 

She disappears in a blur of red, the lemon tart still on her desk.

—

It’s her own fault, really. She should have just said she liked the damn lemon tart. Why didn’t she tell him she liked the lemon tart? Lily stares across the Gryffindor table, where a few seats down James is watching Tamara Campbell giggle at a decibel only pixies could match.

This is the third day in a row she’s had lunch at their table, her blue tie sticking out amongst the rows of red. There’s absolutely a rule about students of other houses switching tables, Lily’s sure of it – and if there isn’t, there really should be. This is…this is fraternizing with the enemy, if you really think about it, given they’ve got a match against Ravenclaw in two weeks. 

Lily grumbles in irritation. Two years ago she’d never have been able to say the quidditch schedule if asked. She’s been utterly compromised. Her Charms essay due tomorrow is only half-written; this morning, her potion was only the third best in class, and she hadn’t even cared about the disapproving look on Slughorn’s face.

Another giggling shriek reaches its crescendo, and she’s simply had enough. Leaving her plate hardly touched, Lily gets up from the table and heads for the door.

“Hey, Evans, hold on a moment–” 

She barely muffles a groan at the sound of his voice, quickening her pace as she passes him. 

James, with his spider-long legs, is beside her in an instant. “D’you mind trading patrols with me on Friday?” he asks, speaking to her like she’s a child on the verge of a tantrum, as he’s done ever since the lemon tart incident.  “I’ve…got a…” He trails off, suddenly looking incredibly sheepish. 

“Fine,” Lily cuts him off quickly to avoid hearing his bumbling explanation. Her anatomy’s gone all wrong; her lungs are in her throat, her heart is in her stomach, her brain's disintegrating altogether… 

She leaves in a rush, eyes burning, unable to tell who she thinks is more stupid: James Potter, or herself.

To be continued...

[casualminerva]

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of eternity with somebody, you want the rest of eternity to start as soon as possible."*

Why GO3 needs to end with a holiday episode

This post starts, as it will end, with Neil Gaiman. Neil, allegedly, has said that Good Omens is a rom-com. Maybe his exact words were “love story,” but let’s not quibble. This piqued my interest because face it, rom-coms are few and far between right now (except for K-dramas, where they are plentiful and quite wonderful, if a bit draggy at 16 episodes). And in my mind the world would be a lot better right now if the Western media giants would stop greenlighting every stabby, bloody, nihilistic cop power fantasy that emerges from the sad resentful minds of perpetually adolescent cishet male producers, and run with romantic comedies by the bucketful, especially ones that will right the wrongs of the ‘90s rom-com golden era. 

Good Omens is one of those, definitely. Our lovers are non-human, gender fluid, older. But the rules of rom-coms are still in place. Season 1 had the meet cute, the clash of opposing life views that gradually softens, our couple being forced to work together with comic results, a brief traumatic separation, and a reuniting in mutual appreciation, if not love. 

Season 2 was the deepening of everything, the camera documenting their faces caressing each other, the mutual rescuing, the “our side won’t like that” restraints dropping, and all of a sudden they’re touching each other out of both affection and habit, until a shitty choice arises to end it all, with a climactic kiss punctuating a truly wrenching moment of, I don’t know yet if you can call it noble idiocy, but it was a wrecking ball moment that told us they’re gonna be separated, with their hearts and ours broken, for a good long time.

Now to S3 (please please Amazon, renew). Season 3 can go so many wild directions since we’re in Second Coming territory, but for our lovers, it’s going to be dreadful to watch them separated. Our hearts are going to be in our throats every time they’re potentially in the same scene together. We’re going to see them alone, doing their own thing a lot, as once again they try to save the world, this time without each other, perhaps on opposite sides.

So what is it that finally breaks impasses and brings rom-com lovers back into each other’s arms? It’s not sudden rain showers or cotillion balls, obviously. It’s the HOLIDAYS. Christmas and Hanukkah and the grandest of them all, New Year’s Eve. It's hard to think of a rom-com that doesn’t have a confession, reunion or long overdue kiss against the backdrop of tipsy NYE celebrants or the sight of snow through glowing windows. It's the ultimate serotonin release mechanism, it conquers worry, it heals heartache, it just -- works.

I can imagine Neil and John Finnemore having a wonderful time playing with, twisting and subverting the holiday trope, all the while using that same trope to delicately land the plane of Aziraphale and Crowley’s fraught relationship.

We already know that the subject of Christmas lights is a sticky wicket for the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association. A possible incentive to get Aziraphale back in the bookshop? We also can guess the effect Auld Lang Syne, the most shamelessly sentimental song in any film in all of recorded history, would have on a certain Scottish-leaning demon who has watched his share of Richard Curtis movies. I hope the Bentley will play it for the two of them (not the bebop version though) because, well, vavoom. We will all be piles of sobbing goo.

There’s so much material. The birth of Jesus as a minisode (welcome back, Gabriel!), other biblical and religious stuff, carolers (demons or angels or both?), Dickens references, parties, dancing. Finally, a gentle snow transforming Whickber Street into a dreamland, as our two tired but eternally hopeful ineffable lovers reunite once again, worse for wear but a little wiser, put aside their differences for good, and seal the deal with a really, really fucking GOOD, LONG, KISS. 

So … anyway. I started writing this post as kind of a joke, but accidentally made myself a believer. Oh, and I said the post ends with Neil Gaiman, because it does. Every New Year, Neil writes a tender and beautiful message of love, hope, and new beginnings to his readers. Here’s trusting he does the same for Good Omens 3, and that God, wherever She is, blesses us, every one.

*Title quote pays homage to When Harry Met Sally, the greatest of all rom-coms (fight me).

[agentplutonium]

listen i know i don’t get enough traction anymore for more than like one person to see this but hear me out:

Milo/Sweetheart racing AU

kinda like. listen. i’m delirious a bit of this might be a bit nonsensical at times. I want the wolf boys to have their own track that they host races at. There might be another track that Will owns that he also hosts at, but that’s later development that i don’t have rn cause i am just focused on Milo/Sweetheart.

ANYWAY the plot has two different ways of going in my head right:

1. Milo/Sweetheart enemies to lovers. in this version both of them are racers, and both want the top. they are at each other’s throats for AGES until one night after a big race where Milo crashes and we get a parallel of their first healing audio. Neither finish that race. Milo can understand that he fucked up and is glad to be alive but he can’t forgive sweetheart for throwing that win away. there’s some intense arguing that ends with a kiss because i’m such a sap like that. ever since then the audience sees the two of them getting chummy and such and thinks they’re best friends, but really they’re dating. the truth doesn’t really come out until a few years later at a repeat of the same big event where Sweetheart wins with Milo close second and they end up kissing on the track. crowd goes wild. bombarded with paparazzi. bet wins being exchanged. the works. paparazzi asks if this means they’ll retire from racing. both are appalled, cause “why would i give up the chance to show them up in the next cup?” “as if, greer, i beat you this time it’ll happen again.” and they go back to bickering with the goofiest grins on their faces. they would go down in history

OR

2. mechanic sweetheart that sees LOTS of Milo and his car. Mostly Milo. the boy has a habit of just hanging around their shop while they’re working. and a habit of blowing things in his car cause he pushed it too far. david would cal them after a race and they half the time could guess who it’s about. through these soliciting moments Milo has he tries to get Sweethearts story out of them. cause, like, you can’t be that good with cars and not have a history. but Sweetheart won’t tell him. until he comes across an old box of their memorials. old trophy’s, photos, news clippings, and cassette tapes. he wouldn’t snoop anymore, and he got caught and Sweetheart was pissed, but his interest was peaked. he wouldn’t get the story out of them until him, Sweetheart, and the other two with their mates were winding down after a party celebrating another win. Angel asked if Sweetheart had any ties to racing, or if they were like them and Baabe. Sweetheart would glance at Milo and sigh, saying they’d be right back. they brought out the same box that Milo had found, letting it fall to the table with a thud saying to knock themselves out. Turns out Sweetheart was a pretty big name before they started working under david in the shop. They were a promising rookie that rose the ranks quickly in their seven years of racing, starting at 18. it was revealed to Milo later that night the reason that they stopped was because of a fatal car crash that took them out for a few seasons. that was just a little bit before their current gig, and they haven’t raced since. David had offered, but they felt like their time was up. racing was a lot of natural selection after all, if you don’t have it you don’t have it. they weren’t mad about it at all. but Milo wasn’t having it. he challenged them to a one on one, just so they could get behind the wheel again. they did, completely smoking Milo in the process, and they got begged to return to racing. they were hesitant, eventually snapping at Milo to let it drop. he did, but he got into Sweethearts head a little bit. they talked with David, and they were signed up for the next race. they don’t tell anyone they’re competing, training by themselves each night, and on the day people were curious at the new car that rolled in before the race started. it’s been a while since they had a rookie. however, that mood shifted when it was revealed it was Sweetheart behind the wheel. people were excited to see them back on the track, racers from their time welcoming them back with open arms. Milo would place a bet that he’d win this race (saying if he won, Sweetheart had to go on a date with him), which Sweetheart happily challenged. Sweetheart would win, and when Milo asked what they wanted, since they didn’t make it clear in the beginning, Sweetheart said “oh, no, we’re still going on that date. the only difference is I’m in charge. Be ready for Friday at 8.” they winked and that’s the last thing they said to him before turning in for the night. Milo got teased for that one, but he couldn’t deny the giddy grin that he had in his face or the butterflies in his stomach.

it’s kinda clear which one i’m favouring, clearly. this might turn into something. or not. we’ll see. anyway until this either consumes me or i have a new idea for y’all ✌️

[spideyanakin]

Hello congratulations for thé 2k follow can you do a Leo Valdez imagine with the prompt 1 😊? If you want

Thank you so much queen 💖✨

Join the 2k celebration!

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Leo Masterlist

hate love

Pairing - Leo Valdez x reader / sort of enemies to lovers?

Prompt n1 - “You can tell me that you hate me, but that doesn’t make it true.”

You didn't know how the fight started. Maybe like all the other fights with Leo started. Maybe it was over the burnt diner that was sitting on the kitchen counter of the Argos, or the fact that he accidentally left one of his tools on the floor of the hallway heading toward your room.

But now you were fully giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to talk to him.

