#no matter how hard you try to remove us from history we have been here and we will always be here

[thetisming]

btw if you remove people of colour, fat people and disabled people from queer history youve removed so much that you can barely even call it history anymore.

disabled queer people have always been here. non-white queer people have always been here. fat queer people have always been here. you cannot erase ANY of us without erasing a huge part of queer history.

#queer #queer pride #queer community #queer history #im disabled and fat and you CANNOT erase us nor can you erase our non white queer siblings #we have ALWAYS existed and we will continue to exist and we will always belong no matter what #no matter how hard you try to remove us from history we have been here and we will always be here

[queerfables]

Taking away the glass?

Oh gosh I'm actually so keen to talk about this so thank you for the opening!

Context: Responding to akaitsukicat's artwork of Crowley and Aziraphale separated by a glass wall, I said that the reason we're all such wrecks over their kiss is because after 6000 years in canon and 33 years in real life, that kiss was "taking away the glass".

The glass is a metaphor that media scholar Henry Jenkins uses to explain the appeal of slash, originally published in 1993. Here, "slash" refers to queer re-interpretation of heterosexual media, including transformative works exploring those readings.

This is what Jenkins says about the glass:

When I try to explain slash to non-fans, I often reference that moment in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan where Spock is dying and Kirk stands there, a wall of glass separating the two longtime buddies. Both of them are reaching out towards each other, their hands pressed hard against the glass, trying to establish physical contact. They both have so much they want to say and so little time to say it. Spock calls Kirk his friend, the fullest expression of their feelings anywhere in the series. Almost everyone who watches the scene feels the passion the two men share, the hunger for something more than what they are allowed. And, I tell my nonfan listeners, slash is what happens when you take away the glass. The glass, for me, is often more social than physical; the glass represents those aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men, which block the possibility of true male friendship. Slash is what happens when you take away those barriers and imagine what a new kind of male friendship might look like. One of the most exciting things about slash is that it teaches us how to recognize the signs of emotional caring beneath all the masks by which traditional male culture seeks to repress or hide those feelings.

The vid I refer to, inspired by Jenkin's comments, is The Glass by thingswithwings. It's a beautiful vid, sad and hopeful and empowering, with a very moving commentary on fandom history. It was originally published in 2008, which is relevant to understanding the position it takes in the dialogue around queer relationships in media.

Here's thingswithwings' summary of the vid, as it appears on YouTube:

Henry Jenkins, speaking of the Spock death scene from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, said, "slash is what happens when you take away the glass." It has been said, in response, that death also happens when you take away the glass. ie, if you took away the glass Kirk would die of radiation poisoning too; the barrier between desiring men cannot be removed on pain of death. Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative. One of the interesting things about slash is the way it takes away the glass, then puts it back, then takes it away, then puts it back, often pleasurably. I think this is both problematic and powerful. It is problematic because it reasserts the impossibility of the touch (it fetishizes oppression in a negative manner); it is powerful - and good - because it dwells on and thinks about and removes the glass (it fetishizes oppression in a transformative manner). One of the interesting things about mainstream media is that it continues to put the glass back up, no matter how hard we try to tear it down. Queer desiring touches have been, and remain, imaginable but impossible. TL;DR ALTERNATE SUMMARY: THERE SEEMS TO BE SOME KIND OF INVISIBLE BARRIER IDK WHAT IT MIGHT BE

In regards to Good Omens, it's relevant that this entire conversation about homosocial relationships in media takes place within the 29 year period between the publication of Good Omens the book and the adaptation of the story to screen. The vid was created 15 years ago - which is to say 18 years after the book was published and 11 years before season 1 was released - and it talks about realised queer desire in mainstream media as being so impossible that it is equivalent to death. That is the kind of resistance that queer representation in pop culture has been up against, these last three decades.

Crowley/Aziraphale, as depicted in the book, is such a classic example of slash. I've seen some people who read the book in a contemporary context saying they didn't necessarily pick up on any subtext between the characters, and I suspect this is a mark of cultural expectations. Firstly, because the cultural references that the intentional subtext relies on have become obscured over time - see Neil Gaiman's explanation of the "consenting cycle repairmen" line. But more importantly because the audience's frame of reference for unintentional subtext has shifted, too. What is unsayable and which silences are emotionally loaded has changed over time. Even if you are intentionally using a queer lens in your reading, you might not see subtext in the same places that someone would even 10 years ago.

For example, take this passage from the book:

On the whole, neither [Aziraphale] nor Crowley would have chosen each other's company, but they were both men, or at least men-shaped creatures, of the world, and the Arrangement had worked to their advantage all this time. Besides, you grew accustomed to the only other face that had been around more or less consistently for six millennia.

On it's face, this line suggests that the relationship between the two of them is a matter of convenience more than desire. Maybe that's the intended reading and maybe that's how it started or how they justify their association to themselves, but taken together with how deeply they know each other and how they are always each other's first thought in a crisis, suddenly "neither would have chosen the other's company" sounds like an extremely British way to say they care about each other far more than they were supposed to. Plus, this is Aziraphale's take on their relationship, and it plays rather beautifully against Crowley's much simpler expression of the exact same sentiment:

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

To go back to Henry Jenkin's wise words, what we're seeing here is Aziraphale thinking about Crowley through the glass - through the "aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men". If you came up in slash fandom at a time when seeing queer relationships in canon was unthinkable, you probably find it easier to identify the gap between how Aziraphale thinks about his relationship with Crowley and how their relationship actually functions. That gap was where a lot of slash lived.

You might say that the book shows Crowley and Aziraphale watching each other through the glass, and season 1 is them pressing up against it. They're still prevented from showing the full depth of feeling between them, they still hunger for more than they're allowed, but they are reaching for it. We see the history of their relationship developing through the ages. The unsayable is still left unsaid, but we feel the weight of it in everything they do. They come so very close but they still can't cross that threshold.

And then there's season 2. Within the text, Crowley and Aziraphale are not just pressing against the glass, they're actively trying to dismantle it. They're searching for a door to the other side. They're inspecting for weak points where they could cut their way through. And then suddenly they're out of time and out of options and the glass is still between them, and there's nothing they can do.

As the audience, you feel that desperation. You feel that grief. And if you're someone who's been watching the glass go back up on every relationship you thought might stand a chance of tearing it down, it hits hard. You're longing vicariously with the characters, but you're longing for yourself too, to see queer desire made possible. To see queer touch made not just imaginable but real.

And then, with all hope lost, Crowley throws himself through the glass. It doesn't matter that it doesn't save them. They kiss and it changes everything. Queer desire is no longer up for debate. Queer touch is no longer impossible. They kiss and the glass shatters, entirely and irrevocably.

This is why it matters so much that they did kiss, even though the love between them was already undeniable. For thirty years, Crowley and Aziraphale were part of a media landscape that relentlessly reinforced the glass at every turn and flooded fatal radiation through any crack they couldn't fix. In a different context, that kiss would be less vital to affirming their relationship. But in the world we live in, with the specific history that this story has, I don't think anything else could have done what it did. The glass between these characters had been reinforced over decades, in a culture that made the barriers to open intimacy between men inescapable. Their kiss was what it took to break it.

And by shattering the glass, this story has fundamentally rewritten what is possible. It proves the rules preventing true affection between people of the same gender can be defied. Queer people are already becoming more visible in pop culture; we're no longer reliant on slash reimagining queer longing between heterosexual leads. But Crowley and Aziraphale's kiss is cathartic and vindicating in an entirely different way. It turns slash into intentional queerness. It takes a fetishisation of oppression vacillating between problematic and transformative, and finally stands up on the side of powerful, empowering transformation. It confronts the barriers that once rendered this desiring touch impossible, and breaks through them once and for all.

That's what taking away the glass means. That's what Good Omens did.

#good omens #good omens meta #taking away the glass #fandom history #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #fable talks good omens

[no-passaran]

The story of Jesus Christ Superstar is the tragedy of its characters coming to realise that they have no power over their lives, fighting as much as they can against the role that history/God is forcing them to fulfil, but failing because they were doomed from the start.

Jesus in Gethsemane desperately asking God why should he be killed, how is that going to make anything better, only to realise that it doesn't matter what he believes or wants because it's already fixed ("why then am I scared to finish what I started? What you started, I didn't start it.") and there is nothing that can be done. Against his will, he will have to continue performing this role to its bitter end ("God, thy will is hard, but you hold every card. I will drink your cup of poison, nail me to your cross and break me, bleed me, beat me, kill me. Take me now, before I change my mind.")

Judas realises later, after he has already fulfilled his role in the story. This realization and regret leads him to commit suicide, being the only way out of a life that has already been fixed to make him the eternal villain ("you'll be remembered forever for this", "I shall be dragged through the slime and the mud")... even though this apparent choice of suicide was, following the same reasoning, also taken for him ("my God, I'm sick! I've been used! And you knew all the time. God! I'll never know why you chose me for your crime. Your foul, bloody crime. You have murdered me! Murdered me! Murdered me!"). Judas understands what he did, and he understands what he will be, forever. He understands that not only has he been Judas, he now knows what it means to be Judas: Jesus insulted him by telling him ("you liar, you Judas"). In the very end, he completely understands what it means to be a Judas, because of what he had done.

And Pilate is the last one to try by all means to escape his destiny. He's seen it in his dream, but he refuses to follow it. He refuses to sentence Christ, telling the crowd that he's a crazy man but that's not a crime, trying to convince them that it's against their best interest to ally with Rome, and begs Christ to let him help him get saved ("why do you not speak when I hold your life in my hands? How can you stay quiet? I don't believe you understand!") but of course, the post-Gethsemane Jesus already has accepted that they're doomed, and he's the one to tell Pilate ("you have nothing in your hands, any power you have comes to you from far beyond. Everything is fixed, and you can't change it."). The realization is dawning on Pilate as he desperately continues trying to cling to his ability to take meaningful choices, literally begging Christ to let him take that decision ("you're a fool Jesus Christ, how can I help you?") but with the crowd's shouts for crucifixion, and the crowd circling him and pushing him against the wall, he really does realize it: he has no choice; he will have to play his part in the story. And he knows how it will end, he knows what his role will mean, he also knows what it means to be Pilate ("then I saw thousands of millions crying for this man, and then I heard them mentioning my name and giving me the blame"). The only thing he can do is remove himself from it, but even then he is aware that that won't stop the already-fixed history ("I wash my hands from your demolition. Die if you want to, you innocent puppet").

After all, we saw it from the very first scene. Isn't this what the story's framing means? The overture shows the actors arriving to the filming set by bus and getting ready to play their role. And, at the end of the film, they pack and leave. They came here to recite a script that someone else wrote, to fulfil a story where everything is fixed, and they can't change it. That was what they were made for. Innocent puppets.

#jesus christ superstar #💬 #cinema

[malevolententity]

no but im thinking once again about charlies world state for the suckening. because i havent made my personal decisions yet on how much Canon Cities actually matter. because charlie did something really interesting to me personally with using a canon city and then just ignoring absolutely everything established about said city. and that puts me in a very fun play position of jigsawing what i think from WoD canon could still be dubious canon to charlie and what just doesn’t matter at all. and some of that is going to also be influenced by my personal canon state of LA because my LA deviates from official canon because that’s just what happens in world states that are the real world and then white wolf or modiphius or renegade put out something official that just blows up your shit. 

so heres a deranged history lesson on LA canon and where i might pen charlie as diverging from that canon

all cities are contentious on whos sect they belong too but LA is such a special case because it’s constantly flipping like on a literal 10 year cycle since the 90s and its kinda funny. v1 (1991) doesn’t talk about LA to my recollection there isnt an official stance on who controls it at this point. but in v2 (1994) we get our sourcebook in LA that talks about how from like ~1800-1944 LA was a cam city but then from 1944-1994 it has joined the anarch free state and we get a chronicle to explore a crumbling anarch city thats trying to not blow itself up while also trying to establish some sort of barebones government so it doesn’t just turn into a sabbat territory. at this point its kinda up to you what happened!

we then jump to v3 and 2004 with the videogame vampire the masquerade bloodlines! LA is back to being under the camarillas thumb this happened at some point between 1994 and 2003 we are never really told when prince lacroix came in and stomped on everyones shit. just that he did and everyones really mad about it. we then learn about 4 of the anarch barons isaac abrams of hollywood, nines rodriguez of downtown, and the voerman twins of santa monica. there are also 3 named primogen of the city gary golden of the nosferatu, max strauss of the tremere, and alistair grout of the malkavian. there is a shown ventrue and toreador primo but we don’t actually get to learn anything about them theyre ultimately not important. but we learn a lot of guys names! 11 days of insanity happen and the camarilla fall once again and LA turns back to being an anarch free state on october 31st/november 1st of 2004!

it is now v20 january of 2018 LA is once again in a contentious spot for the anarchs. san diego players are invading and looking to instate themselves as prince. there’s a set of hooks and various endings for chronicles mostly surrounding the idea of LA bending to a new prince (vannevar or tara) or being completely taken over by the kuei-jin(1) who have been in the city since 2004. there is an anarch rubble ending proposed but it is the least likely outcome. these plot hooks are part of the source book becketts jyhad diary to help bridge the gap from v20 to v5 which came out in august of 2018.

v5! september of 2018! the source book came out in august and the actual condition of LA is not mentioned. there is the officially produced actual play LA by Night and all of its events are canon to the official world state. LA is in limbo. vannevar thomas won the v20 san diego conflict and has claimed himself as prince of LA. and everyone really hated that and tried really hard to ignore him but his foothold grew. all of the barons and primogen from 2004 are still barons and primogen of their respective territories. and we learn some new ones! but by 2021 vannevar is removed as prince, denounced by the camarilla at large, and presumed to have met his final death. no one whos prince in LA ever has it good. or lasts long. 

now that the canon history lesson is out of the way. i dont know if charlie actually knows any of that lore LMAO. i dont think any of it actually played a part in how he wrote the LA camarilla 

BUT there are a few ways to split hairs on official LA canon still being somewhat real in his world regardless.

first can be that san diego vs LA instead ended with The Queen getting involved and instating herself as prince of LA. rather than vannevar. and the previous barons and primos meeting their ends at some point in this conflict. this ones just because i truly do not see charlie as an actual big long term vtm dweeb. who’d make another teams actual play canon to his actual play even if it is actual official world canon. i don’t think he’d want someone elses actual play world to effect his. 

another is The Queen watching different princes claim LA and then in a few short years routinely getting final death’ed by the anarchs of the city, where she just in 2021 goes “okay. lacroix sucked. vannevar sucked. my city now. this won’t happen to me” and then she gets blown up by the grimslayers in 2023. its a cycle that no prince can ever have a true hold on LA. LA is inherently cursed to consume its princes. it doesn’t explain the primos changing if vannevar is canon but it could easily be twisted that during the riots against vannevar during the second inquisition raiding the city that the primos got caught in the crossfire. because i don’t know how else to make sense of them changing between reigns. because for me at least its hard to imagine the primos getting voted out with the loyalty they command. theyd have to die to change.

i think its also very likely that charlies world state could have The Queen taking charge between 1994 and 2005. this is the most neutral one as it ignores anything stated in v3 to v5 about LA. theres no messy wonderings on barons and primos that exist through those versions, because its just the v2 lore of anarchs are struggling, what nameless person will claim power next? and i think The Queen slots in very nicely here.

to have a definitive answer on what i ultimately believe is dubiously true id have to rewatch the first 5 episodes just to see if during shilo time theres ever a concrete mention of how long The Queen has explicitly ruled over LA because that Does effect all the possible outcomes of dubious canon. and charlie loves to play it fast and loose when it comes to timelines.

i think the most interesting and compelling for me personally would be taking over after vannevar even though i personally don’t enjoy or have vannevars reign being canon in my own world state. but her taking over after vannevar is so fascinating to have the hubris of princes thinking time and time again they wont fall to the curse of LA princes being short lived and then it keeps happening. especially with edward vying for prince and the boys immediately trying to take him down after the queens death. and then killing A Version of him on tv. the themes. the motifs if this timeline is real are just so juicy to me as someone who interacts with official canon. that i think id like to think its this one. 

but most likely she took over by 2004. thats the cleanest diverging point regardless of if you do or dont know the history of LA and the only one that i think can be semi supported within suck canon at this time. with the single line mention that The Queen put emizel into his dads care pretty immediately after birth. and the twins are 18 or 19 so thats gonna be 2004 or 2005. because i dont think she’d put emizel in a city that she doesnt have any control over yet, and theres no mention of emizel moving cities as a kid (to my memory). despite the fun implications of the other two main broad options with her control being newer. 

ultimately none of it is true canon at the time he wrote and recorded suckening last year. i do not think charlie in his marathon week of researching v20 and v5 rules and helping the boys workshop characters. that he looked into canon cities and really paid attention to what happened there and would in theory be happening in 2023 when this was recorded. i think he just picked LA as a city at random and went “imma make some weird guys that fit the archetypes of their clans, yeah okay heres the government” and that was it. maybe with the time since then and season 2 he might do some retroactive stuff with LA official canon but who knows! it seems s2 might be more global focused so digging into LA lore probably won’t happen.

this was just an excuse to think about the various possible histories of LA in charlies world state if somehow official canon is at play. it 99% likely isnt but, i think its fun to try and slot his takes on the world into the preexisting World of Darkness. instead of just only being, idk i might start calling it World of Charlie, i love WoC and trying to make it make sense with my like decade long beliefs on LA because he just HAD to choose a city that has an established official canon. instead of doing like houston, or san francisco, or portland or any other city. literally theres like 4 cities in the entire world that are officially extensively fleshed out and thats LA, New York, Chicago, and London. the rest of the world will Maybe have 3 official line mentions like Prague and Berlin. but no. he picked one of the 4 cities id go crazy about and it wasnt even on purpose. and m so glad he did this to me because its making me think too much. but also. how could he do this to me? its making me think too much.

