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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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babydarkstar · 3 years

Text

cacoethes

part two: bring your sweet loving

rating: E (18+ ONLY) || pairing: ezra x f!reader || word count: 10.5k

chapter summary: as the night winds down and tensions simmer, we learn more about you, pieces of your past, and your relationship with ezra.

warnings: ezra’s gigantic mouth that won’t shut up (suggestive language) and two criminals not knowing how to act; caretaking, i guess? reader cleans ezra but it’s nothing erotic; SMUT; handjob and graphic depictions of a glorious dick; dirty talk; dubcon maybe bc painkillers but he’s enthusiastic abt it; praise kink; switches having a great time; ezra’s subby in this but i promise he’s a dom too just not tonight; mentions of death, killing, tattoos, scars; mention of past drug use, bad coping mechanisms; mm i hc that ezra is a tiny tattoo guy so there’s that; fluff bc im sweet; author is a southern peach, forgive her if it gets a little slow and twangy up in here

a/n: un-beta’d bc mistakes are sexy. i’ll go back later and fix whatever i find but for now. enjoy. i’m literally just making shit up about this universe as we go but it’s working out for the best so bear with me. lmk if u want me to add u to be tagged here. tagging: @pedros-mustache @jk7789

crossposted to ao3 :) || playlist || one || two || three

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“Here, Cee,” you said, adjusting the threadbare blanket over your cot and splaying a hand over it while she eyed you from across the tent, still standing amongst the carnage of a violent field surgery, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

The poor girl was scared. Well—not scared, not anymore.

Vengeful, for certain, though it seemed to dwindle with every minute she watched you interact.

Definitely wary of the two of you.

Which was appropriate, given that Ezra had killed her father and left her alone on an uninhabitable moon, only to be scooped up by his partner and deceived into thinking she was safe, and then forced to perform impromptu surgery to hack off an arm. But she appeared more wary to accept help from you than wary of you.

And honestly, if Ezra hadn’t just lost a limb and you didn’t want to hover beside him after not seeing him for a month to make sure he didn’t slip the veil in his sleep or disappear beneath your fingertips—and if you weren’t trying to earn her trust, you’d have made her take the floor.

But things were different now, they might always be. She had saved his life. You owed her your cot to sleep on.

“Wait,” Ezra said, swallowing thickly as he blinked, seeming to just process the words you had spoken, “You think so little of me that I’d let you sleep on the dirt after the day you’ve had? Now, I agree that our guest should find comfort in a cot of her own, but I will not deny you the simple respite of sleep. That would prove me an unworthy companion.”

“Ezra,” you said, giving him a look of incredulity that seeped into your tone, “You can’t be serious.”

He eyed you and clenched his jaw, still stomaching the fact that he had one less limb to worry about, and a bunch more problems to deal with. It was a look that told you he was not arguing with you, you were going to sleep on the cot. He would not be coddled like a child just because he lost an arm.

Which was, in itself, ridiculous. You didn’t plan to coddle him—you weren’t the type, not really. But. He’d lost a fucking arm. But he was also still delirious from the anesthetic, so that didn’t help his desire to prove something to the universe.

“You’re taking the cot, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, wiping his sweaty brow with your sleeve, “Tap into the ruthless outlaw inside of you and take it without regret. You know I hardly sleep anyways, I’ll live without a bed for the night.”

“Then I must insist you share it with me, precious angel,” he sighed, and you could almost see the cogs in his head turning as his distant gaze darkened into something hungry, “I’ve longed to feel your body pressed against mine since I left with Number Two. The divinity of your skin.” He hummed, eyes fluttering shut, “More…more precious than the ore we risk our lives for. Sweeter than fruit. Fresher than a rainstorm.”

“Ez,” you warned, snapping a glare at him.

“Your body…so tender, warm,” he continued, entranced in his own fantasy, not even hearing you when you warned him yet again, “All soft and pliant beneath my touch. It has been far too long since we partook in a pleasure as indulgent as one another—before our partnership with Two, if I can recall. Grant me heaven tonight. I deserve the satisfaction of watching you drip honey for me—”

“Hey! None of that,” you snapped, cocking an eyebrow—and fighting the flutter in your chest and the heat tingling down your core, “There are young ears present, Shakespeare Erotica. Not to mention young eyes.”

You would do no such thing with him as long as this teenager remained in close quarters and under your care. He turned to look at Cee, as if he’d forgotten all about her for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn’t care. Bastard.

“I’m okay as long as you guys don’t fuck in front of me,” Cee sighed, resigned to have dealt with too much in her past to be worried about flirting—no, verbal-fucking.

“We won’t be doing any of that,” you assured her, giving Ezra another pointed look before slinging his arm around your shoulders and helping him to the cot. He grumbled incoherently, moaning and groaning the few steps it took to ease him down into the squeaky frame.

When you finally got him down—forced him to lay down—he let out another soft whimper of pain, followed by your name. “Don’t go.”

Brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead, you bent down to press a kiss there, “M’right here, Ez. Rest. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

It was the least you could do—and that way you could take inventory of every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any other wounds hiding and festering and threatening his life. Just as this wouldn’t be your first time tending to him while he laid incapacitated, he’d done the same for you plenty of times. There was very little, if anything at all, the two of you hadn’t seen of each other. Vulnerability had another name here: normalcy.

“After—” he rasped up at you, coughing and then righting himself, “After we find our way off this Kevva-damned moon—which we will—I understand if you no longer deem me…worthy of your affections. It’s the only explanation I can find for your denial of my offer to dote on you. I only pray you make good on your long-standing promise to drop me where I stand should I ever disappoint you, dear heart of mine.”

Okay, you didn’t know where all the insecurity and sentiment was coming from, especially hearing it from the mouth of your dear old confident mean-streak Ezra, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It made you ache to think that he didn’t trust you to stay with him, that he viewed himself as lesser because he lost his arm. Well, he was lesser, but only by mass.

Also, really? The only explanation he could find for you not wanting to sleep with him was that you hated him and didn’t want him because of his injury? He couldn’t think of any more glaringly obvious reasons, those of which had just been pointed out to him?

With a sigh, you brushed your thumb across the silvery scar on his cheek, “Rest now, chatterbox. I’ll be here when you wake up—and every morning after, for as long as I can. Only death could pry you from me, and me from you. You’ve got me, forever….I still see you as you are—a hundred percent you, a hundred percent mine.”

The words felt foreign on your lips, but he was bound to forget them the moment he fell asleep, so you didn’t feel as weird waxing poetic right back at him. The man had rubbed off on you in more ways than one. You normally didn’t speak to one another so frankly—at least, you didn’t, given the nature of what it meant to care out here and how you’d already unofficially established that you two were something more—but tonight you couldn’t fucking help it.

Ezra leaned into your touch, pawing at it with his hand, grabbing onto your fingers and kissing into your palm. A dull smile poked at his mouth and he let it engulf him. “Quite the charmer you are, siren.”

You didn’t respond, only half-smiled and wriggled—reluctantly—from his grasp to grab a few clean cloths and fill a bucket with water. After squirting the sanitizing solution in the water, you simmered the lights down to the lowest setting, to where your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you could make your way across the tent. His gaze bore into you—no, both Ezra and Cee watched every move you made; one in lazy admiration and the other in curiosity.

“Do you need me to put a drape over the post? I’m strippin’ him,” you asked Cee as you slung Ezra’s clean shirt from off the drying line onto your shoulder—you smiled at the floor, thanking yourself from hours ago for deciding not to burn it. You grabbed the bucket and tottered over to him, nodding at him to scoot. He obliged, giving you room to sit by his hip so you could ease his clothes off.

Cee shook her head when you looked to her for a response, opting to sit on your cot facing away from you with her nose in her book, so you shrugged and tugged the fabric off of Ezra in slow, deliberate motions, wincing every time he grunted.

As you took the time to clean off the grime and dirt and sweat of the Green, he told you about running into Cee and her father Damon; how he tried to take his entire harvest from the few cycles he’d spent with Two; about Two’s untimely, irrational outburst that cost them their life. About the Queen’s Lair and the mercs, and the plan to ravage and plunder and take it all for themselves. You thought the Queen’s Lair was a rumor. Not even a rumor—a myth, a legend, something fabricated by desperate fools with hazy minds of dust and their eyes set on fortune. But Ezra told you he’d seen part of it marked on Cee’s map, that her father was contracted to help extract the deposit. Cee even pulled her map out to point to the marked areas, albeit with clinical movements and short words.

So you made a plan to head out at first light, with the trip taking most of the daylight, and they’d be cutting it close but there was no way you’d let Ezra hike so many klicks in his state—not without a few hours’ rest first.

After you’d managed to clean his legs, his hips, his feet and get him into something more comfortable than compression pants, you moved to his torso and traced over each scar marring his skin, each jagged edge where something hadn’t healed right or wasn’t stitched properly. He’d lost some weight under the harsh conditions of the Green—you both had. But he still held onto muscle from the toil that came with survival on such harsh terrain; and he was naturally broad, he always would be, which made him sturdy.

Your fingers ghosted over a few microtattoos he’d gotten; one beneath his ribcage, one on his hipbone, and the one you’d given him yourself on his lower sternum. That one, as you brushed over it with a wet cloth, never failed to make you smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A tiny, unfilled heart, a mere outline, barely a centimeter in size. It was messy, simple, done in minutes. But it meant something, meant exactly what you’d never quite been able to voice.

My heart is yours. Take it.

You’d done it one night when the two of you had gone on a two spin bender, which happened more towards the end of your glory days, when the drugs came easy and heavy and the illusion of time slipped by like sand on the wind.

Any time someone hired your services as cleaners, it took a toll. They didn’t do it often because of that, but the payout was worth the work. No matter how many times you swore you would never do it again, you went back. Because it was hard to ignore the way it felt to flood a deserving someone’s mouth with the taste of their own blood, or to slip a knife in between their ribs and let it slide like butter and watch the light die. It was hard to ignore that you liked it, especially when it was so violent—one of the worst sins to commit, and you enjoyed it.

The act of killing had become cathartic for you. It made you feel more alive, reminded you that you had a beating, bloody heart, and a brain, and veins that pumped blood, and muscles that tore apart and rebuilt themselves stronger. Killing came easy when you didn’t know the target. It felt like a game.

Ezra didn’t enjoy it as much as you did—not to say he didn’t enjoy it at all, for he most certainly did. But he didn’t process it the same way you did. He saw killing as a means to survive and a means to get where he needed to go. He enjoyed turning it into a game, making fun out of whatever circumstance presented itself.

But that one—the last one—it had gone wrong. Messy, slow, noisy, choppy. There was only supposed to be one person in the house: typical target, a man who owed the wrong people a whole lot of money and refused to pay up.

One man.

One man was all you’d expected.

One man was all you’d been instructed would be in the condo.

He went down easy enough, quiet enough—Ezra snuffed him and stuffed him and you’d made to transfer his points into the right pockets.

And that was that.

They had tossed the bodybag over the high-rise balcony and into the pits of the bottomless highway next to the building, with a blinker-bomb inside just in case.

That was that.

Except it wasn’t, it was so fucking far from it.

Ezra, being himself, had wanted so bad to sneak in a quickie before heading back—an unholy, immoral ritual you two had initiated, to fuck where you killed—and who were you to protest? Who were you to say no to pretty words and soft eyes glittering with an untamed wild? To say no to the hands that already ripped at gear and pushed beneath underwear just to get a taste—you couldn’t, it was impossible.

Fresh off a high of adrenaline, pulsing with nervous energy—he was always so good, he always got you right where you needed and then that much further.

And Ezra—being himself—could not keep his fucking mouth shut. The stereotype about men holding in their moans, about them never whimpering or whining or groaning or grunting—yeah, that was a load of Bearkie-shit.

Maybe it held true for some men, but.

Not your Ezra. Not even a little bit.

He talked like heaven’s mouthpiece—or maybe the devil, given all the sinful things he’d whisper to you in the crux of any given night. He let loose whatever noise he deemed necessary to make.

They’d only just made it to the dried, bloody stain on the carpet (a bed on which to copulate), knocking over a floating hilolamp and pulling a chuckle from your paramour, when a shout rang through the apartment and shattered your moment into a thousand pieces.

It was only supposed to be one. One man.

Instead, you were met with another man who you’d later learn to be his brother, the target’s mother, and his pregnant wife.

The man held onto some type of curved sports bat, keeping it up threateningly as if warning you of something imposing. Ezra didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even bothering to get up from where he’d pressed his hips between your legs. But then you’d had to go and check the other rooms, effectively killing any mood the two of you had shared.

Because fuck, where the men had no fight in them, the women wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Or maybe it was that you pitied them, and it distracted you. They’d already peeked their heads out from behind the door of the master bedroom, worried and doe-eyed and determined.

Maybe if they hadn’t seen your faces—if they’d still been asleep while you swept for warm bodies after the first assailant—maybe they’d have gotten out with their lives. But who were you kidding? You killed without thought. You’d likely have put a pillow over their heads before aiming your thrower and firing twice for good measure, had you been sharp and not distracted by a tongue in your mouth.

Instead, Ezra had the audacity to try to bargain with them. Something about having a soft spot for mothers—his own having been a beacon in his life until she left him orphaned as a young boy. He made it a point not to kill women and children. It was one thing in which he remained unwavering. (He’d kill a grown woman if she gave him reason to, like he had on Exon-5, but that was another story for another time, and a different circumstance which called for such measures, namely that of protecting you.) But he should have known better, he should have known not to try something like that. He should’ve known that he’d have to let go of the final shred of morality he held onto.

So Ezra took down the old woman in a way you still have yet to ask about and don’t care to know; and you’d ended with the pregnant woman choking on her own blood when you twisted your knife into the dip of her throat—and you felt awful about it after watching her crumble beneath you, but she’d hit you upside the head with a thick textbook of outdated skimmer-craft modules and it made you see red among pinpricks of stars.

And that night, after all was said and done they’d spent a fortune on getting high—just to forget, just to be okay.

That night they’d locked themselves in a self-imposed prison of satin sheets and destructive tendencies. Two days buzzing with no food, little water, just him and you and needles and spoons and eyedroppers and blades and pills. Like you couldn’t breathe if he didn’t fill you with all of him, you wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he took his hands off you and stopped letting you flood your veins with a chemical glow. Heavy eyelids, messy sex, raw arms and red eyes.

It felt fucking awful, coping that way, but it felt too fucking good and it made you forget about the lives you’d taken in (somewhat) cold blood.

So after sprawling beside him on the gigantic plush bed with his hand ghosting over your spine, you’d found a part of yourself snagged at the corner of this wild-eyed man’s tar-black soul, and you had thought about what could have happened in an alternate universe.

A moment when he was the target, you were (somehow) the pregnant wife, and you watched him die before succumbing to the dark of your own soul escaping you. And it made you desperate to cling to him as he was in the moment, desperate to know that he was yours and you were his. It was then that you’d asked him if you could mark him. Claim him, to know that he wouldn’t leave you like that, and if he did, he’d have a piece of you everywhere. He’d go down with a piece of you.

Ezra had been delighted, of course, as he was always one for symbolism and deeper meaning even if he didn’t quite understand the rhetoric. And it wasn’t the first time you’d marked each other, just a different time with a different meaning. So he let you dip a sterile needle in ink and plunge it into the tender skin of his chest.

You had one too, a heart on your sternum. Nestled between your breasts, just close enough to your heart to feel like it mattered, like it meant that he felt the same. But you didn’t even let yourself go that far—you two were doped up and delirious and he enjoyed marking you in any way he could, so an opportunity to stick and poke his way further into your skin than he already had was an opportunity he could not pass up. At least, that was how you saw it. Nevertheless, it made you happy to see it there on his chest, and to have one that matched.

Ezra’s soft voice snapped you from the memory.

“What’s crossed your mind to make you so delicate in your touch, so solemn in your stare?”

You realized you had stopped your ministrations and had planted your palm on his chest, staring just over his shoulder and onto the canvas beside him. With a careful hand, you resumed gentle motion over his pecs, up his clavicle, his throat.

“Thinking about Beta-Mobilia,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “And after.”

“Mm,” he grunted in recognition, the vibration tickling your fingertips, “Regrettable night. Unavoidable, necessary. But I dwell in shame identical to yours.”

“I don’t deserve to be here after that. I didn’t deserve to live after the Exons, The Grime. Why am I still alive?”

“We’ve discussed this in great length by now, siren. Don’t doubt your existence. It’s beyond sense, beyond comprehension.”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. But then he latched onto your wrist, brushing his calloused thumb over the delicate skin there, and this time you couldn’t keep your gaze away from the soft smile that begged to form on his lips.

“And I appreciate your tender care, wildfire,” he hummed, eyes glittering up at you like two dark pools of amber, “Where would I be without it? Mmm…mhm. Dead, likely. Or bitter. Wicked with taciturn rage. No meaning could come from that.”

“You, bitter and unspeaking? Unthinkable, I’d sooner pronounce you dead,” you drawled, thankful for his kindness to grant distraction, and he granted you an eye-roll. But his expression softened when you sat him upright and maneuvered behind him, wiping down his back in gentle strokes. You folded the cloth over once the side turned brown with grime, and moved up to his neck, scrubbing over his shoulders and giving short strokes down his nape and behind his ears.

“So you planned to go ravage the Queen without me, huh?” you asked quietly, irked that he hadn’t even come to find you before setting out on that venture, “Planned to leave me to rot on the Green, take the money for yourself and steal away with the girl.”

Ezra sighed, and you could see from behind his shoulder how he worked his jaw, formulating what to say.

“Understand that I do nothing without you willingly. Birdie over there’s about as fleeting as a real one. But trust that I planned to come get you—I’d never leave you stranded. I just couldn’t introduce another person into the threadbare alliance I had forged until the time was right.”

“She likes me,” you countered, smiling over at Cee, who now laid with her back facing you as her ribs contracted with the first breaths of sleep. A sign of trust. You didn’t know when exactly you’d earned it, but you’d accept it nonetheless. She had also taken both of your throwers (something you protested and Ezra waved off), so maybe that helped.

“No doubt—there’s plenty to like about you.”

Ever the flatterer, even when delirious with pain.

With a coy smile, you scrubbed over his head and then his face, careful to avoid his snapping mouth that reached out ever so often to nip at your hand—there was that playfulness, the natural effervescence of his presence. When you decided your work was done, you eased him back down on the cot and he allowed it with no protest.

You fluffed his pillow and moved the book you’d stashed beside it. He turned his head and pressed his nose to the pillow, grunting in mild appreciation.

“Smells like you down here,” he remarked with a half-smile, eyes drooping, “You sleep on my cot while I was away?”

“I missed you,” you whispered, nodding, just now aware of how much his presence affected you. To think that you had resolved to try to move on without him—it seemed ridiculous now.

“I missed you,” he returned, “You haven’t the slightest idea how much I wanted you beside me. Number Two was a fond ally but not a companion. Nothing like the banter we exchange, nor the secrets we share.”

“They never talked. I imagine your time away was just as lonely as mine.”

“Absolutely. I regret agreeing to leave with Two. But you know we couldn’t have trusted them to stay at camp while we went off—not absolutely. Not when they’d never spoken a word,” he chuckled and then coughed, a quiet rumble you felt against your leg as it zigzagged through his chest.

Thank Kevva you had a plan to leave now. The spent filter had taken a toll on Ezra—and it wasn’t even his to begin with. He insisted on giving you his when the one your new suit came with was almost completely used up.

Fuck the man for caring about you; he’d gone soft during your time on the Green, and you hated how much you loved it. Hated it because he needed to focus on himself, needed to stop putting you before him. Hated it because every day it made you feel like somehow, he loved you back. That somehow, he thought of you as more than just a constant in his life, more than a body to fuck and a brain to pick.

You’d grown used to each other. But his unpredictability oozed into every aspect of himself, every nook and cranny of his life, and you were too worried about fucking up a good thing over a simple conversation. All it took was one sensitive topic breached and you’d surely find yourself shit out of luck. He was all you had left of the scraps of a fucked up life. Without him, you’d make do but not without a struggle and not without reluctance. Some part of you knew he’d be the same even if he initiated a split.

The thought had you hurrying to tug his shirt on before gathering the cloths and scurrying to place the bucket near the front of the tent.

And you shouldn’t have been so scared to be honest with him—the two of you rarely kept things to yourselves. But to love someone so fully within your heart, to never want to be away from them, to never grow tired of their presence no matter how tedious they may be or frustrating they could get, it scared you.

“A kiss for the wounded?” Ezra asked, brown eyes wide and mouth pouty enough to break you from your racing mind. You softened then, padding back over to him on tiptoe and settling back at his side for a brief moment.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to grant him a kiss to his lips—the first one you’d shared with him in fuck knows how long. Too long, that was for sure, because when your lips notched with his chapped ones you melted, every worry and every qualm simply washed away in a swirl of pink pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself—an indulgent, quiet moan pooled in your chest and slipped from your throat before you could stop it, and he hummed right back when his tongue pushed between your lips and you let him devour you. Always the ravager, ever a greedy bastard when it came to his pleasure, he licked up into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours. It took very little for you to melt right into his chest, pressing your own against him and whimpering when he sneaked his hand up the hem of your shirt to rub circles over the skin of your back. You remained sloppy and almost lazy but intentional as you held either side of his nape and toyed with the strands of his still-damp hair, pouring yourself into this kiss like you’d never kiss him again.

Fuck. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. You missed this man with every vibrating inch of you. You missed his body, you missed his voice calling to you from the very depths of himself, you missed everything about him, and you needed him as close as possible. Closer than close, you needed him.

But fuck. You couldn’t. When you pulled back for air, it didn’t surprise you when he pressed his palm flat on your back to keep you from moving too far.