And it's not like Leo even wanted to talk to you. Because he knew that if he did, you would snap at him and make him accidentally burn something again.

"You guys should really talk this out." Percy finished his piece of toast as he admired the view from atop the clouds. He wiped his hands on his jeans and turned back towards the inside of the boat to see Leo focused on one of his new creations.

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"B- Because he's annoying." You huffed.

"Hmm" Percy looked up and smiled a bit, knowing very well what was going on.

"I still think you should talk to him."

"Not going to happen, Jackson"

~

After that wonderful conversation you had with Percy, it had given him an idea.

After rigorous planning with the help of Annabeth and Hazel, they managed to both shove you into a room and lock the door, leaving the two of you with a:

'we will lock you out when you stop being mad at each other and start getting along'

You wanted to punch each and everyone one of them, and so did Leo.

You sat in silence, you didn't know if it was a fight for who would speak up first. Who would break the silence and be the weaker one. Or maybe it wasn't a silent contest, you just liked sulking in your own anger.

"Why do we always fight?" He asked, in a poor attempt to try and get yourselves out of this room.

You didn't reply.

"I mean, we always do. Like over everything-"

"Leo if you keep talking im going to shove one of your hammers down your throat."

"See! Why?"

"Because you make my skin crawl, Leo. I- You- You're always so just- infuriating!" Your face started flushing when you met his eyes, and you had to tear yourself away to stop blushing, trying to calm your heart down.

He seemed to have spotted that and smirked a bit.

"I hate you!" The words made Leo smirk even more rather than feel more offended. Somehow all your interactions made sense. You liked him, but you didn't know how to tell him or couldn't accept it maybe.

“You can tell me that you hate me, but that doesn’t make it true.”

"Sorry?" You blinked.

"You say that you hate me, but do you really?" You blinked. "Because I think you like me." He stepped closer to you and pointed to your chest. "I think you like me and don't know how to tell me."

You felt the walls you had put up ever since you met him about to crumble. Leo's face was inches from yours, waiting for your answer. You felt trapped between the walls of this room and him, holding your breath as you tried to stutter something out.

But you didn't have time to do so, because instead Leo took every word away from you and placed a hand to your cheek before leaning in.

He paused for a second, admiring how you held your breath, anticipating the kiss. He smirked a bit before making the move to kiss you.

And not to his surprise, you kissed him back.

[edensrose]

I love your writing! Could I request a Thranduil x Dunedain!reader who has trouble adjusting from the life of a warrior to the life of a queen?

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ thranduil ⠀〳 dunedain!reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. from fighting off darkness to queen of mirkwood, the transition was daunting. as a dunedain, how is your relationship with thranduil?

· ⊰ note. thank you anon, I'm glad you like it! <3 honestly, this concept was so fun to write about — I hope I get to do it again in the future

ʚ As a dunedain you were not used to being in the spotlight. As someone who often remained on the down-low, protecting the lands of Middle-Earth, one can imagine that your transition from warrior to elvenqueen took more than a little adjusting to - especially given the fact that the wild was vastly different from the royal life you now lived in Mirkwood

ʚ Thranduil expected nothing less and would not push you into learning everything straight off the bat. However, the barrier between the two of you was great and unfortunately, did cause a bit of a rift within the early stages of your relationship. One of the most common issues brought up was your will to fight - after the loss of his previous Queen, Thranduil was more than a little protective of you. . . something which you understood but nevertheless drove you up the wall every now and then. Especially when he refused to allow you to join night hunts with him or the other elves - let alone go into battle with him. It was a problem you both learnt to overcome, albeit quite difficult. Nowadays, he permits your involvement - however, he usually is never too far behind 

ʚ Due to your previous life you were a little more straightforward and determined in getting your point across. This rose a number of arguments between you and your elven lover as you never truly backed down. You made it known when there was something he did that you didn’t agree with - and sometimes, that frustrated him. Thranduil was not accustomed to people talking back to him, let alone his wife; so one can imagine just how much you two butt heads. Ironically, it’s also something he loves most about you. The fact that you can tell him off. In a way, it’s endearing. It keeps him grounded. But he’ll die before he ever admits that 

ʚ Adjusting to the mannerisms of royalty was truly a challenge for you - especially when it came to formal events. You dawned a dress, now, you have worn dresses before - yet nothing to the extravagant extent of what Thranduil had made for you. It revealed your arms, a bit of your legs sometimes too, it left you feeling all dainty ( which was not necessarily a problem but definitely something new ). It almost made you feel uncomfortable, a fish out of water when you attended these formal meetings or celebrations - especially if it involved the other elvish kingdoms. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself, let alone your husband. However, there have been a few mishaps. A small misconduct, a forgotten custom, it drove you mad with guilt. But Thranduil is always there to ease your worries. And if anyone dares to make an ill comment, well. Let’s just say he would handle it. 

ʚ You were accustomed to splurging, so when you entered a relationship with Thranduil you were immediately taken aback by the extent to which he’d spoil you. There are still times you scold him for it, muttering about how he should be more conscious with his purchases. To which he merely laughs, kisses your head and reminds you that as his queen you are far more worth all the riches in the world. Which is exactly why he pays no mind to any of the finer details when spoiling you 

ʚ He sometimes forgets that due to your lineage that you do indeed, know Sindarin. At times he’ll catch himself making an annoyed comment in his mother tongue if the two of you are at each other’s throats, only to have a slew of elvish rebuttals shouted at him from across the throne room. Funnily enough, it catches him off guard each time - and it’s even more amusing to those who happen to witness it

ʚ Ultimately? The transition was anything but easy. You went from living off of the wild into having everything at your back and call. Sometimes you long for the life you left behind, however, one glance at Thranduil is enough to remind you why you left it all behind. Your love for the elvenking was worth all the trouble you went through.

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[moonlesslights]

Going down (NSFW)

Ramsay Bolton

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Stark!Reader

Summary: You are the betrothed of Ramsay Bolton, however, attending to a celebration on the South, he gets a little too jealous of all the eyes on his lady. You take him to another room to avoid an scene a both decide to enjoy some time alone.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex.

(this is part of a serie of OS I want to start for Ramsay and “us”, it won’t be really a serie but fragments of their lives)

Enjoy!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The first time I decided to go deep throat on him was before an event with some lords and ladies.

He was jealous. Some lord of the south had been insinuating to me, being a little too friendly and Ramsay felt like people still didn’t get the fact that we were together or, what was driving him crazy, the fact that people though that i didn’t want to be with him… or was it?

—Calm down, love.— I say, my hands on his chest moving up and down.

—He was talking about your ass with his friend, in front of me… do you think that’s okay to let go?

—They are southerners, Ramsay. You know their manner of be is by far a lot more relaxed than ours.

—They are disrespecting you. They are disrespecting the Lady of Dreadfort and our house with it.

He is still trying to look for one of the windows in the room we were in, the room I took him trying to avoid an scene. I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. His eyes connect with mines, deep blue blending under the light of the candles, still confused when I smile.

—And what are you going to do, love?, are you going to flay them?— He can’t. I know it, that’s why I’m taking this so calm, if we were on the North, I would be fearing for their lives.

Ramsay frowns, biting his inner cheek and avoiding my look again. Now I know that this is not only jealousy, something else is upsetting him.

—What is going on with you, mhm?— I push my finger on his jaw, redirecting his face to me.

—Nothing.— He’s angry, I can tell by his voice and how he raises his eyebrows with annoyance.

—Tell me.— I insist. —We can’t go back out there with you looking like someone died… Or like you tried but didn’t succeed.

He ignores my words, only furrowing much more when he looks at me and finally continues:

—Yes, we are going back out there. With you in that pretty dress and hundreds of looks on your back.— His voice drops, and I can tell he’s about to spit what is burning in his throat. —But I’m not sure if you would like to go back to the North with me…

—Ramsay…— My heart gives a skip. What is he talking about?

—After all, we aren’t married yet, and you were only betrothed to me, so why wouldn’t you look for someone else out there?

The words hit in my brain and then I can get to feel how much this man loves me, even when he acts like this, like he would give anything make me leave him alone. My expression softens, putting my hand on his cheek again and felling, even as he resist a little, how his face seeks the touch of my fingertips.

—You’re not so clever as you think you are, my lord.— I murmur, smiling.

He turns to me and opens his eyes, confused.

—What do you mean?— Ramsay asks.

I don’t respond, instead, my head does a click with the idea to show him what I meant.

I fall to my knees, Ramsay leans immediately, trying to take my hand and whispering if I was okay, however, his attempts to put me back on my feet decline when I reach under his upper clothes. The second my fingers rub from his belly button to his pants, passing for the fine path of hair, he feels a chill run down his entire spine until it settles in his crotch. He clenches his jaw, slightly surprised of what I was doing.

Usually, he’s the one to star any kind of encounter that leads both of us to sexual pleasure. So, this, is a huge step for me and for this part of our relationship, because of what he said: we aren’t married, therefore, we haven’t had sex. However, since we started to sleep in the same bed at the Dreadfort, it was hard for Ramsay to keep his hands to himself. I said no the firsts times and he respected that, but as time passed and I got to see him in plenty of ways, I accepted that I was somewhat of touch starved… Even thought, not so much as him.

The first time I let go was at his office, late at night, when he kissed me with such hungry and desperation but yet so careful to not make me back away that I couldn’t take it anymore… And he realized that. He took me from my hips and place me on one of his legs, holding me tight. The rest was amazing: him, making me grind on his knee, moving me up and down for the fabric of his pants, asking me if it felt right that or this. Smiling until he had to put his hand covering my mouth to avoid my voice woke up half of the people there, no, then he wasn’t smiling anymore, he was laughing. One of the most precious laugh i’ve heard.

Since that moment, he haven’t stopped. Grabbing me by my hips again one morning, holding my back against his chest and with one hand around my stomach and the other going down on my pussy, he fingered me until I couldn’t stop shaking from pleasure with his digits hard and deep in me.

Other time was when, while I was grinding on his leg, I reach for the bulge among his legs. It took him by surprise, I guessed based on the way his head dropped back, murmuring a soft “fuck” under his breath. He wanted to be touched, I realized, he was dying for me to go for all on him but he never intended to push me, after all, I had just accepted for any of us to die of touch starvation.