#1.7k of me figuring out where i can slot suckening into a divergent WoD LMAOOOO #the suckening #the suckening meta #i cant stop info dumping about official lore and how that interacts with and effects my read on what charlie does in his world

[whitewoofs]

Anamnesis | Word Count - 11294

In the wake of Steve Rogers' seemingly heart-wrenching decision to leave Bucky Barnes behind and reunite with Peggy Carter in the past, Bucky grapples with the agonizing belief that Steve chose a life without him. Years later, a startling discovery leads Bucky to a secret facility where he finds Steve, his memories wiped, trapped among others whose lives have been usurped by Skrulls. As Bucky strives to rekindle their lost connection, he faces a daunting question: Can he help Steve remember their shared history and love, or will they forever remain friends in a world forever changed? AO3

“Babe!” Bucky called from the bedroom, just as Steve was getting ready to leave. He smiled to himself, sure this was another ploy to get him to come back to bed, but he had to go and speak to Bruce.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, picking up his keys.

“No, I need your help! I think I pulled a muscle, I can’t move.” Bucky sounded genuinely distraught and Steve rushed back into the bedroom, finding Bucky flat on his back. “It hurts when I try to sit up, but it’s really uncomfortable lying this way, help me roll on my side please,” he begged, his piercing blue eyes staring at Steve pitifully.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I thought you were just trying to get me to come back to bed,” he apologized as he wrapped his arms around Bucky, who promptly pulled him down on top of himself and kissed him deeply, grinding his crotch upward so Steve could feel his hard-on.

“Mmmm, you were right, but isn’t this worth it? You don’t want to leave me here suffering, do you?” he asked huskily, kissing Steve’s neck, his hands running up under his t-shirt, marveling at how perfect it felt every time they touched. It never got old, he never lost the sense of wonder at how happy and whole this made him feel. Desire curled through him like smoke and he rolled them over, so he was on top, looking down into Steve’s glorious pale blue eyes, kissing his cheekbones, his lips, working at getting his t-shirt removed so he could lick the delicious divots above his clavicles. “Stay a while,” he suggested huskily, “And make love to me.”

Steve knew it was useless arguing. His partner was an incorrigible brat, who always got his way. They’d known each other so long that he knew exactly which buttons to push, and after believing for years that Bucky was dead, Steve was always worried about squandering a single moment. The fact that touching Bucky felt like coming home and bursting into flame at the same time didn’t help matters.

“I’m going to be late,” he put up a token protest.

“But you’ll be very satisfied,” Bucky promised, kissing his way down Steve’s torso, his fingers already unbuttoning his jeans.

“Buck,” Steve groaned, but they both knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve’s fingers tangled in Bucky’s soft, dark hair, his breathing already fractured and Bucky hadn’t even taken off his pants yet. He’d always expected that eventually they’d grow used to this, to making love whenever they felt like it, not needing to sneak around like they did in the 40’s and they were in the Howling Commandos. He expected them to be like most couples, settling into comfort as the initial fervent passion raged and spent itself, but every time still felt like the first. Like his dreams were all being granted and he was strapped to the world’s most exciting ride.

He’d once admitted that to Bucky, who’d lifted a sardonic eyebrow and responded, “You are, we can get actual straps if you want.” He loved this man so much. The darkness from the time after he believed Bucky had died when he fell from the train still haunted his dreams frequently. Or, for some variety, he’d go back to the day Bucky was dusted, and the five years he’d spent believing he’d lost Bucky a second time. On these nights he’d be the one to wake Bucky, making love to him slowly, driving him wild with his hands and mouth until Bucky was a trembling mess in his arms, reassuring himself that Bucky was here with him and they had time enough to savor each other.

“Oh my God,” Steve groaned when Bucky licked up his shaft, teasing the frenulum with his tongue, those mischievous eyes sparkling up at him.

Bucky let go of his favorite lollipop for a moment and grinned cockily, “If you really have to go though…” he drawled.

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky, “Don’t you dare stop now,” he growled.

“Yes, Sir!” Bucky said happily, diving right back in, using his mouth with the kind of exuberance reserved for doing things you truly enjoyed. Steve was never sure if it felt so incredible because Bucky’s mouth was just that talented, or because he so obviously loved every moment, making Steve feel a thousand feet tall.

“Babe, I’m going to cum,” Steve warned and Bucky’s eyes smoldered up at him, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. He’d told Steve a thousand times that he loved his cum, loved the taste and consistency, loved the idea that swallowing it put a piece of Steve inside him, but Steve still warned him every time, as if this would be the day he’d suddenly not want to swallow anymore. He grabbed Steve’s hand with his real one, eyes closing in pleasure for a moment when the first pulse of Steve’s amazing cock ejected his sperm into Bucky’s mouth. Their eyes locked again and remained devotedly fixed on one another until Steve was done. He pulled Bucky up, hugging him to his chest and kissed him fervently.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, his hand lightly stroking Bucky’s penis, smiling when his boyfriend groaned, lifting his hips, pushing his groin toward Steve’s hand.

Steve reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out the vibrating cock sleeve, slipping it over Bucky’s dick, kissing the tip gently while he lubed up his own penis, rubbing some around Bucky’s anus. “I want to look into your eyes,” he told Bucky, their hands entwined as he lowered his mouth to his lover’s, sliding into him slowly, his tongue delving into Bucky’s mouth, ravaging him.

He turned the sleeve on, catching Bucky’s gasp in his mouth, relentlessly thrusting, his heartrate increasing with each propulsion, Bucky’s eyes growing darker with desire, his legs wrapping around Steve’s waist, trying to pull him even deeper. He wanted to meld them into one being, to know they’d never be separated again. He wanted to be doing this every moment of every day, being as close to Steve as it was humanly possible, inconceivable pleasure firing through all his synapses, building to the inevitable explosion, the moment when they both break into bits and absorb a little more of one another.

“Fuck!” Bucky screamed, ejaculating forcefully when he felt Steve release inside of him. “I love you; I love you so much, holy shit how does it keep getting better?” he murmured.

Steve turned off the sleeve, removing it before it became uncomfortable and lay down next to Bucky, pulling his head on to his chest, his fingertips grazing Bucky’s shoulder, causing goosebumps to pop up.

“Tell me you’re going to be fine,” Bucky requested softly and Steve tilted his head back, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m going to be fine. I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

Bucky sighed; he knew there was no way to convince Steve not to do this. They’d discussed returning the infinity stones the night before, agreeing together that it was the safest course of action, to avoid anomalies on the timeline. He also knew Steve was the obvious choice. None of that made him feel less anxious.

“Let’s just stay here, you can talk to the other Avengers tomorrow,” Bucky suggested.

Steve kissed the top of his head, “It’s going to be fine; you’ll see. I love you, I’ll always come back to you.”

~~~

Bucky stared at the time portal, his eyes like burning coals, “Where the hell is he?” he asked, glaring at Bruce who looked bewildered. Steve should have been back by now, unless something went wrong, but he was sure they would have had some sign on this side if something happened.

Sam put his arm on Bucky’s shoulder, “We’ll wait, he’ll be back.” They sat in the New Avengers facility for hours, Bucky staring at the portal with dry, burning eyes, remembering the sweat running down Steve’s neck while he was thrusting into him earlier, the love in his gaze, the strength of his grip. Why wasn’t he coming back?

“Let’s go for a walk,” Sam suggested after another hour had passed. Bucky refused at first, but eventually he had to move, before he tore the place apart.

They walked in silence, neither of them had any words that would lessen their fear, or provide an explanation for why Steve wasn’t back. Sam spotted the shield first, Bucky was like a sleepwalker, unaware of his surroundings, all of his thoughts turned inwards. He nudged Bucky, pointing to the old man on the bench. It had to be a toy, some kind of replica, but they went over anyway, incapable of ignoring what seemed like an omen on today of all days. The moment he looked into the man’s eyes, Bucky knew. He didn’t care, it didn’t matter that Steve was old, he’d take any time he had left with him, no matter what he looked like.

“My love,” Bucky said, falling to his knees, “What happened? How are you here, why didn’t you come back through the portal?” he was fighting tears and losing the battle. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again.” He tried to hug Steve, who gently, but firmly, pushed him away.

Steve glanced at Sam and rose from the bench, “Sam, I need to talk to you, please wait here,” he requested, walking down towards the lake.

Bucky followed, feeling like an electric current was running over his skin, his mind buzzing with white noise. It was Steve’s eyes, but the emotion was gone. The love that had been there that morning, had melted away. Steve stopped and turned to Bucky, his grey hair and lined face was unimportant, all Bucky saw was the pity in his gaze.

“I saw Peggy when I went back,” Steve said and Bucky felt nauseous. They’d spoken about her before, with Steve always insisting he’d only ever loved Bucky, that she was a wonderful woman, who’d been sweet to him when he felt like a nobody, but he only had one true love and he was with him. “I decided to stay with her. You were always just a placeholder for her Buck.” Steve kept talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear the words, he felt like he’d imploded and was falling apart in slow motion, finally slumping to the ground. Steve touched his shoulder for a moment, then turned away and walked over to Sam.

~~~

No matter how many times he wished he’d died that day, Bucky was still alive, had lived with the constant ache of loneliness for years. The feeling that something was missing never quite left him. He wanted to go back to the day when he fell from the train and launch himself headfirst into the canyon, leaving nothing for Hydra to find and resuscitate.

He and Steve had made love that morning too, quietly and secretively squashed into Bucky’s narrow bunk, careful not to let anyone hear them. Worried about what the world would do if they found out Captain America was gay. Making promises about a future they weren’t sure they could have, but longed for wholeheartedly. Steve used to have nightmares about that day, and the dusting, saying he couldn’t survive losing Bucky again, terrified that something would rip them apart. None of it made sense, it hurt without end. Bucky understood the pain of being the one left behind now, but he’d never left Steve willingly. Steve chose to leave him.

Sam had tried over the years to get him to date again, but Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of being with anyone else. He couldn’t even get himself to have meaningless sex when it was freely offered. He’d tried once or twice, but couldn’t get as far as letting his lips touch theirs, never mind taking off his clothes. He attempted to drink the pain away, but gave up eventually; no matter how much he drank, his enhanced metabolism meant he couldn’t get drunk. Nothing helped, nothing eased his aching soul.

Smiling felt anathema to him, like something that couldn’t ever have belonged on his face. He never went looking for Steve, it would have been pointless and he had no desire to look into eyes that always used to shine with love for him, and suddenly see very different emotions there. He had his answer, at least he didn’t have to spend his life waiting and hoping, he suspected that would have been worse. And life carried on, as it inevitably does, whether he was shattered or not.

Sam knew that Bucky lost so much more than his life partner the day Steve left. He lost faith in himself, as well as the ability to believe that anyone truly cared about him. He accepted nothing on face value anymore and kept a wall between himself and everyone else. He still saved people, but he’d moved out of the house he and Steve had bought together, and into a tiny, dark, depressing studio apartment, furnished with the bare necessities. Sam kept showing up unannounced, knowing if he called ahead Bucky would make sure he wasn’t home. He didn’t take it personally; he was the one who had to try and get Bucky back to the tower when geriatric Steve left.

Bucky kept repeating, “It was always her. He never loved me.”

He disappeared for a while, telling nobody that he was leaving and when he eventually returned, he looked like the same person, but the sarcastic, funny, warm Bucky was gone, replaced by someone somber, who never smiled and barely cared about his appearance. He worked out like a madman and fought like a machine. It took a long time for some semblance of warmth to return to his eyes.

Sam was hammering at Bucky’s door, a six-pack of beer in his free hand, when he got the call about the warehouse full of pods. He tried not to take it personally when Bucky opened up and looked relieved to hear they had to go. They stared around the huge space in horror, the number of people replaced by Skrulls were staggering.

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered, “All these people have been drained of their memories, their lives stolen from them.” He felt awful for thinking it may not have been so bad if it happened to him. Steve may never have truly cared about him, but Bucky knew his own feelings had been as real as anything could ever be and he could never bring himself to regret the time they’d had together.

Even if it did end up smashing him to smithereens.

SHIELD agents were scurrying around, opening pods and helping the captives out. Most of them had been in stasis so long their muscles had atrophied and they had to be taken out in wheelchairs. Many woke up screaming, in the grip of panic. None of them knew who they were, where they were, or how long they’d been there. Bucky and Sam helped where they could, grateful when Thor, Bruce and Clint showed up.

“Oh, holy shit!” someone called loudly.

Sam rushed over, staring into the pod in disbelief, before screaming, “Buck! Bucky, get the hell over here.”

Bucky stood frozen, staring down into the clear blue eyes of Steve Rogers. His Steve Rogers, blond-haired, face unlined, young and gorgeous, and the implication hit him like a freight train. Steve didn’t leave him. The person who came back and blew up his existence had locked the love of his life in this pod and stolen all of his memories, ruining two lives in one full swoop, as though it meant nothing. Bucky knew there was no way Steve remembered anything, but he felt the flickering flame of hope in his chest, despite believing for years that it had been extinguished the day Steve walked out of his life.

Not Steve. A Skrull. Oh God, when did the Skrull steal his life? Had Bucky made love to the impostor? He shook that thought off, none of it mattered now, but Steve’s eyes were truly the window to his soul and Bucky felt sure that he’d never been intimate with anyone other than his Steve Rogers.

“Steve?” he asked softly, praying for a glimmer of recognition, but the beautiful face remained blank, his eyes full of confusion.

“Cap?” Sam tried, but there was nothing there. They helped him out and Bucky immediately put his arm around Steve’s back, helping him to walk.