“Mm, baby—you’re divine. I ache for you,” he all but whimpered into your mouth, breath brutally hot and heavy as he fed you his soul, “Come sit down on me—come take what’s yours. I want to feel you strangle me, show me just how much you—”

“No, Ez,” you cut him off in a biting whisper, lips kiss-swollen, hating how, if there had been literally any other person in the tent beside you, you might’ve taken him up on the offer, “I want to, I promise you that. But she’s a kid and I have limits—one of those limits is fucking in the same room as one.” You glared at him with half a heart, then leaned down to run the tip of your nose along the curve of his ear, smiling when he shivered, “I swear, once we get out of here I’ll make it up to you so many times you’ll forget your own name. You get first choice—however you want me, I’m yours to take.”

“Fuck—alright, I apologize for my eagerness,” he smiled, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

“But,” you whispered, your heart racing as you glanced over to be sure Cee had fallen asleep before inching up to look back into his eyes. Fuck it, he deserved it. “If you stay quiet, I’ll take care of you right now.”

His eyebrows raised in deft interest at your offer.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sailor?”

Ezra would never admit it, and you’d never tease him about it because it made you feel some kind of way—but he fucking adored when you used his callsign. You were his siren, after all. Only made sense for him to draw to you like a dying man at sea when you called for him. You used it rarely aside from in the field, opting for your preferred chatterbox—because he was more that than anything else—so it came as a treat when you decided to pull it from your bag of tricks.

“I can hardly refuse such a tempting offer.”

“Quiet, though,” you reminded him, tiptoeing your fingers across his chest and tugging the waistband of his pants and his underwear down. Just enough to spring his cock free, which was already hard and leaking for you.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight, and you couldn’t help the urge to cup his balls and nudge them free too, to admire every glorious inch of him.

Spreading your fingers out over his groin through the coarse curls gone wild with mistreatment, you paid extra attention to the white patch of hair ghosting over the base of his cock and spreading out near his abdomen before stopping abruptly on the left and diverging back down into dark brown. You remember when you’d first noticed it and had all but squealed in delight.

Every bit of him was a pleasant surprise, just as you’d found yourself more than eager to let him ruin you for anybody else with the sheer size of him.

Nobody fucked you like they were dying and you were salvation; nobody but him. And shit, did he tear you open. As if he’d carved a space inside of you just for him, each time he’d leave you with a hollow ache that only he could sate.

“Baby,” you purred in a whisper, kissing his hipbone and then leaning up to wrap your hand around the girth of him, rubbing your thumb over the weeping red of the head, “You’re so pretty for me like this.” Forever a glutton for compliments, he whimpered his soft appreciation and you hushed him accordingly. He was so thick, so big that you struggled to touch the tip of your middle finger to your thumb, so long that if you had planned to swallow him down tonight, you would’ve been needing your hand to help. But tonight you could not risk the absolutely filthy noise of you gagging on him; he’d likely cum faster and in less time to worry about waking up a certain tentmate, but you wanted to watch every muscle in his face twitch, wanted to see him take his pleasure unobstructed by your tears. This way was quieter.

So with that thought in mind, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs so you could watch him without tiring your hand in an awkward position. Then you let a string of spit drool down and over him and you gave him a twist and then more, sharp and sudden and fast in your movements as opposed to the slow, appreciative way you’d unsheathed him.

Ezra hissed out a curse, bucking up into your hand, “Shit, darlin’—“

Arching an eyebrow, you halted your work on him immediately. His pulse beat through the throbbing vein jutting out

“What did I tell you?” you snapped. With your free hand you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his neck, feeling the column of his throat contracting as he swallowed. Wide brown eyes looked up at you, a tinge of amusement in their stare.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” you asked in a low rasp, tightening your grip on his neck and giving him a little shake before going slack again, “I don’t wanna hear a single word come outta that pretty-boy mouth. If I do, I’m blue-balling you. Fair?”

Ezra nodded, his gorgeous fat mouth blessedly shut for once.

“Good boy,” you cooed, kissing him before forcing his jaw open and spitting in his mouth. It would’ve been cruel but you meant it so affectionately, and his gentle moan told you he was more than willing to accept it.

You felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers and you simpered, giving a little shimmy of your shoulders in appreciation.

Controlling this stubborn man, resorting him to silence made you feel powerful. It made you feel respected, worshipped; if the man who never shut up and always called the shots would gladly take the backseat and grant you the power to take charge, that meant more than you could wish for.

So you resumed pumping his cock, working him with both hands and then switching to hold onto his throat again before going back to two hands. The act still made quite some noise—filthy and wet and sloppy—but at this point you were less concerned about it than you had been prior. When you decided, despite his tip dripping precum, to spit down onto him again for the fun of it and twist him with a gentle tug, he couldn’t stop the whine that left him even with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It had you darting to clamp over his mouth, shooting daggers down at him as he stared up with a silent apology in his eyes, one you might have taken as genuine if not for the way the brown of his irises had disappeared into black, blown out with lust and glassy with pleasure.

“If you’re gonna cum, let me know so you can do it in my mouth. I just cleaned you up and I’m not doing it again.”

The last bit came out harsher than you meant but he took it all the same, biting back a grunt in the form of a sharp exhale as he twitched violently in your hand. Yeah, he didn’t really need to let you know when he was about to blow; you knew him too well. At that, you took it upon yourself to remove your hand from his mouth in favor of scooting to lean down and put your mouth over his angry, swollen tip, flinching at the way the frame creaked but ignoring it and opting to swirl your tongue over him instead.

“There it is,” you whispered with an arguably evil smile—quickly, before pulling him back into the heat of your mouth, resuming your work and grunting when he bucked up into your mouth, chasing the high you were drawing out of him.

Ezra came with a muffled, broken sob, his face buried in his arm as he bit down on his bicep, flexing and squeezing his fingers. A thick stream of his cum hit the roof of your mouth and you indulged him, taking him in further so you could swallow everything he gave you. Ropes and ropes and ropes of cum, like he hadn’t let himself get off in so long, like he’d been saving all of it for you. The thought made you whine around him, and you pulled off when he finished, flashing him your dripping tongue with his spend still on it and drawing it back in before any of it could spill.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighed, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as he tugged on the front of your shirt to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

This time when you pulled back and smiled, you granted him a toothy grin, goofy and knowing. It took you a minute not to giggle like a little kid as you carded your fingers through his hair. He grinned right back, still catching his breath. To you, he was gorgeous, inside and out, flaws and all. You wanted to fuck him right then. You wanted to make love to him, to let him fill you entirely and to sob into his mouth, showing him everything you couldn’t tell him.

“Get some sleep,” you settled on instead, slipping off the cot with little grace after replacing the waistband of his pants, “We head out early tomorrow.”

“Hey now, what about you?” Ezra asked, brows drawn together in concern that you wouldn’t find the same enjoyment he did.

“You’ll just owe me.” You winked then, and gave him one last kiss, which he hummed into with a great appreciative rumble.

Then you pressed your forehead into his, “Mine—you’re mine. Never leave me again or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. You’re everything.”

Because he was.

“Nothing without you.”

That was his response, always always always. To hear it again pricked tears in your eyes, so much so you squeezed them shut.

And once again, you caught yourself wanting to say it. This time it had ghosted in your throat, almost making it into the curve of your mouth for you to hold its shape and give voice to a thought. But you stopped it before it could get far. Those three words, the same ones that now haunted you since you’d decided to indulge in every reminiscence involving them. Somehow he had come back to you, a feat which could not be commended enough, but now you ached for him—yearned for him even stronger than if he had well and truly died.

As you settled down onto the floor beside him, those three torturous words surfaced into a memory. The one that, among other fears, made you ever so hesitant to admit just how much you loved him.

————————————

“—In that vein, I don’t find myself in particular need of a great, star-shattering love story. If love is all-encompassing, I can do without the obstacle. Romanticizing my life and its quarrels is satisfaction enough.”

You didn’t know why you were still listening. You just knew that if Ezra kept it up, you’d find a way out of this cell just to break into his and strangle him. Anything to get him to shut the hell up. Banging your head methodically against the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t even try to hold back your groan of displeasure as he rambled on.

“Now, don’t doubt my skill in worship. I have plenty of practice in the art of copulation”—you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face—“To say I haven’t affixed my interests on one soul or another at some point in time would ordain me a liar. I simply prefer to remain lovers in action…and not in name nor feeling. Companionship…yes, it’s something we all yearn for. It can’t be helped. A warm body, a brain to pick. All wonderful facets to enjoy for the sake of one’s own baser desiderata. But—“

“Shut up,” you bit out through gritted teeth, tugging at the roots of your hair when he kept going and you had to repeat yourself, “Shut up, you goddamned chatterbox. I don’t give a fuck about your love life. Why are you even talking about this?”

A brief silence occupied the space, as if he was thoroughly perplexed by your outburst. Then he let out a huffed laugh, amused.

“You inquired about the specifics of my occupation, little thorn.”

Every time he used that nickname for you—the thorn in my side—it made you bristle. Especially when he used it almost affectionately, soothingly, full of calm and charm that had you balling your fists and pricking the skin of your palms with your fingernails. You despised him, and he treated your existence as a joke, or as a little pet he would grab from its cage and admire before tossing it back and neglecting it until he deemed its presence acceptable again. Everything was funny. Everything could be laughed at. Sometimes you didn’t mind when the guards came to beat him bloody; it made him shut up, whether from pain or because he had passed out.

“Prospecting has nothing to do with love,” you snapped, shoulders tense despite the ache in your body. If these fuckers holding you captive didn’t kill you, the stress of surviving next to this fucker surely would.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, suddenly serious, “Love for others, at least. Love for the dig, love for the hunt and the adventure—that’s a different narrative altogether. Which is why I deemed it appropriate to explain such measures. The lifestyle I settled for is no small undertaking. It comes with sacrifice.”

His condescension was unintentional but still stabbed and poked at you like keepers at a circus.

————————————

It comes with sacrifice. That it did.

That long-ago night haunted you to this day.

But Ezra had his mind focused on softer dreams as he broke you from your self-destruction once more.

“Nights like these make me keen to hear you sing for me again,” he lilted out through the dark, a reminiscent simper pulling at his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he shifted to look down at you, “The melody of your voice haunts the halls of my midnight reveries. But it is such a sweet possession—as though I willed a ghost to enchant me with her gift. A siren indeed. Lure me into the sea of your deception, try to pull me under like the rest of them. But not me. No…not me—I float like driftwood in the breeze…follow the tides of your affection. Somehow I remain unscathed, and you lap at me in gentle waves.”

“Such powerful words from a man who should be asleep,” you chuckled quietly, pressing your lips to the back of his hand where you held onto it now, fingers laced.

“I am but a vendor of poetry. And you, a weaver of melody. Sing for me, siren,” he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsy pull of lassitude. He hadn’t asked that of you in so long you had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it. Almost. And you would have agreed to it, but—

“No, the girl, she—“

“I don’t mind,” Cee interrupted, quiet and soft. It surprised you; you thought she had fallen asleep—you didn’t want to wake her with your singing. And then you were—

Shit. You sincerely hoped she had just woken up due to Ezra’s long-winded soliloquy about your singing, and hadn’t heard anything else beyond that. Mm, no. You think she would’ve said something about how fucking gross it was. Or pulled a thrower on you.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Ezra chuckled, turning his head to grin at the girl where she had turned to face him on the opposite cot, “She sings like Kevva strung her throat with gold. Or the very strings of a harp.”

You blushed and ducked your head into your shoulder, embarrassed by his flattery. Looked to him and found his honey-dark eyes drinking you in from above, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he flattened his palm over your chest and rubbed it affectionately. “What would you like to hear?” you asked, running a hand over your hair and shifting on the floor to calm your nerves.

It was just Ez.

…and a girl who harbored a teen angst bigger than ten moons; fuck if you wanted her to judge you.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he replied, his grin wider now that you’d agreed, “You know I’m not particular to any one hymn—I find myself enraptured by it all.”

“Okay.” You pondered for a moment before settling on one of your favorites.

Then you sang.

Quietly, nervously at first in an unpracticed rasp, then growing more steady and mellow and soft.

Some swirling folk melody from your childhood in your native tongue, one you’d never forget even if someday you lost your memory. A lullaby for village children; a lilting work song for the women to hum when laundering clothes at the stream, soothing the babies strapped to their backs or their chests or both.

It told the story of a curious young girl who loved the stillness of the ocean, found peace in its silky depths. She liked the silence so much that she would spend hours beneath the water, training to hold her breath and exploring the creatures of the reef and listening to the wavering silence.

Until one humming summer night she swam so deep the water turned black. She was scared she wouldn’t be able find her way back home but she reveled in the quiet—the quiet that not even the nighttime forest could provide, nor the village when the hunters and scavengers left for work. It was then that she saw a light shining from the deep, and decided to chase it.

Down, down, down.

And down. Until the light became so bright it surrounded her, seeped into her until she did not know where she began and it ended. No pain, no fear surrounded her. Just a sense of calm, and peace.

And she became the moon, the biggest one in the sky. The silence up there was incomparable.

The song was meant as a warning to the village children not to wander too far from the town and somehow find themselves in the cove breaching the outer mountain range. A warning to stay away, else you’d become one of the many moons in the sky, never to return to your family and the life you loved.

But you’d always found it more compelling than that, more meaningful, because the story originated from a similar legend of the moon goddess your village worshipped, the deity of the biggest satellite in your skies. The minor difference came in the detail that she chose to become the Great Moon after divine conversation instead of chasing a light down into the deep on a whim. And there was a ceremony held to initiate her transition into a celestial body.

When you’d wrapped up the lullaby you found yourself more at peace than you’d felt in a long time. You didn’t like to think about your planet, nor your village, nor the tragedies that occurred there. But this memory was a happy one, filled with sleepy eyes and chubby fingers grabbing onto mothers’ cloaks, and getting tucked into warm soft blankets by a fireplace.

“Sweet siren,” Ezra whispered in a drowsy slur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to rest on his back, “Never fail to soothe me even when ’m in utmost anguish.”

And with that, he left you in silence, and you knew he wasn’t far from sleep.

By the time his breath evened out, you felt your eyes drooping.

Fuck, you were exhausted.

This spin had been arguably more eventful than any you’d had in a long while, and it didn’t occur to you that you could be tired when you’d hardly done much until the action rolled in.

The floor was actually not half bad, given that you laid on the tarp that absorbed heat but quickly cooled when you moved. The nights here got cold, surprisingly. But Ezra’s hand hanging down and resting across your chest felt so good. The weight of him, the heat of him, it grounded you. You circled patterns into his upturned palm until you became too sleepy for that, settling on threading your fingers with his and feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips.

How dare he think you’d care for him less with only one arm? If anything, it showed his perseverance, his will to move forward and make hard decisions. Only something a man with determination could do.

He felt so warm and sure—steady. He was safe now that he had come back. You felt the inky black of sleep begin to wash over you as organized thought became jumbled feeling.

You didn’t have to worry anymore, not about his whereabouts. Everything was alright. It was as good as it had been in quite a while.

Everything would be alright, you could just…

Just…

“I wish my parents had loved each other like that,” Cee murmured in the quiet dark of the tent, rendering you wide awake with a jolt, as if someone had plunged a shot of adrenaline into your chest.

“They separate?” you managed, knowing it came out strange but not wanting to confirm or deny anything about you and Ezra. The silence that greeted you implied that she had had no intention of you hearing it. But she spoke regardless.

“No,” she scoffed, then went quiet for a moment, “My mom died when I was little. And I can’t remember what they were like together. We were always working so there wasn’t a lot of time for love between them.”

Oh. An orphan. It softened you a little more for her, made you more sympathetic to the fact that Ezra had killed her last living parent. You were an orphan too. So was he.

“We’re all missing parts of our family in some way or another. People with worldly attachments don’t usually sign up for this level of intensity. Not the strays, anyhow.”

“But you have each other,” she insisted.

“By chance alone. We didn’t start off liking each other. And we’re not…married, or anything.”

The last bit came out strangled—you’d never…said something like that aloud.

You and Ezra, married? It was odd, to say the least. You never thought of yourself as one to desire marriage in any respect—ceremonial, legal, the like. It just didn’t sit well with you. Too many complications, a lot of governing body involvement that you didn’t care for.

And Ezra…he wasn’t too fond of it either. But not because he didn’t want it, that much he’d admitted to you one night after admitting the complications of his feelings on his love life, ones that somewhat contradicted the first time he told you about it all; he couldn’t have it, he’d never let himself believe even a fraction of him deserved it. The life of a floater—and sure, just as Cee’s parents had prospected and been married (you assumed) and had a kid, many others did the same. But then you supposed it ended with kids like Cee, and she was lucky to not lay dead next to her idiot father, or trapped and sold as a body in the Dark-Spawn Trades. Lucky Ezra wasn’t filthy and depraved, lucky you were once young and scared like her and so took it upon yourself to keep her in your sights for now.

“How’d you meet?”

A chuckle bubbled out of you as you sat up and ran your fingers through Ezra’s hair, watching his chest rise and fall in even strokes, thinking back on that night so long ago.

“Stealing supplies from the same drop company. Two feral dogs fighting over who deserved it more. We bickered and threatened so much we lost track of time and made a mess and a ruckus and got caught.” A smile threatened to break your features and you let it, for just a moment. It faded as you recalled your awful encounter, “Captured, tortured for information because they thought we worked for a rival mining company. They wanted the locations of dig-sites we didn’t have, mining techniques we didn’t know. When he brought up the Wastes earlier…that’s what he meant. Surprised we didn’t die, but they really thought we were valuable or something.”

You gave yourself a minute before continuing. In a panic, you rubbed circles over the tattoo on the web of Ezra’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ground yourself as wicked, blood-specked memories flooded your head.

Deep breath. You’re safe, he’s here. This will be good to get off your chest. You’ve never spelled it out to anyone before. Nobody’s ever asked. Maybe this girl is a gift from the universe, maybe she was sent here to give you space to heal. Deep breath. You’re safe. He’s here.

You eventually pressed the back of his limp hand to your cheek, and found your voice once more. You didn’t need to worry about waking him; once he conked out into REM sleep it took a freight train to wake him up. At least, when he was with you he always slept deeper. He’d told you one night; how it helped to have you there, like you dragged all the bad memories and nightmares away, pulling them so far out of reach he only found thoughtless, worry-free sleep.

“Hearing someone’s screams from the other side of a cell wall makes you more susceptible to care about them. A bonding experience, so to speak. He’d talk to me for hours on the nights they made us sit and anticipate another session. Recited poetry, recalled stories from his time as a prospector as an escape from our reality. I would sing for him, when we knew the guards had left. It was how we got to know each other. It’s—that’s why he calls me his siren. The reason I call him a chatterbox, among other obvious explanation.”

“How’d you get out?” Cee asked, resting her cheek on her hands as she laid on her side, watching you with keen interest.

“Killed them,” you rasped, not wanting to go into the gory details, “Every single one.”

For nights you had laid awake, haunted by memories of blood staining your only pair of clothes, blood splattering into your mouth, chunks of brain matter on Ezra’s gloves as he dragged you through a maze of tents and established buildings, viscera on your recovered suit, the way you’d had to swallow bile back down your esophagus at the sight of all the lives you’d taken. But you had to do it; it’s what you told yourself when the images would replay every time you closed your eyes.

Vengeance, necessity, paired with Ezra’s seemingly insatiable bloodlust—and your own. Your own shameful desire to incite violence, one you bred in the early years of your youth and had stuffed away until needed.

But you hadn’t been able to deny that, when Ezra shot a man who’d pinned you to the ground and then finished him off with a knife spurting blood out his neck, it stirred your blood something wild. Hearing him panting through the transmitter, grunts and curses as he tore through humans and humanoids and alien creatures alike right beside you. Hearing him call out targets, watching your six, taking single-word direction from you when you did the same.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, like you two had never not known the other. And he was sloppy in his technique, grounded more in brute force than strategy—but you made up for that in quick, evasive maneuvers and stealth. Both of you had near-perfect aim and could work around the clunky gear of your suits.

Messy—pools of blood, the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage crushed beneath your hands and your feet and your knife and whatever other weapon you scavenged along the way.

It felt like a ritual. A baptism of carnage that ensured neither one of you could live without the other.

So of course, when it all was over and the last vertebra snapped—

—there had been filthy, unhinged, surely unsanitary, bio-hazardous fucking in a tent surrounded by carnage.

Fucking in way you could only describe as feral.

Unrestrained.

Hot, Kevva’s saints was it brutally hot and so needy—but also so, so tender.

Full of soft emotion. Unspoken, even for Ezra’s standards. Almost loving.

Your aching bodies, exhausted and weak and battered, dragged lazily against one another once both of you had ceased the initial writhing pace of passion and the adrenaline ebbed. It tasted tinny like blood and musky like spit and salty with sweat and tears, and if nothing more, it was real. Whispering about how fuck, they’d made it and god, they were on the same level, we made it, baby—can’t live without you, I need you I need you I need you—

That day was quite possibly your favorite memory as well as one of your darkest. The day that you knew, in the charred, most twisted part of you, that you’d follow this man to the ends of every planet, to the far reaches of the universe—and he’d very well do the same.

Of course, you shared none of that with Cee.

“We took down the main base of the entire company. They were small but well-endowed. Got to transfer points into our accounts and sort through the mining equipment and the food,” you offered instead after a long bout of silence, “And the spoils of their labor. We were rich, could have retired early.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You debated whether to lie or tell her the truth, deciding on the latter. This girl wasn’t a threat, she genuinely wanted to know. “Ezra and I have—had a certain…interest in finding thrill wherever we can.”