That same time was the first time he made me scream his name high and clear. None of us could help it (I tried, I swear), but when he got too excited with my hand going up and down on his member, he turned us, positioning himself above me and beginning to simulate hard thrusts on me. He has always been a quiet lover, he groans and moans, but just never too loud. But me and the wooden bed?, well, we kinda woke up everyone in the castle that night.

So now, with me on my knees and pulling down of the fabric, he really doesn’t know if I’m going to do what he is thinking. His fantasies flying around his mind, he didn’t thought that, during this travel, it was going to happen.

—Did the cat ate your tongue?— I ask, smiling. He’s always nonchalant about how nervous I am during our time of pleasure, but know is him who doesn’t talk at all.

—We need to be quiet.— He murmurs, seeing even a little bit anxious. I chuckle.

—No. You need to be quiet.— Ramsay clenches his jaw again, watching out the window with a frustrated look.

I take his cock on my hand and hear him take a deep breath. I lick my lips at the same time I start to do some movements with my wrist. Then I look at him, asking if I should do the next step.

Ramsay loses his breath at the incredibly erotic sight. Passes saliva and nods, slow. Then, his head drops back when my tongue starts to move at the tip, circling it with my lips.

I give several movements with my head, turning to see him with each of them, trying to guess if I was doing it right. Ramsay continues to answer me with nods of his head, and as his breathing becomes more and more pasty, I feel him grow in my mouth.

—Go on, darling.— He whispers, letting out a heavy sight.

I focus on extending my tongue its full length before beginning to delve into my throat: I go down a little and go up again feeling my eyes watery, but then, I try again, playing with my hand with what I cannot take. I continue like this for some more minutes, greedy growing in my chest with the sounds and gasps that my betrothed lets go from his lips.

—You almost get it, dear.— I close my eyes when I feel his hand getting tangled in my hair.

Ramsay takes control, pushing my head against him and loosening only when I ask to go back. His brow furrows and insists again, my lips close around his member and then I proceed to open my jaw to the maximum that it gives me, closing my eyes, already too foggy anyway, until my nose touches something: his skin. My lips meet just at the base of his dick. Ramsay presses one hand at the base of my neck while the knuckles of the other on the table behind him turn almost completely white.

I push back and, with difficulty, he lets go, but just enough. As soon as I have only the tip in my mouth again, he pushes back inside, giving quick and calculated thrusts. His hand on the table tightens even more and the blood seems to drain from the layers of his skin.

—Look at me.— Ramsay demands. He’s about to come, I know: he always wants me to look at him before he does.

He takes one last thrust, drawing me back to the bottom and base of his member. He pushes, pushes and pushes until he makes sure that I have everything.

His hand drops my hair and, by the moment I try to clean that what felt out of my mouth, he takes my arm and makes me stand on my feet again. Two of his fingers trace my lips and his own cum before pushing them into my mouth.

—It’s all yours, darling.— He smiles, rotten. —Take it.

I swallow and clean my chin with the sleeve of my dress, smiling too. My cheeks red and heart pumping on my chest.

—Was it okay?— I ask. The doubt was still consuming me: Ramsay have had plenty of lovers, a lot that had done that to him…

—It was better that okay, darling.— He laughs, putting all his clothes back on and then turning me to give him my back. —You made me touch the bloody heaven.

I laugh, felling like I always did every time I was with him, doing wrong things and sharing private moments: alive. He makes me feel alive.

I noticed his fingers running through my hair and it don’t take long until I realize that he’s making my braiding again. I smile, confident. He had practice sometimes before, when we were late because he just didn’t want to get off of bed, or when I fell asleep during long travels and by the time we arrived my hair was a total mess. So he started learning to do it.

—Done!— He cheers, proud of himself after thirty minutes. I turn around and before I can say anything, he presses his lips on my forehead. I close my eyes for a few seconds and by the moment I open them again, he’s looking at me. This time, his smile it’s just the same I see when I kiss him goodnight, or when he says “love you” after coming back from some trip with his father. The same smile he has every time I wake him up with a lot of kisses. —I want to marry you.

—We are going to get married.

—I want to marry you now. Let’s just do it right when we get to Dreadfort again.

I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his own around my waist, pressing his forehead with mine.

—Why?, you can’t wait to have sex with me?— I ask, smiling.

—Yes. And I might be tempted by the vows of spending the rest of our life together.— I laugh as he giggles, giving him a quick kiss.

…

By the time we got out of there most of the guesses were already on their table, eating. And when we sneak into the celebration, Roose was already raising an eyebrow at us.

Ramsay and I looked at each other. Roose didn’t know what we did, but he exactly did not not know what we did.

For the rest of the dinner, I had to enjoy my plate under the reprimands of my future father and the disobedient laughs of my betrothed. Yet, the scenario couldn’t feel more like home.

A/N: Sorry if there’s any gramatical issue, english it’s not my first language and I still get a little confuse on log narrations. Hope you liked!

[shorkbrian]

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun. 

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

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

There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.”  Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers.  Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features.  He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off  on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen,  jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up.  It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.”  He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

[parkersroses]

champagne problems. | harry styles.

summary: Harry and Y/N meet again after things fell out for them.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k words

trigger warnings: mentions of mental health issues and attempt of self harm, angst. if these are triggering to you, pls do not read this.

a/n: (gif credits to @letsmakesomeonehappytoday) i’m super nervous about this, also this is definitely the longest i’ve written. i began writing this last december bc i absolutely love the context of the song and i felt like writing something that touches important issues like mental health. i read and did research on how i could write this properly without having it look like i was romanticising the topic. if you do find it that way, pls feel free to leave constructive criticism so i can further improve and amend on my writing. don’t feel obligated to read this if it is triggering to you. here is a link to some mental health hotlines, i might add some more in another if i find any that are reliable. don’t be afraid to ask for help or even help others if you know they might be struggling.

reblog, comment if you like it or not, or even start a conversation. donate to my kofi if you’d like to support me further. i love you all.

The relaxing and sensual sound of jazz music filled the room. The chandeliers hanging above casted a golden glow over it, making the room more elegant than it did. People were dressed in nice clothing for the new year celebration. 

Harry was not one for New Year’s eve parties, having to prefer sitting in the comfort of his home, sipping on some champagne as he tries to ignore the loud fireworks going off. But considering it was one of his old friends that was hosting this particular party, there was no way he would deny it. He enjoyed having to see his old friends again after a busy year of filming a movie for the world to see one day. 

He stands with his friend, Jake, as he holds a champagne flute in one hand. Talia, his recently girlfriend-turned-fiancée, standing next to him with an arm wrapped around his waist. It had been two weeks since he proposed and two weeks since she said yes to marrying him. It was a joyous time for them after nearly a year of dating. Some might think they rushed but Harry ignored them. He knew if the time was right, then it would be bound to happen eventually. 

Harry’s eyes scan through the sea of people while Jake and Talia are discussing animatedly about something he probably isn’t paying attention to all that much. His eyes wander around until they fall on a familiar figure. He blinks his eyes hard enough to make sure they aren’t playing tricks on him, and they aren’t. The person who he knew and loved before. The person whom he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The person who left him, not giving him a reason as to why. 

Y/N stands with Natalia, occasionally sipping on her champagne as they talk. He should have known that their group of friends would stay in touch with her, even after they broke up years ago. She wears her casual dark jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt and heeled boots. A contrast to those around them, wearing fancy dresses and suits. She always stood out in her own way. It was why he loved her then. 

Harry let out a breath, seemingly couldn’t believe that his ex lover is here in the same room as him. Talia notices this and questions, “Babe, you alright?” Harry breaks away his gaze from Y/N before smiling at his dear fiancée. “Yeah, m’fine. Just saw an old friend, s’all,” he assures her as he sips on his drink. 

“Oh, d’you want to talk to her?” She asks, and Harry shakes his head because if he did, he wouldn’t know how to act or say to her. “No worries. Maybe later,” he says. 

As time passes, Harry finds himself focused on Y/N numerous times. In his mind, he is already thinking of ways to talk to her. What would he say to her? Would she even want to talk to him? Or were they going to pretend everything was fine before she left him? 

When he looks around for her again, he freezes as he sees her eyes staring right back at her, almost looking in shock as he is there too. There is a glimmer in her eyes that he always noticed. She gives him a small yet timid smile from across the room before breaking away from the eye contact. 

Harry decides to pick up what’s left of his courage in his body to walk over and greet her. He leans into Talia’s ear, whispering to her. “I’m just going to meet an old friend. You’ll be okay here?” He says. Talia looks up at him and nods. She assures him that she’ll be alright, saying that she’ll talk to some other of their friends.

As he leaves her side, he walks through the sea of people to look for the person he hadn’t seen in a long time. Harry finds her grabbing another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and he smiles at this. He always knew she liked champagne. She doesn’t notice him walking up to her until he clears his throat. She turns around and her breath hitches as she sees him. Harry’s mouth dries up instantly as his eyes gazes upon her. Despite years of knowing her, he still found her beautiful. 

The corner of his lips curls up slightly. “Hi,” he says quietly, his breath slightly shaking as he spoke. He isn’t sure whether she heard him, but her reply seems to answer that. “Hi,” she replies, with the same nervousness in her voice. 

“Fancy seeing yeh here,” he chuckles. Y/N smiles at this; while it was awkward to have seen her ex in a long while, he never fails to make the situation comfortable for them. “Y-Yeah, you too,” she stutters. 

She is not going to admit it aloud, but she misses the sound of his voice. How deep and raspy it could get. She misses his voice being the first thing she hears when she wakes up, or the hums she would hear in her ear as they would dance with no music on. She misses his touch whenever he holds her close, warmth and protection radiating from his body onto hers. She misses everything about him despite them not being together anymore for a long time, she admits but never out loud. 

Silence fills the gap between as they both figure out what to say. On one hand, they can pretend everything is alright and converse like old friends. On the other, they can push their fears aside and talk about what is actually in their minds that seem to have an affect on their current relationship. 

“So, how’ve yeh been?” He hesitates to ask. He’s not sure whether she would lie to him or give him the proper answer he needs. The answer he wishes he knew. Y/N doesn’t know how to answer that without making it sound as depressing as it is. There had been many times she wanted to give him a reason why she left him, to give him a little bit of closure that he deserves. Perhaps it is her pride that prevented her from doing so. 