“Do I know you?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nearly all your life,” Bucky said with a smile, making a decision right at that moment. He knew now that his heart had been broken by a Skrull, but for the fractures in his soul to truly close, he had to know the truth. If given the opportunity to start all over, would Steve choose him?

~~~

Sam stared at Bucky, “What the hell do you mean we can’t tell him you guys were together? Please tell me you’re not so messed up that even after finding out it was never Steve who walked out on you, you’re still going to be a miserable shadow of yourself?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “No Sam, please don’t hold back, tell me what you really think of me.”

Sam glared at him, but his heart lifted at the sardonic tone.

“I don’t want to force him into a mold. I’ll tell him we were childhood friends and that he’s a superhero, but I need to know man…”

Sam sighed, “I think you’re crazy, but I guess I get it. I’ll tell the others; you stay here and wait for him to wake up.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on leaving,” Bucky said dryly. “Oh, and I hope there are two rooms free at the tower?”

Sam grinned, “If there aren’t I’ll build some myself.” It felt like two of the people he cared most about in the world had been returned to him today.

~~~

Bucky was sitting next to the hospital bed, his eyes drinking in the sight in front of him, tracing every inch of Steve that was visible. His large hands, so great at holding him close. The blond hair, like silk under his fingers when he pulled Steve closer for a kiss. The sculpted mouth, which expertly knew where and how to kiss his body, making him squirm and beg. The wide shoulders and hard chest, housing a heart big enough to fit the entire world in it. A heart that Steve used to say belonged to him. He hoped he would be deemed worthy again.

Steve looked at the dark-haired man sitting next to his bed. He’d been there earlier, when all the people stood around him, staring at him like he was some kind of newly discovered bug species. This guy had been there, his eyes full of so many emotions, none of which Steve understood, but it was one of the only memories he had. Everything else was blank. Steve wondered why the guy was staring so intently at the sheet covering him, almost like he wished it wasn’t there.

Bucky’s heart lifted for a moment when he glanced up and saw recognition in Steve’s eyes, but it was dashed immediately when Steve said, “You were there earlier. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

Bucky smiled, “I never got around to telling you, they were in quite a rush to get you some medical attention. I’m Bucky Barnes, we grew up in the same neighborhood, a long time ago.”

Steve tried really hard, he got the feeling that he and this Bucky had been good friends, but nothing came to him. “I’m sorry,” Steve said again.

Bucky smiled, “You have nothing to be sorry about, none of this is your fault. You may not remember yourself, but take my word for it, you’re the best person I know.” Bucky chastised himself for the emotion that had crept into his voice, but Steve didn’t seem to notice anything strange.

“You called me Steve; I gather that’s my name? The other guy called me Cap, is that a nickname, or a rank?”

Bucky grinned, “Kind of a self-proclaimed title that was eventually earned,” he joked, before starting the long tale of Steve Rogers, who went from sickly child to superhero with the help of the super serum. Bucky went up to the formation of the Howling Commandos, before declaring that was probably enough for today. He didn’t want to dredge up train accidents, being captured by Hydra, all the terrible things he’d done as the Winter Soldier, how Steve never gave up on him.

It was part of their story, but perhaps they’d be starting a new one someday, if Steve wanted to, and Bucky didn’t know if they needed to be dragging the pain of a forgotten past with them. Even if Steve never fell in love with him again, he didn’t want to saddle him with past trauma.

Steve felt calmer when Bucky was here with him. Despite having lost his memories, he could sense that they’d shared a really close bond and from Bucky’s reminiscences it seemed they’d been as close as brothers. He’d woken earlier, alone in the room, and the emptiness in his head had him shaking with anxiety. The nurse came in and gave him a sedative, looking at him with awe in her eyes, assuring him his friend would be back soon. He didn’t remember being a superhero, but it seemed everyone knew who he was. Except him.

“Can I get you anything? An iced coffee, or something other than hospital food?”

Steve shook his head, “I know the names of foods, but not what I like, isn’t that crazy? Is there something I particularly enjoyed before?”

Bucky smiled, his knowledge of Steve was encyclopedic, there was nothing he could ask him he didn’t already know.

“Do you want me to tell you, or would you prefer to make new choices?”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. I may never regain my memories and I shouldn’t be defined by who I was before.” Bucky nodded, convinced now that he’d made the right decision.

Bucky left reluctantly when they said it was time for Steve to go to sleep. He didn’t suppose a good buddy would have insisted on sleeping in the room with him; there wasn’t really much wrong with Steve. He was back early the following morning and Steve was surprised to find his heart lifting when he walked in. Bucky looked different today. He’d shaved and cut his hair and he was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a form-fitting black tank top, with a black leather jacket, which he’d taken off and slung on to a chair shortly after he arrived. Steve found his eyes drawn to the bulging biceps and taut stomach again and again, chastising himself for acting inappropriately with a friend. Bucky seemed not to notice, so that was good, he assumed he just wanted to get his own body back in tip-top shape and that was the attraction to Bucky’s physique.

Bucky noticed every glance, filing them away to remember later. He’d dressed this way on purpose, he knew he looked good. He was carrying a bag of clothes and toiletries for Steve.

“How did you know my size?” Steve asked when he came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, smelling divine, wearing light blue jeans, a white t-shirt and sneakers. He’d felt a bit strange when he pulled the black boxer briefs out of the bag, knowing Bucky had picked these out for him. They fit really well.

“Staff records,” Bucky lied without compunction.

The nurse came in soon after, to let them know they were releasing Steve, with instructions to keep him hydrated and not to let him have too many rich foods for a few weeks. “His digestive system is still fragile. He should get some exercise, but don’t overdo it. Long walks are fine, but avoid jogging, weights and sprints for now. If it wasn’t for his enhanced system, he’d have been in much worse shape, but all he needs is a little time to recover and to rebuild what’s been lost.” The nurse blushed, “I mean like muscle mass and physical things. We just don’t know enough about the process the Skrulls use for memory extraction and the effect it has on humans…and he’s superhuman, so that changes everything again. I can’t venture a guess as to whether his memories will return or not.”

Bucky bristled, “He’s right here in the room, you can talk to him,” he said sharply. She turned even more scarlet and Bucky felt like an asshole for a second before brushing it aside brusquely. Steve lost his memories, not his mind, and he wasn’t a child. The fact that Steve didn’t interject with “It’s fine,” or some kind of reassurance to set the nurse at ease, let Bucky know loud and clear that he’d been bothered by it too. Steve may not have memories, but he was still sweetness and light right down to his core.

“I’m sorry, of course, I didn’t mean to... We’ve prescribed some pain medication in case of headaches, and muscle relaxants, take them as needed if you feel any discomfort, just not more than four times per day. I wish you all the best Cap…Mr. Rogers.” Bucky had to suppress a smile at that. He’d always teased Steve that he was almost a carbon copy of TV’s Mr. Rogers, the yardstick of niceness.

“Thank you,” Steve said, looking to Bucky, uncertainty foremost in his eyes.

Steve was in a hurry to get out of the hospital, but he had no concept of where he was going. Bucky assured him yesterday that he had a room at the New Avengers Tower, but he had no idea what that looked like, who the others were that lived there, or even how to get there.

“Come on, we’ll head home and get you settled,” Bucky said confidently and Steve immediately felt better.

He wasn’t alone, Bucky would take care of him.

He blinked at the noise and the brightness of the sun outside, his heart lifting a little when Bucky stopped next to a large black motorcycle.

“Your taxi awaits,” he said with a grin, handing Steve a helmet. He got on behind Bucky, uncertain where to put his hands. He gingerly placed them on Bucky’s hips, but he turned to look at Steve and warned, “You’ll want to hold on a lot tighter than that, I don’t go slow.” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and had to fight the incredibly strong urge to turn it into an embrace, leaning his head against Bucky’s strong back and hugging him hard. Was he being overly emotional because of the memory loss, or was he gay and harbored a secret crush on his friend? Bucky would surely have told him if they were more to each other than that? He’d chalk it up to Bucky being his pillar of strength, providing a steady foundation for Steve to stand on. He felt like he was totally unmoored when Bucky wasn’t around, scared and uncertain. His so-called attraction was obviously just emotional displacement.

Bruce and Sam were in the kitchen when they arrived, waving and calling out greetings. Bucky had asked them not to overwhelm Steve when he got there, but he was suddenly worried Steve wouldn’t know how beloved he was. “I told them to keep their distance for a bit, until you’re settled in. Sam wanted to throw a welcome home party for you, but I thought it may be a bit much to deal with right away. They’re all…we’re all, so relieved and happy to have you back. If you want the fanfare, I’ll tell him I was wrong?”

Steve shook his head, “No. Thank you, I do need a little time. I’ll definitely want to chat to them later, but I still feel so unsteady, like I’m on a small raft in the middle of the ocean and the waves are turning choppy, threatening to tip me over.”

Bucky wanted to take his hand, instead he gripped his shoulder firmly, “I’ll anchor you, the boat doesn’t need to be wobbling.” He led Steve to ‘his room’.

Bucky had filled the cupboard with clothes, having an amazing time shopping for Steve, buying the softest cashmere sweaters, and things as close as possible to the things he always loved to see Steve wear. He also couldn’t resist picking up Steve’s favorite cologne. What used to be his favorite cologne. Steve’s smell was such a huge part of Bucky’s memories, the olfactory trigger had been impossible to resist.

Steve looked around, but the room didn’t trigger anything. The clothes all looked brand-new and he wondered whether they’d thrown his stuff out. It would make sense, there was no point in hanging on to things that wouldn’t be used again. He assumed Bucky had chosen these too; he had good taste. There was a picture on the dressing table of him, Bucky and some other people in army uniforms. It was obviously old, but the two of them still looked about the same.

“Why haven’t you aged? Did they use the super soldier serum on you too?”

Bucky glanced away; he didn’t want to talk about Hydra. “A version of it, and I was cryo-frozen quite a few times. The serum doesn’t keep us from aging though. You were also encased in ice for a long time.”

Steve sat down on the bed, “Will you tell me about it?” he asked, looking up at Bucky, looking wide-eyed and lost for a moment.

Bucky wanted to pull him close and assure him he would do anything for him, but instead he nodded and sat down, “Yeah, of course.”

He skipped over his own supposed death, continuing from Steve crashing into the ice and remaining frozen in the Arctic for nearly seventy years. Steve wasn’t going to let it go that easily, he immediately picked up on the evasion.

“Who froze you?” Bucky didn’t want to open that can of worms, but how to avoid it without lying?

“A group of German scientists. You found me not too long after they unearthed you from the ice and helped me when I had no memories, it’s odd how life sometimes bring us full circle. Obviously, I’m not glad this happened to you, but I’m glad I’m here to return the favor.”

Steve looked at him seriously, “Me too,” he admitted.

Steve had a million other questions, but Bucky quickly interjected, “I’m starving and I’m sure you could do with a decent cup of coffee. How about I make us something and I’ll introduce you to Bruce and Sam. You…the Skrull, passed your shield to Sam when he came back from your mission as an old man. We’ll have to sort that out somehow, but it’s not important right now.”

Steve held up a hand, “How do you know I was the Skrull then?” he asked in confusion. Bucky cleared his throat, digging a hole and tossing his memories of that day into it, trying to bury them deep.

“You were wearing the same suit that you wore on your mission when we found you in the warehouse, so they must have caught and switched with you while you were returning the stones. It definitely wasn’t you that came back old, or you’d still be old.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, “That makes sense. I think Sam should keep the shield and continue being Captain America. I don’t even know who I am.”

Bucky smiled, “You can make decisions like that later, and in fairness, you don’t know who he is either.”

Steve frowned, “Is he bad at it?”

Bucky laughed, “No, but please tell him I said he sucks. He’s a great guy and I kind of think he’s perfect for the job, but so were you. If you repeat any of the last bit to him, I’ll say you’re delusional,” Bucky warned with a grin. Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, hoping he could make Bucky’s face do that far more often.

Bucky smiled at the sound of Steve talking to Bruce and Sam in the living room. He was as personable as he’d always been and genuinely interested in everything they had to say. Sam was telling him what an unerring moral compass he had and what a role model Steve had always been to him; probably embarrassing the hell out of Steve. Bucky was making pesto eggs. Steve used to cook it for him when they had a leisurely morning at home, staying in bed until hunger finally drove them out. It was Steve’s favorite meal in the whole world and the only thing he ever really cooked. Bucky knew his way around the kitchen far better and usually took care of dinner. He was eager to see if Steve’s tastebuds would remember. He also made a pot of coffee with freshly ground dark-roast beans. Steve’s favorite beverage.

“Breakfast’s ready!” he called, laying out the plates and two cups of coffee on the counter.

Steve looked at the green eggs suspiciously, “That smells incredible,” he said, and Bucky knew he’d choke them down and praise them, even if he hated them now.

“Thanks Buck, but we’ve already eaten,” Sam said pointedly, staring at the two plates.

“You don’t eat pesto,” Bucky shot back, “And I know Bruce already had breakfast because he was eating when I left to go to the hospital.”

Steve looked at them with a smile, it was clear that Bucky and Sam were close.

“Do I like pesto?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Only one way to find out,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Steve mimicked him and groaned happily, “Oh wow. Is this what it’s supposed to taste like? That’s heavenly. The stuff they gave me in the hospital was awful.”

Bucky took a bite of his eggs so he wouldn’t have to answer, his throat was feeling suspiciously scratchy. Steve put a forkful of the eggs in his mouth and closed his eyes, emitting a low hum of delight. “This is phenomenal,” he finally decreed.

All of Steve’s tastes still seemed to be the same, surely that meant he was still something Steve would like too, Bucky thought hopefully.

“It’s a gorgeous day outside, is there anything you want to do?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s brow crinkled, “I have no idea. Maybe we can just go for a walk? I’d kind of just like to get to know my surroundings a little. I must be keeping you from doing your own stuff, eventually I’ll have to start doing things alone.”

Bucky wasn’t planning on ever letting Steve out of his sight again, if he thought he could get away with it he’d get Steve one of those leashes they used on kids. He made a non-committal sound, “I don’t have anything urgent waiting for me, there’s no rush, but familiarizing yourself with the area is a good idea. It should help you feel more at ease.”

They walked down to the lake; an area Bucky hadn’t returned to in all these years. He’d forgotten how beautiful it was.

“I assume others can’t get in here?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled, “No, the security is pretty tight. A lot of bad people would like to get their hands on the technology inside, and wiping out a few of The Avengers would be a pretty lucrative prize if they could manage it.”

Steve nodded, feeling quite content with the knowledge that they had privacy here. “Tell me some more about my past please,” Steve asked.

“Obviously I had no family left after so many years, but was there anyone I was particularly…close to?” He wanted to ask about his sexual orientation, but couldn’t quite spit it out.

“Me,” Bucky said easily.

Steve nodded, hoping for a little more information, but Bucky didn’t say anything else; there was no way to ask without asking and he didn’t want to say, And were we ever more than friends, because I kind of want to wrap myself around your body and kiss you until your head is spinning.

Bucky felt the tension and wanted to pull Steve down to the grass and beg him to use him in any way he saw fit, but he wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s sexual tension he was feeling, or his own, or if he was projecting his own feelings on to Steve. Steve had always been the dominant one in their relationship, steadfast and confident, soothing and coddling Bucky as needed. It was different having to be the one who took charge and he was constantly second-guessing himself.

“Wow, it’s really hot,” Steve said when they’d been walking for about twenty minutes, Bucky doing most of the talking and verbal acrobatics, trying to side-step anything that came too close to entering uncomfortable territory.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Bucky said immediately.

“Sure,” Steve said, turning around.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked already pulling off his boots.

Steve turned back to look at him, “You mean here?” he asked, looking around.

“Yeah, did you imagine I meant let’s trek back to the house and use the pool? You’re hot now, aren’t you?”

Steve swallowed deeply, Bucky was pulling off his jeans and he wore the same underwear he’d bought Steve. The bulge at the front was substantial. He felt like his oxygen had been cut off, while he was screaming at himself to act like a normal person.

Bucky yanked his tank top over his head and for a minute Steve thought he’d pass out. He was perfect, flawless, and he made all kinds of somersaults turn in Steve’s stomach. To his utter horror, Steve felt his penis growing erect. He immediately sank to the ground and pulled his knees up, taking his time to untie his sneakers.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale,” Bucky asked in concern.