Cee quirked an eyebrow, and you elaborated, “It’s not something to romanticize, we certainly weren’t smart about our spending. Gambling, drugs, slingshot scooter racing, smuggled creature ring-fights. The risk makes winning worth it. It was addicting. We earned a lot. Uncountable amounts of money. But we spent it all and then spent more. Pulled stunts that not even the most daring would try. Heists, intel-theft for enemies of certain people. We got caught up in it. Eventually drowned in a swamp of debt and unrequited favors. Got put on watchlists by the head crime syndicate and peace officers alike in the Core Worlds because we got cocky. Sloppy. So many people want our heads on a stake that we’d be better off dying out here. It’d be ironic, given the executions we deserve.”

You shuddered at the thought of Karolclan and their unusual procedures for punishment. They wanted you the most—you owed them the most. Them and Omni-Five. But Karolclan was decidedly worse.

“Why are you still mining? Wouldn’t it be easier to hide somewhere less dangerous?”

“We have debts to pay, bird,” you sighed, fond of the nickname Ezra gave her as it fit her well, “It’s the only honest work we can get without a biotracker recognizing our scans or someone realizing that the burner names and scouting codes we give them are bullshit. We work alone—no drop company, no mining corps. Until we can get our names cleared and our bio-scans off the watchlist, we can’t do shit else.”

If nothing more, Karolclan did allow debt payoff. But only if you could evade their capture, and only if you had the means to satisfy compounded interest. They were brutal, ruthless.

“He said you had a crew…and a ship…before you ended up stranded.”

“We did. A group of people like us. But you can imagine that a group of outlaws don’t always see eye to eye—buncha hotheaded criminals. Fought over aurelac, argued over fair shares, resources, everything.”

That wasn’t the whole story.

It started as a dispute over aurelac, but had quickly turned into a spat against Ezra, why he had so many successful harvests and surely he was stealing or cheating, how it wasn’t fair that you two were attached at the hip and didn’t section off when you split into groups to cover more land. In the heat of argument and the desperation of man, that had morphed into threats against you—Why don’t you fucking share her, Ezra? We all have needs and she’s barely good at the dig-sites. Put her to use somewhere else or we’ll find a use for her, and that devolved into Might take her right from under you if you don’t watch yourself, don’t be surprised if you hear her struggle tonight.

You had gotten used to the crude commentary, the snickers and wolf-whistles when you bent over, and if they had tried to somehow steal you away in the night, they’d have been reminded that you slept fully armed and showed no mercy to anyone who touched you unless they knew just where to start—and only one person did.

But that…that had not gone over well with him. It ended before you even knew what he did, and pretty soon you had a dead crewmate spilling blood over your boots while the familiar sound of throwers charging up rang in your ears, all of them pointed at the man panting beside you. The only one from the group to live and remain on the Green had been Two, and honestly you were never fond of them but weren’t surprised when they helped you and Ezra take the heat off your backs—they always teamed up with you two and they were good at what they did. It was a shame they were gone—despite their silence and threatening demeanor and sometimes uncalculated moves in a plan, they never made a move to harm either of you; they just wanted to harvest and get out like you did. Better them than Ezra, though. You’d have genuinely lost your mind if they had shown up in his stead.

“Did you kill the crew too?”

“Only a few,” you said honestly, “The others left us stranded when they realized we’d kill them next. Number Two was our only ally. Now they’re dead.”

You laid back down and put Ezra’s hand across your chest again, “Get some rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And if you choose to kill him while we sleep—kill both of us.”

You didn’t know why you’d felt compelled to say that, but revealing such a dark part of yourself to her convinced you that she’d plant a bolt in you or Ezra’s head and run. Ezra was the more likely target, given his history with the girl. It was irrational, for the most part; if she truly wanted him dead she would have let his wound kill him. Or she would have shot him sooner. But you couldn’t be too sure.

And you’d sooner die than wake up to him cold next to you.

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #anya writes #ohhhh boy! a second installment #pedrostories #ezra smut #cacoethes

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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What’s your opinion for Leo’s reaction to finding out the mc was immortal as well- not necessarily a vampire, maybe they’re some other type of supernatural. I’m really curious because Leo seems like he’s mainly in love with the mc bec they are human.

Hi lovely!!! Always wonderful to see you, hope you’re well! 💛💛💛💛💛

Tbh I think my opinion remains the same about something like this? I'm going to link to an ask I wrote up a while ago, only because it's v pertinent to the subject matter and good background for what I’m going to expand on here.

That being said, I'm happy to kind of tl;dr/expand on what I talked about there. Basically I had the feeling that Leonardo choosing MC as a lover was more circumstantial--regarding the state of his life in the moment, regarding his general feelings about vampires and vampire society, and regarding his unresolved trauma as a young kid.

I guess my answer to that question--and forgive me if it seems like a cop out--is that it really depends, I feel? I think his attraction has a lot more to do with the kind of person somebody is, their sensibility, more than it has to do with mortal vs immortal. If it was an immortal MC that showed ridiculous fortitude and self-control, measured patience and maturity, I really don’t see him not noticing that? I think he would be wary at first (assuming it’s all a front) but with time would likely feel a great deal of love if they were interested in a life together. If they were able to see and understand what he needs and answered those needs, I guess I just really doubt his ability to say no. It’s all he’s really looking for, and the fact that he hasn’t found it after so long really speaks to his frightened evasiveness and the rare nature of that kind of unshakeable strength.

I also think a lot of his hinging away from purebloods (true immortals, in other words) is that he 100% does not want his familia having any involvement in his meaningful relationships. Which might be why he shows more acceptance towards turned vampires, or potentially different supernatural beings.

But I also don’t like giving a vague answer without some kind of explanation as to how I got, to that conclusion, so a boatload of analysis follows below the content warning.

Spoilers for Leonardo’s route and a few mentions of JPN ver content:

I think he has less of an obsession with the idea of mortality, and more like a constant association of goodness and freedom and maturity with humanity. And while it's understandable, there are signs that--when he has the proper time and space to heal--his views seem to soften from those extremes. I mean his decision to live with Comte is pretty much his first step in that direction; it was him acknowledging for the first time that vampires aren't inherently loathsome or incapable of normal living. (On a revealing note, I think it says a lot that he agrees with MC that she is living in a “wolves’ den” but also feels the need to clarify the men are basically the domesticated equivalent. They don’t pose the same threat other vampires typically do to humans because of their lifestyle and sire.) Additionally, his tsun-like behavior towards Comte also seems to solidify this concept for me: Leonardo’s trying to come to terms with something he's sworn to reject since he was young, but also can't entirely deny that Comte is as chill and mature as purebloods come lmao

[There was also an event in the JPN ver–which seems to be approaching the ENG version rapidly, though only the first part is here right now–in which Leonardo fully offers to turn her. MC is essentially on her death bed, and Leonardo doesn’t want to lose her after so little time together; it’s MC that rejects the future as a vampire out of sheer principle. Even more noteworthy is that, when a reincarnation of MC is reunited with Leonardo in modern times, he is revealed to be exceptionally shaken by that loss. There are suggestions he can’t take losing her again, which could mean succumbing to the desire to bite her.]

Two things I feel are necessary to hit home:

The first being that, at least within the storyline so far, the most mature and human-like vampires we’ve seen are Leonardo and Comte. They seek to emulate the maturity they see reflected in the human beings they’ve known all their lives. Given how vampire society and their hierarchies work, I get the feeling humans are nothing more than amusing tools to them--a way to survive and creatures to exercise control over. There’s an objectification and delusion that comes with what I’ve seen, and I think it’s important in this discussion? If the vast majority of vampires behave this way (because I’m ngl, Leonardo and Comte don’t seem very keen on remaining in touch with other vampires all that much) then it only makes sense they prefer the company of humans who can at least share this sensibility of “been there, done that--stop hurting people bc you’re bored/repressed, grow up.”

One event story where this was exceedingly evident was actually Leonardo’s proposal story. If y’all remember, an old pal/acquaintance of Leonardo’s finds out he’s gunning for a human woman and basically goes “lmao not on my watch.” His name was Adam iirc, and he felt he had every liberty to try and pressure Leonardo into turning MC. Failing that, he insisted they should break up and not be together anymore. Now, on the one hand, it’s fair to say that he was looking out for Leonardo in a way–he didn’t want him to end up miserable and alone when she was gone. But at the same time I feel that Adam’s behavior is deeply revealing of vampire society as well lmao. He doesn’t really try to understand the situation, just immediately assumes it’s the only appropriate outcome. It does insinuate a lowkey cultural disdain for humanity: they are imperfect, they do not last or cannot have real value without preservation. If Adam was really Leonardo’s friend, wouldn’t he realize that Leonardo considers vampirism nothing more than a burden that he would wish on no one, much less his future wife? Additionally, wouldn’t he also keep in mind that Leonardo considers human beings beautiful just as they are? Since he fails these basic requirements to understand Leonardo, my impression is that he is influenced by the larger vampire culture to some extent. Furthermore, it underscores just how thoroughly Leonardo has been trained to keep his cards close to his chest for fear of ridicule/violent reprisal: no vampires know his true feelings on the matter because he would be vehemently rejected outright.

[One can also offer that maybe Adam wasn’t being malicious, maybe vampires find human women they fall in love with all the time and turn them (or any other permutation of companionship that occurs), so he doesn’t understand why Leonardo wouldn’t. But even then, to try to force them to break up if she doesn’t turn? A bit overkill imo but also revealing--Leonardo’s will is being ignored for the sake of upholding a kind of ill-founded superiority complex lmao]

While Leonardo does have a somewhat overbearing need to control the pacing of his relationship and who sacrifices what, I don’t think it’s wrong to be cautious--to want to think things through. I think it’s fair to be afraid that the person you’re with can’t handle what you’ve seen/known. But that also leads me to a core issue I have with MC: she doesn’t inspire much confidence that she can handle the life he’s lived, and that’s a problem of both incapacity and incompatibility. I have to wonder how he reacts when he’s with somebody at the same maturity level, or at the very least somebody with whom he can see her strength with time. When MC’s life was dying out he was desperate enough to accept biting her because he didn’t want to lose her–human or not. It’s MC that rejects this solution, which leads me to further believe that he just doesn’t care about the divide when it comes down to it; it has more to do with his difficulty with being vulnerable and fully trusting someone to care about him. (Assuming they also have the fortitude to stay hopeful and relatively strong over the course of a very long life.)

In line with that, the second thing I think it’s important to acknowledge is how deeply hurt Leonardo is as a result of his family treating him like a fool/black sheep. He outright says and heavily insinuates that his family would write her off as worthless, that they’d never accept her--that's his first thought:

Leonardo: “My familia would call you frail. I think you’re strong and beautiful. You do more with your time than we try to do with ours.”

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

MC: “And those letters were from your familia?”

Leonardo: “Yeah. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. We don’t agree...on a lot of things.”

[Brief intermission here. But lmao. Who does that sound like? If any of you guessed Isaac, that’s exactly what I’m alluding to. Isaac says in his own route smth along the lines of “Why bother trying to get through to people when no amount of talking does any good or gets you any closer to being understood?” Which also explains the way they get along to uncanny degrees: they find comfort in making things/researching because it means being able to avoid the distress that comes with being blatantly misunderstood by others. Their pain simply comes in different dimensions; for Leo it’s about loss and hiding who he is out of fear of rejection, for Isaac it’s about betrayal and people turning on him--ultimately abandonment for both. But I digress, back to the main argument.]

Leonardo: “Once they discovered my location, they began hounding me with letters again. They don’t want me to be with just anyone...They want more purebloods. I’m no more than one half of an equation for them.”

There is a clear implication that his desire to choose somebody that truly makes him happy means jack shit to them. They keep talking over him and trying to wear him down to force him into what they want. It’s no wonder--imo--that he has such a hard time just saying what he wants in his life, to feel like he has the freedom to wish and pursue anything freely. It’s no wonder he just expects MC to spit on everything that’s important to him. It appears as though only other human beings in general and Comte have ever come close to understanding him.

At some point MC realizes that his insistence on being compagni provvisori was originally just another act of sacrifice, and that he was fine with giving up his time and a little privacy if it meant she would be safe. The thing she doesn’t seem to realize in the course of this--and he struggles to say it until later on--is that it stopped being blind generosity. He really did start to fall in love with her, and that’s the whole reason things became even more messy; because he didn’t anticipate not being able to let go on top of the vulnerability. And it’s a big part of why he’s hesitating to speak. He feels he has no right to those feelings, and that he’s imposing on her--not that he’ll be welcome.

And when she did finally admit those feelings were welcome, it was compounded by the parroted views of his family and larger vampire society as a whole. Saying that she herself wasn’t enough, that she had to become a vampire to make him happy. Imo that sounds very potentially retraumatizing given his experiences (people trying to force him into marriages with other vampires who didn’t remotely understand or care about him because it was “the right way of things”). It’s no wonder he freaks out and does something incredibly stupid and insensitive–which is pretty insanely ooc for him.

Leonardo: “...It shocked them. Quieted them down a bit. Hard to get peace when your familia is immortal. Grazie, cara mia.”

Leonardo: “You’re strong, and you’re kind. So probably you won’t cry while I’m here to see it. But when I’m not looking, you’ll cry. If I had done that to you (bitten her, in other words), you’d still be crying when I wasn’t watching... Maybe it’s selfish of me, after what I did, but I just wanted to make you happy. You always look pretty, cara mia, but your smile takes my breath away...It’s not your destiny to love someone who will only make you cry.”

This man literally cannot handle anyone deeply sad or in despair. He’s always going to try to cheer people up and care about them, but general tragedy/emotional discord affects him very powerfully--and it’s likely a reflection of what I’ve mentioned before. He can’t bear to see people feeling helpless or miserable because he’s just been there too many times to be able to cope. He wants to help and heal (even if he’s suffering from prolonged compassion fatigue), but he knows that his powers are limited--even if he is a pureblood.

And the thing is? While it’s misguided to believe she would cry alone when it comes to the context of healthy romantic love (bc the idea would be that you lean on each other when something upsetting happens) he has zero reference point. He was not born as a result of authentic love (his parents never married, he was the result of a procreative arrangement), his family talks over every wish and belief he has and they still claim it’s done out of love/honest concern for him. One can only imagine the serpentine and obnoxious lengths to which his family has deceived or tried to force him into reconnecting with them. Every person that ever did know him/care about him in a real way is gone. Love, for him, has only been a series of losses that left his heart hollowed out; I don’t really blame him for expecting further disappointment and isolation and exhaustion.

He’s also not wrong in the sense that he partially saw MC do what he outlined, and it’s a big part about what he loves about her. When she was feeling alone and lost–powerless–all she did was shrug and move forward. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but focusing on what you can do instead of what you can’t do is healthier. And they both have the tendency to hide when they’re in pain or feeling lost, all because they don’t want to trouble anyone. Remember that when he says this, it’s a reflection of himself too: because even if he was heartbroken beyond measure, all he would do is hide it every second; he would never expect anyone to see right through him or care.

I mean I tend think of that one post I saw that talked about how people often see themselves as a social burden when most of their life has just been a series of neglect and loss. They don’t really have a concept of “you’re not heavy because I want to stay with you. It’s my choice to care about you.” How do you feel worthwhile an existence when four hundred years later your family still won’t treat you with basic dignity. The men in the mansion also all look to him for guidance and soothing because of the kind of person he is–he’s either silent in the periphery or helping. He never betrays so much as an inkling of insecurity or distress.

I mean the whole reason Leonardo comes to the mansion is because he has absolutely no issue helping Comte in a pivotal time of need without seeking much of anything in return. Remember that Comte explains how Leonardo came to the mansion in response to Comte’s distress about the future. This makes sense considering Comte was rapidly trying to stop Vlad by beating him to the punch, and had only enough time to plan the basics. He had no certainty things would work out, much less that his boys would thrive. But Comte, unlike the boys, has become acutely aware of how much Leonardo is hiding his fatigue and despair in the course of being helped. As such, he wants to return the favor--and tries to be a good friend to him as much as he can (handles his insane familia, keeps things light and silly time between them, takes him seriously as a person, doesn’t pry beyond what’s fair.)

[I also think of that psychology concept of “the good enough mother.” It’s not always about being perfect every second of your life. It’s about paying attention and acting where it really counts. I feel like people who grow up under an enormous burden of neglect or parental/mentor abuse have a hard time coming to terms with the idea. This notion that just trying is enough for a lot of people, that showing them they’re not alone is enough to make difficult memories bearable. Because it’s the oppressive silence and apathy that tends to kills people, imo--not people who mean well. But Leonardo doesn’t really understand any kind of reciprocal or non-self-emptying model because the concept is beyond him. He has no experience with it beyond Comte and a select few humans he’s befriended.]

Let’s continue on this point of MC crying where he can’t see her, shall we? The reason this scares him so much is not because he doesn’t care, or doesn’t want to make the effort. It’s precisely that he cares to the point of madness. It’s that he is legitimately convinced nothing he has to say, nothing that he can do, no part of him is enough to ease what she will have to trade away to stay with him. The core issue is not one of disregard or objectification, I find it to be more about his belief that he just isn’t enough. He doesn’t trust that anyone can love him to the point where just the sight of him or time with him can heal. And while there is a foolishness to this belief, it’s understandable when you consider where he’s coming from. You can call it selfishness, but it just feels involuntary--he has a lot of fear when it comes to love.

I mean Comte even says it himself? His words here always strike me: “I want you to understand, it’s because he cherishes you just as you are--more than he cares about his future or his well-being.”

Comte is openly identifying the way that Leonardo has a tendency to give more than is healthy. That Leonardo isn’t hesitating because his feelings are lacking, he’s doing it because he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch trying to love her and never ask beyond what feels reasonable. (Spoilers: no request is reasonable. That’s the problem here. He’s convinced he deserves nothing.) Therefore turning her into a vampire to stay with him is--consequently, to Leonardo--out of the question. This is the literal hingepoint at which Comte and Leonardo divide; Comte simply tells MC he’ll take full responsibility for asking so much of her. He intends to make her happy with every single resource and skill he has at his disposal. Even if he doubts his ability or fears losing her to vampire rhetoric madness, he’d rather try than live with the regret and immediate loss. Leonardo is more resistant because of his dour outlook, that her fear of immortality is never going to be something that either of them can overcome. And/or he’s likely afraid she’s only going to regret being together after so long, and might succumb to the ridiculous sort of power/greed complexes vampires seem so attracted to by nature.

I think Leonardo is still coming to terms with the idea that he isn't alone in the world in a lot of ways, and I think he's also coming to terms with the idea that immortality does not equate to evil. Sure, human beings on average are probably more open to flexible modes of thinking and living compared to vampires--their maturity is in some ways guaranteed due to the instances they're forced to adapt to survive. However, just one look at the ruling class and oligarchies of all kinds (even just stubborn human beings) reveals how they are not immune to the same sort of megalomania, arrogance, and thoughtless violence purebloods/vampires are capable of.

So I guess I hesitate when it comes to the thought that he only loves her because she's human. If anything, I think he loves her for the fact that she's very rooted in reality--not quite so bound by the extremes that trouble him. It's one of the many reasons I believe Leonardo needs a lot of maturity and patience; the ability to differentiate between his panicked/overwhelmed/hurt reactions versus his calm is a skill in and of itself considering his capacity for concealment. To say nothing of getting him to slow down when this happens, too.

I suppose I think about it in a way that’s similar to how Napoleon’s main story narrative is framed. While Leonardo’s route doesn’t focus on the grandeur of being a former emperor, there is a clear insinuation here that he also craves normalcy? Just a little life, with a person he loves dearly, where he can rest and be himself for once. I think because he gives off such an appearance of steadiness, people fail to see that he is barely holding on--not to mention the kind of experiences he’s been deprived of (the exact security and understanding he so expertly emulates).

Closer to your question, it’s worth mentioning that Leonardo’s life goal for a while was the creation of an immortal human being--in that he fully recognized human beings could not offer what he needed as they were.

He loves humans because of their adaptability, their frequent desire to keep seeking out hope and making the best of the broken pieces they have. But then again, it has more to do with the nature of how frequently that sensibility occurs in humans vs vampires (and immortality in general): mortality does demand some level of necessity to change and grow. Which is one of the largest trauma points for him; the vampires around him just refused to grow up, always demanding at him like children and obsessed with their power complexes.

Thing is I also don't know enough about vampire society to know how correct this perceived ratio is. However, given Comte's similar avoidance of other vampires and general inability to live with them (he and Vlad were literal childhood best friends and Comte can't stand him anymore lmao) I think Leonardo may have more validity here than people give him credit for. Which begs the question--why did he quit trying to make a human immortal? What was it that stopped him? Was it the horror of what needed to be done to achieve it? Or would a potential companion start to fall more in love with the idea of immortality than they do with life itself/him? I think it’s a worthwhile question to ask, given the disdain he seems to aim at Shakespeare in particular--once human, but now emulates all of the violence and insatiability marked by vampirism.

This is where the transition from human to vampire/immortal contains another hingepoint: is Leonardo so incapable of finding a middle ground because he feels like any choice he makes will be a wrong one? Marry a human, deprive them of a normal love where they can grow old together. Marry a human and turn them, what if they are reborn with immortal wounds/psychological harm? What if time proves they get bored of him or hateful, what if they begin to act like the predatory purebloods he hates so much? Marry a pureblood/immortal, and be hounded by his family for heirs--risk being with somebody who will never love him or their children, and only inspire more misery in the world.

Does it make sense how this can really start to become an anxious downspiral for someone like him? How the personal insecurity and life history comes together to just compound stress endlessly?