“I’m alright,” she says with a small smile on her lips. Her answer could be a lie or the truth. “And, you?” 

He nods slightly at her answer. “I’ve been alright,” He gives her tight smile back. “Been a while since I last saw you,” he says and she nods. “Y-Yeah, way too long,” she says quietly. It’s hard to ignore how insincere the smile he gave her is. Y/N knows him all too well, even when they were no longer together. She knows by that smile that there’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. But she doesn’t question it. 

Harry is aching to ask her. To ask what happened between them, why she left him without a warning, why she had to break his heart the way she did. 

It’s almost like she senses what he is thinking because she then suggests to him. “Want to go outside for a bit?” She gestures to the backyard with her head. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry breathes out. He almost cringes at how desperate he sounds. “Um, after you,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the door. She softly thanks him and Harry follows right behind her outside. 

“So-”

“I-”

The pair speak simultaneously as they walk and they both laugh at it. “Sorry,” she says. Harry dismisses this. “No worries.” 

“You look great, by the way,” she says. Harry smiles at her compliment. “Thank you. You look amazing too,” he returns the compliment. She blushes a bit before muttering a soft ‘thank you’ under her breath.

The cold air wraps around the two bodies that once knew each other’s intimately. The stars look brighter that night and Y/N takes a deep breath as she stares up at the sky. She doesn’t realise how Harry looks at the small breath she let out, or how he admires her side profile like he used to when she sleeps. He stares at her for a bit more, like he’s remembering again what she looks like, before averting his eyes to the night sky.

“Saw you had a date back there. Someone special I assume?” She asks out of the blue. Harry freezes in his place. “Y-Yeah, she is,” he blurts out and clears his throat. “My fiancée, actually,” he says and he looks at her to see her reaction. 

Y/N is surprised at first, feeling her whole body tense up before she relaxes. But Harry catches it. “That’s great. Congratulations, Harry,” she smiles at him before turning back the stars. She promises she is genuine about it. But maybe she’s just telling herself that. “How long have you both been together?”

“Nearly a year now,” he says. Y/N lets his answer sink in her head. A year, she thought. We were together longer than that for you to propo-

“Seems like a short time, huh?” She jokes, but Harry only gives a small smile. “Is it though? Too soon to ask if we’re both ready?” He says, as if he’s mocking her and something. And that sent a shard through her chest. Harry curses at himself, he shouldn’t be saying things like that despite them not being together anymore. She looks down at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing and shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologises. Harry is quick to shake his head at her. “No, no. I’m sorry for how I said it. You did nothing,” he says. Y/N is silent for a bit before saying back to him.

“No, really. I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable between us. I’m just.. Sorry,” she says. 

“How are you, Y/N?” He asks genuinely. Y/N is confused at first, wondering why he is asking the same question again. “I already told you, Harry. I’m alri-,”

“I mean, how actually are you?”

She turns to him, seeing as Harry is already looking at her with a solemn expression. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he says softly, almost sounding like he doesn’t want to scare her. And she knows what he meant and what he wants to know. 

Y/N suddenly feels a lump forming in her throat and breathes in deeply. She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t waver when she speaks. “I promise I’m okay, Harry. I just,” she sighs and closes her eyes. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been getting by on my own. Trying to work on myself, you know, since,” her words falter, but Harry knows what she means. Since she left him without an answer to one of the most important questions in life. He nods his head slightly even though she doesn’t see it. 

He lets out a sigh as he looks up at the starry night. “You know, it’s… kind of surreal. Us being here I mean,” he says. Y/N looks at him again with confusion written all over her face. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. I called but you never seem to answer. I just wanted to see how’ve yeh been, you know?” He confesses, throwing this big weight out in the open. 

Y/N has her head hung low, like a child being scolded for stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. But she knows he means well. And she hates how not only she caused problems for herself, but the person she once loved. 

“I just… I miss my best friend, Y/N. I miss having her around,” he says, and he doesn’t realise how his words hit her like a truck. She breathes in sharply, feeling a slight pain in her throat. “And you don’t think I felt the same way then?” She asks softly, her voice already wavering. 

Harry shakes his head. “No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” He’s quick to apologise but she dismisses it while ignoring the fact that he called her a very familiar pet name he used to use on her. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice is almost quiet enough for you to not hear her.

“It’s just,” she breathes out and she looks up hoping that tears won’t escape her eyes. “I wanted to let you in. I could’ve answered the phone. But I didn’t. I know how bad I left things between us, H.” Harry’s heart jumped a bit at hearing her say ‘H’ again. She used to always call him that. It still sounds lovely as it leaves her lips. 

“I wish I could’ve told you why I left you kneeling with the ring still in your hand. I couldn’t, though. Maybe I wasn’t ready that time, or never was.” It hurts for her to say this because she has imagined spending the rest of her life with him countless times. “I’ve had this constant battle in my mind for so long. I thought that maybe if I ignore it, it’d be like it never was there and we’d be alright. But it got worse and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I held it on for so long and I couldn’t say anything because I knew I’d somehow ruin everything. Well, I did in the end.” And she feels tears streaming down her face. 

Harry feels his tears escaping his eyes too, but doesn’t make the effort to wipe them away. As if he’s paralyzed in where he stands. “A-And, what happened after that?” he asks ever so gently.

Y/N wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath before continuing the sad story they’re on. “I lived with it and the thoughts consumed my mind. S-Sometimes, they can get dark.” She confesses but not all at once. She won’t tell him how she felt herself crumbling down and how her mother found her unconscious in the bathroom, overdosing on some pills she found. She won’t tell him how hard she cried in her hospital bed over the pain she was in. It felt like a shard puncturing through Harry’s heart. The fact that she had been struggling all this while and he never noticed it, it kills him. 

“Then, one day, I just decided to find help. I knew I needed help. And I’ve been having sessions with a psychiatrist for a few months now.” And she smiles through her tears. “I’ve been working a lot on myself, been on medication and all. Then, maybe one day, when I feel ready for it, I’d come find you, apologise for the problems I caused between us. Didn’t think it’d be tonight, though.” She jokes and hangs her head low again, like she’s scared to see what Harry thinks of her now. Just a girl who’s sick in the head. 

There is an uncomfortable silence between them and Harry speaks up again. “You infuriate me sometimes, you know?” Y/N looks at him and his eyebrows are pressed together like he’s mad. She is once again confused at what he meant. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve helped you. I would’ve,” he pauses and runs his fingers through his brown curls, taking a breather so he won’t actually lose his temper. But for Y/N, it’s like she wanted him to scream at her. Yell at her for leaving him behind for her own selfish needs. 

“I would’ve looked after you,” he says softly, and it’s heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice. “I didn’t want to burden you, H. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says gently and Harry shakes his head at her. “Is that what you thought? That you’d burden me?” She only shrugs at him with a sad smile. 

“I heard it before.” She says, and it makes Harry furious that anyone would toss aside the state of her mental health. “It’s not because of your job, Harry. Or your fans,” she assures him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with what I’ve been going through. You deserve someone who isn’t as fucked in the head as I am,” she says. 

Harry now has tears running down his cheeks. He now wishes he could go back and actually pay more attention to her, instead of being ignorant to it. He remembers when she left, the neighbourhood had quite a bit to say about the rejection, particularly on her. They often talked about how insane she was to deny his proposal because marriage is what every woman needs, right? Granted, he told them off not to speak about Y/N so poorly ever again, but he still wishes he could’ve seen the signs when it got worse for her.

Now, she stands in front of him, and it might be wrong to admit this, but she still looks just as beautiful as the day he lost her. Her eyes still have the same shine and her smile still has the same warmth to it. He lets out a small laugh. “This is not how I actually planned to spend my New Year’s eve,” he says jokingly and they both laugh, almost like the entire sad conversation did not occur. “I know,” she says, smiling at him. She doesn’t realise how her words took him back to when they would get drunk on wine while watching romantic comedies together on their couch. 

“This is quite an interesting relationship you and I have,” he says smiling as he looks up at the starry night. She smiles at him too before doing the same. It’s the comfortable silence filling the gaps between them now. Just two people under the stars, one has it all figured out while the other has champagne problems. 

She looks back at the building, gold lights still shining as people are getting drunk and ready for the countdown. “You should probably go back to your fiancée, H,” she says. Harry sighs as their time together has come to an end and nods. “Um, it was really great seeing you, Harry,” she says as her feet fidgets against the ground. She feels like a teenager talking to her crush again. 

Before he even thinks, Harry has his hand up, brushing off the piece of hair of face, and his thumb lightly brushes over her cheeks a bit. “You too, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. Y/N feels her face warm up, before nodding her head at him and leaving. “Where’re yeh going?” He calls out to her. Without looking back, she calls back to him. “Home!” 

He only looks at her leaving for a moment before calling out to her again. “Y/N, wait!” 

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks back at him. “Um,” he fumbles on his words. “If I call you, not tonight, or tomorrow, just if any day after this, because we’re on good terms, uh,” he blurts out his words as she watches him, amused by what he wants to ask. “If I call, will you answer? Like I said before, I miss my best friend,” he shrugs and has almost a pleading look. Y/N’s heart melts at him and she smiles. 

“I will, H,”

❊

Since their last meeting, a lot of things have been on his mind and one of them was Y/N. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her and the conversation they had. He knew now that it must’ve taken a lot of bravery to speak up about what she was going through. And he was proud of her. He really was.

He has been thinking about calling her for a while. He just doesn’t know what he’ll say. He wants to know how she’s feeling even though he’ll never know what it felt like for her to go through the dark times she went. But he could try to understand. He owes her that, at least. He spends some of his time off reading about mental health issues and educating himself more now.

Talia wanted to start planning their wedding, which makes Harry fill up his schedule more between wedding plans and music plans. He tries his best to accommodate whatever Talia wants for their special day. Though, sometimes he finds himself not focusing on the shades of white she suggested for her dress.

Sometimes, Talia would get mad at him for not prioritizing their wedding, seemingly as it was a very important thing for them, well, more for her. She gets mad at him for not focusing on their plans instead of hiding in his studio. She once told him to get his act together because if he wasn’t serious about this, he never would have asked her to marry him. That knocked a nail on the head as she stormed out of the room after another small argument.