Steve nodded frantically, “Yes! Great. I’m so good. You go in so long; I’ll be there in a minute.”

Bucky looked puzzled, but turned away and walked into the lake. Steve stared for two seconds, then forced himself to look away, desperately trying to get his hard-on under control. He couldn’t let Bucky see that; he’d know immediately. He was definitely, without any doubt, one hundred percent gay, or gay for Bucky, whichever it may be. He lusted after his best friend with a ferocity he didn’t think was normal, but the only person he’d feel comfortable asking was Bucky, and for obvious reasons that was impossible. Bucky’s ass was a work of art, with a gorgeously pronounced contour, muscular and taut, and Steve stared at the grass for a full minute before he was able to get up and remove his clothes.

Bucky watched him walking into the water, his eyes fixed on Steve’s tall frame. He’d lost no obvious muscle mass during his years in the pod, he was as beautiful as ever. Solid, dependable, incredible, home. The love of Bucky’s life. His first, last and everything. Steve finally looked up again when he was waist deep in the water, his eyes meeting Bucky’s, his heart filling with joy at the smile spreading across Bucky’s face. For a while everything else dropped away and he just relaxed into the arms of euphoria, appreciating this moment.

The sun was warm, the water cool, he was with a friend he couldn’t remember, but who stirred incredibly powerful feelings in him. Things would surely get complicated later, but for now, this minute, he was utterly content. Bucky dove under the water and reappeared in front of Steve a few seconds later, shaking his dark hair wildly, spattering drops of water all over Steve, who swept Bucky’s legs from under him and dunked him without thinking. They tussled for a while, splashing and doing their best to submerge each other, laughing and taunting all the while. Steve ran out of breath first and they got out, sitting on the grass, letting the sun’s rays dry them. There was a sense of ease between them suddenly, as if a knot of uncertainty had been untied. Steve no longer had to just take Bucky’s word for it, he knew, felt it deep in his soul, that they had always been exceptionally close and that bond wasn’t rooted simply in memories, it was part of their DNA, and nothing could ever wipe it out. Bucky felt his fears ebbing and couldn’t understand how he’d ever allowed one sentence to wipe away a lifetime of proof. Of course, Steve loved him. He should have known his Steve would never hurt him like that. Even without his memories, even if all it ever was now, was friendship, it was deep, abiding and unshakable.

“We should go on a da-ay out tomorrow,” Bucky suggested, catching himself before the word date was fully formed. “I’ll take you to two places, one will be something you’ve always loved, the other something you don’t enjoy all that much, and we’ll see if that’s still the same.”

Steve smiled, “As long as we can get coffee too, I’ll go anywhere with you.” He’d go without the coffee too, but now that he’d rediscovered the amazing, magical beans, he wanted more and he didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable by sounding like he wanted to follow him around like a puppy. Even though he absolutely did. The view from the back was exquisite.

They walked back to the tower slowly and Bucky grilled them some tuna and asparagus for lunch. “I think I’d better take some of those muscle relaxants, I’m feeling a little sore,” Steve admitted.

“Did I grab you too hard earlier?” Bucky asked and Sam popped his head around the door to his room.

“Oh awesome, you told him! Have you two been-“

Bucky nearly threw a lemon at his head.

“Sam! Hey! What are you talking about? Told who what?” Bucky asked manically.

Sam grimaced, realizing his mistake immediately. “Ah, haha, oh, it’s you two. I thought it was Thor and Bruce, they…Uhm, shit. I don’t think I can tell you.” He disappeared back into his room, locking the door audibly.

“That was weird, I don’t know what Thor sounds like, but neither of us sound like Bruce, do we?” Steve asked in confusion.

Bucky glared at Sam’s door before turning back to face Steve, “No, we don’t. Sam is weird, don’t mind him.”

Bucky scrolled through the streaming service and they watched Puss In Boots while eating lunch on the couch in front of the television. Steve hadn’t lost his love for animated movies either, but the pills made him sleepy and he nodded off about an hour into it. He’d been giggling like a small boy until a minute before. Bucky paused the film and pulled Steve down, so his head was resting on Bucky’s lap. He stroked his hair and rubbed his thumb over Steve’s mouth, remembering well how glorious it was to kiss those lips.

He’d loved Steve before he was a super soldier, when he was a small, scrawny kid with more daring and heart than brains, suffering from every ailment known to mankind, but determined to stand up to bullies. The way he looked had never mattered, Bucky loved who he was. He didn’t hate that Steve could swing him over his shoulder and carry him around, physically overpowering him when he really set his mind to it, pin him down and have his wicked way with him, but those were bonuses, not dealbreakers. He didn’t know what Steve would think if he woke up in this position, his hair being stroked tenderly, and he didn’t want to overwhelm him. Bucky got up as gently as he could manage and fetched a pillow for Steve’s head to rest on, lifting his feet on to the couch as well. He got a book to read and sat in the armchair next to the sleeping Steve, keeping guard, making sure he was safe.

~~~

Steve was excited about his day out with Bucky and had to keep telling himself it wasn’t a date. It felt like one to him though and he didn’t know what to wear. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he had to make an effort. He finally chose an off-white, button-up knitted shirt and forest green chinos, with charcoal sneakers. He found a brown leather cuff in one of the drawers and took it off and put it back on a few times, before discarding it in favor of a tiger eye bracelet. He loved the cologne Bucky bought him and spritzed himself three times, before realizing that was probably too much and panicking that he was going to make Bucky’s eyes water.

Bucky found him standing bare chested, flapping his shirt out the window when he came into the room after giving a perfunctory knock. “Is this a bad time?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

Steve pursed his lips in thought. “Not great. I think I overdid it on the cologne,” he admitted.

Bucky walked closer and sniffed the air around Steve, his blood pressure rising exponentially with each deep inhalation. “I think you’re perfect,” Bucky said hoarsely, taking a quick step back.

They went for coffee first, before heading to a nearby ice-skating rink. “Do I know how to do this?” Steve asked, eyeing the sharp blades of the skates.

“Not sure, we’ll have to see,” Bucky returned, fastening his own skates. Steve was on the ice for a second before he fell for the first time. Bucky helped him up and offered his arm to balance Steve while they slowly made their way to the side-rail.

“Is this the thing I hate?” Steve asked.

Bucky laughed, “You haven’t even given it a chance yet. You’re very athletic, take your time and see if you can figure out how to balance.”

Steve gave it a go, but he didn’t think he improved much. He did enjoy it when Bucky put his arm around his waist to help him, so it wasn’t a total disaster, but he’d much rather have stayed at the coffee shop.

He tried for an hour, then shook his head, “No, enough, I don’t enjoy this.” His ass was wet and he was shivering, despite the fact that Bucky had given him his jacket to wear. “You’re swanning around like one of those people who do the shows on ice, I’m holding you back, go on and show me how it’s done, but I’m going to watch you from that bench over there.”

Bucky grinned, “Fine, I guess this wasn’t a success.”

Steve had always abhorred ice-skating, for some reason he just couldn’t get the hang of it and it frustrated him terribly. In all their years together, Bucky had only managed to get him to go skating three times. Four if he included today. It was something that came naturally to him and he showed off a little, knowing Steve was watching him.

Bucky was incredible. Steve didn’t know how he managed it, but for a fairly tall, well-muscled guy, he managed to glide around like he was weightless, the epitome of gracefulness, doing several showy twirls and looking like poetry in motion. Steve could only watch him, awed by his skill, entranced by the way he managed to contort his body. Bucky eventually left the ice, joining Steve on the bench, his lips slightly blue.

“Oh my God, you’re freezing,” Steve said, taking off the jacket and hanging it around Bucky’s shoulders, using his hands to chafe his arm. Bucky wanted to assure him he was fine, but the contact felt so good, he let Steve continue, while the body heat that was still trapped in the jacket soaked into him, Steve’s smell encircling him completely.

They went for a latish lunch, before catching the subway to Brooklyn. Bucky had booked them two easels at a popular paint bar. Their theme for the evening was Ethereal Treetops. A live jazz band was playing in the background; the bar supplied all of the painting materials and served excellent wines by the glass. Anticipation bubbled up in Steve immediately when he looked at the set-up, his fingers itching to hold the paintbrush, to use the palette to mix his colors. He already knew exactly what he wanted to paint, he wasn’t sure if it was a lost memory, or something his creativity cooked up, but he could see it so clearly. Bucky grinned when he saw the familiar far-away look in Steve’s eyes and he knew his imagination had already taken wing.

“You sit down and get started; I’m going to get us some drinks.”

Steve was a great artist and it felt so right to see him sitting there, immediately lost in his own head, plotting out his vision. Bucky didn’t need any more evidence; it was obvious nothing had changed. He liked the same foods, hated the same activities and Bucky was sure there was electricity between them. He’d still hold off on making any type of sexual advance, simply out of consideration for not piling too much on Steve at once, but all of it was still there, he was absolutely sure.

Bucky dabbed at his canvas a few times, but he was having a great time listening to the band, sipping an excellent Merlot and watching Steve paint the view from their house at sunset. Bucky was glad he hadn’t sold the place. Back then, he was tempted to burn it to the ground. To turn it to ashes just like his heart. Instead, he’d locked the door and left, moving into the dankest little place he could find. It had to be very musty, he’d have to get a cleaning company to go and give it a thorough spring-clean. He was hopeful that it wouldn’t be too long before he and Steve moved back.

Steve sat back, looking at what he’d created. The more he stared, the more familiar it felt, but he couldn’t place it. He looked over at Bucky’s easel and laughed, before quickly biting his lip and feeling terrible.

Bucky leaned back in his chair and took a deep sip of his wine, “Steve Rogers, are you being mean to me?” he asked in mock distress. Steve shook his head, keeping his mouth firmly shut. He felt a little better about the ice-skating now. It was very obvious they had different talents.

“I like the bunnies,” Steve said, eyeing the brown and white creatures on the bright green grass.

“They’re squirrels,” Bucky said solemnly and Steve couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer.

“Squirrels don’t have long ears,” he argued.

“Bunnies don’t climb trees,” Bucky countered, pointing to a blob in one of the apple trees.

Steve giggled joyously, “The error is clearly mine, I apologize most profusely,” he said.

Bucky sighed laconically, “Yes, I paint like a six-year-old, we can’t all be artistic geniuses.” Steve stopped himself before he planted a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

They stayed for the music and more wine, and finally made their way back to the tower when it was nearly midnight. “Thank you,” Steve said when they got inside, his voice full of gratitude. He didn’t want the night to end, it had been absolutely perfect.

“I had a great time, there’s no need to thank me,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to think of some reason not to say goodnight just yet, but nothing sprang to mind.

“Maybe you can come to my room and we’ll chat a while longer, if you’re not too tired?” Steve suggested, a surge of boldness rising in him. Bucky’s mouth was suddenly dry, he didn’t know what he’d do if nothing happened. If Steve really meant they should talk, like chums, he may lose his mind, because need had planted a garden in his body and it was growing wild, taking over every part of him.

“Sure,” he managed, walking into the room ahead of Steve.

Bucky was reaching for the light switch when Steve grabbed his shoulder from behind and turned him into his body, his hands twining in his hair.

“I want to kiss you,” Steve growled softly, his eyes burning into Bucky’s.

Bucky didn’t answer him, he put his hands on the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him down, managing, “Oh thank God,” before their mouths collided and the world surrounding them melted away, until only the two of them were left.

Steve walked Bucky backwards until his back was braced against the door, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while his mouth laid claim to Bucky, leaving no questions as to whether they belonged to each other.

“Did we do this before?” Steve asked raggedly, when his lips moved to Bucky’s neck, slowly kissing the hollow behind his ear, his tongue sweeping over Bucky’s throat before his lips suctioned on, making Bucky tremble.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted, removing Steve’s chinos.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asked, a note of frustration in his voice.

“It’s a long story, do you want to stop and talk first?” Bucky asked.

“Oh God, no,” Steve sounded horrified. “I want to do a lot of things before we get to talking again.”

Bucky sighed happily, “Oh, good.”

Steve kicked his own pants away, before yanking Bucky’s down. “I don’t think I’m going to be gentle,” he warned and Bucky made a needy little sound that made something dominant roar to life in Steve. He pulled Bucky tight to his body, pressing his erection against his abdomen, feeling Bucky’s large cock wedged between them. He’d been right about the bulge earlier. “Turn around,” Steve ordered, pushing Bucky up against the wall, putting his hands over Bucky’s and pinning them above his head, his fingertips slotting between Bucky’s fingers, just above his knuckles. “I think I love you,” Steve admitted, before putting his mouth to work on Bucky’s neck, his cock slowly pressing into him.

“I love you too,” Bucky gasped, his ass clenching around Steve for a moment, before relaxing again, inviting him inside. “Fuck me hard baby, I’ve missed you so much,” Bucky begged. Steve hated that he had no memories of this. It felt so right, having Bucky’s body trapped by his while he trust into him, each penetrating jab making his brain light up like a Christmas tree. His balls were throbbing, his hands clamped around Bucky’s. He was worried he was being too rough, that he was hurting Bucky, but he couldn’t stop to ask, he trusted Bucky would tell him if he wanted him to slow down.

Instead, Bucky was leaning his head back on to Steve’s right shoulder, breathing fast, murmuring, “Yes, oh God, it’s been so long. I need you so much,” his voice full of reverence, almost like he uttering a prayer. Steve moved faster, skewering Bucky, pushing his cheek against the wall, his full weight leaning forward on to Bucky as only his hips and thighs kept moving. “Cum for me baby, cum please, I can’t hold out much longer,” Steve begged and Bucky whimpered.

“Please don’t wait, I need new pieces of you inside me.” Steve exploded, seeing actual starbursts as his penis pulsed and pulsed, Bucky crying out when he felt the warm semen shooting into him, finding his own release.

Steve didn’t pull out, he stood up straight and pulled Bucky with him, with their fingers still twisted together, he clung to Bucky’s hand, folding his arms around him. “Do you know what that felt like?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky sighed out a laugh, “Heaven?”

Steve bit his ear, “More,” he corrected Bucky, finally pulling out and tugging Bucky towards the bed. “I want to taste you,” he said, pushing Bucky on to his back and kneeling between his legs, moaning when his tongue found the cum still beaded around the head of Bucky’s cock. “We could have been doing this since I got out of the hospital,” Steve tutted, twirling his tongue around the head, before daintily sucking on the very tip.

“No. I had to give you time,” Bucky tried to argue, but his words dried up when Steve started to lightly massage his balls, his lips still teasing around Bucky’s frenulum. He was already hard again, helplessly lost in ecstasy, voraciously needy. Steve brought Bucky to the edge again and again, stopping when he felt the first hint of pulsing, pinching the tip of his penis between his fingers and forcing the orgasm back. Bucky’s head was rolling around wildly, his thighs shaking, the duvet crushed in his hands. Steve looked at his lover, writhing unrestrainedly, stimulated to the edge of endurance. He swallowed Bucky’s cock, all the way down to his throat, thrusting a finger into his ass and fingering him fast, triumph lifting him when Bucky bellowed, cumming into his mouth. Steve swallowed, keeping his mouth lightly suctioning, elated at the intensity of his orgasm.

“Aehaogh,” Bucky tried to speak, but gibberish came out of his mouth. It was probably a combination of being celibate for years, having gotten Steve back after believing he was gone and the slight hint of anger he could feel buzzing in Steve, but he’d never cum that fiercely. Steve had never pushed him quite that hard before. They always had incredible sex, but Bucky knew he would never forget tonight. “Now tell me,” Steve demanded.

“Oh my love,” he murmured when Bucky was done, kissing him again and again. Soft, comforting kisses full of tenderness. “I don’t remember anything yet, but after two days with you I knew how deep our connection went, how could you have believed I’d do that?”

Bucky had his head on Steve’s shoulder, “I’ve never felt like I deserved you, Steve. Not after HYDRA.”

Steve frowned, “What are you talking about?”

Bucky sighed, “I’m so happy right now, can I tell you in the morning? All the things I’ve glossed over.”

Steve paused, “I’m not sure I love the sound of that all, did something terrible happen between us?”

Bucky rubbed his head on Steve’s shoulder, “Terrible things happened to us, but we’ve never purposely hurt each other.” Steve was satisfied with that for tonight. He wanted to make out endlessly and make love to the man he adored.

The sun was coming up, the room turning incrementally from black to grey; Steve sat with his knees bent to the sides, the bottoms of his feet touching, Bucky in his lap, with his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, pressed so close to him that his anus was able to sink down over Steve’s cock. Their lips were locked, arms wrapped around each other and Bucky was tilting his hips back and forth, setting the rhythm of their thrusting. They were exhausted, and finally nearly sated.

There had been frantic fucking, long bouts of kissing, gentler copulation and now they were softly making love, wound together completely, kissing without end, marveling at their happiness. Their final release was far less explosive than some of the others, but it left them utterly satisfied. Relaxed to the point of somnolence, and they finally tumbled on to the mattress, sinking into sleep with their hands clasped together.