That's the thing that's important here, I think. Leonardo just needs somebody who is open-minded, firm, and not easily deceived. If one takes a look at Leonardo's main story route, the whole reason everything goes to shit so disastrously is because MC stops listening at a critical point. Granted Leonardo could have been more forthcoming for sure, but when she started assuming Shakespeare was right instead of seeing how Leonardo was feeling/reacting, she responded in ways Leonardo wasn't prepared for. He never wanted to shake her faith or insinuate whatever she is is not good enough for him, and tbh I think Leonardo downspiraled because it was just the same thing all over again. What he is--a vampire and immortal--keeps ruining everything he wants with his life.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp meta #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #can you tell i think too hard about these things kjhdglshf #sorry this reply took me a little longer than i meant to--but i really did want to do the topic proper justice!!#leonardo is such a dear person to me and I can't help but sympathize #people are free to disagree with this but it's just how i feel about the topic #the more i see about him in event stories--the sense this his trembling heart is slowly easing--the less i can believe such things matter #to him all that much tbh #i also think the event where he loses her is just all the more telling too?#i feel like if it really was a matter of principle and not love he would have just accepted it #humans have a v short lifespan--what can be done #sort of reaction #but that's not how he reacted at all: he was a man beside himself with dread and sadness #and even when he meets her reincarnation he can't help but want to be with her again #iirc he starts shaking at the slightest mention of when she died--and shows a lot less ability to resist the urge to turn her #so anywho brief summation is that i think this is more about so many sad boy hours and fear of widespread immortal megalomania #than it is abt hatred for immortality #he has no confidence good things can last without being warped--and that's the key issue here #'nothing gold can stay'#long post #rambles #not incorrect quotes #if you manage to read this without falling asleep i applaud you ajkhldghkfjsdg #thanks for the ask tho--i love any excuse to yell abt leo <333

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ri-ahhh · 3 years

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can u just give me mushy gushy shit with grayson like ethan has a girl over so the two of you decide to go out for a burger date and a walk at night? idk something like that pls 👉🏻👈🏻

A/N: I couldn’t even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts but I was looking through trying to find something to finish bc I was in the mood to write but not from scratch and found this lol. It was about halfway done and I have no idea where I was going with it but this is what it turned into as of today. Idek if there’s even anyone around here anymore to read this but whatever haha here it is.

You don’t usually mind being single. Even when your best friend/roommate Stella started seeing her boyfriend Charlie seriously, it didn’t give you any longing for a relationship of your own.

But there are some nights where you feel down and you just can’t handle it. The scenes of casual intimacy as soon as you get home and see them together — the vase of flowers on the kitchen island he must have brought over; the playful bickering across the room.

The incessant, unrelenting sound of a marathon session going on through the shared wall of your and Stella’s bedrooms.

You groan and turn the volume up on your AirPods, going straight to your messages next.

Wyd?

{G} 👀

Don’t be weird.

Pretty sure Stella and Charlie are trying to put a hole in the wall w her headboard and I can’t take it anymore.

Your roommate chooses that moment to let out a particularly enthusiastic “fuck!” If she weren’t your best friend, you might have given in to the urge to bang on the wall, but your phone lights up with Grayson’s reply anyway.

{G} E too.

{G} I mean like I can’t hear him but ik what’s going down in there

{G} I’d offer to pick u up but sounds like u need to get outta there lol. Meet me here?

You like the message and slip on some shoes, making sure to slam your bedroom door closed on your way out, as if it would make them pause even one thrust.

In the year that you’ve known him, Grayson Dolan has become one of your closest friends. The kind where you met as acquaintances, never talked much, but then you reconnected randomly and the conversation never stopped from there on. You talk about anything and everything, but recently you’ve bonded even more about being a perpetual third wheel. You knew he’d understand and not pass judgement on you in times like this, so it had been a no-brainer to text him as an escape from tonight.

He buzzes you into the gate when you get to his house, and he tells you over another text to go ahead and hop in the Porsche before he even gets outside. It makes you smile; night drives are your favorite, and while the Tesla is a vibe in its own right, there’s just something calming about someone (your attractive friend, no less) tangibly driving you around. It’s exactly what you need right now, no matter what destination he has in mind.

When he slides into the driver’s side not even a minute later, you’re almost overwhelmed by him. Looking far too good in your eyes for how casual he’s dressed in a well-fitting T-shirt and some grey sweats. Hair slightly damp from a recent shower.

He greets you with a grin and leans over the console to kiss your cheek, and you can smell the combination of his shampoo and a bit of cologne. You always appreciated that he doesn’t overdo the fragrance, and if possible it makes him even more intoxicating at times.

“Hey,” he says simply, sitting back in his seat and fastening the seatbelt.

“Hey.” You smile and watch him with a silent but fairly obvious appreciation as he reaches a hand to rest on the back of your seat, twisting the bit he needs to look out the back windshield. The Porsche has a backup camera, obviously, but he’s a cautious driver to a fault and insists he doesn’t fully trust them.

Grayson gets the car facing enough of the right direction to throw it in drive and exit down the long driveway. You shake your head and settle back, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and tucking your feet onto the seat beneath you.

“One day, we’ll be the ones making them leave the house,” he jokes, stopping for the gate to open.

You know it’s implied that he’s referring to the two of you with separate people, but you can’t help but consider the option that the two of you could make that happen together.

“I know for a fact you have a booty call list a mile long, Dolan,” you say with a raised brow. Despite the fleeting thought, keeping things lighthearted and platonic is much easier to deal with in reality. “You could have called one of them and done just that.”

He scoffs and pretends like you’ve just hurt him deeply, slapping a hand to his burly chest to clutch at his heart. “Excuse me, it is not a mile long.” He glances over at you with a held-back smirk. “A couple hundred yards, tops.”

You throw your head back with a loud cackle, looking out the window now as he turns onto the main road. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, that’s a big word.” He likes to tease you about your extended vocabulary.

“Hopeless,” you elaborate, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

“Is that what that word means, or are you making fun of my high school dropout vocab?”

“Both.”

You let your head roll back against the headrest, turning to watch him, knees swayed to the side a bit. His form isn’t hidden in the dark at all, features lit up by the dash in front of him and the streetlights you’re passing by outside.

“Why didn’t you, then? Call one of them?”

Grayson shrugs. “Just didn’t really feel like spending time with people tonight.”

You’re silent for a moment and consider his answer. “Why did you agree to hang out, then? You didn’t have to.”

His eyes never leave the road, but you see the veins in his hand gripping the steering wheel bulge out for a moment as he squeezes it tightly.

“I guess I meant I didn’t want to spend time with people I don’t really care about.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it off with a sarcastic tone. “Aw, you care about me?”

“Of course I do,” he replies easily. “I’m not sure why, though. You’re so fuckin sassy sometimes.”

“You love it.”

The car rolls to a stop at a red light. Grayson’s hand slides from where it’s lightly gripping the gear shift, to yours, which is picking at a loose string on your leggings.

Your easy smile at the comfortable banter between you and Grayson falters some in surprise, but you let him turn your palm over and trace the lines of your hand softly. Both of your gazes are fixated on the way he tickles your skin when he says, “Yeah. I do.”

Your eyes shoot up, just in time to meet his. He looks at you with a weird mixture heat and vulnerability, and there’s a thick moment of silence, no longer than the single beat of your heart that you can hear thudding loud and clear in your ears, when suddenly the car behind you lays on the horn.

Both of you startle, and Grayson’s attention returns to the road ahead. He steps on the gas and takes his hand away, carding it through his hair roughly as you sink back into your seat with a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh my God, dude, you can’t just do that to me,” you blurt out, your heart in your stomach and your brain even lower. A helpless giggle escapes you, and you tug on your own locks. “Shit...”

“What?” he asks defensively, but you hear the tiny bit of the grin he’s wearing in his voice.

You turn your head to deadpan him, eyes wide. “You can’t just... imply something like that and give me sex eyes and not think you did something to me! Are you crazy?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug with the arm resting on top of the steering wheel again. “Maybe. You’re proving my ‘sassy’ point all over again.”

“Oh my — don’t fuck with my head, Gray.”

“Hey.” His voice is deeper, more serious as the car comes to another stop. You’re only just now realizing you’ve reached the burger joint, and that the late hour made finding parking a nonexistent problem. He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt before doing the same to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fuck with your head, I promise. I just... didn’t want it to seem like I was coming on too strong too suddenly. I, uh, have a history of doing that.”

You stare at him, processing everything. “I know.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I know you do.”

There’s more silence. That heavy kind that happened right after his little impromptu confession.

“You know,” you finally speak up, finding your voice after mulling over your words, “I kinda love that you’re a douche.”

He looks a little taken aback, until understanding dawns on him, and his eyes light up in a way that has you smiling instantly with him. “Really?”

You nod. “Call me crazy.”

Grayson shifts closer in his seat, his pink tongue darting out to lick those plump lips. You mirror him, and this time you take the initiative to reach out for his hand. It’s warm and strong, just like the rest of him.

Like earlier, you watch your hands lightly caressing each other as you speak. “And I love that you come on strong. And that you put your heart out there.” You interlace your fingers, immediately in love with the contrast of his huge ones between your slim ones. “Makes things way easier for me.”

He grins wide. “There’s that sass again.”

You bite your lip through your smirk and tug him close to you with your clasped hands, your free one reaching behind his neck to drag his lips to yours. “Mm. Better shut me up, then.”

#here I go again with yet another friends to lovers lmao #dolan twins #Grayson Dolan #blurb #g blurb

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xsamsharons · 3 years

Text

let’s talk about sharon carter.

so because falcon and the winter soldier is coming out in a few hours i wanna go on a rant about a topic i think it's about time we address: sharon carter has never given you a reason to dislike her and the "she's reduced to a love interest" isn't the feminist take you think it is. let me expand:

so let's start with what we've all been hearing since the announcement of sharon being in fatws: "i really hope they don't reduce her to a love interest". this isn't the feminist take you think it is, this is just an excuse you use to hide the fact that you are jealous about the fact that 1. sharon kissed your favorite character 2. "got in the way" of your two-white-boys ship and 3. may potentially be a love interest to either sam or bucky. and yes, sharon didn't have much "character development" throughout the mcu, but how much do you expect a character to develop in TWO MOVIES?? what the captain america trilogy did, was set up a character and a story line to be further developed and explore on later projects (see: falcon and the winter soldier show). now, i agree with the fact that it would be cool to see sharon develop as a character like it's cool to see EVERY character develop. but "being reduced to a love interest"?? repeat after me: a woman isn't REDUCED just because she has a male partner!!

ok so, moving on to my second point:

before i get to it, let me just list a few things sharon has done in the only two movies we have seen her in.

sharon carter was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, one of the best even, and she was so good NICK FURY HIMSELF TRUSTED HER TO PROTECT CAPTAIN FUCKING AMERICA !!

after SHIELD fell, sharon was capable enough to find a job as a CIA agent, and we see her being in charge of her counter-terrorism task force team in civil war (reminder: she joined the CIA after shield fell in 2014, and we see her giving orders in 2016. she's so good it only took her TWO YEARS to climb up the ranks of the fucking CIA)

she was the first agent to stand up to Alexander Pierce in ca:tws (who by the way, after Fury's death, was her highest superior and her main boss), and didn't hesitate to pull a gun on a higher ranking agent (Rumlow) when he pulled a gun on another agent, and after she was disarmed and Rumlow cut her stomach with a knife, she was still able to kick the agent out of the way and made sure he was safe, proceeding to fire at Rumlow after.

later on, in civil war, sharon saves bucky and steve's lives and helps them not one, not twice, BUT THREE TIMES.

first one is when she shares classified information with steve about bucky's whereabouts ( the only reason steve even found bucky and was able to save him in bucharest )

the second one is when she activates the sound of the tv located in the office steve and sam are being kept in, which the reason they are able to hear zemo and bucky's conversation and work out something is wrong. later on, during the same scene, she's the one to tell them where bucky is being kept, that being the reason they even knew where to find bucky during the blackout.

and finally, she's the person who retrieves captain america's shield and suit and sam's suit and redwing. this is goin against the sokovia accords btw.

so, sharon carter does not hesitate to put her career at risk and go against her superiors multiple times to do what's right, saving steve and bucky's (let's be honest, the two characters bc of who you hate her sm) lives. must be a pity hating sharon so much yet knowing she's the only reason the were able to evade shield and the cia and stay alive during ca:cw and ca:tws.

keeping all of this in mind, i think we can ALL say and agree on the fact that sharon carter has proven the fact that she does not need a man (in fact, the men need her to save their asses multiple times during these films). she's a badass character, a badass woman and a badass agent who's damn good at her job. but yet she's "reduced" just cause she openly showed romantic interest? are you sure marvel reduced her to a love interest, or are YOU the one who reduces badass women to their partners the MINUTE they aren't single anymore.

so yeah, sharon carter has proven she doesn't need a man, but she's allowed to WANT ONE. a woman should be allowed to have a partner without people claiming she is being "reduced" or acting like suddenly all of her own personal achievements don't matter.

so, as @616-hawkeyes said: sharon, baby: i hope you kick a lot of ass and kiss a lot of people, and if one of those people happen to be bucky and sam, good for them! they should be so fucking lucky.

in conclusion: sharon carter has never given you a reason to dislike her, the only reason you do is because of a faux feminist agenda and the fact the kissed your fav character or "got in the way" of you ship. that's fucking disgusting and that's not even mentioning all the shit you put emily vancamp through. do fucking better.

#in conclusion: leave sharon carter alone #istg defending sharon carter on the internet isnt enough i need a gun #sharon carter #samsharonbucky #samsharon #buckysharon #falcon and winter solider series #falcon and the winter soldier #buckysam #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#captain america #stucky #stevebucky #stevesharon #agent 13 #emily vancamp #sebastian stan #anthony mackie #stupid thoughts by bella

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kinktae · 4 years

Text

beyond the story: bitchin’

Hi friends! I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these tough times! I really wanted to put something out there as a thank you to just how much support Bitchin’ got. You guys really are incredible. So, although this story has come to an end, I wanted to properly close the Bitchin’ chapter by giving you all a behind the scenes look at Bitchin’ and everything that went into writing it. This includes hidden easter eggs, backstories, alternative plot-lines, and a short drabble of the Bitchin’ cast 10 years after the story’s end.

Without further ado, please enjoy and thank you again for all your love. You have all of mine.

CHAPTER ONE – PARTNERS

Ah, yes, the start of this whole wild ride. I’ve always loved the whole nerd/popular person trope in fanfics, so it was only a matter of time before I tried my hand at it too. One thing I was adamant about was not making this a “popular person turns nerd hot/confident/better” fic as its kind of one of my least favorite cliches. With that in mind, and knowing that I was going to allude to TATBILB’s contract, I decided that I wanted Y/N to gain as much from the deal as Jungkook did. No blackmail, no just agreeing for the hell of it – Y/N was going to further herself and her dreams given the opportunity.

The beginning of the chapter is where the two are most separated and dissimilar throughout the whole story. It wasn’t that they were fundamentally different, it was that they approached life differently. Y/N was frustrated at how superficial Jungkook seemed, because she believes there is much more to life than just kicking your feet up and cracking jokes.

On the other hand, Jungkook didn’t understand why Y/N was so tense and on guard. To him, life was meant to enjoy and not take so seriously. Which makes sense, given that he grew up with minimal rules and minimal worries (bare minimum partners wassup !)

“So, do we have a deal? Partners?” There was mischievous timber to his words, the kind that made you feel as if this would all later come back to bite you in the ass.

Pushing that pestering thought away, you took his hand into yours, holding his eyes as you gave it a firm shake.

“Partners.”

God, this bit. I knew from the minute I wrote it that I was writing the ending of bitchin’ along with it. I knew this was exactly how I was going to end this story, bc the word partners has multiple means right? In chapter 1, this meant business partners, but in the final chapter… it means life partners. Idk, I’m just still really happy with this writing decision :D

CHAPTER TWO – THE CONTRACT

Dearest Yara. We meet her in chapter two don’t we? Yara is completely based off of my irl best friend Yara who is a writer and who helped me A LOT with this story. She was my biggest supporter throughout figuring out this crazy plot. It was initially only about seven parts, but with her help I managed to bump it up to 10! Everybody say thank you Yaraaaa.

You were angry, that much was evident to her. Yara was sat in your shared dorm’s living room, a thick blanket engulfing her small frame. You briefly glanced towards the TV, it was tuned into MTV, the familiar music video of Every Breath You Take by The Police playing, before directing your glare back onto the copper-haired girl.

The song reference is a direct allusion to writer Yara’s fic, which is one of my favorite fics by her. She was actively writing it around the start of our friendship so it only felt right to pay respects to her. The introduction of her character felt necessary imo bc I wanted to make sure Y/N had a life outside Jungkook. Plus, I got to use the scenes between the two girls as a way to reference the music and culture scene. Yara is especially a fan of the powerful women in the music industry at the time, i.e., Madonna, Annie Lennox, Cyndi Laupner, etc.) Yara is a raging feminist and believer in sexual freedom and libery for women, we do in fact have to stan.

“How old do you think your sister is?”

“Hey, don’t sass me. For your information, Lyanna still has all her Care Bear tapes. She threw a hissy fit when my mom tried to give them away last Christmas.” Yara recalled.

Lyanna is one of writer Yara’s past pseudonyms. She always used to joke about how whenever she read it, it was confusing because there was Y/N, Yara and Lyanna, which were technically all her lolol.

FUNNY STORY ABOUT THE CONTRACT I INSERTED INTO THIS PICTURE… Twitter found it and made it into somewhat of a meme because no one knew it came from a fic rip. I was actually rly embarrassed and even wrote some posts about how much twitter scared me on my blog LMAO. but THEN weirdly enough, I actually stumbled upon a small community on twitter who actually found my fic and would TWEET ABOUT IT!!! LIKE REACTIONS TO EACH UPDATE!!! I wish I could go back in time and remember how giddy I was the first time I found a tweet about my fic. The fanfic community on twitter gave me a new love for the site (which I had previously had removed myself from because of its toxicity) and I have met so many wonderful people because of it. People even made themselves a little twitter group chat to talk about my fics, and now we are all friends! I miss posting a chapter of bitchin’ and refreshing my twitter feed as all my mutuals would post memes and live tweet their reactions. God that made me so fucking happy.

CHAPTER THREE – THE ROLLERSKATING DATE

I love the bickering in this chapter, because unlike the bickering in the first chapter, it’s actually less hostile and more playful. Y/N is slowly letting her guard down to the very persistently charming Jungkook.

“Woah. Family of six, huh? So you have siblings then.” He noted.

“Yep. Three.”

“Tell me about them.”

Looking up from where you were slipping on your second skate, you met Jungkook’s eyes, surprised to see genuine interest in them.

I actually originally had Y/N brush him off here. I was going to wait until the drunk party scene for Y/N to open up about her family and relationship with her sisters. But then I kind of thought to myself… Why? Y/N made peace with it and doesn’t hold onto those insecurities anymore. And objectively, Jungkook hasn’t proven himself to be a bad person so… I let Y/N open herself up to him.

“Then there’s the twins, Rosa and Lia.”

“Hold on. Twins? Wait… did they go to our high school?” Jungkook asked, his interest in this conversation doubled.

“Yep. They were two grades above us.” You confirmed.

“Oh shit, yeah, I remember your sisters, they were mad hot.” Jungkook let out a low whistle, before stiffening, flashing you an apologetic look. “Uh, in a totally non-meathead way.”

You offered the scared-looking boy a small smile, shaking your head.

Some of y’all notice but, Rosa and Lia are a blatant homage to my name: Roselia. ACTUALLY some form of my name can be found in every one of the rewind series fics, including upcoming ones. I’ll give a cookie to whoever can find every single mention hehe.

“I told you it was dumb.” You laughed nervously.

It wasn’t that you cared much about what Jungkook thought but you had a feeling a guy like him, who was popular and carefree, wouldn’t be able to sympathize in the way you would like him to.

“No, I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

Jungkook certainly was surprised. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. It was hard to imagine that the girl who was so unapologetically herself was ever unsure or insecure.

Somehow, the idea tugged at his heart, as if he understood you more if only just a little.

From the get go, Jungkook was extremely drawn to just how confident and secure Y/N was in herself. I knew I wanted Y/N to be unapologetically sure of herself and in her abilities. Something I didn’t want, however, was for frat boy!jungkook’s only personality traits to be liking sex and being a cocky bastard (although I am a big consumer of that trope heh). Jungkook is actually canonly incredibly insecure. He lacks a real sense of self, which is why he is so desperate for Kiri back. His relationship with Kiri at that time was a big part of what he thought was himself. He has somewhat of low self esteem tbh which is why he’ll go back to a woman who treated him unfairly. That’s why he comes off the way he does in the first chapter and why Y/N thinks he has a big ego... he’s overcompensating. He finds it so endlessly fascinating that Y/N, in all her confident glory, was actually once super insecure. He admires her all the more once she opens up about her past.

“Oh, Rosa is an intern for our hometown’s newspaper but between you and me those assholes don’t even let her write. She does coffee and burger runs for men in charge. And Lia sells ice cream at the mall.”

“What about your brother?” Jungkook asked.

“He’s training to be a cop just like my dad.”

“And your mom?”

“She works at a convenience store.”

All their careers resemble people in the latest Stranger Things season (Nancy, Steve, Hopper, and Joyce). Fun Cameo there.

“What’s wrong?” You wondered, following his eyes.

“October 16th, 1985. 6:48PM.”

“Yes. That’s today’s date and time. What about it?” You pressed, growing confused.

“Remember it.” He warned.

“Why?”

“It’s when I fell in love with you.”

This iconic line I actually got from the real Jeon Jungkook himself. While Jungkook wasn’t actually in love with Y/N here, it certainly was a cute way for him to express his admiration for her.