Part of him thinks it's the thought of marriage finally sinking in his head. He has the girl, he got a ‘yes’, it should be as exciting as when he asked her. But he finds himself in and out of planning, always reverting his focus back to music, like he’s stalling. He still hasn’t told Talia about Y/N, but there was no need to since he’s with her and not Y/N. When Talia asked about his slightly red eyes at the party, he lied and said something was in his eyes. She believed it, of course.

Now, he’s thinking back to the situation with Talia. He admits he hadn't been paying attention to her as much as he should or helping out with their wedding. But her words now stuck with him. If he wasn’t serious about marrying Talia, he wouldn’t have asked her. He tells himself that he really does love her and he knows she loves him. So why is he hesitating almost at the thought of marriage? Why does it feel like he’s leading her on? He was so sure he wanted her. Unless he only asked her for the hell of it and to not be lonely. 

He sits quietly in his little studio with his thoughts as his company. What is he really doing? He really doesn’t know. 

❊

She’s laying down on her sofa, staring up at the ceiling again. She does this a lot, having nothing much to do at home other than rereading the books on her shelf or following a recipe for a delicious meal. Instead, she lays down staring at the blank ceiling thinking of how her life went. And in the state of all nothingness, she thinks of him. 

Meeting Harry again opened up a whole jar of emotions she kept hidden. It was no doubt that she still cared for him. She was still in love with him and if they were in another universe, she’d tell him that. She’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, for causing so much hurt to him. But she couldn’t. He belongs to someone else now. Someone who is more worthy of his love and time. And she’s happy for him, genuinely she is. 

As she thinks about him, she recalls back to the days before it all went wrong. She remembers being scared. She had found his mother’s ring in between his clothes as she was putting away their laundry. She remembers being terrified of the commitment Harry was in. She knew for certain that he would ask her sooner or later. But for her, she still doesn’t know. She wants to marry him, but is she ready for it? Is she worthy of him devoting his love and time to her for the rest of his life? 

That’s when the doubts came in. She was always battling the thoughts in her head more often after finding out that he might propose to her. She keeps a disguise up, pretending she’s not screaming for help or suffering, hoping that maybe it’ll go away and when he asks, she’ll say the answer he wants to hear. But she didn’t keep the disguise up for long. 

When they arrived at Harry’s family home, she was overwhelmed. She saw the bottle of expensive champagne on the kitchen table. Their friends were there too. She was told they were just having a family gathering along with their friends, but she knew what was about to happen.

Nothing could prepare her for when Harry pulled her out the backyard, kneeling down in front of her with his mother’s ring in hand. She could still remember the look on his face, so bright and in love, then having to see it all disappear and his expression drop. He was speechless, so speechless that it took him a minute to snap out of it and run after her as she exited the house. She passed by the living room and had a glance of how everyone was rather to celebrate; no applause or cheers of congratulations were made.

She felt a lot of things that day. Pain, embarrassment, guilt, regret.

Now, a year later, she likes to think she’s doing better, not only for her family or Harry, but for myself. It’s safe to say it was going well for her, she definitely felt better. That dark part of her life was always going to be a part of her, but she was glad she did something about it. 

She had struggled a lot before asking for help. She always had trouble sleeping and always felt herself drained to the core. She took some sleeping pills in hopes to feel better. Until one day, she just decided to down the whole bottle like she was downing a bottle of alcohol. She was lucky enough that her mother was around when she found her, her father too was quick enough to call an ambulance. It was too hazy for her to remember precisely what happened after. When she got admitted, she cried to her mother of how much pain she was in, and it killed her. She thinks of how selfish and stupid it was for her to do something like that. That’s when she decided she needed help, like really needed help. 

It’s funny how life works sometimes. A few months ago, she was found nearly dead. She has been recovering now. It took a while to open up during her psychiatry sessions and her mother monitored her to make sure she was doing alright. She lives alone now, but still has her mother check up on her. She didn’t find it annoying, in fact she asked her mother to watch over her a bit because she doesn’t trust herself. 

She’s healthier now, keeping herself busy to reflect and work on herself. And it did cross her mind a few times before to find Harry, to maybe apologise to him. But she thought that perhaps he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. And that’s okay for her. Plus, she always hoped that he would find someone else that’ll love him just as much as she did him. 

He hasn’t contacted her since they last met and she wonders whether he’s scared of doing so. Then again, she hasn’t made the effort to contact him too. Maybe they’re both scared. 

She was about to get up and make herself some coffee after feeling a bit thirsty. She takes out a mug and sets it on the counter before she hears a knock on her door. She freezes in her place, her face scrunches up in confusion. She doesn’t remember having anyone making plans to come by. She hasn’t contacted her friends in a while and her parents would have told her that they would visit. 

Knocks on her door snaps her out of her trance as she realises she is still in the kitchen. She slowly walks up to the door and looks through the peephole. To her surprise, she sees Harry standing right before her door. She pulls herself back from the door and thinks for a moment. How did he know where she lived now? Why is he here when he could have just called her? 

Realising that he’s probably waiting outside for too long, she takes deep breaths and opens the door. There he is. Standing in his usual white t-shirt where you could see his tattoos through it, his black joggers hugging his muscular legs with some sneakers on his feet. His hair is a bit disheveled and she could imagine him running his fingers through it in a nervous and stressful manner. 

“Hi,” he says breathily. His expression is somewhat hopeful, she thinks. “Hey,” she replies, giving a small smile. He’s fidgeting on his feet, something she knows he does when he’s nervous. So why is he nervous? She’s trying to come up with different theories in her head. 

“Um, may I come in?” Harry asks. Y/N snaps out of her thoughts again and nods quickly, opening the door wider for him to walk through, hearing him mumbling a small ‘thanks’ under his breath. Harry looks around the small new apartment she now lives in, smiling at how it is very much her character the way she put things together.

She locks the door behind her and clears her throat as she faces him. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” he apologises. She only smiles and shakes her head. “No, no worries. I was just... wondering how you found where I live. I don’t think I ever told you that,” she says questionably. 

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly. “Your mother, actually,” he says. She rolls her eyes playfully at this and lets out a small laugh. Of course, her mother would let him know where she lived. Her parents always loved Harry and treated him as family. Even when they fell apart, they still cared about him. After all, he was one of the only good things in her life that she cherished. 

“Of course, she would. She still loves you for all I know,” she says with a sheepish smile. Harry throws his back in laughter and it makes her smile even more. “Well, I guess I might have to visit them again some time,” he says, smiling cheekily at her. 

For a moment, it feels like everything was normal between them.

She shakes her head at him as she plays with her fingers, something he knows she does when she is nervous. “Um, I guess you’re here to talk about something else?” She asks, and she sees how his smile falters just a bit. “Yeah, actually,” he mumbles under his breath, but she hears him.

She nods with a tight smile on her face, seemingly trying to mask her anxiousness behind it. “Okay. Uh, just, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a glass of water,” she says, hurrying off to the kitchen before Harry could say anything. She sets a glass down and gets a jug of water. Her hands are shaking just a bit and she tells herself to calm down. It’s just Harry, she thinks. Whatever he wants to say couldn’t be that bad. Right?

She comes back to the living room where Harry is. He hasn’t sat down on the couch, instead he’s just standing in the middle of the room, looking around and admiring the little touches she put like the indoor plants and the paintings on the wall. She gently sets the glass down on the coffee table, the glass making a ‘clink’ sound on the surface. Harry turns around to face her and smiles, his little dimple making an appearance on the corner of his lips. She smiles back at him before clearing her throat. 

“You had something you wanna say?” She asks, fiddling with her fingers. Harry nods slightly. “Yeah, I do. Um,” he begins as he rubs the back of his neck lightly. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say, been practicing the words in my head. So, I’m sorry if it ends up a mess,” he says, letting out a small laugh. She laughs a bit with him too. Nodding as she gestures for him to continue, he breathes in deeply before letting his words out.

“After we met last time, I, uh,” he begins and she swears she could hear how loud and fast her heart is beating. “I’ve just been reflecting on how we left things off. And I promise I meant to call you sooner, but I just didn’t know what I’d say that won’t make things weird and awkward,” he stops to look at her for a moment and the expression on his face is almost so familiar to her. 

“When you told me your story, I felt a lot of things. I felt… upset and angry that I couldn’t read the signs that were so evidently there. I thought maybe I realised it sooner, or tried harder to help, I could’ve helped you and you wouldn’t have felt to have gone through it alone. I hated how you were alone in this and how you helped like you couldn’t talk to me about,” His breaths are shaky, like he might break any minute. She wants to caress his face so badly, comfort him, but she knows it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s still engaged to someone else after all. 

She looks down at her floor, taking a gulp in her throat. “Harry, what are you saying?” She asks ever so softly. 

“I’m saying that… you don’t have to go through it alone, darling. I’m saying that I wanna be there for you now. Albeit it has been months, but,” he pauses to take a breath. “If you give me a chance, to let me in, I promise to always be there for you and to be by your side all the time. Whenever you need me.” 

Y/N takes a moment to process what he had just said, shaking her head at him. “Harry, I,” she takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t think you need to do that.” Harry’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Why not?” 

“I just, I don’t want to burden you. I’ve already made it hard for my parents enough,” she says, trying to convince him even though all she wants is for him to be by her side. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You’ll never be a burden to me, love. I want to be there for you always. It’s my choice to do this,” 

“What about your fiancée? What’s she gonna think about her fiancé or husband soon when he’s out there looking after some girl, Harry?” 

“You’re not just some girl, Y/N. You’re my best friend. And I,” he pauses in his words again and takes a deep breath. “What?” She asks nervously. 

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly and his expression almost looks guilty. “And I’m in love with you,” he says and that’s when she feels that her heart stops. He loves me, she thinks. All the time, she thinks the feelings would have gone away but here he is, in her living room, telling her he’s in love with her.

“No,” she says. Harry is surprised by her response. “No?” He repeats.

“You’re not in love with me anymore, Harry,” she says, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that. “Yes, I am, love. I’m still in love with you, even after all this time,” he says desperately to her. 