~~~

Steve had been horrified when Bucky told him about all the bits he left out, especially when Bucky admitted to the guilt that never left him of his time as an assassin.

“You have to go to therapy,” Steve declared.

Bucky scowled, “I’d give the therapist nightmares, is that what you want, to traumatize some poor, unsuspecting head doctor? I spoke to someone at SHIELD.”

Steve’s brows wrinkled, “I’m not sure I trust them completely, they have their own agenda. We have to find you someone who specializes in trauma.”

Bucky pulled him closer, “I don’t need to talk to anyone babe, I’ve got you back.”

They’d spent two days in Steve’s room, only exiting to get food and drinks. There’d been a lot of the promised talking, but far more kissing and rediscovering. Bucky felt as content as a kitten in a mohair blanket.

“This isn’t negotiable,” Steve said fiercely, a commanding tone to his voice that made the hair on the back on Bucky’s neck rise in splendid anticipation.

Bucky batted his eyelashes, “What will you do if I refuse?” he asked defiantly.

Steve rolled on top of him, moving his hips from side to side, his dick rubbing lightly over Bucky’s stomach, more blood rushing into it with every pass. He kissed Bucky deeply, until he was uttering soft, needy, moans. “I won’t do any of that,” Steve whispered, putting his hand on Bucky’s cock, stroking him gently.

“Oh, fuck babe, I’ll go anywhere you want me to,” Bucky agreed, incapable of putting up even a token resistance.

~~~

Every day was like opening a brand-new gift, which turned out to be exactly what he wanted. Steve wished fervently his memories would come back, he didn’t want to lose the myriad of moments he’d shared with Bucky in the past. He would never hear about all of them, or have them from his own perspective. Bucky wouldn’t know how often he watched him and just marveled at his own good fortune. The little things that made Steve’s heart feel like it would explode with love. There was a particular sound he made when he was incredibly turned on and his eyes would close and his mouth open in a silent scream, which made Steve hornier no matter how turned-on he already was. Steve didn’t want to lose any of these tiny, intimate facts that made up the whole of how much he loved his sassy, incorrigible, insatiable boyfriend, but if the memories never returned, he was okay with making new ones.

Bucky was reborn. He was having the time of his life reintroducing Steve to all his favorite things. They spent their days watching movies, reading, painting, playing cards, hanging out with the other Avengers when they were around. Steve remained adamant he didn’t want his shield back. He’d help out if there was an emergency, but Captain America’s mantle belonged with Sam. Bucky felt relief at that, he knew Steve had grown progressively more uncomfortable with working for the government in recent years and this would give them more time together. He’d also been in touch with Shuri and she was working on a vibranium-based, collapsible energy shield for Steve, which would be capable of withstanding powerful attacks. He needed to know he was safe. Bucky would wait for Steve to pick his own name, but he thought perhaps The Sentinel, or something similarly neutral, that showed he wasn’t aligned with a specific government or authority, but dedicated himself to global justice. He’d bring that up when Steve wanted to return to work, for now they were on vacation. A sexy, lazy, relaxing vacation.

~~~

“I have a surprise for you,” Bucky told Steve. “You should pack up all your stuff.”

Steve cocked his head to the side, “Are we moving?”

Bucky groaned, “You haven’t forgotten what the word surprise means, have you?”

Steve chuckled, “Fine. You know I’d follow you to the gates of hell.”

Bucky blindfolded Steve, who grumbled, “I literally don’t remember anything, so if it’s not somewhere you’ve taken me before I won’t recognize it.”

Bucky ignored him, helping him into the passenger seat of his car. “Indulge me, please,” he asked, kissing the side of Steve’s head. Steve immediately stopped complaining.

Bucky was shocked at the sense of homecoming he felt when he pulled into their driveway and into the garage. The landscapers had done an amazing job of getting the garden to look amazing and he had the cleaning company out three times, so they could deep-clean everything. It smelled of polish and fabric softener when he opened the door and Steve inhaled deeply.

“Oh, that’s very nice, where are we?” Bucky took off his blindfold and scooped Steve into his arms before he could argue, carrying him over the threshold, into their home.

Steve laughed, “Nobody would believe me if I told them how sentimental you are. Did you rent us a house?”

Bucky put Steve down and took his hand, “This is our house, where we were living before…you disappeared. I couldn’t bear to come back here. We bought it together.” Steve looked around with child-like wonder.

“This is where we shared our life? We picked out all these things?” Bucky nodded, watching breathlessly as Steve prowled around, touching and inspecting everything.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said, “We have amazing taste.” Bucky grinned, “Well you obviously do,” he said, indicating himself.

Steve laughed, “Oh baby, you shouldn’t be so modest, you need to get some more self-confidence.” Steve tugged him toward the main bedroom, “I believe after you carry me over the doorstep, it’s customary to christen the bed.”

Bucky swooned a little, then rallied, “Re-christen, this bed has been very thoroughly broken in.”

Steve’s eyes gleamed, “Well then, I guess we’ll have to try and show it something it hasn’t seen before.”

Bucky looked dubious, “I don’t know if that’s possible, it’s seen a lot, but I’m very willing to give it a go.”

Steve felt so full of love, that he imagined he’d burst open, prisms of rainbow light shooting from him if any more emotion added the mix. “Kiss me,” he ordered Bucky, who immediately hurled himself into Steve’s arms, “Yes, Sir!” he said swiftly.

Steve felt like a dam wall burst open in his head. Memories tumbling out like a mountain of diamonds, each one falling into its own special slot. He sank down to the floor, his eyes screwed shut against the intensity of it all. The pain, joy, love, camaraderie, friendship, all of it washing over him in a huge tidal wave.

“Steve! Babe, are you okay? Please talk to me,” Bucky asked frantically, trying to pull Steve’s hands away from his eyes. It took a few minutes and Steve was panting by the end, trying to reassure Bucky that he was okay in monosyllables.

Bucky was terrified. What if this was some terrible, unforeseen consequence of being in the pod for so long? What if he was losing Steve all over again?

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said softly and Bucky froze. He hadn’t told Steve his full names. Maybe someone else did? “I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line pal,” Steve said, his voice getting stronger. “It wasn’t too long after that when I kissed you for the first time.”

Bucky grabbed his face between his hands, “You remember?”

Steve nodded, “It’s always been you and me Buck. If anyone wearing my face and eyes ever try to tell you differently, you tell them to fuck off and start looking for me, because I love you. Only you. Forever you. I want us to get married. Will you marry me? Sorry, no wait, I’m going to do something special and make it a big surprise. Could we wipe your memory for a bit?”

Bucky was laughing and crying, shaking his head, “No take-backs, I’m marrying you. As soon as possible. I love you so much,” Bucky babbled, straddling Steve’s lap and kissing him deeply, “Forever. Promise me?”

Steve pulled his mouth down, “Til the end of the line, baby,” he swore, sealing their pact with a kiss.

#bucky barnes #captain america #steve rogers #winter soldier #stucky fanfiction

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Choices - a TMA x Malevolent crossover series, taking place in the Dark World

The Dark World can be very dangerous. One dark night, hiding from predatory crows, Jon and Martin—and John and Arthur—have an important talk.

A Malevolent x TMA crossover. Part of the Just a Little Sidequest series.

Okay, I've started a new AU, and it's thanks to @captaincravatthecapricious. We are now following the adventures of John, Arthur, Jon, and Martin in the Dark World as they try not to be tormented by The Horrors… and try to find Faroe. Yes, this is Jasper's fault. Enjoy.

AO3

QPR John & Arthur.

This is taking place in the Dark World, so understand, they are all dead - but they are also together, and that's what matters.

You don't have to see anybody die.

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

“Hey, Jon?” Martin’s voice was quiet, though that was likely pointless; the pecking thrushcrows on the roof definitely knew they were there. 

“Yes?” said Jon; his eyes (all of them) moved constantly, studying what dug relentlessly at their dwelling, what made the nightmare sounds.

Martin shifted. He knew it was silly to hide under the blanket; it wouldn’t stop even a normal crow from pecking him, never mind one of these things. It still felt better.  “We need to eat. We can be injured. I got a sunburn, preparing the place for these birds. I… I’m sorry. I know you’re busy.”

“It’s all right, Martin.” Jon’s voice was doubled, deepened, echoing the way it did when he was keeping an eye (ha-ha) on too much. “Ask your question.”

Martin shifted again. He thought Jon was lovely like this (so esoteric, so removed) and suspected it meant he was a little messed up in the head, but that was the least of his worries. “Those birds could kill us.”

“Strip the flesh from us,” Jon corrected, no emotion in his voices now. “Stain their beaks with our blood. Steal whatever they can peel off our forms and fly away to make gristly nests.”

Martin had heard all this before. Jon had been very clear when he’d gotten his vision, shouting instructions across the Chasm. It still turned his stomach. “Then what’s the difference between life and death, anyway, if we can just die again?”

Jon came back into himself. He turned toward Martin, extra eyes closing, green glow fading, and all the strange, inhuman polish disappeared as he turned toward his love.

Then it was just Jon. His softness, his gentle eyes, all for Martin. “We can’t die again,” he said. “We can be reduced to shredded veins like spaghetti in this place, but we can’t die again. There’s no escape. That’s the difference.”

Martin touched Jon’s cheek, swallowing hard. The birds banged on the roof and the walls, almost as if trying to make such sound as to panic their prey into running. “So we can suffer?”

“We can suffer. But we don’t have to.”

“Are there safe places in this Dark World?” said Martin.

“Yes. But so far away, Martin. So far. It’s going to take us months to get there when we finally decide to leave.”

Martin sighed, cheeks puffing out. “So it’s about staying healthy until we can go.”

“Yes. Preparing. It’s why sometimes I insist on legal tender instead of goods when we’re bartering.”

“Do we age?”

“Only if we believe we should,” said Jon.

Martin swallowed. “I don’t know how to not do that?”

“I’ll do it for you.” Jon drew him near. He was the smaller man, slight, significantly lighter; but that didn’t matter now. “I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Forever is a long time,” Martin said.

“When you’re done here, we’ll go elsewhere. All the worlds end here; all their histories and peoples, arts and sciences and foods. We will never run out of things to see. I just want to be sure….”

“Sure of what?”

The beaks were like cruel rain all around them, startling, uneven. 

“I want to be sure we have… options. That they can’t separate us, or force us into some… eternal menial job, or worse.”

“So all of that sounds horrible,” Martin said softly. “What you’re saying is you want to lean into this god thing that Kayne guy keeps telling you you are.”

Jon fell silent.

Martin kissed him. “I don’t care, you know. Whatever weirdness is going on. It’s you I love, and you are very much still you.”

“Warts and all?” Jon’s smile was weak.

“Warts and all.” Martin’s smile faded. “Do you think he’s right?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t see myself. Apparently causing the apocalypse, killing your maker, and then dying by your lover’s hand isn’t the usual method of obtaining, but I seem to have hit some kind of metaphysical lottery.”

Some angry thrushcrow banged the boards nailed around their windows. Martin jumped. “Lucky us.”

“We are. We’re together. We have a leg up, thanks to whatever is going on. We’re going to be all right.”

“What about our neighbors?”

Tha answer came at once. “So will they. Whatever that John is… he’s growing. From what they’ve said, I don’t think he could do that back on Earth; it was too separated from magical folderol. But here? He’s absorbing it like… like…” Jon hesitated. “The… Hulk and gamma radiation?”

Martin laughed. “Gods, I love you. I accept your ridiculous analogy.”

Jon harrumphed. “It wasn’t that terrible. anyway. It’s only a matter of time before he’s back to full godhood—and whatever he is is significantly more impressive than whatever I am.”

“I disagree.” Another kiss. “John can go hang.”

They both chuckled, a sweet sound under the cawing like frustrated screams. “Be nice.”

“Never again,” said Martin loftily, then sobered. “And Arthur?”

Jon laughed softly. “I almost pity anything that might come after him once John’s come into himself.” He sighed a little. “That will be such a sight to see.”

“Sounds like we need to stick near them so you can.”

“I’d like to.” Jon snuggled closer.

“So would I.” Martin didn’t know how he’d do this without Jon. He also knew he wouldn’t have to. “I know this, though: I see all I really need right now.”

Jon wrapped around him. They shared air, and quiet kisses, and eventually fell asleep to the sound of rhythmic, futile pecking on the roof.

#

Arthur lay in their bed, windows boarded, room secure, but the pecking and cawing of the thrushcrows on the roof pinged at his nerves, making him tense as one of those boards.

It was still wrong, hearing the things the Archivist had described, and not even being able to peek. It was still unfair, that whatever death meant gave him back the strength of his youth, but not his sight.

“Hey, John?” Arthur’s voice was tight.

What? said John, whose attention was split, who gripped Arthur’s sleep-shirt in a tight fist as though to keep him from being carried away. 

Arthur’s jaw clenched. He knew he’d only see the ceiling of this bedroom in this tiny, two-story house, and not the crows that wanted to eat them—but he still resented the darkness tonight. “Did you know about these things last time you were here?”

Yes. John always had a particular tone about the Dark World from before they’d met. It was so grim. 

“Did you hide from them?”

No. They got me. Along with so many other things. 

“Got you?” said Arthur, voice jumping an octave.

The thrushcrows’ calls and sharp attacks grew wilder, briefly like a hailstorm, and Arthur gasped.

You’re all right. They can’t get in. They can’t get you.  John’s hand left the shirt and gripped Arthur’s hand, tight.

“What did they do to you?”

Exactly what the Archivist said. Strip your flesh. Leave you shrieking and wishing you could die.

“You went through all of that,” whispered Arthur. 

That was the least of it. You’d heal then and… it would start again. Like I told you—we can’t die again. 

Arthur swallows. “You had a body.”

Of… some kind. I’m sorry, Arthur—I’ve forgotten. I don’t remember how to do that, or even if I can anymore.

“I don’t care.” Arthur placed his hand over John’s. “I’ve got one for both of us. However it works.”

We’re responsible for however it works, but I don’t remember how to change that.

“You remembered how to taste through my tongue, but not how to give my eyes back.” Low.

Yes.

He wasn’t trying to blame Kayne anymore. They both knew this was somehow because of Arthur. Because of something in his head or heart. Their physical forms were created from their own perception.

But thinking of that made him think of Kayne’s final offer.

The last thing Arthur heard before being killed.

There, there, don’t cry! It’s almost over.

No! No! I’m not ready!

Shhhh-shh-shh. You’ve entertained me, Artie. I’m inclined to give you a choice. You don’t want to throw that away.

(John, shouting, but Arthur couldn’t make out what he said.)

Wh… what choice?