OH HERE’S A FUN FACT: the hickey scene at the end of this chapter where JK and Y/N kiss for the first time was actually supposed to be Yara giving Y/N the hickey like the best friend she is. Ultimately I went with JK giving it for... smut purposes... ≖‿≖

CHAPTER FOUR – THE HALLOWEEN PARTY

The decision for Y/N to be Freddie Krueger came from me planning to be him for Halloween. And I was! JK as Glen Lantz just followed naturally. I’ve seen some great edits of him as the character. Truly chef’s kiss.

I really liked that Jungkook came over to the girl’s dorm to get ready. I didn’t want a scene where Y/N was thrown into a situation she was uncomfortable with which is how much Nerd At A Party Scene go so made sure Jungkook stayed by her side throughout the part, going out of his way to introducing her to the people he cared about.

Tae’s character came in when I realized I needed a way to actually put Y/N’s event in motion. He was the missing link and BOY did you guys eat his character right up huh. Love that for me.

Another thing, the confrontation with Kiri was so hard to write guys, I reeaaaally struggle with girl conflict. GIRLS SHOULD SUPPORT GIRLS. However, not everyone gets along in real life so I went with Kiri being more along the lines of petty rather than outwardly a cunt to Y/N. Realistically, Kiri is popular and well liked among the greek life so being unkind to someone she hardly knows wouldn’t make sense. There’s definitely tension between these two but I tried my best to steer away from the typical cat fight/revenge porn/public humiliation trope most movies seem to follow.

CHAPTER FIVE – THE FIRST TIME

Introduction to Erik!!!! It was really important to me that Y/N had a life before Jungkook. That's why I wrote in Y/N having a fiancé. She’s not opposed to love, she just has reshifted her focus. She knows what she wants and is choosing to focus on that, which why when she realizes she’s falling for Kookie she’s so hesitant to admit it because she’s fallen down that road before. Even though Jungkook treats her with respect and acknowledges the parts of her she’s most proud of, she just isn’t willing to possibly give up her passions for love. Which is why she doesn’t immediately confess to him, even once she’s sure she loves him.

“I’m serious, nerd. You’re like… um… the sun!” Jungkook marveled, eyes growing full as the realization dawned on him.

“The sun?” You laughed.

“Yeah, like… you’re this bright, beautiful thing that seems like it’s here in front of me but is really light-years away.”

Jungkook was drunk, and although you were sure he was making more sense in his head, you couldn’t help but feel your face grow hot, unsure of how to react to his drunk analogy.

“You’re the sun, Y/N. You make the world turn for you. Never orbit for anyone else.”

And suddenly, you were kissing him, for no other reason other than you wanted to and that it felt like the right thing to do.

No real commentary here. Just love this bit. It’s probably my favorite interaction between them two ‧⁺◟( ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ )

“Also… She’s, uh, currently dating Eunwoo.” You told Yara.

Your best friend blinked, silence falling over her.

“Yara?”

“Good for her.” She perked up almost forcibly. “Let her put up with his annoying ass.”

Yara could see the way your expression had turned dubious as if you didn’t believe her nonchalant act.

Yara turned up her nose defensively, “What?”

Ugh yes, some character development from Yara.... the flavor ! Yara (much like Y/N and JK) also struggles with love. She has a real fear of commitment and if far more comfortable with casual sex than relationships. She did develop actual feelings for Eunwoo, she just wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment so she cut him off. Fleed the scene if you will. Typical gemini smh my head.

"I don’t think the contract mentioned orgasms.” Jungkook smirked as you released his thumb.

“I say we let it slide.” You shrugged, leaning into him casually.

“You think?”

“Totally. Think of it as… a bonding activity.” You joked, resting your chin on his shoulder, peering up through your lashes.

“Damn, we’re really committed to this fake dating thing, huh.”

You laughed in the way that you hated, but Jungkook loved; it was loud and abrupt, but it genuine, and it was you.

“What can I say, I’m a method actor.” You sighed dramatically, causing Jungkook to grin before pressing a kiss to your nose, simply because he liked the way it always seemed to make you smile.

GOD THEY’RE SO WHIPPED FOR EACH OTHER ITS DISGUSTING!!!!!! I’m really happy I decided not to make sleeping together a big deal and I got a lot of feedback from you guys agreeing! I had a lot of fun with these two’s sex scenes knowing they could do it whenever they wanted.

CHAPTER SIX – THE STEM EVENT

I started the scene with smut BUT I wanted to point out that much of their time spent together is at Y/N dorm, Jungkook either napping, hanging out or doing work as Y/N would study like she always did. I liked the idea that Jungkook would get bored and would want attention from Y/N because she was so focused. Idk, I just wanted to write a love story about two people spending time together and figuring out how they fit in each other’s lives as opposed to some dramatic I mEeT HiM aNd mY LiFe bEcAmE cRaZy. There’s nothing wrong with that plot line, I just didn’t want that for these two dorks. I wanted Y/N to interact with JK’s scene and crowd but not give up her own which is why most days JK and her just lounged around in her dorm studying.

Also, I don’t know how the teacher/student roleplay made it into the smut, it just did, no further questions (ʃ⌣́_⌣́ƪ).

Then the event scene.

“You’re whipped, dude! Seriously.”

Jungkook felt his face go red, “Shut up, no, I’m not.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I get it. That’s your girl.” Taehyung shrugged. Jungkook placed a hand on the fold up table in front of him, staring down at the information pamphlet you had worked so hard on.

“She’s just… so fucking driven and passionate about everything she does. Sometimes I look at her, and I’m just like… holy shit, what am I doing with a girl like her? I feel like she’s totally out of my league and being with me is holding her back but— I dunno, man. I just… really like her.” Jungkook revealed, voice growing small.

An unexpected wave of tenderness fell over the two boys, Taehyung throwing an arm over his little brother’s shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, bro.”

Jungkook didn’t know it just yet but dude was talking from the heart and, is in fact, totally whipped :’c

I loved the confrontation scene between the boys and Eunwoo because the boys standing up for Yara really did make everyone feel like a friend group, not just some character who happen to exist at the same time. It wasn’t just Y/N and Yara and one side and the boys on the other. They would all become friends, which is ideal to me. A boyfriend who likes your best friend and considers her a friend so you can all hang out??? Yes please.

Initially, irl Yara and I had noooo clue if Yara would end up with Eunwoo or not. That was actually the original goal actually. But after this chapter four, you guys made it ABUNDANTLY clear that you guys wanted to see Taeyara, despite the two never even meeting! Honestly, it wasn’t until this chapter was written that we decided for sure that Eunwoo was out of the picture for Yara. Part of me really wanted to keep Yara single, but irl Yara insisted on dick and frankly, she’s right. Bitchin’ Yara deserved a shot at love. She definitely has her own story outside of Bitchin’ and will experience a lot of growth in the future.

“God, I know. I do not miss that temper of his.” She chuckled, her words piquing your interest.

“Temper?”

“Oh, yeah. Have you seriously not experienced it yet? He’s got some gnarly anger issues. Not to mention all the lying…” Kiri paused suddenly, straightening up as she flashed you an apologetic look. “Yikes, I’m sorry. I totally should not be telling you this. I’m not trying to be that gross girl that shit talks her ex to his current girlfriend.”

Miss Kiri, Miss Kiri. She really acted up this chapter didn’t she. There was a lot of discussion about whether or not those things she said about Jungkook were true. Which was exactly what I wanted hehe. We come to find out that Kiri had definitely stretched the truth. She really is good at manipulation and understanding how people think and it’s why she is in the role that she is in. Messy queen.

CHAPTER SEVEN – THE ROOFTOP DATE

This entire chapter was inspired by High School Musical with Troy and Gabriella’s rooftop garden scenes. This was my shortest chapter and honestly, probably not my strongest. I definitely went into writing this with zero concept of what I actually wanted to happen. Usually when I write my chapters I have a 4k long outline of it beforehand that I go off of. Not this one though. I really just winged it and I tried my best to write a chapter that really showed off (dialogue wise) just how this couple bounces off each other. I do really like some of the banter they have in this chapter.

You had taken note a little wooden popsicle stick poking up from the soil of the yellow flowers. Acacias, they were marked. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you considered his words.

Yellow acacias stands the value of true friendship and can indicate a secret love! I thought that was very appropriate given these dummies' relationship.

“So, you probably know why I brought you here.”

You nodded.

“You’re proposing, right?”

“Yeah, I– oh, shut up.” He laughed, the serious mood shattering as you joined him.

Even though I knew they were going to have a semi serious talk, what with Y/N asking about what Kiri had told her, these two dufuses realistically are just too comfortable with each other to stay serious for too long.

“Hey, I said that out of frustration, I didn’t really mean it. I’m sure she’ll come crawling back soon.” You attempted to comfort him, hoping to sound sincere.

“Even if that’s true, I’m not entirely sure I want that anymore.”

“What?” You blinked. Jungkook shrugged.

“What about us?” He met your eyes, causing your breath to hitch.

“What about us?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, noting the way the timber in your voice had become higher pitched as if panicked.

MORE FUN FACTS LMFAO: I typically do this thing with unplanned chapters where I just go for it and write and usually it works out. But when I wrote this down I remember stopping and being like ??? WHY DID I JUST WRITE THAT ??? I don’t like deleting my writing so I had a serious think to myself about whether this was going to be the moment Jungkook confessed or not.

Canonly, I decided that Jungkook did in fact mean ‘us’ in a romantic sense, but because of the way you perceivably panicked at that possible meaning, he decided against taking the conversation in that direction, instead speaking about ‘us’ in a platonic sense. Poor kookie :(

“Stop. Listen to me, Jungkook, you’re a fucking great guy, okay? You’re charismatic and funny and care about your friends… sure, you almost ruined my event, but it was mostly to defend my best friend when Eunwoo got too pushy, right? You’re a good guy, meathead. I know I joke about your ego, but I really believe you’re capable of more than you think you are. Seriously, Kiri is so lucky to be the object of your affection.”

Jungkook watched the way the sun’s orange light kissed your face, a bittersweet feeling growing in his chest as he contemplated the object of his affection. Just a couple of months ago, he would have had no doubt about who held his heart, but as you held his stare, he found himself unsure and yet, entirely sure all the same.

“Jungkook? You okay?” You frowned, catching in the sadness in his eyes.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah. I just… realized something.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“…It doesn’t matter.” He smiled, the gesture hardly reaching his eyes.

It’s in this moment that Jungkook decides that there is no way you hold the same affection towards him that he does to you. He mistakes your words of comfort as you pushing him away. You are so kind and encouraging and Jungkook loves you so much that hearing you insist about him ending back up with Kiri hurts him so bad.

But you are still unsure about your feelings and genuinely believe that's still what Jungkook wants. You’re just being a supportive friend!! :( It isn’t until the end of this chapter when Y/N has her talk with Yara that she realizes, oh man, she’s in deep.

CHAPTER EIGHT – THE MISTAKE

BLAH. This chapter is so BLAH, you know? Having to write this chapter was SO HARD. I texted irl Yara complaining about how much I hated having to put my characters through this and that I wanted to just end the story on chapter 7 and keep them happy forever. BUT ALAS! I had planned for this to happen from the start.

You tasted like the mint of your favorite brand of toothpaste. He imagined if he had caught you any later then the mint would have been accompanied by the taste of coffee, knowing the way you rarely started a day without a cup.

God, he had missed the taste of you.

What you guys didn’t see is Jungkook spending the night with Kiri, and immediately kicking her out, freaking out as the weight of guilt washed over him. He knew he had done nothing wrong, that you weren’t his real girlfriend, and that getting back together with Kiri was exactly what he had signed up for. It was what he should’ve wanted. But it wasn't… because you were what he wanted. And that was exactly what he was going to tell you as he marched over to your apartment.

But he panicked. His mind already decided that your answer to him would be no– that you didn’t feel the same. So he kissed you. He had you in the only way he was allowed to. He was selfish and impulsive and so incredibly scared that he ended up hurting the person he loved the most.

Initially though, I had Jungkook get back together with Kiri, not that he slept with her right before sleeping with Y/N. But I decided TEEHEE let me just make everything erupt into flames. However, I didn’t realize just how angry with Jungkook you guys would get. I remember thinking DAMMIT WAS THAT TOO SCANDALOUS?? I knew I was going to have to work hard for Jungkook to redeem himself to my readers.

“She wants to get back together.” Jungkook swallowed dryly, eyes wavering between yours as if to gauge your reaction.

“…Oh.”

You shook your head.

“I mean, wow! That’s… That’s great!” You smiled, something tearing apart inside you as the words left your lips.

“Y/N–”

“Seriously! This means it worked, right? This is exactly what you wanted to happen.” You enthused, turning your head so that he couldn’t see the way your eyes had welled up.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding in his ears, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around you.

“Yeah… yeah, no, you’re right. We did it.” He replied monotonously.

GOD THIS PART IS SO UNBELIEVABLY FRUSTRATING! JUST ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER YOU MORONS! This entire situation is so convoluted because there's so much information missing and not being expressed, I seriously want to ring my own neck rereading this bit.

“Are you mad?” He called out cautiously, a heavy feeling falling onto his chest.

“Why would I be mad?” You quipped back sharply, causing Jungkook to flinch. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“I just thought… I mean we’ve been fooling around a lot lately, so I didn’t know if—”

“If what? I had feelings for you?” You scoffed. “Please, as if I’d ever fall for you.”

And there it was— everything Jungkook already knew but had been so afraid to hear. Of course, you didn’t feel for him what he felt for you. How could he have expected anything different?

IDIOTS!!! THEY'RE BOTH IDIOTS!!! I don't know how y'all put up with this for so long. Forgive me.

CHAPTER NINE – THE BREAK

Okay I actually love this chapter. And for many reasons. Let me break down the three scenes for you guys.

Scene one: Kiri confrontation

Kiri is definitely an opposing antagonist. She is constantly working against Y/N because of their interests directly conflicting. BUT. I would argue that the biggest antagonist to this story is the inner ones – Y/N and Jungkook's lack of ability to admit their feelings constantly holding them both back from their happy ending. That being said, a confrontation scene between Y/N and Kiri was MUCH needed. While I suppose I can understand why Kiri doesn't like Y/N, that doesn't change the fact that she has been disrespectful and catty. So miss Y/N had to put Miss Kiri in her place (•̀ᴗ•́)

Scene two: Yara and Tae at the library

Fanservice. That is all. LMFAOOO y'all reallllyyy wanted it to happen and who am I to deny my people what they want. It was really fun getting to explore my side characters and develop them through interactions outside the two main characters. IRL Yara also mentioned giving bitchin’ Yara and Tae their own chapter as a joke and I was like LOL BET. I fully was going to but then I got the idea for the next scene and was like ahh ok maybe not the whole chapter.

Scene three: Meeting with Erik

So. This was a SUPER last minute decision. Like, it wasn’t until I was writing this chapter that I planned on Erik making an appearance. I saw a tweet with someone saying their bitchin theories and they mentioned Erik appearing out of nowhere and I was like,,, HOLD ON!!!! That could be kind of spicy ≖‿≖

I knew for a fact JK was NOT going to be forgiven in this chapter; I needed a way to lay the situation out between the two dorks without trying to seem like I was trying to sway my audience in a way that didn't make sense to the story. Y/N was rightfully angry. But she wasn't only angry about the timing of the sex. She was angry that Jungkook went back to Kiri at all and there was no way she was going to admit that. So who better to lay it all out than calculated, unbiased third party Erik. He deserved some character development after all.

I also liked the idea that Y/N had, in theory, “romantic options.” Losing Jungkook didn’t mean the end of her life. Having my female lead stand on her own was very important to me.

CHAPTER TEN – THE END

RIGHT OF THE BAT I needed Jungkook to suffer. So that whole scene where he tries to interact with his old group only for his presence to make everything awkward MMMM yes, sweet revenge on my part.

You were surprised. His hair was no longer shaggy and long like you remembered it. Instead, it had been freshly cut, looking healthy and neatly styled for the first time since you met Jungkook.

THE WAY SO MANY PEOPLE COMMENTED ON THIS LINE “but Y/N liked it long?!?” IS SO FUNNNYyyyy. So let me clarify a thing. Jungkook had always wanted to cut his hair right. The only reason he didn’t was because Y/N told him not to. With Y/N no longer in the picture to convince him out of it, he cut his hair. That’s really all there is to it skfjsjf.

You know, I had written this part around the time I had just finished up the third ch believe it or not. And it was COMPLETELY different. I had it planned that Yara and Y/N ignored him throughout class and Yara had gone back after the bell rang to go verbally assault JK. And as the two hashed it out, only then was that when Jungkook would realize that he liked Y/N after Yara literally spelled it out for him.

“You like her, dumbass!” Was what I had written Yara saying. I really had written him in denial for ten chapters, I was a whole sociopath (╥﹏╥). But ultimately, I decided that Jungkook came to that conclusion on his own and the decision to apologize to Y/N would have been made over winter break.

“You said Kiri came over asking for you back, yet you still came over and slept with me the next day. Even though the two of you had sex the night before. Do you understand how that makes me feel?”

“I’m—”

“Like garbage!" You emphasized, the white paint of the door somehow irritating you further. "I felt like I was something you threw away and picked back up whenever you felt like getting your dick wet.”

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you tried your hardest to not let your emotions get the best of you.

“Not to mention to everyone else, it looks like you cheated on me. Which makes me look like a fucking idiot." You scoffed.

Jungkook said nothing in reply, which somehow made it easier to say all you should have said that day in your room.

“It just sucks to realize that someone you once cared about sees you as nothing more than a toy. It fucking sucks.”

Man :( writing this hurt my heart. I really, really, love bitchin!y/n and writing her hurting freaking stinks. But she had to speak her mind. She deserves the chance to get everything off her chest with the way Jungkook hurt her.

Your heart and mind were in constant paradox, torn between wanting him back and wanting him to know just how much he had hurt you. Your mind ultimately won the battle, of course, but as Jungkook stood just a few inches of drywood apart pouring his heart out, it was hard to say which major organ was responsible for your next words.

The creak of the door being pushed open sent Jungkook's eyes wide, revealing your hesitant form. You had your arms crossed over your chest as if to guard the contents inside of it.

You looked like an angel underneath the bathroom's blue fluorescent lights, beautiful and lovely, a stark contrast from your next crushing sentence.

“I slept with Erik.”

Hehe. Ofc my girl Y/N had to have a rebound!!! She knows that life goes on. However, as I wrote in, she definitely regretted it. It was kind of the same situation that Jungkook was in where he pursued something just because it was familiar and a distraction and not because he really wanted it. Both Y/N and Jungkook are flawed characters but that’s okay! If anything, Y/N’s mistake of sleeping with Erik is what allows her to forgive Jungkook. Knowing first hand how complicated their entire relationship really was.

“I don’t need you… but I don’t think I want a life without you.” You finished shyly.

Your eyes were locked with his when suddenly a small noise escaped him, eyes pulling away from yours as his head moved to attempt to hide the way his eyes had grown wet.

I got this line from one of my best friends after her ex broke up with her. It made me physically sad and really sympathize with her so I quickly wrote it down into my notes app to save for later LMAOOOO. Knowing that you are your own person and life will inevitably go on after losing someone, but that your heart still wants and is pleading for the one person you can’t have. SO SAD. I’m happy I got to use this line in one of my fics.

The note Jungkook wrote Y/N,,, imagine him not being able to sleep one night over winter break so he just writes down everything he should have told Y/N while he still had the chance…. I’ll for real cry dude, he’s so cute. Also, the line about him buying you fluffy Halloween socks for Christmas went over people’s heads I think but HECK I THOUGHT THAT WAS SO FUNNY AND SWEET (because Y/N bought Christmas socks when it was Halloween teehee).

"Are you two dorks done crying?" Yara’s voice rang out suddenly, causing both of you to jump apart.

"Yara, you creep! Privacy, dude! Ever try knocking?" You sniffed, wiping at your face hurriedly.

"What? Like you were peeing with Jungkook in the bathroom? Please." She waved you off, walking back into the living room to give you two some privacy. She did say Jungkook had 15 minutes before she’d have to come back in after all. "Anyway, Tae will be over in 10 minutes for the Saved By The Bell marathon that’s on so you guys are more than welcomed to join." She called out from her newly seated position on the couch.

I included this scene with Yara because things were getting too serious for my liking ngl. Plus the idea that the four of them would all come together at the end for a much needed reunion made my happy bitchin heart soar.

Jungkook let out a laugh, his palm finding your cheek, eyes locked on your lips. You were preening for his kiss, mouth parting slightly as you anticipated it.

“Partners?”

The question took you by surprise, eyes widening at your not so pretend lover.

Idiot.

“Partners.” You smiled softly, eyes shiny and brimming with tears as he kissed you for what must have been the millionth time, but still somehow felt like the first.

UGH I LOVE THEM I REALLY DO. I was so happy with how this final scene came out :( They’re partners, they really are I miss these boneheads.

AND NOW, I PRESENT THE CANON FUTURE OF THE BITCHIN UNIVERSE...

10 YEARS LATER

Let’s be honest, Jungkook popped the question the day of graduation, he can’t imagine a life in which you wouldn’t be beside him

You said yes (shocker)

Cue Jungkook being the most wonderful partner and respecting your wish to finish your residency program before having the wedding

You absolutely kick ass at being a neonatal surgeon

Also, Jungkook started a film company! It’s small but he loves what he does and works with colleges and helps out the film majors with resources and equipment <3

SO IT'S THE DAY OF YOUR WEDDING RIGHT

Yara and your sisters are helping you get ready, with your best friend as the ever so reassuring maid of honor

And by that I mean you’re as calm as a cucumber and Yara is one wrong move away from having a stroke

“Y/N… Don’t freak out....The catering company put in two orders of shrimp instead of chicken and steak.”

“Yara, it’s okay.”