“Don’t do this to me, Harry. It’s not funny,” she says as her voice starts to waver. “It’s not fair to your fiancée for you to say this.” It’s funny to her how she still doesn’t know her name, but maybe she doesn’t know hers either. Harry steps closer to her and his heart breaks a little when she steps back. 

“Darling,”

“Don’t, Harry! Please,” she practically begs him. “Just go back to her. It’s been a good talk and it’s good to see you again but you have to leave,” 

“I don’t want to leave you, Y/N,” he says and it’s surprising how calm he is at this moment. 

“Harry, I,” 

“I’m not engaged anymore,” he says, cutting her off. She stares at him in shock and disbelief. “What do you mean?” She asks. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I broke it off with Talia. There won’t be any wedding,” he confesses.

“So what? You broke up with her just to look out for me? Are you insane!?” She exclaims. She doesn’t want to believe that he broke up with her because of her. She thinks back if she would’ve hid from him during the party, he’d still be in a happy relationship with Talia with no problems. Once again, she’s thinking it’s all her fault.

“I’m as sane as I can be,” He says, raising his voice slightly to match her tone. She shakes her head, paces in her place, muttering ‘no’s to herself. “Darling, look at me,” Harry says gently as he steps closer to her. “No, this isn’t happening,” She’s now muttering words to herself and it breaks him even more to think she might think this is her fault when it’s not. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he says as he tries to get her to look at him, but to no avail, she keeps her eyes away from him. “No, Harry. We can’t,” she says and she realises now how tears are starting to fall from her eyes. “Yes, we can, darling! Just listen to me,” he tries to convince her.

“You belong with Talia, Harry! Someone who has her life put together, a-and, someone who’s not fucked in the head as I am! She’ll make you happy!” She tells him, almost trying to convince him to go back and fix his relationship. 

“She won’t make me as happy as I was with you. It wouldn’t be fair to her,” Harry says to her as he tries to cup her face and wipe her tears. “What wouldn’t be fair to her? Huh?” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to lead her on when I’m in love with you!” 

And then, everything stops. Silence fills the room and all you could hear are the heavy breaths between them. Harry runs his hand over his face before speaking again. “I tell myself that I’ll be able to love again after you. But the love I’ll have for any other will never amount to the love I have for you. It wouldn’t be fair to move on with Talia when all I could think about is you. When I know I’ll always be madly in love with you,” he tells her, his voice wavering with every word he says.

She breathes in shakily, feeling the painful lump in throat. “Maybe if we hadn’t met that night, you wouldn’t have to think like that,” she says so softly under her breath, like she was ashamed. She looks down like a child being scolded by a parent. 

She hears him stepping closer to her and this time, she doesn’t step back away from him. She feels his hand under her chin, lifting her head up so she has no choice but to look at her. His forest-green eyes, ever so beautiful, are glossy with the tears he holds. “I wish you’d stop thinking that this is your fault when it’s not, darling,” he says gently to her.

She realises how close their faces are together, feeling his breath hitting her face as they stare at each other with the same look. She sees it in his eyes. Love. And maybe it’s because she’s emotionally exhausted or she realises how there is still love in his eyes for her and only her. 

She gently yet hesitantly puts her hand on his cheek, seeing as how he leans into her touch with his eyes closed, as if he misses her touch all this time. She doesn’t waste another second before pulling his face closer and letting their lips crash against each other. Harry is quick enough to reciprocate the action. His hand that is not on her hand wraps itself around her torso so move her closer to her. All he wants is to be close to her. 

She whimpers into the kiss as she feels tears streaming down her face again. She misses this. She misses his kisses, how soft and plump his lips feel against hers and how they taste. She misses the way he pulls her closer to him because he doesn’t want any space in between them. She misses him. 

They don’t know long they have been kissing until they break apart to catch their breath. She feels dizzy after the kiss while he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Their lips still brush against each other and Harry pecks her lips softly as she whimpers at the action. 

“I love you,” she finally tells him. And it feels so good to say it again to him. Harry sighs shakily, almost in disbelief that she said those three words, and his lips break out into the biggest smile. “Really?” He asks. She giggles as her hands cup his face. 

Harry sighs and leans his head back with his eyes closed, looking so bliss in the moment. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I wasn’t paying attention,” he says teasingly with a smug smile on his face. Y/N gasps and playfully punches his shoulder a bit, making him laugh. 

“I love you, you handsome idiot,” she says laughing at him. Harry shakes his head with a wide stupid grin on his face. He rests his forehead on hers, their noses brushing against each other’s. “Again, please. Just so I know I’m not dreaming this,” he says, his eyes closed as he savours in the moment. 

She grabs his face in her hands and pulls him away so she could look at him. He notes how soft yet small her hands felt as caresses his face. “I love you,” she says again, more gently but having more love and passion in her words. And she loves saying it because she does.

She has always loved him and always will love him. Her beats for him as his does for her. Her thoughts are filled with nothing but him. Looking at him now, he feels just as lovely and beautiful as the days they were together before. She knows that she’ll never love another as much as she loves him. She’ll fully admit that she is crazy, stupidly, madly and truly in love with him. 

Harry smiles ever so lovingly at her as his large hands cup her face. At this moment, it feels right, like they belong together. Despite the odds and struggles she had to go through, he promises to never leave her side, to always be around, to always be the shoulder she needed to cry on, to lend her his arms to give her the warmth and comfort she deserves. And he admits that he is truly, madly and deeply in love with her too. 

“I love you too,” he says as he brings their faces closer to each other, enclosing the gap between their lips again. He misses the way her lips gelt and how sweet they taste against his. He swears he’ll never get tired of loving her. Their lips move against each other slowly and gently as they try to savour in the moment. A moment that just felt right to them. For a moment, her champagne problems are forgotten, even though it’s still something that will always be a part of her.

They part away soon after, now staring into the eyes they fell in love with. Their smiles are permanently inked on their faces as the two lovers look at each other with the only things they have on their mind that will get them through. 

Love and hope. 

And somehow, that was everything. 

[heejojo]

Mr Hollywood

summary: Sim Jaeyun had made it, he had finally fulfilled his dream of being an artist but he had to leave the place he called he called home promising he would come back when everything was okay. He’s back now but are you sure it’s the same Jake you once knew?

genre: fluff, minor angst, childhood lovers turned exes to lovers again

pairing: Celebrity Sim Jaeyun x non-celebrity reader (with enhypen and treasure appearances)

warning: none

word count: 4.1k

a/n: although it has been proofread, I cannot guarantee no errors so please let me know if you see any! please let me know what you think. likes and reblogs are appreciated and I hope you have a good day.

listen to the playlist here

send an ask or fill out this form to be part of the taglist!

taglist (open): @enhyphun @jungwoniics @penny-quinn @ncthpen @fylithia @taecup-ontrack @renee1414@studioreader

“And the Artist Of The Year Award goes to none other than...” the announcer said, keeping you all at the edge of your seats. Everyone here had voted for Jake so many times so that he would win. The announcer looked at the folded card in his hand before smiling and saying.

“Jake Sim!” The screams of everyone in the beer parlour with you watching the award ceremony were probably louder than those in the venue itself. You all watched in pride as the look of shock was evident on his face and he shakily walked to the podium to collect the award. You smiled at how good he looked, he had come so far from the boy you once knew here.

Five years ago, Jake had left his hometown, where he grew up for 18 years to pursue his dream. Granted, not everyone is supposed to stay for the rest of their lives but he thought he was going to stay but he made up his mind to leave for his passion. You all supported him even if you weren’t able to talk to him because of his busy schedule. Being able to cheer him from the sidelines was what you were content with. He was the pride of the town and people did not hesitate to show him off.

He gave the announcer a bow and collected the award. You could see the way his hands shook as he collected the award as if it felt unreal that he won.

“I would like to thank God for the ability to get to this point today and to thank my parents for always teaching me the right way and having the courage to let their child pursue his dreams even if it meant that I would be very far away; almost out of reach even. I love you. To all those that have continuously supported me and listened to my music, thank you. To the staff that have worked so hard and everyone I've had the pleasure of meeting, a big thank you to you" he said and walked off.

The excitement of the crowd reduced and everyone eventually retired to their homes while chatting amongst themselves. You think about the award one more time, feeling happy for him and move on. After all, the same way Sim has a life to live is the same way you do also.

The next day, when you wake up you feel a shift in the atmosphere. The birds are still chirping, yes but something feels unusual. You brush off the paranoia you feel and decide to do your usual morning duties and carry on with your day. While other people your age wanted to have prestigious jobs(not like there was anything wrong with that), you wanted something simple and had decided on being either a cafe owner or a florist.

Sadly, the cafe owner agenda wasn't able to work out because everyone in the vicinity was now aware of the way you burned down a cafe trying to bake and collectively decided that you should not be allowed to make food for people. Flowers were better than running a cafe shop. You stayed with your flowers and you were able to give

someone a flower when they needed it.

Need a flower for your mother? You got it, a daylily was exactly what they needed. Wanted to attend a funeral? Take a bouquet of lilies. It was easy to understand and you didn't directly put anyone in harm’s way. Although your shop was hardly ever full, you were content with everything.

That's why you're shocked when you find a line of people waiting to be let into your shop at 9 am. You raised an eyebrow in confusion but you opened the door nevertheless. At the end of the day, you were the one earning the money. You had things to buy, didn't you?

You take your place at the counter and start attending to the customers. They didn't tell you to pick out one for them and just chose it themselves. The crowd slowly reduced till there was only one person left. When there remained a few people, you quietly moved to one person to ask for the reason why they were so cheerful today.

"Jungwon, do you know why everyone is so happy today? My shop was full today!"

"Are you complaining about it?" He asks. Jungwon was the son of the cafe shop owner. He came to your shop frequently when he was on his break and you would talk to each other.

“Of course, I’m not. I just want to know what’s making everyone come here all of a sudden. Even old man Jay came here and you know that man never leaves his house. He bought a red carnation and I’m confused because who does he have affection for that he’s getting them flowers”

“He has a wife you know”

“Please, the last time they had a conversation with each other was when he asked for a divorce” you deadpanned.

“Look Y/N, who’s the one person in this town anyone would do anything for?”

“Kim Junkyu?”

“Close but not him, I wouldn’t do anything for him” Jungwon stated making you roll your eyes.