Arthur had never faced anything as inevitable as Kayne. So cruel. That choice…

We’ll find her someday, Arthur, John said, because he knew by now that’s where Arthur went when quiet.

Arthur swallowed repeatedly; the pecking and glass-sharp calls of thrushcrows pierced him the way Kayne’s fingers had in the end, in that final, dying moment. “I don’t regret my choice.” But he did.

Yes, you do. 

Yes, he did. “No, I don’t. Fuck you.”

He made you choose between us. I…. I can never pay you back for what you did for me. Now, John’s voice was tight. We will find her. I know what this cost you.

“No, you fucking don’t,” Arthur snapped between clenched teeth.

The thrushcrows responded to his anger. Their cries rose, maybe summoning more birds, maybe just performing nightmare-multiplication, hunger splitting in two, and the banging—roof, doors, boarded windows— grew.

John did not tell him to calm down. So that was good.

Arthur gripped John’s wrist and could not keep in one single sob.

We’ll find her. We’ll figure out how to do it.

“She could be getting eaten by fucking birds. ”

No. No. Remember the wording of his choice. She’s not.

Oh, Arthur remembered.

It’s simple! I mean, you’re bleeding the fuck out, so we’re gonna keep it simple. (Those fingers dug in.) Either I drop you at one end of the Dark World, and you’ll be in a better place, and in spitting distance of Faroe… but John gets dropped at the other end, alone. In an even worse place than the first time.

(Arthur makes a sound. It might have been a sob. He knew where this was going.)

OR… I drop you together. In still a pretty bad place , but… together. Just really fucking far away from her.

Kayne, please!

Shhhh-shh-shh. The way you dealt with Larson’s kid? Fucking delicious. The way you handled Epiales’ bastard? Gods, I couldn’t have predicted any of it. You get this one choice. Thank me, Arthur.

(Arthur sobbed.)

Thank. Me.

(John shouting, words smeared.)

(Could he even live with himself if he chose—)

Waiting, Artie. Do not spurn my favor.

(Hardest words) Th… thank… (words like bricks and vomit and regret) Thank you.

Good boy. Now, choose.

And Arthur had chosen.

Those fingers in his chest—they’d hurt. So much. They didn’t hurt anymore, but even here, he could feel those new scars, five indents over his heart.

Arthur. She’s at the other side. She’s where there are cities and systems in place to handle children who died.

That makes it both better and worse. Arthur chokes another sob, but his anger is dimmed.

We keep working. We figure out your sight, and my strength, and what we can do. We prepare ourselves so we can make this journey. Then, we will fucking find your girl.

Arthur pressed John’s hand to his lips. He was shaking.

Outside, the thrushcrows suddenly flew away, enormous wings slapping the air, caws dropped in favor of eerie, airborne silence.

They spotted some poor fuck, said John. We should be safe now.

“I’d rather wait until Jon—the Archivist—says all-clear.”

Me, too. Besides, it’s like… fuck-o-clock in the morning.

Arthur snorted. “That an official time?”

Clocks don’t lie.

They had no clocks. Arthur laughed weakly. He was still leaking a little from the eyes, but he believed John. 

They’d find her. Somehow. Some way.

John stroked his hair. Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.

“I know you will.” And Arthur slept.

---------

NOTES:

Epiales was the Greek god of nightmares. Wild guess who that might be referencing.

#tma fic #malevolent fic #the dark world malevolent #crossover #just a little sidequest series #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #qpr #qpr john & arthur #jmart #teaholding #jonmartin #kayne malevolent #tma au #malevolent au

[library-goblin]

The very first time I sent an email to someone other than a friend or family member was when I was 12. I had just finished primary school and about a week into secondary school, I realised that my primary school had done a really bad job at teaching the grammar of my native language. Because of how the system works where I live, I realised that this would be a problem for all my courses and that if I did not do something about it, I would never be able to attend a university, despite the fact that I excelled at all my other courses. I put on my big girl shoes (I’ve always been a somewhat nervous person), and decided to write an email to my teacher, explaining the situation and asking if maybe she knew someone who could tutor me or if she maybe had some exercises that I could do on top of the homework. It was the very first email I sent to someone who had “authority” in my eyes. 

The answer I got was revolting. Instead of answering my email, she had copied mine, coloured all the grammar mistakes red (the entire email was red), and told me she was not going to answer an email that was written that poorly. Clearly, she agreed with me that I had a problem, I knew nothing about grammar, but instead of encouraging me to learn by helping me, she had embarrassed me. 

It got worse.. At the start of the next class, my email was up on the screen (she removed my name, but she might as well not have) and she told everyone that sending these kinds of emails was inappropriate. It became an exercise, everyone had to correct the grammar mistakes in the email, I still couldn’t. The problem is that I agreed with her: sending poor quality emails is inappropriate. That was the whole point, I wanted and needed to learn. 

I taught myself the grammar. I bought some books, my parents helped me, and I am now able to write “appropriate” emails. The problem is that, even now, I proofread all of them hundreds of times before I send them. I make my parents read them. Whether it is an email enquiring when something will be, or a really formal email asking someone to write me a letter of recommendation, or even something stupid like “here is the form you asked me to fill out”, every email I send has been proofread at least 50 times. And if I find a mistake after sending it? I want to die. I tell myself I’ll look stupid, that it is inappropriate, and that it will be the end of my career. All because of that teacher. 

There have been so many points during my secondary school period that still haunt me, that absolutely broke me. The teacher who told me I was “too dumb for maths” even though I used to score straight A’s until I got him. The history teacher who said I would never score a sufficient grade because “I didn’t try,” whilst I studied so hard; I loved history! The economics teacher who marked my answer wrong whilst my classmate wrote the same thing and it was marked right, because “mine sounded a little too blonde” (I am blonde, she was not. Why this matters? You tell me). The teacher who refused to give me the booklet at the universities’ fair because “I would fail if I went, so I shouldn’t try”. I have now got a Bachelor’s degree and a Master’s degree, both cum laude.

The only class where I was never hurt, was in English. It seemed to be the one place where I could turn all my anxiety into something that worked. During the oral exam for my native language class, I got a panic attack because, quite frankly, I was attacked. All of the questions she asked where irrelevant, from things that weren’t on the syllabus, or from novels we hadn’t even read. I spoke to my classmates, their orals were not like that. They all passed. I failed. One day after, I had my English oral, and I was shitting my pants. But I didn’t stifle in English. When things were said I disagreed with, I spoke up. I gave opinions. We had to prepare an article, I told them that the article that I was assigned was incorrect, and listed all the reasons why. He showed me pictures that I had to describe, and I believe I steered the conversation to politics and the climate crisis, telling them the world was dying. The teachers in all my other courses would’ve said I was out of line, but I got a 10/10, the highest grade possible. When something had to be read aloud in class, I was always picked by the teacher, hell, I volunteered. I LOVED it. It was the one place in school, where I felt like I could speak.

People always ask me why I am becoming an English teacher, even though I did fantastic in university and could become anything in the field I’d want to. This is the answer. Schools are not doing what they should be doing. The extroverts, the ones who already dare to speak up, are being encouraged, their bold ideas applauded, even when they are straight up wrong. The quiet kids suffer; after six years, whilst having learnt so much, they feel less confident speaking up than before. The quiet kids matter too. We are raising the next generation, don’t let the quiet kids slip through the system. They got big words, once they dare to say them; I want to teach them how to say them. I am becoming an English teacher because if the past years have taught us anything, it is that people without voices stay forever silent, even when they are the ones that should be shouting. I will be to them, what my English teachers were to me; a safe haven; a place to learn how to shout. 

#english litblr #school #academia #litblr #uniblr #studyblr #university #teacher #teacher training #english #english literature #God I wanna go back to that school and repeat the things they told me #just to see if they are aware that they said them #Honestly tho #if that school has a vacancy after I finish next year #the position is mine

[danielleverboskirealtor]

Danielle Verboski Realtor

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Clients in Connecticut can take advantage of our extensive realty industry network to learn about recently listed homes. Heritage and Remax have always been reliable, therefore we trust them completely. Trustworthy real estate agents are available at RE/MAX® whenever you need them. You will not be permitted access until the showings and transactions are finalized. You can be fooled by their seemingly casual manner when they're with you. Everyone can finally unwind. It doesn't matter what occurs. Buying and selling property does not necessitate a plan. It was obvious that all of the speakers had important things to say. Keep this in mind while you go about your daily activities. Things may have turned out differently if the real estate deal hadn't fallen through. No matter where you are, our state-of-the-art solutions will keep you one step ahead of your competitors. You can access this info whenever you need to.

I can research the sales history of similar homes in the area if you ask me to assist you set a fair asking price for your property. Have you ever thought about how much your property is worth? The best way to get an objective assessment of a property is to ask individuals you know for recommendations. Their training and education have paid off, and they and their employers couldn't be happier about it. Once we have received the confirmation of the transaction, we will swiftly remove the "SOLD" message.

Your accomplishments have brought immense joy to everyone in Mystic, Connecticut. I deeply respect your commitment to bettering yourself.  Involved parties include Danielle Verbleski. The housing markets in Waterford and Stonington have experienced tremendous growth over the last many years. Any time, day or night, you can reach out to Agent Danielle Verboski with any inquiries or concerns. Danielle is the go-to person for financial guidance. Two of Danielle's favorite towns in Connecticut are Stonington and Waterford. Do not hesitate to contact Realtor Danielle if you are interested in buying or selling a house and would need more detailed market information. Quickly, she will reply. Yes, she would gladly provide you a helping hand if you asked. Living the "American Dream" with her wealthy parents and large extended family was nothing new to her. When she read your appraisal of the real estate market, she felt better. Buying property is a long process, so you shouldn't rush into it. Before choosing a choice, consider all of the possible outcomes. No outcomes have been achieved thus far through diplomatic efforts. If anyone knows of a real estate agent in the Waterford or Stonington areas of Connecticut, I would be very grateful. We are reaching out to you for help.  Find out more about how we can help you. It is Danielle Verboski who you should chat with. Even brief interactions with other people can teach us a lot.

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[goldsrc-hl1]

Actually Ironwood is a great example of what I was talking about earlier, I think we can agree ironwood wasn’t racist right? He seemed to treat Faunus the same as humans,

And yet despite him holding two seats on the atlas council, he has done nothing to actually attempt to inhibit Jacques’ constant abuse of his workers (who side note, aren’t slaves according to everything within the main show). Hell despite ironwood clearly hating Jacques he still partnered with the SDC to keep the atlesian knights.

Also on that note, despite atlas’ classism, the working class humans also benefited from faunus oppression, and where actively racist, as we clearly see with the “no Faunus” sign in front of pietro’s office, drunk guy, and the old lady in mantle

It’s not an “either/or” scenario

Drunk guy can be oppressed by atlas’ classism while still benefiting from the oppression of Faunus,

I think you have arguably more faith in people then I do, can people change? Absolutely, but i think banking you’re entire fucking civil rights battle on your oppressors having a “change of heart” is a rather stupid plan all things considered, some people,will change their views, hell I used to be rather ignorant, not an ardent racist more so right leaning centrist,

but the majority of raging bigots will absolutely just fall back on their hate no matter how hard you “disprove” them and that doesn’t just apply to people like Jacques who hold the most power, you mention people who don’t know about black peoples accomplishments in American history, but here’s the thing, they don’t NEED any “accomplishments” to deserve equal fucking rights. A right needs to be inherent or it’s not a fucking right, and even if,you did explain to these bigots why they’re wrong they wouldn’t listen, because bigotry is not based on logic or reason.

Minority groups don’t have to,prove shit, if your oppressors are preventing you from having your basic rights then you take those rights,

It’s not about “changing a bigot’s heart”it’s about removing their power to act on that bigotry,

I don’t see why the Faunus can’t focus on mutual aid networks and taking power within society since it has been so clearly denied to them. Trying to please your opressors is a fools errand

Yes, because Ironwood benefits from the racism. Dust is needed for an army, and Jacques provides dust on Faunus labor.

Do I need to say once again that the lesson in Mistral doesn't apply to Atlas? It's a completely different situation in Atlas.

It's not shown once that Mantle's working class benefits from Faunus oppression. Matter of fact, chances are they suffer because of it due to not being able to get jobs as easily as Faunus since Faunus will work for less money. Not blaming that on the Faunus though, it's the SDC that underpays Faunus and hires them more for the mines because they'll work for less and are more destitute.

We don't see Ghira's current methods, so the idea that all he's doing is trying to change minds is completely a headcanon.

Once again, the show doesn't have a message on how to deal with racism. It has a message about how terrorism can make people hate you more and treat you worse, which is true, but it doesn't treat this like it's the answer to racism. Hell, it actually says it isn't.

Blake: Humans didn't do this. We did this: Faunus. We did this to ourselves. We are just as capable of hate and violence as the humans, but I don't think any of us would jump at the chance to point that out. So why are we letting Adam do it for us?! By doing nothing and staying silent, we let others speak and act in our place. And if we're not proud of the choices they make, then we have no one to blame but ourselves. This is the message that Adam Taurus will bring to the world if no one stops him. But we can stop him! You have to understand that all of you are looking for simple answers to a very complicated problem. And I can't give that to you. I don't know how to make hate go away, I don't. But I know that this kind of violence is not the solution. I understand that to ask you to leave your homes and protect Haven Academy is asking you to put your lives at risk. But that's what's at stake. So I'm going, and I'll stand by myself if I have to.

RWBY completely acknowledges that doing this won't make racism go away, it acknowledges that this isn't a 100% guaranteed solution.

I do have a lot of faith that people can change, I consider myself a bit of an idealist, but I also know damn well there are people that will never change.

However, you're wrong about bigotry not being based on logic or reason. It absolutely is, it's just that those reasons and the logic backing bigotry up is completely wrong. There is still logic and reasons behind it, but those reasons are bad and the logic is bad too.

The people at the top won't ever change, cause they actively benefit from the racism. However, most people don't directly benefit from it, and if their logic is disproven, there is a chance that they will change.

The reason why this line of thinking isn't applied to Atlas is because Atlas benefits from Faunus racism. Not just the upper class of Atlas, literally all of Atlas benefits from it, and Atlas holds all the power. There's no hope that changing their minds about whether you're inferior or not will make them stop oppressing you, because they have a reason to oppress you regardless - they benefit from it.

Mistral is not like that. Mistral is poor, crime ridden, and overpopulated. The SDC has no presence there after Ironwood's dust embargo, so no one there is gaining anything out of Faunus racism except the upper class who are able to control people better with a scapegoat to blame for everything, since it creates unity.

The regular people have nothing to gain out of being racist, it's just been drilled into their minds so that the upper class can get away with their racist policies and continue to benefit from it.

I 100% agree that accomplishments shouldn't be needed to guarantee equal rights, but it's pretty much the only way to convince them that you aren't inferior. Convincing people to be less racist is, surprise surprise, a better option than just beating up all the lower class racists. Beat up the upper class racists instead. Convince the lower class that their racism is unjustified, and they'll stop condoning racist policies.

I agree that you should take those rights, but this is a method of taking those rights. You're convincing the lower class that their racism is incorrect, and since they have nothing to gain out of racism, they'll change and end up opposing the racist policies that don't benefit them and only harm them.

Do I have to say it again? The show doesn't have a message on how to deal with racism, it has a message about how terrorism can make racism even worse and how in order to stop the racism from getting worse you should stand up for yourself and show that you're not to be represented by terrorists. Getting more people to believe you're not inferior lowers support for racists in the government and allows change to start happening.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

My last post on the situation that happened yesterday

I will say outright on my side my viewpoint

When I found Diisdoodles it was via Tik Tok, I followed them for a while and then they started a Discord which I decided to join,we got talking and I shared with them the Borg Siblings

No matter how much they try to claim they did certain things, I had already created these characters and I have the notes to prove that, these guys were my creations that I trusted with them and if they didn't understand that these were already Orignal Characters of my own, I'm sorry you only created the Aus and world around them

I just was lending you my characters that I had created. I already knew their personalities, I just hadn't figured out their physicalities or very fine details of their histories, and we've all seen my old art I didn't feel comfortable drawing them because I didn't feel like I could properly portray them you can see this with Violet I didn't picture her as skinny I pictured her as heavier set and I had to learn how to draw that.