“NO ITS NOT???? THIS IS YOUR WEDDING DAY AND YOU’RE GETTING CRUSTACEANS.”

Y/N making Yara take a seat and practice some breathing exercises so she doesn’t upset the baby

Oh yeah, Yara is 10 weeks pregnant

Taehyung is the dad lol

Yara and Taehyung have been together ever since that day at the library hehe <3

They moved in together and adopted a cat and everything (sweet boy Tae wanted a dog but Yara’s afraid of dogs and Tae would do anything for that woman so Yeontan the cat it is)

Yara refuses to put a label on their relationship even after all this time, and Tae doesn’t ask for one. They’re happy and dedicated to each other and don’t feel the need to put pressure on something that’s already so perfect

Yara is actually violently in love with Tae but still scoffs when Y/N tries to bring it up

“Oh my god, you’re so in love with him”

“Huh??? you must be sick or something. Get well soon, damn :/”

Yara likes to come up with different labels for Taehyung every time she has to introduce him. Among her favorites are roommate, rent sharer, baby daddy and penis lender

Speaking of Taehyung, he’d have a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder as he tries to calm down the panicking groom to be

“JK, breathe.”

“What if she doesn’t show up? What if she doesn’t want to marry me? What if I pressured her into this and— and I’ve freaked her out and now she hates me?”

“Dude, you guys have been engaged for eight years. She’s had her opportunity to run. She’ll show up.”

Taehyung scruffing up the younger man’s hair reassuringly, which only flusters him more because DAMMIT he wants to look perfect for you and now his hair is messed up >:(

(You like him no matter what his hair looks like though)

Jungkook literally swallowing down a sob as you walk down the aisle and he lays his eyes on you for the first time

You having a dumb smile on your face the entire walk over because your husband to be is crying and you haven’t even exchanged vows yet

The entire audience going all sobby when you finally do exchange vows because they’re so beautiful and real

The ten years together has not been easy— from financial struggles as you tried to support yourself through med school, to personal conflicts when Jungkook wanted to start a family already

But you guys figured it out

You always do

He’s your person. And you are his.

Y/N’s sisters Rosa and Lia are a WRECK— even your dad is tearing up

Your family loves Jungkook and have been counting down the days until you guys married, let’s be honest

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Jungkook punching the air with a “FINALLY!” before kissing the hell out of you

The cutting of the cake inevitably turning into a food fight

The shrimp entrees turning out to be pretty damn good

Yara catching the bouquet and wagging her brows at Taehyung suggestively

Jungkook pulling you aside to take photos of you outside the venue because you look so so pretty and he loves the way you smile when he’s the one behind the camera

The party is in full session, your siblings tearing up the dance floor like the extroverts they are

You and Jungkook are sat at the head of the room, hands intertwined underneath the table as you watch a tired and painfully sober Yara swing her bare feet onto Taehyung’s lap, requesting a foot rub

Watching your pregnant best friend and her lover together, you turned towards your own, smile impossibly wide

“What?”

“Let’s have a baby.” You’d grin, so stupid happy

Jungkook’s eyes going round and immediately jumping up from his seat because god that’s all he’s ever wanted

Being tugged out the room by a giddy Jungkook, one of your heels flinging off somewhere behind you.

“What’s happening? Where are we going?!”

The two of you find yourself in a storage room somewhere on the hotel floor

“Jeon Jungkook, what the hell—“

His mouth find yourself, kissing you in a way that couldn’t at the altar

You kissed him back without questions, arms wrapping around the man you now called your husband

“I love you.” He’d sigh into your neck, his hot breath causing you to shiver

“I love you too.”

“Let’s make a baby.”

“Yeah let’s— wait, right here? Right now?!”

Jungkook merely nodding as his mouth found the exposed skin of your chest

“Meathead, we can’t just ditch our wedding to have sex!”

“Why not? We did our marital duties. Now it’s our guests' job to get embarrassingly drunk and make a fool of themselves on the dance floor. No one will even miss us.”

“Isn’t baby making what our honeymoon is for?”

“Screw that. I’ve done my waiting. Let’s start our family, nerd.”

Jungkook kissing your protests silent before you inevitably give in and let him take you right there and then, your wedding dress hung around your hips

Husband and wife coming together with shaky breaths and hushed moans as they promise the rest of their lives to each other, making every argument, struggle or moment of uncertainty leading up to now totally worth it

Walk of shame back into the party with nervous hair fixing from you and a proud grin from Jungkook

Yara figuring out exactly why you two had sneaked off to, flashing the newly weds a knowing smirk

The night of your wedding, Jungkook surprises you with a present

You unwrap it in confusion, only to see that it’s a glass frame and inside of it is the wrinkled and worn out lined paper the two of you had scribbled on many many years ago

Jungkook hangs up the contract right above your bed as per your request, smiling as he does and jumping on him the moment he puts down the hammer bc dammit it you’re too heckin excited to make love with your sentimental loser of a husband

And yes, by the next month, you are pregnant and incredibly happy

And of course, your daughter and Yara’s son grow up to be best friends, not a family holiday passing by where they aren’t told the story of the totally bitchin’ way both set of their parents got together

#beyond the story #bts smut #Jungkook smut #bts jungkook #bts #bts imagines #bts preferences #Jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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okaybutlikeimagine · 3 years

Note

El has a nightmare and Hop has a night shift, so she can't talk to him about it and goes to Billy instead. Imagine Jim coming home in the morning and finding El sleeping in her brother's bed taking almost all the space and the covers, while Billy is about to fall off with one leg and one arm touching the floor. And Hop can feel his heart melt because this is the cutest thing he's ever seen.

HI I’M the one melting bc this is so adorable!! ♥ i’ve been bundled into a ball of fluff over the idea of this.

One of my absolute FAVORITE things that really cemented me into the “I live and breathe for Billy’s found family and you can pry it from my cold dead hands” club was fics where Billy looks out for El. like, something about this big rough and tough and emotionally vulnerable boy noticing and helping out this small but also feisty and emotionally vulnerable girl just drives me CRAZy ♥

their dynamic is TOO GOOD. they’re so similar and both deal with the same kinds of traumas and call me crazy, but I don’t think Billy likes the idea of other people going through what he went through. I think he likes to THINK he does, I think he likes to both silently and very loudly wish ill of people- usually bullies or assholes who think they’re clever. Think they’re better than him bc they have whatever constitutes as a “happy home life”. He hates those people. Those are the people he (almost) wishes could feel the pain he’s felt his whole life… the pain of trying to be as small as possible, to take up as little space as possible, and still get slapped for it.

The thing is… he never actually means it. He likes to think that if he was given the choice, he could throw his life and all of the pain that’s come with it onto some poor, unsuspecting soul… but somehow he knows he would never. Could never. It’s an upsetting thought for him.

And he most definitely wouldn’t want anything plaguing a little kid… especially this little girl that Billy shares a home with now.

Bc Billy’s no stranger to nightmares, and within about 3 days of moving into the Hopper household, he knows El isn’t either. Bc he wakes up to shrieks. It startles him awake, gets his heart racing like crazy, and sets his entire body on fire because…

Because he hears heavy footsteps, rushing somewhere on the wooden floors.

He’s awake but his mind is still processing it so his vision is blurry and all he sees is a large figure barreling towards the only room- El’s room, and the door slams open and the shrieks get louder and Billy’s livid.

And he jumps into action, gracelessly because he’s still drunk with sleep and exhaustion (because those first few weeks in the cabin are rough on him.) and he rushes to El’s room, running himself into the doorway, leaning heavily on it, eyes scanning wildly to stop this because holy shit he didn’t think this man was like this but then again how could he be so stupid as to think this man wasn’t a poison to society like every man Billy’s ever met and-

And….

And El is crying and Billy’s vision is getting less blurry and she’s… she’s hugging Hop. Hop is on the bed, arms wrapped tight around the little bundle of curls and tears that are shivering against his chest, and Hop shoots a look up to Billy in the doorway. He must look like a fire being doused.

You okay? Hop mouths, patting El’s head.

Billy’s blinking hard, trying to make sure he knows exactly what he’s looking at- make sure he knows that there’s no danger here.

El starts mumbling something… something about monsters and labs and Papa and…

Billy leaves. Stumbles his way back to the couch and flops back down and falls into a restless sleep of his own monster.

And it takes a bit for him to realize he may never get used to it. Every time he sees something other than reality. Every time his mind is somewhere that isn’t the present. Every time Billy rushes, heart beating violently, over to the room, leaning heavily on the door, ready to fight, mind just racing with thoughts of: oh no, it finally happened. He finally did it. He’s finally bored of me. He finally moved on to her...

Every time Billy snaps back to the present, taking note of the girl having brown hair rather than red…

But Billy just never gets used to it. He never gets comfortable. It’s happened a countless number of times and every time he’s nervous and today, when El screams, Billy is up in a second, stumbling on wobbly legs that’re heavy with sleep over to her room to see her standing and crying and wobbling around herself. She’s wandering around her room, bumping into her bedframe and her dresser and her wall because she has her hands covering her eyes in fear.

Billy grabs hold of her, embracing her in his arms, keeping her still. He feels her shake as his sleep hazy mind slowly clears.

“Monsters.” is all she can say but it’s all Billy needs to hear.

So he guides her out of her bedroom and into the living room to sit on his bed in the corner. He lets her talk for a minute about what she saw and how it makes her feel and Billy just lets her before he tells her it’s “not real” and that she doesn’t have to be scared. He doesn’t quite know what else to say. Even though he has nightmares too, he’s not sure what he’d want to hear. It works, nonetheless. She breathes a little more even and nods and curls herself up in the corner of his bed while he goes to grab her a glass of milk and an extra blanket.

When Billy notices she’s not shaking anymore, he figures this is the perfect time to guide her back to her bed and try to get back to sleep himself, but the second he opens his mouth she beats him to it.

“Can you sing?”

His brows furrow deeply. “Huh?”

“Sing? Can you sing a song?”

“Uhhh… I don’t really sing, kiddo.”

“Yes you do. Sometimes you sing.”

“Yeah but-”

“Please?”

And it’s the puppy dog eyes and the pouting lip and the fact that her face is still puffy from crying that really seals the deal.

So he gives her the extra blanket and lets her get cozy and tries for the life of him to think of something to sing- some slow song he’s heard her listen to or that he’s heard and knows the lyrics to or that, maybe possibly, his mom used to sing for him when he was a kid… but even those are far and distant and muffled and it’s stupid but there’s only one song and it’s only the chorus that he can think of.

So…. well…

He makes sure she’s comfy and he lays back in the bed a bit and he twists his face up a bit and sings rather awkwardly-

“Take me down to the paradise city… where the grass is green… and the girls are pretty… oh won’t you please take me home?”

She snuggles in more, burying her face into his arm and grabbing hold of it. He sighs a little, trying his damnedest to sing the chorus slowly and in some kind of tune that resembles a lullaby.

Somehow, for some reason, it does work- with only a couple repetitions of the chorus, El is fully calm and asleep against Billy’s arm, her own arms wrapped around it like it’s a teddy bear. The smile Billy gives to her is small and soft and involuntary, and he keeps singing the chorus, softer and softer and even softer, until he too is asleep.

And just imagine Hop’s heartwarming surprise when he comes into the cabin after a grueling and tiring shift to find El spread like a semi-broken starfish across the bed, the blankets mostly wrapped around her and yet with a hand still gripping onto the arm of Billy, who is half off the bed and yet still fully passed out.

He chuckles to himself as he pulls off his boots, makes some coffee for Billy to wake up to, and gets ready for some shut eye of his own.

And imagine Hop’s even more… perhaps confusing surprise when Guns and Roses’ Paradise City comes on the radio one night when they’re all driving back from the Byers’ home and El shouts out “lullaby!”

He shoots Billy a very confused look, to which the boy just shrugs and makes his best “I have no idea what she’s talking about and don’t ask me” face.

#y'all..... i'm back on my bullshit in this new year #i've been writing SO MUCH this month who is she!!! lol #Billy Hargrove #Jim Hopper #Eleven #El Hopper #found family #fluff #ask #angst #only a little bit #i'm gonna post once a week for now even though i've got asks written out!#bc i'm trying not to burn through everything i've done lmaooooo #i'm also working on a fic while doing these #i'm deciding what day i was gonna do fridays #but then i didn't end up posting yesterday lmaooo #anyway here take this!!#i'll be answering more as consistently as possible!!#sorry i've been gone so long i've been so stressed and upset jweiwa;fawjif;wa #i was gonnaput this under a Read More so i'm not a jerk about long posts and LOOK AT ME not using a read more #someone tell me if read mores are good or bad i still don't know proper etiquette lmaoooo #halp

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aquagustd · 2 years

Note

🐇 anon here! thanks so much for replying! im not gonna lie to you, i read lots of books and lots of fics and this sort of build up is super fun for me! i love talking about this and i appreciate u making this so exciting. im constantly thinking about new hie theories i swear its always on my mind. ill literally be mopping the floors at my job and im like 📌🤔✍🏻😧⁉️ two things that got me stuck today....

in the beginning, there was a narrator introducing oc and jk's relationship and u said that will be later revealed in the story. not sure if u remember that hehe but i think it was in the description of fast forward. anyways! i think its either yoongi or tae. yoongi seems to be someone who knows the most about jk and oc as a couples and as individuals. its weird how hes so involved but also?? whos side are u on my guy? and i only say tae because im already assuming that jk had to have known him from back then. maybe tae had a rep in the streets? maybe he knew already about oc and jk, so thats why hes so overprotective so fast? i think theyre standoffish and when the love triangle truly sets the truth will be revealed 🤙🏻 which every love triangle theres got to be a rivalry of some sort! they know what the other got up his sleeve type thing. idk maybe tae is just being his sweet self and jk is an ass now :/ just something i wanted to point out because its lingering in my mind. tae and jk always share unreadable looks 🥴

ANOTHER THING???? i wonder what happened to jk's mother 😳 was jk the original junho? was jk robbed of a normal life due to his father always getting into trouble? im not sure, but the scene with oc meeting tae's mother it really triggered some thoughts.... hmm..... thats probably a stretch but i can totally see jk mimicking tactics his father used in order to become a stone cold man suited for the job. i think jk is acting like a different man bc he is convinced it is the life he is meant to live, which is sad. he resents oc deeply for not blindly following him anymore. is that love? i do think they sincerely loved each other and still do but maybe theyre just used to dysfunction so it probably cannot be longterm. when u see enough shit in ur everyday life u can become calloused over time. then again he is actively bein an asshole booooooo make ur relationship work!!!! 🍅 ✊🏻💢 i just dont know how i feel like i know so much but so little 😭

awww 🥺 idk it just made me smile knowing that hie is on your mind when you’re at work haha. & yeah ! the narrator at the beginning of fast forward still has to be revealed. it could be yoongi — given that he knows everything about oc & jk. orr tae bc he might know jk from then?👀 we haven’t really seen them interact before except for the looks they share !! so it could be possible.

OMG JKS MOM??? 😳 the theory about him sort of wanting to be like his dad to junho if she isn’t in the picture 🤌🏻 big brain bunny. there’s so much we still need to learn 😫 like we know about oc’s relationship with her parents (& the fact that they disowned her bc she was w jk etc) but we don’t know much about jk’s parents & even tae’s dad (except that he’s 💀) sooo you have some valid points !!

#what was jks childhood like 🥲#fic: hie #squishies #hie: theories #🐇 anon

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

making up for lost time

Daichi x fem!Reader - Scenario

@miss-rin‘s request: “Where Daichi reunites with the reader several years after highschool... She’s messed up from her last relationship, but wants to try again.... With a fluffy ending though, please!!”

a/n: eeee this was really therapeutic to write. i know it’s a little on the longer side of things i usually post, but i wanted to set it up well. enjoy some angst to fluff Daichi content bb <33333

warnings: break ups, cheating, low self esteem, slight language, general angst

wc: 3350

---

It’s strange. Staring at your textbook, your fingers brushing against its textured, thin pages, you hadn’t noticed the tiny droplets forming on the sheets below. Only when you recognized its salty taste did you realize you were the source. You lean back, using the table to tilt your chair onto its back legs, balancing there for a minute to keep your tears from staining anything else on the desk.

With all the mentions of bonds and fusions, somehow chemistry homework has brought you back into the reality of your current life crisis.

It’s not like you hadn’t expected tears, but did they have to overtake every aspect of your life?

In public. Walking through the park. At 4 in the morning.

It was cruel, really.

That even after a year of complete distance, everything insisted on reminding you of him.

---

Your ex was supposed to be a one night stand. A ploy to get over a deeply established crush. You were running from young, uncertain love, pushing it down, and drowning it all in heavy doses of pleasure. But weekend-after-weekend, your interactions with this mystery hookup turned into regular flings.

From there, you allowed something deeper to develop.

You started sharing with him.

Lying on the bed, limbs entangled, panting subsided. You released small thoughts and simple secrets into the dark of the night. Maybe he would capture those words, pondering them, making a space for them in his mind. Maybe he would let them drift by, like white noise and formless background music.

But it didn’t matter. You spoke anyway.

Nights passed and you would let out more gentle, whispering comments. Insecurities, dreams, stories.

And at some point, he started responding. Listening. Mulling over your words. Whether you meant for it to happen or not, things grew personal. He became your stand-in security blanket, pulling you in and showing you his own little world. You didn’t care if it was fabricated and make-believe.

Because for the first time, it seemed like someone reciprocated your words and actions. You were no longer relying on past passions and feelings because you were so busy drowning in the touch of a stranger. He gave you endless chances to let go of your greatest love and high school infatuation. And you took each one.

You pushed yourself to like him. You asked him to be exclusive. He agreed.

Because his touches were soothing. The way his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest and whispering dirty, sugar-coated words into your ears. It made you feel wanted. Needed. Like maybe this could be the one. Like maybe you didn’t need the brown-eyed boy from so long ago.

Yes, your ex’s hold on you was physically tight…

But his intentions were loose and undefined. Eerily disconnected from the reality you had pictured yourself in.

In the back of your mind, you knew something was off. The puzzle pieces that tied your interactions together were either damaged or missing. Information and stories didn’t match up.

At some point, he started coming home wearing the scent of sex and perfume. Fragrances that didn’t belong to you. All of the staying out late and leaving the bed early... He was clearly cheating on you.

But ignorance is bliss... and you were swimming in it.

You now realize he only told you what you wanted to hear. Little, white lies iced with sweet, generous promises.

What did you expect? That he actually needed you? Why would this stand-in boyfriend be any different?

Finding him on top of a girl in your bedroom should’ve cut you deeper. It should have left you with your knees collapsed and your fingers painfully digging into the carpet. You could have screamed and cried, kicked something, at least outwardly shown your pain.

Yet all that came over you was a dizzying numbness. So you shut the door, closing yourself off to their shocked expressions. Cutting yourself off from another failed love attempt. A worthless endeavor.

---

You’re still fighting a losing battle against hot, streaming tears in the library.

You wish the tears stemmed from the breakup. It would be a logical justification for your pain. Yes, it would be easier to cry over something present… or at least something sensible.

But fate is fickle and so are your emotions. Fragile and nostalgic.

Because you aren’t choking on sobs in the campus library over that unloyal asshole.

No, your mind was fully centered on Daichi. The one person who had actually made you feel whole. Who regularly told you how much he wanted you.

You could’ve drowned in his warm, honey-glazed gaze. He drew you in, submerging you in a euphoric, blissfully intoxicated state.

Memories flittered back to you. How he would always comfort you, using his firm shoulder as a pillow during after school hours to cry or sleep on when life began to smother you.

How he snuck up behind you in the schoolyard, grabbing you by the waist, lighting a fire inside you that filled you with warmth and made your stomach do somersaults. It was playful. Lighthearted. So very Daichi.

And you wanted more. More than platonic. More than best friends.

His touches were nothing like your ex.

It was like gentle floating fireflies, blinking and flickering in a field at dusk. Consistent but surprising. Sensitive, feathery, and comforting. Not at all greedy or dismissive.

You didn’t have to think twice about it. Daichi still remained in the softest parts of you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. He isn’t coming back to save you. To take you by the hand and rekindle whatever it was you two had shared back then.

Because Daichi wasn’t ready to commit.

He had told you how he felt. How he wanted you so badly that it physically hurt him. That he wanted to be there for you, by your side, hand-in-hand.

But he just wasn’t ready to follow through. Not with graduation and change so near in sight. Not with the possibility of losing you just as soon as you’d become his.

You knew he was right. College shifted you two into completely separate directions. 12 hours to be exact.

You and Daichi were at the right place at the wrong time.

But as you drifted, the words morphed and manipulated themselves in your mind. They echoed a tone that claimed that you were the faulty one. That you weren’t ready. You weren’t lovable enough. He didn’t want to commit to you.

So naturally, you equated it with not being enough for him. That it was some silly, unfounded puppy-love. Just a bunch of hormones and high schoolers.

So you tried to bury your longing for him, making countless mistakes in the process.

You had changed. This was your life now. Broken, exhausted, and weathered.

In defeat, you close up the heavy, tattered textbook, gently maneuvering it into your backpack and take your leave from the softly lit library. You’ve suffered enough for one day, so you may as well give yourself a break from studying.

As you make your way out the door, you feel an unexpected buzz in your back pocket, your phone lighting up with a notification. You reach a hand back to check it.

3:47 pm - sawamuradaichi38 followed you

You stop abruptly, feet planted in the doorway, eyes processing the words before you.

“Shit.”

Daichi…

High school Daichi.

The “I was just crying over how much I hate missing you 5 minutes ago,” Daichi.

You hadn’t spoken in over a year and suddenly this?

It was out of the blue, not to mention at one of the most pitiful moments in your life.