“The only person left is Sim Jaeyun and we know it’s not possible”

“Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner”

You give him a shaky smile before asking him, “You’re joking right?”

“I’m not,” he says sincerely. You nod your head and go sit on the nearest stool. Placing a hand on your throat as you begin to scratch at it (something you did when you were nervous) and just sit in silence while Jungwon continues talking.

“After the award ceremony, his management released a statement on his Instagram saying that he would be going on hiatus for two months to visit his family. So we townsmen decided to get flowers to pave the road with because he would be coming back. We would have used gold leaves but it’s too expensive”

He continued talking and talking while you were still trying to process the fact that Jake would be coming back. Physically he was still going to be the same Jake you had a crush on before he left but personality-wise? You doubted that. You heard stories of the way fame had changed people; the love from others would get to their heads and make them overly egotistical. A part of you knew that he wouldn’t change but the other part was unsure. Before he left, you made him promise to not change and while you knew promises could be broken, you knew he wouldn’t break them.

“Jungwon, I want to close the shop for today. I’m not feeling too well and want to rest a bit”

“No problem Y/N! If you want, I can stay here and do business for you”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve made enough money today to last me for next month” you say and shoo him away.

At home, you just sit and think for some time before getting up to make some tea and reminiscing about your high school memories. You hardly had feelings for people so when you did, you let them know immediately. When you told Jake that you liked him, he told you that he felt the same. You ignored him for a week after that because you didn’t think that far. After that, you met up with him and explained the reason why you avoided him. You went out with each other for less than 2 weeks and during that period, he had told you about his dreams of becoming an artist and you supported him wholeheartedly.

He would carry your books from school and you both would walk home together every day. He'd play the violin for you because he was good. You'd both pet stray cats and run when they started chasing you. All good things came to an end when he told you that he had to leave to pursue his dream. You both knew you were too young to even attempt a long-distance relationship so you let each other go even though it hurt. You’d watch his music videos and support his activities even though there was a possibility he would never return. Now that he was going to be here, how were you going to cope knowing that your feelings for him were still the same while his feelings could have gone, especially with all the beautiful people in the industry?

That night, while everyone was outside welcoming Mr Hollywood, you stayed in your house dreading the days that would come. The town was small so there was no way that you wouldn’t bump into him. The voices were loud when you tried to sleep. Seems like everyone was ecstatic that Jake had come back. The noise wasn’t able to let you sleep but deep down you knew it was because you were nervous.

You decide to bake cookies to reduce the stress you are currently feeling. You had learnt from your mistakes and no longer burnt kitchens (your kitchen being valid proof of that), but Jungwon’s dad still wouldn’t lift his ban. You baked cookies till 2 am before you were really tired enough to sleep. You had baked almost a hundred cookies that night.

The next morning, you made sure to wake up early so you wouldn’t run into anyone. Thankfully, the townspeople didn’t want to buy flowers that morning and got started on the orders that people out of town had placed. You brought cookies for Jungwon so he could test them. You were trying to fix the counter when someone walked in, making the bell jingle. Assuming it was Jungwon, you say, “Jungwon the cookies are on the counter. Test them and tell me what you think, don’t eat them and run away”

“I’m not a Jungwon but can I talk to Y/N?” You’re startled but you freeze, instantly recognizing the voice. Jake Sim.

“Hello, what would you like?” you asked with a forced smile. You were way too close, the proximity was making you uneasy. He looked a bit disappointed with the way you answered him but what did he expect to come to? It had been five years.

“I just wanted to tal-” he is cut off by Jungwon bursting through the door.

“Y/N, you will not believe who I saw. I saw Jake Sim with my very own two eyes. He looks so much hotter in real life. Do you think he’d sign my back if I asked-” he stopped instantly when he saw the person that was in the flower shop.

He looked like a fish out of water with the way his mouth was agape. Looking at you, then at Jake and then you again. He brought his hand to his head and he hit it hard making you startled.

“Sorry I will leave now,” Jungwon said.

“To cry” he murmured, making you chuckle. Jungwon was someone that cried when he did something embarrassing.

“Jungwon wait,” you say and walk to give him the cookies you had packed for him with a little note.

“Eat them and get back to me when you’re less you know...embarrassed” He snatches them from your hands and makes a run for the door. You giggle then you remember that Jake was still present. Turning to face him, you ask if he wants anything. “I want to talk to you”

You motion him to sit on the spare chair you had and he obliges. Before you even ask him a question, he begins, “Was that your boyfriend?”

“No, not that it concerns you though”

“Where you last night? I saw everyone but you. The Johnny kid said you were feeling ill. I doubt that wasn’t true as you made cookies. The last time I remembered, you were really bad at anything relating to the kitchen”

“Times change and people change, Jaeyun. It’s been 5 years since we last had a conversation with each other. I’m not the same and I’m sure you’re not the same either”

“Let’s get to know each other again. Do things the old fashioned way. Go on dates, paint, and bake with each other. Do some of the things we could have done 5 years ago.”

“And then when you have to leave and have no contact with each other again”

“I won’t do that, I promise. Never again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Let me prove it to you-”

He’s cut off by the entrance of another customer and stands up to leave but you don’t miss the longing look in his eyes. You hope he can see the same look in yours that’s covered by hurt and waiting for someone to return.

You were not expecting Jake to be at your store first thing on a Friday morning. He was even earlier than you and you're the boss.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He was bouncing on his feet and looking cherry when you hadn’t even gotten enough sleep.

“I’m here to take you out. Do it like the old times where I’d wait for you so we could go to school together”

“I have work to do today and I’m going to be booked so another time”

“I have come to offer my assistance so tomorrow we can go out together”

“Don’t you have things to do?”

“I’m on a hiatus, I’m free for almost two months and if you want I can be free for more. Imagine all the things we could do in that time” he trails off, fantasizing when you hadn’t even told him that you still liked him. Meanwhile, you had opened the door and walked in.

"Aren't you going to come in and stop thinking of cute stuff?" you ask him and he quickly runs in, flustered.

He takes a look around and puts on a determined face and gets a broom and starts cleaning. For someone that's supposed to be a celebrity, he was cleaning like an employee. You take a rag and wipe all the surfaces and take care of the flowers. After an hour, the shop is ready to open. Customers come rolling in once they see a new help. Although they're surprised, they don't question it.

During your break, Jake picks up a chrysanthemum and hands it to you. "It's for you because you're beautiful," he says

"Hate to rain on your parade but if you gave me this in Italy, it means you wish I were dead" and with that, he takes back the flower instantly and brings a single red rose. You receive it with a small laugh, finding it funny when he doesn't want you misinterpreting him. You were having a sweet moment with him until Jungwon came in again.

"I'm getting tired of seeing you here Mr Sim. As much as I adore you, I need to meet my friend" he states and pulls you to the back. "Care to explain why Jake Sim is in your store again!?"

"Nope" you respond, popping the p. He brought his hand to his forehead and tried to relax his muscles because according to him, he doesn't want to look forty-five when he's thirty years old.

"Look, it's weird coming here and seeing you have company. I'm not against you having company seeing as you've been lonely the entire time I've known you but, I can't stay in his presence! Why must a man Look so gorgeous!? He's ruining my already broken esteem. Everybody saw him in real life and was wondering how a man could look that good."

"They saw him when he was seventeen years old," you tell him.

"And he's twenty-three now! He doesn't look the same and I don't even need to have known him then to know now"

"Jungwon, I want you to get to the point," you tell him, basically pleading at that point because your break would soon be over.

"I'll see you when I have enough confidence to meet him," he says and leaves the store. You shake your head at his overdramatic behaviour and continue with your day. Jake proves to be amazing assistance and you got things done quicker and even closed earlier.

"Thank you for offering help, you can go home now. See you tomorrow" you say in an attempt to shoo him out.

"I want to walk you home" he announces and goes with you home.

"Do you hate me for not talking to you?" he asks.

"I don't hate you. To be honest, I think we both did the right thing by not talking to each other. It was good we had each other in mind but I would have caused too much of a distraction for you. It was great you focused on your career and achieved your goals. I did well too"

"Johnny boy said you were lonely though," he said.

"Number one, I know you know his name is Jungwon but you're just being petty. Two, why were you eavesdropping on our conversation and three, I still had a bit of hope that one day you'd return. I didn't think that you'd come" you say truthfully. The night was making you vulnerable when answering his questions.

"I always asked my mum how you were doing when I called her, you know? I wanted to check up on you without doing so myself. I'd ask her to give you a pop tart because I knew they were your favourite"

Even though he was still far away, he still had kept you in his mind the same way you did for him.

You got home and stayed at the door before you took him by the shoulder and said, "Let's go out together and have fun". He gives you a soft smile and watches you go in before he retires to his own home.

The following day, you're waiting for him to come. You had tried to dress up for the date but didn't want to underdress or overdress since he hadn't told you where you were going. So you decided to wear a simple sundress and made yourself look nice. He arrived wearing something as casual as you in a car.

"Is this your dad's?" you questioned.

"Yup, I borrowed it to take you out,” he says and winks at you. You shake your head laughing and get in the passenger seat and he drives.

“Where are we going?” you ask, curious.

“You’ll see when we get there” you don’t respond but wind down the window and feel the wind on your face which makes you smile.

You catch Jake glancing at you while he’s driving and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “At least try to pretend you’re not starting”

“I can’t help it, you’re so pretty” This kid, he was making it too easy for you to fall for him.

“Do you still like me, Jaeyun?” you inquire.

“I do,” he said with certainty. Has he always been this bold? You don’t say anything and continue to look out so he reaches over and takes one of your hands in his while he uses his other one to drive. You look at him but just continue doing what you’re doing.

“You might not believe me but I mean it,” he says, lightly squeezing your hand as a form of reassurance.

He stops the car at an aquarium and you both come out. You have a wonderful time and although people recognize him and are surprised to see him with you, they don't say anything and leave you alone. You smiled that day more than you had ever smiled before.

"The fishes look good to eat" you whisper in his ear and he playfully smacks your arm and jokes.

"You monster! How can you say that!?" to which you jokingly shrug.