Honestly I really hope they get a knock of reality on the equal comment because I've seen so many Creators who don't see their crew as equal get torn down hard, a team is meant to be equal you aren't above those who are helping you create your worlds when a Creator sees their team as equal thats when magic happens,

I go in with the mindset I may have created these guys but if you want to collaborate I am more than willing to do so just give me the credit I'm earned and treat me like a creative partner,

I've always had a passion for character design, had a passion for creating original characters that really don't have anywhere to go and breathing life into them.

I am actually creating a Raeda kid she's probably not going to be in anything but it's just fun to think of what a child of theirs would look like that's why I love creating these original characters, the possibilities of stories they could tell.

Another thing that they said that bothered me I never revoked my characters from them that is a lie. I don't know if they're trying to cover up their tracks or something but I never and I can even go back and get the conversations I never removed that permission the only time I said something was after the fact they created their group.

They are the ones who decided to remove my characters in the end. Which actually caused a little bit of hurt because I have their original message here, and they said this on Simone,

Guess a happy ending means to them getting erased from existence. A character I worked so hard to make getting erased,

I guess I'm not supposed to be upset about that even though I've been attached to these characters for years and yes if this somehow gets back to them or not I still have the DM up I can go get plenty more,

Because you know what I learn I calmed down and I go back and read instead of throwing it away and you know what

I guess this moment between us three never mattered to you, like it did me.

Because to me agreeing to meet someone offline actually physically flying out to be able to see not only me but another Creator called though.she.be.little to go to a convention, a small town Lego convention that means your friends that you are equals and I don't care if you get angry at me posting that picture

I even still have the ticket from that day

You're the one that wormed your way in. I still remember being on the voice chat when we mentioned we were going to meet up, and you automatically invited yourself. I should have said no, but you know what the prospect of meeting another friend made me blind, so thank you for teaching me that lesson of boundaries,

Again I guess I really didn't know you, Diisdoodles. And that hurts the most especially after all we did but like people keep telling me I guess I don't have a reason to be upset.

But from my viewpoint I definitely do have a reason I have several reasons.

#trauma healing #friendship breakup #tired emotionally

[lasclly]

How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 how to

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 windows 10

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 software

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 windows

Apart from formatting hard drive, it is capable of permanently wiping a hard drive and other storage devices, so that files can never be recovered by any methods. This freeware supports formatting drive to NTFS, exFAT, FAT32, EXT2, EXT3 and EXT4 file system. No matter what disk style the disk is, GPT, MBR or dynamic disk, it is able to completely format it.

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 software

Method #2: Reformat hard disk with DiskGenius Free EditionĭiskGenius is free disk partition software and it can reformat hard drive easily and quickly. Backup any data you want to keep before formatting. Note: Formatting this volume will erase all data on it. Step 4. Click OK to the warning message about formatting and the drive will be formatted right away. Step 3. Set volume label, file system type, allocation unit size and click OK button. To format a system disk or volume, move to Guide 2.

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 windows

In Disk Management, you cannot format C drive or the partition where Windows is installed. Note: you should make sure you are going to format the correct disk otherwise you will face data loss issue. Step 2. Right-click on the disk you want to reformat and choose Format option from the context menu. After Disk Management shows up, you can find the disk to be formatted.

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 windows 10

One easy way to launch Disk Management from Windows 10 computer is right-clicking Start button and choosing Disk Management. There can be a number of ways to open Disk Management depending on the Windows version. Step 1. Connect the hard drive to be formatted to your computer and open Disk Management. Method #1: Reformat hard drive in Windows 10 Disk Management In this guide, we provide 3 methods to reformat a non-system hard drive: Disk Management, DiskGenius and DiskPart commands. Thus, a secondary disk can also be an external hard drive, USB flash drive or memory card. If there are two or more disks on your computer, those disks except for system disk are regarded as secondary disks. The function of a secondary drive is to store data instead of installing operating system. A secondary drive mentioned here is the disk or partition which is not bootable and is not related to system partition. We start with formatting a second disk, for it is simpler.

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7 how to

Guide #1: How to reformat a secondary or external hard drive? On matter what device you choose, try to keep at least two copies of backup. Many users tend to keep backup on external hard drive, and some would like to use online servers. When it comes to the devices that used to store backup files, you may have multiple choices. Another important thing you need to keep is product keys to your paid software so that you can reinstall them after disk formatting. You should also have a backup for information like web history, favorites, book marks, as such data are difficult to be restored without a backup. backup, create a backup for your important files, documents and anything you want to continue to use once the disk gets formatted. There is one important thing you need to do before formatting your hard disk, i.e. Formatting operating will remove all these files from your disk. But if your hard drive has been used for some time, it should be filled with all types of files and data, such as operating system, installed applications and individual data (photos, music, videos, etc.). As to newly bought hard disk, you need to partition and format it first so that it can be used to store data. If the formatted disk is a boot drive, you will have to reinstall Windows operating system. Thus, disk reformatting might be a drastic, as it wipes all data and you need to restore important data from backup afterwards. The process of reformatting a hard drive removes all information and data on the disk.

How to recover data after formatting hard disk?.

Guide #2: How to reformat a bootable hard drive?.

Method 3: Reformat HDD via DiskPart command.

Method 2: Reformat hard disk with free disk partition software.

Method 1: Reformat hard drive in Windows 10 Disk Management.

Guide #1: How to reformat a secondary or external hard drive?.

#How to reformat windows 10 as windows 7

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Moody Blues - Nights in White Satin" on YouTube

If this is tonight he says it makes absolutely no sense it doesn't the guys are the biggest sucker in history or the biggest sucker in history it really makes no sense and what they're saying is wrong and what they're doing is wrong. He's looking at something strange the company is doing a roofing job and it looks like they're going over the existing roofing material and didn't remove it with some sort of paper they may have removed the shingles but he didn't see that. Just about all we can take in these people. The roof here needs to be done and it needs to be done fast or it's going to leak we don't know what the status is no we do there's a ton of people in the neighborhood Who see the roof getting done and it is one of Stan's places so our son feels better it's across the street and he rents it and he is putting a roof onto trying to get new clients and I send things maybe they're not doing the roof here because they don't care about keeping me here and Stan is all sudden flustered and says he's kind of thinking like a normal person as well and of course he is our son says I don't feel like these people in this town want me here or state or country and he is willing to move and we're going to get the money in case he has to because all he sees all day long is hatred and stupid a****** comments and talk from people that are supposedly know him and that's real and it's not hard to see it is not hard to understand anybody who looks over what they're doing can see it and feel it and taste it and we've had enough of it and he said enough and feels like going to a foreign country to drag you through it to show you how hard life really is a lot of people don't understand it but we do and that's what matters. He will say they're going to work on the roof and the sun says we're clients who are here and the roof is bad and we need it done yesterday although the roof situation might be different over there me and the plywood might have been exposed it was still leak here through those holes eventually and he's saying if it's light rain or intermittent might not be bad so those red things look like they sinking and they actually do but still it's not watertight at all and if it was up to us we would have done it right away and cleaned it up for him and all sorts of stuff I guess the impression is supposed to get is he's in a slum and you people are all bums and retards and see now people and he really doesn't care about you he treat people women so badly and you talk smack to him all day long. He's looking to get out because he hates you it's not really manipulation he left because Otis was s******* all over him and laid him off no reason after he helped them. Blake is part of decision-making process to name off and he said you don't care and you're insane you didn't want to talk to him at all said you'll see what happens you're doing great every single second of the stupid decision and by the way I had to get out of there so people could be arrested and hung for treason so he said that part and Blake flipped out and said what's he talking about said I'm talking about here who runs the company who doesn't know anything about 9/11 and other people who do she started flipping out and said you won't call me Jew boy sorry dead jew boy they kill people like you. She said yeah that sounds f****** dumb it is and the whole place stinks of it it reeks and yeah the guys responsible get killed. A long time from now but they're dead it's like 2 months.

So you said I'll disconnect your unemployment I said f*** you you lose your mother f***** I'm going to disconnect your money just cuz you said it after preempt so Brian hodess started losing his shirt and we're going to sue them now.

So some calmed down and he said it's him and he's going to send me a China

Tommy f did. Drained our son again

Thor Freya

#Youtube

[phoenixyfriend]

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 7

Summary: In order to win, she might have to lose.

Warnings: angst, swearing, bit of fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six  

=================================

Waking up to skies lit by the wintry sun is what Y/N expected. In the back of her mind, she remembers opening her eyes. Perhaps it’s her mind playing tricks on her, but she could swear she heard Aleksander’s voice softly speaking to her. 

Telling dreams from reality felt like an impossible task, but if it were a dream, would she really dream of him?

Death never crossed her mind. She was a soldier in an expendable army for most of her life, yet she never feared death. There was never a lingering sense of what if when they asked her if she believed in life after death, but she wondered now. Looking death in the eye had forced a realization upon her – she would die and achieve nothing. She married arguably the most powerful man in all of Ravka and she failed to utilize it. In the end, her name would be forgotten in history for her plans would all die with her.

Inhaling sharply, she wanted to open her eyes. A heaviness settles on her eyelids, making her groan. Her entire body felt dismantled, every nerve bare, inflicting pain.

“It’s alright”, a hand pressed to her forehead and Y/N frowns. Breathing heavily, she felt vulnerable, exposed.

Swallowing thickly, her eyes flutter open. With blurry vision, she looked up at the dark presence looming above her. Blinking fast, her lips part and before she can ask, cool liquid runs down her parched throat.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes closed again. She needed a moment to collect herself, to stop the world from spinning.

“It hurts”, she mumbles meekly.

“Shhh”, his voice reaches her. “I’m here”, she feels a gentle squeeze of his hand, “You’re safe.”

Resisting sleep, she opened her eyes once more. The sight of his tormented gaze leaves her nearly breathless. He’s still handsome, but it looks as if he’s aged ten years in just a few days.

“What happened?” Her voice is hoarse, still raspy from thirst and sleep.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a week”, his forehead wrinkles, “We’ve just made it back.”

Despite the little voice in his head, the Darkling held onto his wife throughout the night. He kept her close to his chest, running his fingers through her hair. She was exhausted, injured so badly he could hear the strain her body was under with every breath she took.

Her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted and his pressed in a thin line. Absurd. It was absurd to think that someone like that – so delicate, so fragile, could have any power over him. It baffles him just how quickly he found himself attached to this woman who was unremarkable in every possible way – or so he told himself.

Truth be told, he couldn’t take his eyes off her since he first saw her. She radiates genuine beauty few possess, a confidence he’s never found in anyone in hundreds of years, and an air of mystery he couldn’t quite understand.

By the time morning light reached their tent, the Darkling just stared at her with care, studying every inch of her face as if it could be the last time he’ll ever be given a chance. He memorized the way she fit in his embrace, the rhythm of her beating heart in the dead of night and every labored breath as it threatened his sanity.

Anger was his best friend for so long, his shield against humanity, but his anger wasn’t all-consuming as it once was – it was directed to those who caused the swelling around her eyes and cuts across her cheekbones.

“General”, Ivan’s head peaked inside the tent only to swiftly disappear once he caught sight of a moment he was sure wasn’t meant for his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling gently laid her head down. Caressing her cheek, he let a heavy sigh pass his lips. It’s been too long since he last felt so defenseless and helpless as he did now. He promised himself he’d never feel that way again and yet he found himself in the same cursed whirlwind of emotions as he was in when the fold came to be.

Biting his lower lip, he pushed it all down. If he’s distraught, his people would know. He cannot be emotional and still lead an army. He has to be strong – for Grisha and for Y/N.

“Ivan, we’ll have to find a healer soon”, Kirigan spoke in a hushed tone. Glancing at the tent, he felt a lump growing at the back of his throat. “I believe she’s developed a fever too.”

“Fedyor can try to cool her temperature”, Ivan offers, “He’ll slow her heart and keep her breathing. I’ll trade with him if necessary.”

Nodding, the general was satisfied with Ivan’s solution. For once, Ivan didn’t question why he wanted to protect her. This time, he was offered aid rather than words of discouragement.

“I’ll have to leave some of our own here”, Kirigan looks at the direction they came from. “The Fjerdans came too close and I need to know why. Why would they take my wife?”

Ivan lowers his voice, making sure he doesn’t wake up Y/N, “Perhaps it was a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. Not when her safety is at stake.”

Nodding, Ivan glances at Fedyor. He’d be the same if anyone touched his beloved. Suppressing a smile, Ivan finally realized it – no matter how vehemently the general denies it, his heart is no longer his.

“What are the orders? I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“Take back what they took, place their heads on a stake and wait. More should come soon and when they do, I want to know why they came so close to Little Palace and who ordered them to take my wife.”

Squinting, not in anger but to see him better, Y/N frowns, “A week?”

“Winter made it hard for us to move faster and you were in no shape to ride back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of air, she raised an eyebrow, “So you carried me?”

“Ivan and Fedyor kept you alive too.”

Wetting her chapped lips, she hesitated. Her fingers burned, itching to touch him, to intertwine with his.

“A healer should be here any minute now”, Aleksander informed, pulling his hand out of hers as if he could sense her inner battles and decided to help her by removing himself from it entirely.

“No”, she decided.

Standing abruptly, his jaw clenched. Despite his stern expression, his eyes hold all the sadness in the world, pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.

“No?” He repeats with disdain, “What do you mean by no?”

Holding her breath, she endures a sharp pain in her ribcage as she propped herself up on her elbows. Breathing heavily, she directed her determined gaze on him. “I’m human, am I not?”

Squinting at her, his lips part, “And?”

Struggling to prevent herself from laughing at the way he looked at her now, Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Humans aren’t allowed aid of a healer. We go to the medics.”

“You’re my wife”, he remarks almost instantaneously, slightly wishing she remained unconscious for a while longer. If she slept, the healer would have done their job and there would be no argument. There was no doubt about it, their truce was over.

“But I’m still a human. The rest of my kind don’t have the privilege of being married to you.” Her voice is stern, low and frustratingly righteous.

“You need a healer or you might not survive”, Aleksander insisted.

“Then let me die.” She stared at him, no signs of crumbling and it made him feel like he’s drowning.

Rubbing his forehead, the Darkling shut his eyes in frustration. After all the sleepless nights, his head felt like it would implode. All he had on his mind was her safety and now when he brought her home, she refused help.

“What do you want?”

Knitting her eyebrows, she glanced at his jaw as it clenched. “What?”

Her voice is higher, almost confused but he knew better than that. “I’ve known you for almost two months.” Two months too long, he thought. “I know when you’re trying to extort me.”

Covering her mouth, Y/N suppressed a laugh. Truth be told, it’s exactly what she’s doing, she just didn’t expect him to cave so quickly.

“Healers for the First army”, her lips twitch. Pursing her lips, she bites the soft flesh on the inside of her mouth to stop herself from smiling at all costs.

“No”, he spoke through gritted teeth.

Shrugging, she laid back down. “Alright then. I only regret I won’t be here to hear you explain my death to the Tsar and my father.”

Growling under his breath, he swipes his hand down his face. “One healer.”

“Two”, she argued, sitting up with a pained expression on her face.

“We can’t spare two”, the Darkling crosses his arms, his eyes darker than ever before.

Lifting her chin in defiance, she narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Two healers or no deal.”

Releasing a long, heavy breath in frustration, the Darkling felt his insides turn. “Two healers but only for those who can’t get better with a week long rest on their own.”

“Two healers for those who can’t get better in a few days of rest AND the same amount of food and water for the First army.”

Running a hand through his hair, the general’s nostrils flare. Cracking his neck to the left, to the right, he turned his death glare back on his wife. “Food and water are limited for Grisha as well.”