Broken up, red-eyed, and still helplessly in love with his brown-eyes. How could someone so wonderful have such disastrous timing?

You receive a rude awakening, the door to the library smacking you in the face, drawing you out of your thoughts and leaving you rubbing the now red spot on your forehead, the phone still clutched tightly in your palm.

Leaving the doorway, you spot a park bench and take a seat outside, your thumb still hovering over the “follow back” button.

It takes some persuading, but eventually you convince yourself it will be fine. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to him.

It’s just a simple “follow back.”

It also wouldn’t hurt to see what he looked like.

So you click.

And there he is. Several month’s worth of photos, flooding your eyes.

Party streamers, candids, squinted smiles, polaroid photo-shoots, flushed faces from tipsy weekends, throwbacks… and your heart is pounding at the sight of just how mature he looks.

He’s developed a flattering tan over the summer, giving him a golden glow. The deeper tone has either made him look more toned or he’s gained muscle in the past couple of years. Both are very likely.

You proceed your scrolling, subconsciously looking for any signs of being in a relationship, before you’re startled by another ‘ping’ noise.

Damn this stupid app.

To hell with media.

Why did he feel the need to message you? Is he messing with you, right now?

But the questions don’t keep you from opening the text.

Nerves settle in.

3:55 pm - Daichi: Y/n!

3:55 pm - Daichi: I’m in town for a while and I really want to see your face.

3:56 pm - Daichi: Only if you want to though… I know it’s been a long time.

How is it possible that your hands are already shaking? It’s just Daichi.

Just Daichi.

What the actual hell, Daichi.

3:58 pm - Y/n: Heya! I’d love to, but I have so many questions???

You have more than just questions.

4:00 pm - Daichi: I’ve got answers. So is that a yes? Bc if it’s a no, that’d be super awkward…

4:00 pm - Daichi: ...given that I’m 5 minutes from your university right now. Could I pick you up?

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL, DAICHI.

4:01 pm - y/n: Well damn, ok. Looks like I don’t have any excuses. Come n get me :)

You do your best to sound smooth, sending him the corner to pick you up on, but you still looked and felt like a total wreck. Your makeup was messy, mascara staining the underneath of your eyes. Luckily, you had baby wipes and could clean up a little, but you were still left with a slightly puffy, red-tinted face.

The blush that appeared after receiving his text messages didn’t help either.

If you were being honest, you felt completely hysterical. You had finally given up all hope, tossing your dreams of being with him out the window.

And here he was, casually asking you to hangout as if you two hadn’t ever lost contact. As if you hadn’t been bawling your eyes out over him for the past several months. Real cute, y/n, you laugh, thinking to yourself.

You do your best to fix your face up with your phone camera and a little extra concealer, but if Daichi is anything like he was in high school, he’ll see through it almost instantly.

You spot his car, pulling up into a spot on the side of the road. He’s scanning for you.

Your breath hitches at the sight of him, heart skipping a beat.

He’s even prettier in person. Photos couldn’t capture something that strong and handsome. His features were still kind, but his expression showed how much he’d grown. The turn of his head, showcasing his jawline. Sharper, older. Your heart is pounding and you feel the anxiety settle in.

But as soon as he captures your eyes, you both grow soft.

You could tell from the way he was looking at you, he’d been longing for you too.

He hops out of his car, focused solely on you, and starts walking. Your pace matches his but it quickly increases. The hunger you’d felt for his embrace drives you both to move faster. He felt it too. It was magnetic. Almost like you’d been waiting your whole life for this reunion.

You practically throw yourself into his firm chest, his sturdy arms circling around your torso, the rate of your collision shaking his balance. But he managed, steadying himself one footstep at a time. One of his hands makes its way up to your neck and tangles itself into your hair, grasping locks and running his fingers through it. It was as though your bodies were making up for the lack of touch and all of your unspoken words, closing any spaces between you and affirming the reality of each other’s presence.

You notice him tucking your head into his chest... just how he used to.

It’s as though nothing had changed. Like you had both been talking and touching and breathing the same air for the past year when in truth, your relationship had mimicked radio silence.

It stays silent, your bodies choosing to take one another in. He smelled of coffee and cedar, with a dash of maple. He’d always carried a sweeter scent. It never failed to make you melt into him.

Daichi’s face is buried within your hair and he can’t help but breathe in the familiar fragrance of your conditioner. A huge swell of nostalgia passes over him like a crashing wave, causing him to pull you even closer.

The very feelings you had been protecting yourself from were overloading your senses.

So you break off the hug, opting to grasp his hands instead.

His gaze is so understanding. So full of raw emotion. It’s apologetic.

“Daichi I-”

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

There’s a pause. You give him a wobbly smile, nodding gently to let him speak first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s silenced as raindrop lands directly on your nose. You giggle, wiping it off with your hand, then placing said hand back into his.

“How ‘bout we go sit in the car?” He suggests as the rain begins to drizzle.

You follow him wordlessly, taking him by the arm, quickly crossing the road.

You’re snug in his passenger seat, one foot tucked under your other leg, torso facing him directly. Daichi takes a moment to look you over. You flush under his intent gaze. That’s when he notices your reddened eyes.

“You’ve been crying.” He states directly, hand making it’s way to your chin, lifting it while examining your face.

“A-ah yeah. You’re as observant as ever, Daichi, I’ll give you that.” You smile slightly.

“Why? What… or who did that to you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

You look away, head tilting out toward the grey-lit street.

Should you be honest?

That he was the reason for your tears?

You want to trust him.

To believe his words at face value.

You wanted to bare your soul, letting him absorb every moment of the last year of your life. To cry out to him and explain that you wanted him so deeply that you betrayed your own feelings for him.

But look where it got you last time.

Your ex took the most precious pieces of you and stomped all over it. He had used you. Your stories. Your secrets.

You were different from the girl that Daichi used to know.

He couldn’t love that, he couldn’t possibly-

“Y/n, I mean it. You can tell me anything. I promise I’ll just listen.”

And with that, you muster up your last ounce of courage, putting full trust in him.

It comes out in a soft mumble.

“...I still love you, Daichi.”

His eyes widen, lips parting.

“I-” You begin to choke on your own words.

The emotion of everything, from your breakup to seeing your ex with another girl, to the sad eyes in front of you. It all begins to spill out. It’s not a sob. More like a release.

“I tried to like someone else. I tried so, so hard, Daichi.” Tears drip down your face, catching on the hand still holding your cheek.

You do your best to speak slowly and coherently, but you can’t seem to prevent the stutters that emerge from embarrassment and months of pent-up shame.

“It didn’t work. I- he didn’t love me.” You pause, considering if you should share the next details.

You inhale deeply, remembering his words.

I can tell him anything.

“There were other girls and-”

Daichi’s eyes darken, realizing what you meant.

“He- he didn’t,” hiccups break up the sentences you’re already struggling to form, “I just wasn’t good enough, Daichi.” You meet his eyes, “Not for you. Not even for him.”

He rubs a thumb over your face, somber and troubled.

A wave of guilt washing over his face, his own eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Daichi wasn’t there for you. He knows it.

He had left you high and dry, letting himself get washed up within his own pain, not considering how badly it would affect you. You both cut off communication to make things easier, assuming it would help you both to move on, but it had only made things worse.

Now he’s watching it all unfurl…

You’ve been mistreated and he wasn’t there to protect you. To save you. To hold you tightly within his arms.

But he wants to help pick up the pieces.

He wants to dry those tears, one by one.

He’s ready to make up for the lost time.

It’s time to prove that he’s ready for you now if you’ll have him.

So Daichi removes his hand from your face and grabs your hand, staring at it for a moment. He brushes his calloused fingers over your knuckles.

“Y/n, I never stopped loving you.” He half whispers.

He’s tracing the lines and divots in your palm now, but his eyes are on yours now.

“I couldn’t handle not seeing you… 12 hours is a lot.” He acknowledges.

“But it should never have stopped me from being with you. That was my mistake. It had nothing to do with you not being good enough.”

“Y/n, please, God please, promise me you’ll never say that again.” He begs.

Ah, that.

You couldn’t remember if that had slipped out, but it, in fact, had.

This lie you’ve been telling yourself seems a real as the gentle drumming of raindrops on the roof of the car. Your ex had affirmed it. The breakup sealed it.

And now you’re being told to let it go? To just believe you’re enough? Worthy of love?

If only it were that easy.

“I know you don’t believe me right now… you have every right not to. But I want you to learn to trust me again.”

He continues, “You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t leave you.”

Heavy.

The words were so heavy on your heart.

“...Okay.” Your voice cracks, another few tears slipping out.

“I- I’ll try.” You look away, pain creasing your brows.

He drops your hand on your lap and reaches toward your face, cupping it.

“I mean it, y/n. I won’t leave you.” His tone is scarily serious.

His lips brush against yours, asking permission. You lean forward, gently pressing your lips into his.

It takes a moment to adjust, but you meld together smoothly. It was always supposed to be this way. His warmth is sobering.

It’s tear-soaked and somber, but oh so real.

Noses brush. He runs a hand through your hair, tucking loose strands behind your ear, running a thumb down your neck. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss while leaning into his hand. Lips parted, rhythm slow and comforting.

No part of it is rushed. This moment wasn’t for anyone except for you.

Kiss after kiss, you’re being seen. Listened to. Re-opened.

And it may take tens of thousands of kisses. You’ll probably cry into his chest more times than you can count. You’ll have to fight like hell to escape the lie of “never being good enough.”

But Daichi will be there. Because he came back to you.

And he’ll keep coming back until he doesn’t have to anymore... because by then, he’ll hope to have you by his side forever.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @starfissure

#haikyuu #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #daichi imagine #daichi scenario #hq #hq scenarios #hq imagines #hq headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #karasuno #haikyuu captains #daichi x you #daichi sawamura x reader #sneezefiction

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oyesmendes · 4 years

Text

all i wanted was a happy ending

a/n: it’s been a hot minute hasn’t it???? anyway, summer’s ended and we’re in the new semester which is #tragic because im still doing online school and i barely see my friends. but ya here’s one that’s been sitting in my inbox for awhile, probably gna get yelled at bc its an angst piece but yknow what? suCK IT jk i hope you enjoy as always, leave me a message!!

trigger warning: mention of cheating, general angst and a couple of baby swears

It felt like a war in her own home. Hurtful words shot like bullets through the wreckage. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Shawn and Kiara were supposed to be happy. But somehow through the year long world tour, señorita and the fourth album, they seemed to have lost their way. Date nights were reduced to once a month, and nights in were converted to screaming matches and cold wars. Every moment spent together was a battle against each other, tonight was no different. Shawn doesn’t even remember what the argument was about anymore, they were now just pulling shit out from the past to use as their ammunition.

“Don’t pin this on me, Kiara.”

“I never pinned it on you, Shawn. I’m just stating facts that are known to the whole world. Don’t tell me you don’t see those rumours about you and Camila? And don’t tell me they aren’t true.” She grimaces at the way Camila’s name rolls of her tongue, and the way that her thick Mexican accent starts to peak out when she’s mad.

“They’re not true.” He tries to defend. Kiara scoffs, taking a couple steps away from Shawn.

“Everyone knows you’ve had a thing for her since you were a literal child, Shawn. Don’t need to treat me like an idiota.”

“I wasn’t treating you like an idiot.” Shawn seethed.

“Then tell me the truth!”

“That is the truth, Kiara! I love you, and not her! Why can’t you just believe that we’re just friends?”

“Because I’m not a cabrón. Friends don’t look at each other like that! I recognise the way you look at her, Shawn. It’s the same look you gave me when we first started dating. When you and her had that awkward phase and she was barely in your life, you gave me that look - like I was the most important thing in the world to you.” The part comes out like a whisper and she feels her heart physically break. Shawn watches Kiara walk the borders of the room, eyes fixated on the lines of the tiles on the floor. He wants to stop her from pacing, hold her close so he can stop his mind from racing a thousand miles an hour. But he doesn’t. Instead he keeps his feet planted to the ground, body slumped in defeat as he just watches her.

“You are the most important thing in the entire world to me, honey.” Tears prick at her eyes when he uses her pet name. Kiara knows why this fight started even if Shawn didn’t. It has been a storm that was brewing inside of her for weeks. She had seen an article of Shawn and Camila cozying up on each other when he was away on tour. She didn’t think much of it at first, trusted Shawn with her whole heart. But after more rumours spread and some of her friends asking if she was okay, Kiara finally had enough. A thunderstorm ensued, and it was in no way relaxing for either of them.

“Am I really?” Kiara finally looks up at him, and he nods so eagerly that for a moment she thinks she shouldn’t bring the article up. But the anger makes her hands work faster than her mind, scrolling through her phone to the article her best friend had sent her a couple weeks ago. It was a picture of Camila, with her legs wrapped around Shawn and passionately kissing him on the streets of Nashville. She feels the bile rise in her throat looking at the picture again. He could say that the picture was blur as hell, but anyone who knew them would know that the head of luscious brown locks belonged to Shawn.

“Then explain to me, Shawn. What is this?” She shoves the phone shakily into his hands and he feels his heart plummet to his feet. When he doesn’t respond, Kiara nods her her head and looks at him in disappointment.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

“I-I wanted to tell you and-“ Shawn scrambles to find the right words, though at this point his efforts seem to be futile.

“When Shawn? When did you want to tell me? Because this picture has been sitting in my phone since the night it happened. I’ve tried so hard to push it out of my mind, and amor I’ve really tried. I didn’t want to give myself a reason to ever use it. But you- you picking fights, and in between tour and the fourth album - we’re no longer the same anymore, and I can’t help but think that this is the reason.” Shawn drops the phone to the table, approaching Kiara and touching her arm. She flinches, moving away from him.

“Don’t.”

Shawn drops his arms to the side.

“Mila was my first real love, Ki.” The way both hers and Camila’s nicknames roll off his tongue so easily in the situation makes Kiara’s stomach churn. He runs his fingers through his hair and continues, “She used to be my world - but that was the past. And that photo, we just haven’t seen each other in awhile and we got really excited so she-“

“So she jumps on to you like you’re her chico amante at the airport? So she kisses you like she’s your fucking girlfriend? That’s some top notch bullshit, Shawn. I thought you’d try harder than that.”

“If you would just let me explain-”

“If you haven’t noticed, there’s nothing left to explain.”

Kiara turns on her heel towards their shared bed room and Shawn’s following closely behind her.

“Don’t walk away from this, Kiara Anne!” In the heat of the moment he raises his voice and Kiara stops dead in her tracks, almost making Shawn crash straight into her.

“You have no right to tell me what to do, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. You lost your rights ever since that night. I gave you weeks to come clean, to tell me the truth. Instead, you choose to pick fights in every possible situation.” She pokes his chest with her finger when she so desperately wants for someone, for him, to hold her. She wraps her arms around her torso in replacement, willing her tears not to fall.

“All I wanted was a happy ending, Shawn. All my life, I just wanted a happy ending. It didn’t need to be a fairytale happily ever after bullshit, I just wanted to be happy with someone who loved me. I thought it would be with you.” Kiara backs up against the wall, her head tilted back. “Guess the jokes on me huh?” She let’s out a humourless laugh.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Shawn rubs her arm. She doesn’t move from her spot, and she’s given up on holding back her tears. When her eyes meet Shawn’s, she’s pushing his arms off hers and squirming her way out from the small space between them. Kiara turns to look at him again, and this time the words that spill from her mouth are laced with pain,

“Sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn angst #shawn mendes angst

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butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

happier // rc

warning; language (i’m convinced i can’t write without swearing), heartache, drinking ig, also not proofread bc i’m lazy

summary; where rafe cameron broke your heart and has to live with consequences of it. based on happier by ed sheeran.

word count; 2.7k+

Walking down 29th and park I saw you in another's arms Only a month we've been apart You look happier

rafe didn’t know the boy’s name, but he didn’t need to. he didn’t want to. the boy’s name didn’t change the fact that he was lifting you off of the ground and running towards the ocean while you playfully begged him to put you down.

he supposed it was better than seeing you with someone he knew, but he knew exactly why you had to rope in someone that didn’t know rafe. everybody that knew he him knew you were off limits. it didn’t matter that the two of you had been broken up for a month, you were his.

well, you were his. you had been his since junior year, when he had walked in to history late and asked if you knew enough of the material for him to cheat off of you. his heart practically soared when you laughed and nodded, choosing to scoot your test to the edge of the desk while you bubbled in answers.

the island had never made rafe feel so lonely. he suspected you to come back with someone eventually, but not this soon. the two of you had gone to different colleges, and the fact that you had a guy on dec for you made rafe feel uneasy.

but no matter how much his stomach twisted from the sight of you in someone else’s arms, he knew that it was good for you. you looked happier.

Saw you walk inside a bar He said something to make you laugh I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours Yeah you look happier, you do

it was easy for rafe to notice the way that topper stilled for a split second, his eyes widening slightly at something behind the cameron boy. he turned over his shoulder, despite topper’s attempt to distract him.

the sight of you made rafe’s heart rate pick up, thumping loudly against his chest. your hand was locked with the same boy he had seen you with back on the island a few weeks prior. the odds of you walking into the same bar as rafe were slim, but the universe had a vendetta against rafe, that was clear to him now.

you walked straight up to the bar, looping your arm around the boy’s neck and pressing your lips to his cheek, a wide smile spreading across both his and your lips at the gesture. rafe’s heart clenched when the boy leaned over to you, lowering his lips to your ear and saying something that had you throwing your head back in laughter.

topper tried, yet again, to distract rafe, but it was useless. he had already seen your bright smile directed at somebody that wasn’t him, and that was enough to send him over the edge.

“she looks happy.” was all he said, swallowing the large lump forming in his throat.

he saw the look kelce and topper shared. he knew his friends were pitying him, but he knew why you were with someone else. he had hurt you, and now he had to live with the image of you kissing someone else engraved into his mind.

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain't nobody love you like I do Promise that I will not take it personal baby If you're moving on with someone new

“i can’t believe you would do that right in front of me, rafe.” the tension hanging in the air was thick, thicker than rafe had wanted it to be. but this was his fault, and your reaction was valid.

“i don’t see what the big deal is, y/n.”

“if i even look at another guy you go absolutely ape shit, but when you’re all over some other girl for the entire night, i’m just supposed to accept that?” rafe rolled his eyes, walking past you and opening his car door.

“i don’t want to do this right now, y/n.” you stood in your place, arms crossed over your chest while you looked at him, gaze steady and harsh. “get in the car.”

“no.” he sighed heavily, turning his command into a question with a false sense of softness behind it. when your answer didn’t change, his attempt at being reasonable flew out the window, and his anger stepped back in.

“why do you have to be so difficult all the time? get in the car.” you shook your head, almost smirking at the sight of rafe getting so angry at the fact that you weren’t doing everything he told you to do.

“no.” he slammed his door shut then, walking back over to you and lifting you off of your feet. “put me down.”

“not a chance.” he practically threw you into the seat after he’d opened the door, shutting it once he made sure you had all of your limbs tucked safely into your seat.

the ride had been silent until the instrumental to your song spilled out of the speakers. the two of you glanced at each other for a moment, sharing a look of regret at the fight you had just had. rafe’s hand slid onto your thigh, gripping it softly between his fingers.

“i’m sorry.” you hummed softly, nodding your head while looking over at him. “i love you.”

you returned the sentiment, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. you knew something similar would happen eventually. it was only a matter of time before rafe broke your heart all over again.

Cause baby you look happier, you do My friends told me one day I'll feel it too And until then I'll smile to hide the truth But I know I was happier with you

“c’mon, man. you don’t need her.” topper clapped a hand onto the boy’s back, trying to snap him back into the mood to get shit faced in order to take on midsummers.

truth be told, rafe didn’t think there would ever be a time that he wouldn’t be head over heels in love with you. he had made mistakes, things that had been unforgivable, but he had never felt anything less than love for you. the only reason the two fo you fought the way you did was because you didn’t know how to handle the overwhelming amount of emotion you brought one another.

but he forced a smile to the surface anyways, nodding along with topper and accepting a drink from kelce. he threw it back quickly, which made topper and rafe cheer and whistle in salute to him.

once rafe lowered his glass, his eyes found your figure once more. the dress you wore hugged you beautifully, reminding rafe of every curve and bend of your body. he remembered the way his hands felt against your skin every night before bed. the way his hand seemed to fit perfectly on your hip, or the way you would lean into his palm when he held your head in his hands.

it was a dress he’d never seen before. a dress that he wished he’d be able to rip off of you at the night. he saw the zipper on the backside of it, thinking of how he would’ve loved to slowly slide it down, admiring the way your breaths came out in soft pants.

he could imagine the way you’d turn over your shoulder and watch his eyes practically devour you. he wish he could be with you right now, gripping your hips while you tugged on his tie.

but he couldn’t do that, because you weren’t his anymore. you were smiling the same smile that he had fallen in love with all those years ago, but it wasn’t towards him.

you were smiling at somebody that wasn’t him, and he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it.

Sat in the corner of the room Everything's reminding me of you Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself you're happier Aren't you?

it was supposed to get better as time went on. it was supposed to come as easily to rafe as it did with you. he was supposed to get over it, get over you.

but he didn’t. in fact, he found himself sitting in the corner of a room full of people, feeling the most alone he’d ever felt. every thing in the house had reminded him of you, pulling memories out of his subconscious and displaying them at the forefront of his mind.

he had downed more of the bottle than he had even realized, intoxication weighing heavily in his chest while his mind raced through everything it had in your file, tucked neatly into rafe’s mind.

he didn’t know you were there. he hadn’t seen you walk into the house, greeted by the same people you hung out with every time you were back home for the summer. he hadn’t seen or heard you until he ran into you on his way out to his car.