After the aquarium, he takes you to a flower field. "I did my research this time so I don't give you a wrong flower." He picked up a primrose and says, "I know this one means love is eternal so I'm giving it to you because no matter the distance between us, our love will be forever"

You feel warm this time and know that even if he were to leave again, the distance wouldn't matter because together, you both could overcome anything.

"You're all I need" you manage to say.

"When did you get all sentimental?" he teases and you chase after him in the flower field. When you get tired, you lie down on the grass and he lays next to you. Your hands find his hands amid all the grass and you squeeze it. Unknowingly, you fall asleep next to him.

The next weeks that follow include you two bonding and Jake having fun and being relaxed. He was able to write a song but wouldn't let you see the lyrics, saying it wasn't something he wants you to see yet. You met his parents and thanked his mum for taking care of you indirectly and conversed with his dad too. You could tell that he hadn't forgotten any of the values his parents had thought him. He grew up surrounded by a lot of love so he had more than enough to give.

He also met your parents and he was nervous even though you had tried to reassure him that they wouldn't do anything to him. Your father tried to act scary but deep down you knew he had a soft spot for him. Your mom was showering with more affection than she gave you and Jungwon tried stylishly asking him for his celebrity crush numbers.

"Jake, since you're dating my friend can you link me up with Han Sohee? You've worked with her before, help a friend out"

"I'll ask her but no promises" Jungwon was so happy the entire day.

A few days before Jake had to go back because his hiatus was over, you both were talking about how things would be while baking muffins.

"Y/N don't think I won’t talk to you when I go because I can already see the gears turning in your head."

"Pass me the butter Jaeyun"

"Are we back to the first-name basis? Call me the sweet names" he whined.

"Just pass the butter babe" and he passes it instantly.

"Now back to what you were saying, I know you won't forget me obviously and if you try I I can always take a flight to get to you." You tell him. You weren't going to wait around for him anymore. If you missed him, you'd go see him if he was unable to come to see you.

"Better, I was already worried," he says and gives you a back hug.

The day he left was bittersweet and you shed a few tears. It took a lot of willpower to not cry in front of him. You didn't want him to leave but you knew that he had a job to get to and you couldn't be in the way of that.

You both regularly kept in touch, calling each other at least twice a week to catch up on what had happened during each other's week. He hadn't told you that he released a new song and you found out through his fanboy Jungwon who was now the self-acclaimed president of his fan club.

"Y/N, have you heard Jake's new solo? I cried to it for an hour straight" You didn't have any time to check what was going on because someone had ordered flowers for their wedding and you had to get them done quickly.

"New solo?" you ask and Jungwon sits you down and plays the song for you. Truth be told, you cried as well. It felt like he was there with you telling you that he'd never change.

You watched the interview and when he was asked about the meaning or person behind the song, he said, "There's someone that I love and I wanted to let her know that no matter how famous I get, I won't ever change and she shouldn't change either". He looked directly at the camera then continued, "You're stuck with me forever".

That night, you called him and cried on the phone to him telling him about how you saw the interview.

"Y/N, you know I care about you" you sobbed even harder.

"I care about you too, forever"

"Forever baby, regardless of the distance"

[pedrosbisch]

More // 2

Benny Miller x Female Reader w/ Nickname; No Y/N

Summary: How long can Benny run damage control and keep his feelings hidden?

TW: Alcohol, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms

AN: To all my Frankie lovers, I swear he won’t be portrayed as a dick for the entire series! Also I’m sorry for the Twilight reference, I couldn’t help myself 😂

Read Part 1 Part 3

You walk in the door of the bar and immediately spot Santiago schmoozing a pretty girl at the counter. It doesn’t take long for him to collect her number, and make his way to the table where Frankie, Will and Benny had settled themselves. Thankfully, no one had noticed you slipping away from the group to take a breath of fresh air.

You looked up to the stars and inhaled deeply, remembering how many nights you’d spent sleeping under them when things hadn’t been so damn complicated. Your bond with Frankie was unspoken; you worked together like a well oiled machine. You pushed and he pulled, if he moved— you moved. He was your partner, the person who had your back no matter what. But despite everything you had been through together, your interactions tonight had been downright painful; Like you had never been more than just a shitty hookup gone wrong.

You had a second more to ponder it before two big arms wrapped around you from behind and hoisted you into the air.

“Dice, where the hell’ve you been, loca?!”

“I could ask you the same Pope, I’m not the one who ran away to South America for 2 years”

“You wound me princessa!” Santiago set you down, for only a second before facing you frontward and hoisting you up again.

“Jesus Santi, how much have you had to drink?” You laugh and finally wrap your arms around his neck and hug him back.

“You wouldn’t be asking me that if you’d been inside with us, now come on and let’s go celebrate.” He grabs your hand and guides you back inside through the crowds of people to the table where the Will is pouring shots of tequila.

You take a seat beside Will as he finishes filling the last glass. He passes them out to each person at the table before speaking.

“I’d like to make a toast, not only to Benny for winning his first fight in 3 damn weeks; But to all of us being here together again— To family.”

Your raise your glass and clink them all together in the center. For a second, everything feels like it’s back to normal. Like you are a family, because everything you’ve survived together would seem completely inconceivable to any other people in the room outside of your circle of friends. You throw back your shot and the burn slides down your throat, settling and leaving a warm feeling in your belly.

Santi grabs the bottle of tequila and haphazardly starts filling your shot glasses once more. “Hey, and let’s not forget our man Catfish here. A toast to him, and congratulations on finally tying the knot and creating a family of his very own.”

You stare blankly at the shot glass in front of you, as your world crumbles. It didn’t matter if you were his family at one point, you aren’t anymore. He has his own family now, one that he’s chosen and created on his own. You push your glass to the side and instead snatch the bottle from Santi and take 5 large gulps. You can feel eyes burning into you, the same way your throat is burning from forcing yourself to drink.

“Cheers.” You set the Tito’s on the table before turning and heading straight to the bathroom. You walk as fast as your legs can carry, sensing someone walking after you. Whoever it was, they would have to wait.

This is too much, I can’t do this. You press your palms into your eyes to wipe away the fuzzy lights already forming at the corners of your eyes. You splash cold water onto your face and it feels heavenly, if only sobering you the tiniest bit. You’re all here to celebrate, and Frankie has made it clear that he doesn’t care. Why should you? You push through the door and immediately run into a solid frame that feels all too familiar.

“Are you okay?” Frankie is stood leaning against a wooden beam, with his arms half reached out to you and his eyes filled with worry. You let out a short, blunt laugh.

“Oh no, I’m great. I’m fucking fantastic Francisco, thanks for asking. Now if you excuse me—“ You push past him, checking his shoulder as clear signal not to follow you. You plop yourself back down at the table and gulp down a water Will had generously flagged down for you.

“You okay Dice? That was a lot of Tequila, maybe one of us should drive you home tonight.” Will not so subtly moved the Tito’s out of your reach as you made a grab for it again.

“I can drive her home, I was about to head out anyway.” Frankie walks up to the side and pulls his keys from his pocket along with a 20 for the bill.

Your body tenses, and before you can object feel someone behind you; They scratch at the base of your scalp and god that fucking feels good.

“But you gotta get home to your wife, right?Someone needs to take care of Dice— make sure she doesn’t end up hurt.” Benny’s words dripped with venom only you could recognize. It was so out of character for him, but you hoped they sunk deep in Frankie. “I’ll do it.”

You and Benny wished goodbyes to Santi and Will with promises of updates when you get home. You hopped into the bench of his truck and leaned your head forward to rest on the dash. The cool plastic felt like a blessing on your burning cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get you home baby. Is there anything you want first? Maybe some food, I didn’t see you eat anything tonight. If you don’t get something in your system, you’ll have a nasty hangover tomorrow morning.”

“Considering I drank straight from the bottles, I think I’m going to have a hangover regardless.” Your stomach rumbles impossibly loud in the quiet cab of his truck. “But pizza sounds fucking delicious right now.”

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

2 large pizzas and 3 baskets of garlic bread later, you were full and ready to be in bed. The engine of his truck purrs to life and everything feels good. You slouch into your seat, letting yourself sink into the leather.

“Feeling better now princess?”

“Yeah, much better. Just wish I hadn’t made myself feel so terrible in the first place.”

Benny lays his arm over the back of the bench and tilts his head to the side. It feels like his baby blue eyes are seeing through you and into your soul. But it isn’t invasive, it’s almost comforting— knowing he could see through the act everyone else either doesn’t see or is ignoring.

“Can I ask you a question? Why didn’t you just let me call a cab, or let Frankie take me home? I could’ve dealt with the 15 minute ride, and you could’ve found a girl to take home instead of dealing with me.”

Benny’s eyebrows knit together in a look of worry. “Like I said, someone has to make sure you don’t end up hurt. I’m glad to be that someone, I’m not just dealing with you.”

A flood of emotions hit you all at once. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like a priority to someone. For too long you’d been thinking all you are is someone on the sidelines; Watching everyone else pairing off as you were left behind. You chalked up his kindness to pity, but here it’s clear he cares about you.

“Thank you.” Your voice cracks to dust and Benny slides you over and into his side. You sniffle and cry into the collar of his flannel, feeling utterly drained. As you regain control of your breathing, you rest your head on his shoulder. “Can I please stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Of course.” Benny flipped his gears into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. As you drove further out of town, the slight rock of the vehicle lulled you to calm. You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself and find yourself dipping into the dark.

You feel your body bouncing lightly, and Benny’s arms are clasped under your legs and around your back. Your head is rested against his chest and his heartbeat is strong and fast, just like him. You come to just enough to realize you’re in his bedroom, as he sets you down gently. He lays you in his bed and the second you hit his soft mattress, you sprawl and stretch your heavy limbs before grabbing a nearby pillow and snuggling it to your body. If you were sober, you would be embarrassed about the moan you release as you bury your face in his scent that’s so deliciously Benny. It’s fine, I won’t remember this tomorrow anyway.

Just as you were on the precipice of sleep, his voice lulled you back to its subtle anchor.

“I promise I won’t let him hurt you, baby. Not again, you’re too good for him.” He pauses and lightly brushes his fingers down your bare spine. “You’re too good for me.”

What is that supposed to mean? You couldn’t find the gumption to care, as your own thoughts started to echo incoherently in your mind as you’re pushed off the edge of consciousness.

Part 3 ->