“oh shit, sorry.” you rushed out, unaware of who you had run into until after the apology had fallen from your lips. your eyes softened at the sight of rafe, eyes bloodshot and shoulders slumped in his drunken state.

“don’t worry about it.” he whispered, pushing a soft smile to the surface.

"i should’ve watched where i was going, my fault.” he nodded, unsure of what else to say to you in this situation.

he hadn’t spoken to you in months. not after your screaming match that ended in rafe telling you to ‘get the fuck out’. he rememberd the sound of the door slamming, and your tires screeching against the pavement as you pulled out of the driveway. the same noises he heard every time his mind reminded him how bad he had messed up.

“how are you?” he was surprised you were sparking a conversation with him. he thought you hated him, thought you had given up on all things related to rafe cameron the second you left his house that day.

he didn’t know the half of it.

“as good as i can be, i guess.” he wished he could take the words back as soon as he said them, but the way your smile faltered ever so slightly was enough to tell rafe that you still cared. you didn’t want to see him upset. you wanted him to be happy. “how are you?”

“good.” you nodded, though rafe had detected a tone that didn’t exactly back up your claim. “i’m good.”

were you as happy as rafe assumed you were?

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain't nobody need you like I do I know that there's others that deserve you But my darling I am still in love with you

“rafe, stop!” sarah had been begging for him to stop for the past ten minutes, not knowing what else to do other than watch her brother destroy his bedroom.

picture frames had been shattered, glass scattered across the floor. he had thrown his lamp at a nearby wall, shattering the ceramic base. the room had turned into a hazard quickly, uninviting to anybody that didn’t have shoes on.

he grabbed the next thing he could reach, not taking a moment to look at it or think if it was something that he wanted to keep. he didn’t care about anything in his room right now, his vision blurred by tears and his throat scratchy from screaming at the top of his lungs.

“rafe, don’t throw that. rafe! y/n gave that to you!” rafe stopped then, letting sarah’s words register in his mind.

his arm lowered, eyes locked onto the golf cart in his hand. it had been a joke originally. you thought it was funny that they sold toy golf carts and bought one for rafe as an ‘i saw this and thought of you’ gift.

you didn’t expect him to put it on his nightstand beside a photo of the two of you. his favorite picture of the two of you. it was at midsummers, your head tucked underneath his chin as the two of you swayed back and forth. he was looking down at you with eyes full of adoration and a smile soft enough to make just about anybody’s heart melt.

rafe’s chest caved in then, sobs racking through his body as he fell to his knees, unaware of the pain from glass cutting into his skin. sarah had ran over to him as quickly as she could while simultaneously trying to avoid shards of glass.

“i need her, sarah.” sarah’s heart slammed against her chest at the desperation in his voice. she had never seen rafe like this, and she didn’t know how she was meant to help.

“it’s going to be okay, rafe.”

“no it isn’t sarah. she’s gone. i’m still in love with her and she’s gone.”

Baby you look happier, you do I knew one day you'd fall for someone new But if he breaks your heart like lovers do Just know that I'll be waiting here for you

the constant ache eventually dissipated. there had still been something missing from rafe’s heart, but it didn’t hurt as much. it didn’t pain him to think about you, or see pictures of you online.

however, the sight of you with another person’s arm wrapped securely around you would never get easier.

at the end of the day, rafe knew you looked happy, and that’s all he truly wanted. he had bribed sarah to ask how you truly were, and when she came back with only good news for you and bad news for rafe, he knew he had to let go.

sure, he’d always love you, and he knew there was a part of you that would always love him, but he had to stop living in a world where you’d inevitably fall back into his arms at the first inconvenience in your new relationship.

truth be told, you’d never be able to love a person the same way you loved rafe cameron. things weren’t always pretty, but there ws love behind everything the two of you did. you wouldn’t be able to experience that love with anyone else, and you weren’t sure you wanted to.

there would always be a place for the other in your hearts, and that was exactly why rafe blocked your path on the way to the restrooms on the beach. he had seen you step away from your new beau for the first time all day, and he was going to act on it.

“hi rafe.” you held a smile, and your voice dripped with a knowing tone that made rafe smile back at you.

“hi.” you raised both of your eyebrows at the short answer, expecting him to pour out a long heartfelt speech to you if given the chance. “i just wanted to say hi and make sure you’re doing well.”

you laughed softly and nodded. you were happy but you couldn’t ignore there was a piece of your heart missing. you knew exactly where it was, lodged into the hands of the boy standing mere inches away from you.

“i’m good, rafe, thank you.” he nodded again, surprised you hadn’t tried to walk off yet.

“that’s good, i’m glad to hear that.” you nodded again, about to tell him you should head to the bathroom like you originally had planned before he was speaking again. “i just wanted to let you know that i’m glad to see you happy, it’s nice.”

you were even more confused now, not expecting rafe to say anything nice about the fact that you were with somebody that wasn’t him.

“but, if he ever breaks your heart, just know that i’ll be here, waiting to patch it back up.” he gave you a final smile before walking past you, lightly bumping your shoulder in his stride.

you stood there, left with the confusion of rafe cameron’s words and your feelings. you couldn’t ignore the thud in your chest at the confession, but you also couldn’t ignore the voice in your head that reminded you of how things ended between you and rafe.

were you happier without rafe?

obx taglist: @rafej-cambanks @sportygal55 @diverdcwn @maybankiara @mdlyncline @dpaccione @dontjinx-it @popeheywards @solllaris

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe x reader #drew starkey #obx #the obx #the outer banks #outer banks #outer banks netflix

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uhhhhyandere · 4 years

Note

I love, love, love you ❤️ I was hoping I could request where the main character begs for Yandere Light to let her get a doggo bc she’s so lonely since he made her quit a job. Like full on having a full ass fit. I’m talking full blown brat shit. Just how he would react and what she would have to do to convince him if you catch that drift 😏😉

yeah, i know what i said in my last post. whatever. never believe anything that comes out of my stupid mouth i am the single biggest sob in the universe.

um… i took this in a… direction to say the least. someone has to stop me from riding suck n’ ride smut bc… it always goes like this.

next light smut there is going to be ass-eating or i swear to god my name isn’t kerry literally all im thinking about is giving him a rimjob. really. this is where we are at folks.

warnings: smut, face fucking (oops), dick sucking, sex, rough sex. he not happy boi

word count: 3.5k

All you did was watch dog videos anymore. Of course, you watched them because you literally had little else to do during the day, but you just… happened to be more open about it when Light came through the door. Did it have anything to do with the fact you’ve been thinking about getting a furry friend to keep you company from the silence of an empty house and the dark recesses of your mind?

No, of course not. It had nothing at all to do with it, and it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that if you ask him directly, he would say no before any more words could breach the air. You would have to be creative, because when Light said “no,” there was no more argument, and you wanted this argument.

“A Pug. Wow. Beautiful.”

“Look, it’s a—it’s a Corgi. Oh my—wow. That’s amazing.”

You’d play around with different sizes.

“This Mastiff? This gentle giant? Can do nothing wrong.”

“This Bichon matches with the snow!”

And you’d talk about listings you just happened to see online from the local shelters.

“This one—wow. All of her shots. She looks so nice. Oh, and potty trained! What a girl. Damn.”

“He’s sitting down—oh a paw. I see a paw. Can he do the other paw? Oh, yes he can. Also has all his shots. Wonderful.”

Considering the man you lived with, you were pretty positive that he figured out your intentions day one or day two max. It’s been about a week since you’ve been… outgoing in your interest. At this point, it was a game as to who would break first. You bet he was waiting for you to get annoyed with his ignoring of anything you said related to the subject with how blatant he was with shirking you off, forcing you to simply ask.

You weren’t going to make it so easy on him. Though he happened to be the king of hiding his emotions, you knew you had to be getting to him. Light would never admit it, and he would certainly never show it. He wanted to keep that satisfaction as far away from you as possible.

So, you turned up the heat.

Before, you would break off the dog topic after a time, wanting to etch it in your daily schedule only bits at a time. Now? It’s the only thing you talk about, no matter the actual subject at hand.

“There’s another event we have to—.”

“The animal shelter is having an event in the park next week for adoptions.”

“I’m going to have to go for groceries soon.”

“Look at this weenie dog dressed in a weenie costume.”

“I—.”

“Doggo cute.”

It was only a matter of time until—.

“This French Bulldog is—.”

“Y/N.” His voice was clear, demanding. Even after all this time, like a teacher scolding elementary students, it immediately brought you to silence. You sat on your shared bed, legs crossed, as he leered down at you from the bathroom. “I would say it was cute at first, but you know it’s a waste of time to try asking anything indirectly. As if I would succumb to your manipulation, but I let you carry on. You would get bored. You would stop and think and realize that it was pointless to keep it up, but you persisted. I thought to myself maybe you were just trying to see if I would crack and give you the satisfaction of indulging in your antics, and I was right.

“It begs the question. Why didn’t you just ask directly? Easy. Because I would say no, and you would be correct. To allow something else besides me your devotion? Not likely. But what? Did you think showing me videos of Shibu Inus and Pomeranians would make me want one first? You have the logic of a six-year-old, Y/N,” Light began to unbutton his shirt, “Did you honestly think it would work? Or did you simply want to get a rise out of me?” He removed the shirt entirely, then lifted his undershirt over his head just as easily. Light tossed the fabric into the hamper, leaving a pale, lithe abdomen on display. He turned to fully face you and took two easy steps forward. “Why would you want one in the first place? Have I not given my fiancée enough attention recently? Is this your way of getting back at me, hm?”

You were almost at an even height to his belt buckle, but you did your best to ignore that as his eyes demanded attention upwards. His gaze was near malicious, but not quite so. Ah. Lascivious. That’s what they were. You swallowed the knot out of your throat.

“Y-you wish.”

“Your hesitation is very resounding. Then, if you’re so sure, indulge me. Don’t tell me you wanted a distraction from your loving husband-to-be. I know you didn’t want something else to focus on besides me when I’m away at work, so tell me. Tell me why you desired a filthy, shedding ball of fur. Your answer may earn you some mercy.”

You unfolded your legs from underneath you as your foot began to numb under the weight of your leg. Your hands glided back and forth on your thighs. Was there a point in lying? No, scratch that. Was there a point in lying to someone who already knew the truth? Well, his own truth that Light would undoubtedly make yours. There was little purpose in making it worse on yourself.

“No, you’re—uh—right.” Light set his hands on his hips.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m just… lonely when you’re at work. So… yeah.” You risked a peek upwards. Oh, geez the smirk on that fucker. “I’m sorry.” His arms rose from his hips to cross over his chest.

“For?”

“Huh?”

“What are you sorry for? Annoying me for days with your drivel? Wanting a mutt? Lying?” You furrowed your brows. “Oh, that one confused you, hm? Alright, well, if you won’t admit it, I can do it for you. Lonely-“ he scoffed- “You can’t be serious. Such a blatant lie from your lips. The second time you are insulting my intelligence. I’ll ask one more time. Where does your motivation lie?”

“I’m not lying!” You hissed, jumping off the mattress to stand. “What—just what am I supposed to do all day cooped up in this place like a goddamned prisoner? Clean? The place is clean. Cook? As if you’d even let me try. Watch TV? My brain is rotting. You don’t even let me help kids with math anymore online. Just what am I to do? Next thing I may just throw myself out the window—,” Hands gripped your shoulders, causing a slight pain at the intensity.

“You think I’d let you? I expect you to stay here and be good and thankful that you are where you are. I, just as much as you, know—knew women who died to be in your shoes, and you’re ungrateful to be alive and safe? You want more?” You tried to shrug out of his grip, and he allowed you to take the steps away from him.

“I’m asking to be a human being, for fuck’s sake! I’m going to sit here and go crazy. Isn’t it enough that I don’t fuck with the rules anymore? I’m quiet. I don’t say anything. I put every façade you ask me to. All I want is something for me! Something to distract me from literally going insane here! To distract me from everything.”

Light’s eyes sometimes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Right about now, the browns were all-consuming, aflame with ire, but his lips were upturned in a challenge.

“A distraction. Caught in a lie, Y/N. Bad form, even for you. After all this time, you still can’t face reality, dearest. I knew you’ve been pitting your mind in some gutter you call the truth. Makes this all easier to accept, but to go to the physical extent? I won’t allow it, and you won’t be able to recess your mind for long, so enjoy that pleasure while you can.” He paused, countenance recessing to something more composed. “You love me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no lie in that affirmation. It was the easiest of his questions to answer. “I love you.” Light inhaled deeply, chest flexing with the exhale.

“With love comes compromise, correct?” You responded with a glare. His tone was all too insinuating. “So, let’s compromise, yes? I hate arguing with you.” He reached an arm out, hand open. Your eyes glanced between the extended limb and his eyes before cautiously taking it. His hand squeezed and pulled you in tight. Light twisted and adjusted you so when he fell onto the bed, you landed comfortably on his lap. Releasing your hand, he brought his own up to gingerly glide his fingers across your cheek, a trail of bumps in its wake as it curled into your locks. Almost like a lover. Almost.

His fingers seized the strands and pulled, forcing your head back and opening your neck for his mouth to latch. “Then compromise, dearest. Prove to me what you think you deserve.” He spoke against your skin, open-mouth kisses with a hint of teeth between his words. “And I’ll make judgement.” His hand let go of your hair and traced to the back of your skull to slant your lips onto his impatient ones. The other wrapped itself to pull your body closer until he pushed you off with an unexpected force, almost knocking you to the ground.

From the unbalanced position, you watched him adjust his position to lie in the center of the bed, head angled to watch you from the pillows with both his hands as another cushion for his crown. Light smirked, watching you stand straight. “Well, go on. Compromise.”

Light was never on the bottom. It was non-negotiable. Being anything else was utterly unacceptable for a god. This situation, despite the physical placement of both bodies, was no different. You may be the one crawling on top of him, fiddling with his belt buckle, but he had every bit of this situation in his control. Under his watchful gaze, you removed the strip of leather and threw it across the room.

“You’re going to have to help me here,” you muttered after undoing the fly. Wordlessly, he obliged, allowing you to slip the trousers off of his person. You glanced at his feet. Thank god he took his shoes off already, so he only lied in his boxers.

No, you would never be accustomed to this.

“You always look like it’s your first time,” he remarked. “As if you haven’t seen my cock before. From my recollection, you should be quite familiar with it by now.” You inhaled sharply. “Unless you don’t want to compro—.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, crawling to straddle his legs. “Just be quiet,” you said more quietly. You reached out to rub the only half-erect cock through the fabric. Only small groans were elicited above you. Light was not a noisy one, to say the least. It took your first, painful, terrible experience of deep-throating to even get him to moan fully.

“Do you think teasing is going to get you anywhere?” His voice is always composed during sex, and it really was alarming because… you really couldn’t relate. You glowered, fingers digging under the waistband and pulling. He helped again, lifting so you can get the fabric off. “If you think you’re doing anything fully clothed, I should take a cold shower.”

You made quick work of taking the layers of comfort clothes you had on, off. “You really know how to put on a show,” he deadpanned.

“Shut. Up.” You returned to your position, seeing his cock now fully erect from your previous work. You were sure you were wet, but you ignored it as best you could. You had a feeling you would not be serviced tonight. Before you can even lean down, he spoke again.

“Beg for it. Beg for the honor of sucking my cock. Convince me you deserve it if you believe you are so entitled.” There was not a single physical restriction to keep you from taking it into your mouth, but his words were powerful enough to keep you still. Light was daring you to try and misbehave, and you really couldn’t help the physical reaction his words always do to you.

“Please—,”

“Pathetic. I can have any girl in my bed. I can stick my cock in any person interested, and here you are, an ungrateful brat who wants more. You’re making quite an unremarkable argument for yourself. Perhaps I will take away—.”

“Please, Light. Allow me the honor of sucking your cock, of you fucking my throat. I want the privilege of swallowing your seed. Fuck—please. I’ll do anything.” You leaned down close, but not touching anything. You only lifted your eyes up to his. “Please. I know I’ve been bad. Please, let me make up for it.”

Your words in bed were always forced. He knew you hated dirty talk as much as you did, therefore he always made you speak, always made you confess how much you craved him, wanted him, and whenever you spoke it was hardly ever in lies. Your embarrassment was too prominent in your body language to tell him otherwise.

“Go on, then. Show me.” You licked up his length first, then around the head and back down. “Teasing will get you nowhere,” he repeated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and took him in, inch by inch. Light was incredibly average despite his ego. It wasn’t impossible to fit the entire length into your mouth with slow adjustment, but that didn’t mean it was fun. You would continue to work his length, getting more and less intense with your pressure and the speed your head bobbed. Still, there was little reaction from him, not there really never was any mind the grunts you could make out. Your inclinations to keep going, and you did until you pulled back.

“How’s—,” His hand was at the back of your head immediately, forcing your head back down, pushing his cock down your throat, pushing until you could feel his balls against your chin. No hair. He was pristine down there. You convulsed, gagged, choked, but he did not release his grip. Hand keeping its hold, he dragged your head up just a hair enough to thrust upwards. Water began to pool at the waterline of your eyes. You had to relax your throat, or this was going to be just worse.

But it was hard, so hard at the pace he was thrusting at. You squeezed your eyes shut and took it the best you can. Listening to his quiet grunts and groans, you forced your lips to continue covering your teeth, but you could not force your throat to loosen. Drool pooled at both sides of your mouth, carelessly falling into both him and the sheets along with the liquid of your tears.

“Your throat is so fucking tight. That’s it. Choke on my cock. This is what your dirty mouth deserves.” Your limited experience could be to blame for its restricting. That, or the selfishness of the man whose grip on your hair tightened even more right before he allowed you to breathe once more.

And breath you did. Gasping, reeling for air as drool continued to leak down. From beneath your hair, you looked at Light, his eyes wild and alive with lust. Small heaves from his smiling mouth mixed with your wet and heavy ones. “Do you think you deserved that, dearest?” You finally wiped your mouth and shook the spit from your arm. “You’re lucky I am so generous. Come. For doing such a decent job.” His hands patted his hips. Swollen eyes met his. “Ride me, before I change my mind and fuck you into the mattress.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you moved to straddle his length. “Oh, your pussy is glistening. Did me fucking your throat really do that much to you? You loved to be controlled, don’t you?” You did not answer, shaky hands guiding his cock so you can sink onto it. You groaned at the feeling. “Tell me how good it makes you feel. How only I can make you feel like this.” You bit your lip, sinking down another inch or so.

“God, Light. Your cock feels so good. Only yours can make me feel like this. No one—no man, no woman, no person—can make me feel anything—like—this—fuck!” You sunk down to the hilt before you lifted yourself again, easing yourself up and down his length. “It’s so good—so good.” Light allowed you more time but decided your gentle pace was not enough to soothe him. He roughly grabbed you and flipped your positions.

“Too slow, Y/N. What did I say about teasing?” He brought his hips back and then snapped them into yours. You screamed, and you wondered if the neighbors would call again, but his pace did not relent.

“Light—please. It’s too—too much! It’s too fast. I can’t…” He smiled, a wicked grin over you.

“And you won’t. Don’t you dare think about cumming. I decided you don’t deserve it. This is your compromise. You get to live, marry, and get fucked by me, and only by me, and I will only have eyes for you. You’ll never feel like you need a… distraction again.” You clenched your teeth and pushed your head farther into the pillows. “I feel you clenching onto me. Don’t you dare think about disobeying me.” His thrusts were even, balanced.

“Please, please, please let me cum. It feels too good. You feel too good. I’ll do anything.”

“Then don’t cum.” You threw your hands back and gripped the headboard, feeling it rock in rhythm to his thrusts. They were beginning to become, sloppy, wild, he was close while you were holding back for dear life. “Y/N. You are mine and mine alone. Your body. Your actions. Your mind. I am the only thing you are allowed to think about.” With one final push, his seed released, filling and coating your insides. He rode it out, making sure every drop stayed. He hated to have to wash the sheets after, though your drool stains remained.

Pulling out, he retreated and stood, ignoring your writing, unfulfilled form. “Come. You aren’t going to sleep like—get those hands away from there. Let’s get you clean before you ruin the sheets even more.” Like before, he extended his hand to your heaving form. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of you, but you need to get cleaned up first.” An unstable hand fit into his own. His gently pulled you to stand and allowed you to lean your weight onto his.

Hot water cascaded down your body. Though Light effortlessly scrubbed washed his hair, you could not bring yourself to match his speed, and by the time he was already done, you hadn’t even washed your body yet. You heard an incomprehensible mutter amidst the running water as he left you alone. He was washing his face as you finally emerged, wrapped in your towel. No romance tonight, you figured. Not that it was any different than any other night. You followed, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and taking your pills while he huddled in bed.

You could only dream of romance anymore. Getting your pajamas on, you approached the empty side of the bed. Before you could get on, Light shifted, opening his arms and staring at you expectantly. You froze. Did… did he want…? “Well, come on.” Ah. Was this supposed to be the ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he mentioned earlier? You supposed he would never wash you in the shower, so this would have to be it. You swallowed and fell into them, feeling his arm wrap you close to him so you lied nearly on your stomach, face buried in the crook between his neck and shoulders. His arm lied around your neck, the other near your elbow on the arm that sprawled on his chest. Oh, hello? What is this?

Ah. This is the quote-on-quote, attention he promised as a fiancé. His eyes remained closed as you stared. How forced was this? You wondered if he hated it, if he saw it was succumbing to your wishes, but it was unlikely. Perhaps it was him showing the physical love outside of sex that you lacked thinking it would keep you from having another outburst as you did before. Him keeping his side of the compromise so you would keep yours.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes before you thought too hard about his actions. The more you thought about it, the more—and less—real it all became, but if he was offering more conventional couple things: cuddling, dates, attention, you would not pose another argument.

“So, no dog?” you whispered.

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