“I saw them eat grapes”, Y/N deadpans. “You have enough, so share. If the First army dies out, who will protect your precious Grisha?”

Folding her hands in her lap, she maintained eye contact with the general who refused to blink. He stared back at her, aghast. The woman was impossible! She made every word that passed her lips a contest of wills.

His jaw set, he moved closer to stand before her. He looked formidable with the relentless, firm pools of black ink for eyes devouring her with intensity, too hard in comparison to what she had seen in the tent. He looked like he could kill her without even putting a hand on her…something she still expected him to do.

What was stopping him? She was far behind enemy lines, no reinforcements and she saw what he can do – he could kill everyone who stood in his way.

“Fine”, he huffs. “Under one condition.”

Rolling her eyes, she nods, “What is it?”

“I want a kiss.”

Her eyes flashed to his. Ringed with golden bruises, she was still alluring – like a wildfire or a storm. No…she is wildfire, a storm. She is deadly and uncontrollable and slightly out of her wits and he’s asking her to be his ruination. It isn’t love, he tells himself, it’s obsession.

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N didn’t bother hiding her surprise. A kiss? Of all the things he could have asked, the big bad general who can summon shadows is asking for a kiss?

A part of her trusted Aleksander and that trust demanded intimacy. She wanted his hands on her – in her hair, his lips on her neck. She longed to be vulnerable and that’s what worried her. Trusting him, needing him, it’s bound to breed love and self-inflicted madness. If it were anything else, she would outright refuse him, but she has so many lives dependent on her answer.

“Tonight”, she decided. If her own sanity is the price to pay, she will do what she has to do.

Nodding, the Darkling retreated. Leaving the room, he opened the door for the healer to enter. Sparing her a quick look, he swallowed thickly as the thought of her willingly kissing him made his heart slam into the rib cage. Even his heart wanted to escape him as it too longed for her hands’ touch.

He didn’t make more than two steps outside the room when a Grisha joined him - one of his many spies.

“What do you have for me?”

The spy beckons him to the side, looking around wildly. “This could change everything.”

“What is it?” The Darkling speaks through gritted teeth, demanding an answer.

“There is talk”, the spy pauses, “Of a Sun Summoner.”

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

Healed, bathed and properly fed, Y/N had paced their room in anticipation of his arrival. She had seen the look in his eyes earlier that day – something between them has changed.

As the door opens, her breath halts inside her throat.

“I thought you were lost”, Genya admitted. “When they found your mare, I lost hope.”

Smiling, Y/N cupped her cheek. “I did too”, she sniffled.

The Darkling felt, more than saw, her presence as he entered the room. He turned slowly, his breath held. Her hair looked darker in the candlelight, its rich color gleaming against the green velvet of fresh sheets on the bed she leaned against. He could hardly speak. The nearness of her, the quiet room, the candlelight made him question the reality of what he was looking at.

“You look better”, Aleksander managed a curt smile, looking at Y/N and her attire. The sheer nightdress she wore was back, perfectly outlining her figure.

“Why did they take you?” Genya asked, unshead tears weighing heavily on her eyes. “Did they know?”

“No”, Y/N shakes her head, “But they found out.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. Kirigan killed them all.” Y/N glanced at the door where she expected her husband to appear later on.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Y/N felt her heart flip. “It helped me realize something.”

Frowning, Genya waited for Y/N to explain.

“Your General does have a heart”, she states. His request for a kiss lingered in every thought her mind could concoct.

She stared at him then slowly untied the belt of her robe and it glided languidly over her smooth skin, falling to her feet.

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. 

“Of course he does”, Genya chuckles, “He was most worried when you were taken. He promised he’d kill them all and bathe in their blood.”

“I think I can use that.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya’s frown deepened. “How?”

Pressing her lips, Y/N sighed. “In order for me to win”, she paused, “He needs to believe he did.”

“Husband”, she spoke clearly. She feigned confidence, but inside she quivered.

She had barely finished the syllable when she was in his arms, being carried to their bed, his lips already fastened to hers. She felt his lips hit hers like a tornado, his admission of burning the world in her name spinning in her head. It could have been a fever dream, but she would bet her life it wasn’t.

Holding her chin in place, he rested his forehead on hers, heaving from the kiss. She couldn’t open her eyes, clinging to him for dear life, but even with eyes closed, Y/N could hear the emotions thick in his voice.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not willing.” He whispered against his lips, all too prepared for his hands to roam her body now.

Y/N was afraid of herself as well as of him. He could sense it as he kissed her. He’d waited a long time for her to come to him and now it seems she was more than ready to give herself to him without his talk of her marital duty.

He expected anything but to find her with her arms wide open.  But even now, as he held her, he felt no great sense of triumph.

Pulling the sheet over her, he stood. “I can wait.”

The sheet accented her shoulders and the full swelling of her breasts. The candlelight deepened the shadow above the sheet. Her bare throat pulsed with life. Her face was set in a firm, serious expression that caused her eyes to darken. Her lips were hard, as if carved of marble and he ached to part them into a smile.

Turning away, he began undressing himself for bed, wondering how he could survive a night beside her if she remains as she is now.

She averts her gaze, whispering under her breath in confusion, “Wait?”

He laid beside her, barely dressed at all. She found herself achingly aware of his presence. The only light in the room was from the flames of candles she placed across the room. The light danced on her hair, played with the shadows of her delicate collarbones. At this moment, he remembered nothing of the arrangement their marriage was meant to be. He knew only that he was in bed with a desirable woman, one he never expected to claim. She seemed too headstrong to ever give into his charm, yet she bared herself before him and he couldn’t take advantage of her.

“Why don’t you want me?” She sat up, glaring at him. She let the sheet fall as his eyes met hers, bravely fixing him with her fiery gaze.

Rolling his eyes, he looks away. How can she torment him like this with no shame?

If anything, he felt like she’s attacking him. “I don’t want to hear about how a demon took you by force for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not force if I’m giving myself willingly, is it?” She raised an eyebrow, deciding on a tactic finally. Aleksander is a general, a conqueror at heart and she saw the desire in his eyes. If there was any hope of her plan to work, she had to harness his desire to convince him he won.

Licking his lips as he cracked a smile, Aleksander nodded in surprise, unable to keep his eyes from wandering lower to her breasts. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He wanted to possess her, to claim this difficult, headstrong woman for himself. His mouth came down brutally hard on hers, claiming them, nearly bruising them.

Y/N fumbled with the sheet that wrapped around her, making Aleksander chuckle into the kiss.

“Let me help you,” Aleksander purred and tore the sheet away, pulling it from under the mattress.

Wrapping his hand around Y/N’s neck, his grip was oddly weak, gentle even. She laid nude before him, his gaze fixed on her. He stared at her in wonder; her full breasts, curvy waist, round hips. Then he looked back at her face, her eyes blazing. Her lips were reddened from his kiss, and suddenly there was no power on earth that could stop him from taking her.

“You make me feel”, he pauses in anguish, “You make me feel”, he said quietly, fiercely, “And I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

He pushed her into the mattress and Y/N saw the ruthless general in his eyes and for a moment she feared it. A general isn’t gentle at all, not like Aleksander could be. She feared the pain he’d cause and the tears that would follow. She feared what he’d do to her, but then the fear she felt dissipated as he spoke against her lips.

“I’ll go slowly.” Aleksander stopped himself, remembering she’s never had a man in her bed before and once he saw the fear in her eyes extinguish the flame he already adored, he reeled himself in.

“Your hands are bloody from murder”, she paused, “But I trust them completely.” Her voice had never been smaller, her hands never as desperate as she clung to him. She wanted to trust the sudden, overwhelming warmth in his unrelentingly tender gaze, but she still awaited the pain that was yet to come. He moved on top of her, his lips attaching to her neck gently as he pressed a kiss above her pulsating carotid, knowing she’s nervous as he felt the pace of her pulse.

With one thigh, Aleksander parted hers. He kissed her again, passionate and slow, distracting her as his hand moves lower, down to the intimate parts she never allowed another only man to see, to feel. Slipping his finger between her folds, he found if applied enough pressure a desperate moan escapes her without a fail. He feels her breathing change as he begins to rub circles, her thighs trying to push against his in a need of more friction. And that’s when control escapes her and she closes her eyes completely, letting the pleasure take over.

Unable to wait any longer, Aleksander pushed the head of his hardened length between the folds, feeling her wetness pooling over as nature’s lubricant. Feeling the membrane, he stops for a moment. Looking at her carefully for any signs of distress, he wonders if she even realizes what is about to happen.

“Do you want this?” He asks again, fearing she may change her mind.

Gripping his arm, she nods. “Yes”, she replies, breathless.

Pressing himself inside, he bows his head in the crook of her neck, growling lowly in pleasure. It’s not the first virgin he had, but it’s the first one that made him want to come on the first thrust.

“Go on.” She encourages him, surprising them both. Swallowing thickly, she sinks her nails into his back, anticipating the next thrust. It would be a lie if she said she wasn’t in pain, but she knew it would get easier as he moves again and she would feel the pleasure again – and she wanted the pleasure more than the pain.

Nodding, Aleksander starts moving in and out slowly, refusing to risk her pain for a little more pleasure he’d find in speed and his untimely release. Instead, he’s using deep, slow strokes with a relentless care for the nerve bundle between her folds. Every passing second draws louder moans from her until he feels her clench around him, his own mind blackening as he feels himself nearing the edge. She’s holding him so tightly to her body, so desperately as she unravels beneath him. Picking up pace, he finally loses control, jerking his hips to meet hers in a deep thrust only to finish deep inside her, allowing them both to breathe.

Rolling off her, Aleksander decided to stay quiet, allowing her to have control of the moment. If she wants his embrace, he’d do it for her and if she wants to talk, he’d talk to her, otherwise, he’d just sleep. It’s been so long since he truly slept – since the day they went for that ride.

He placed an arm around her for comfort alone, not pressing himself closer than necessary, closing his eyes once he realizes she’s not interested in him at all after she came down from her high.

Waiting for a few minutes, Y/N pretended to sleep. After the hurricane of emotions he’d given her, Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She wanted to relax, to sleep in bliss, but a part of her ached. She ached for who she used to be. Would her father hate her for what she just did? Would her people denounce her for sleeping with the enemy?

Her eyes opened wide, finding his are still closed. Lips quivering, she felt herself crumble as tears fled her eyes. She watched his sleeping figure and sighed deeply, telling herself to stop crying. She was supposed to be in control of him, to make him want her and crave her, yet she found it was the opposite. She didn’t love him, but she did feel a connection…perhaps it’s the kindness he showed her when he rescued her or the pleasure he had given her, but something inside her changed and the heart she hardened on purpose found a soft spot for the general.

=============================

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Part 8

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadown and bone

[alreadyblondenow]

Sweet | Jung Jaehyun

❤︎ Jaehyun x female!reader ❤︎ Fluff? Smut, Smut, Smut, Smut, Tiny bit of angst, College AU, Established relationship ❤︎ 2/4 for LOVE MONTH SERIES: Boys Don’t Cry One is a big number | You and your words | Sweet | He loves me, he loves me not |

Summary: Jaehyun has always been in love with you but he thinks so highly of you that he never tried pursuing his feelings for you. All throughout your college years, Jaehyun endured every heartbreak secretly whenever you have a new boyfriend and can only love you secretly in his own ways. Wild. College years was wild and its all because of Jaehyun. After college, you and Jaehyun parted ways but life will reunite you again in the most shocking way. Jaehyun’s wedding.  

Word count: 13,707k

Warnings: Sex, sex, sex, and loads of sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, making of sex tape (with consent), making of amateur porn? (with consent), cam boys and cam girl?? idk what to call that but they fuck live, mentions of alcohol, period fingering, mentions of tampon, dry humping, oral sex female receiving, mentions of blowjob, slight blowjob scene,  mentions of other idols, swearing, college students who just wanna have fun haha, kissing and touching, fingering, and slight nipple play, mentions of having sex with Johnny. AH SLIGHT BREAK UP SEX! 

A/N: PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. okay, I know I said that this will be out on Jaehyun’s birthday but meh whatever I’m posting it and will post something else for hearts day. hehe. I hope you guys love this even though im just experimenting and trying to write longer fics, and seriously I wanted to write back to back smut with different feels so I guess im crossing that out of my bucket list. Also this is proof read once only so sorry. You may not be happy with the ending but I’m sure as hell happy with it so sorry. ​

Humans are prone to fall in love with the wrong people and the only thing you can do about it is to forgive yourself and move on. No matter how much history you had, no matter how many special moments or intimate ones you shared… if you know that he or she is not the right person for you then, you know.

Like this moment right now. For exactly ten minutes, you will realize why you and a certain someone never worked out.

“Hey, boss you have a 10 am meeting. Planning for everything” Your assistant says as you double-check your schedule to see the name of the client she’s talking about. “That’s the bride though, 0% progress for the wedding” she added.

“Yikes” you murmur and ready your stuff, “let’s fix that and give her a beautiful wedding. I need you to take down everything she says while I talk to her” you straighten your clothes and fix yourself before you face the client.

The moment you enter the room, the bride greets you with a big smile like she’s saying ‘thank you for saving me and my wedding’ even though you literally haven't done anything yet. Oh, you love seeing those hopeful eyes in every bride. “I’m just waiting for my fiancé, he’s the one who recommends coming here and I have a great feeling that I will have a beautiful wedding because of you”

“And my team,” you added and finished her sentence, “I want to introduce you to my assistant, she will be taking care of every request you say during our discussion later”

“And I want to introduce you to my fiancé, Jaehyun,” she said with a big smile and walked towards his fiancé.

And just like that your ordinary day at the office became extraordinary. Because nothing is normal about Jung Jaehyun, nothing is normal about those dimpled smile that automatically makes your heart skip a beat.

“Baby, this is the wedding organizer” her smile has no hint of mock, she’s not even proud that she has a very handsome fiancé and obviously she doesn’t know who you are. She’s just happy that she’s marrying Jaehyun. That’s all. And in those eyes, you see that Jaehyun is in the right hands.

“Mhmm. Me, Johnny, and Ms. Y/n right here are dorm mates. So you’re talking to the best wedding organizer,” you snorted at what Jaehyun said.

“Thank you for that introduction Jung, now let’s talk about your wedding”

And so, you worked your magic to them the whole morning. Explaining things, showing stuff, asking them what they want. From the wedding reception, wedding dress appointments, and picking of cakes… she has no idea of what she wants. Good thing you do know what you’re doing and you planned everything smoothly after a few hours. And for hours and hours, you watched them smile at each other, lowkey flirted in front of you but you didn’t feel any jealousy, hurt, or regret.

When the exhausting meeting was finally done and finally you’re alone at your office, a soft knock brought you back to reality and a familiar voice was behind it. “Can I come in?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course, it’s open” you watch him enter your office like he’s some kind of a ghost and made the room cold in an instant.

“I just want to say thank you for helping us out- thank goodness the world is small… Literally, the wedding will be a mess”

“Just doing my job Jae,” you smiled sweetly to him, “your fiancé is lovely-“

“I did love you Y/n. And I’m sorry for hurting you like that, I told you, you deserve better. I’m glad we both found our happiness” he flashed that dimpled smile again and thanked you one last time.

The little reunion ended with small smiles, nods here and there, and in just a few seconds Jaehyun is out from your office and quickly replaced by your assistant to give you your afternoon coffee. Awkward and curious, she placed the coffee in front of you. Obviously, she wanted to know your past with the groom. And when she finally dropped the question, you remembered everything, moments crashing and drowning you right this instance.

Eight years ago  

“Are you even trying, you’re no fun!”  

Your best friend shouts at you from the other side of the table, waiting for you to throw the ball, waiting for you to miss. It was just beer pong but you don’t know why the game was so fucking frustrating and no matter how hard you concentrate you can’t score. Maybe it’s because you’re all alone and you’re competing against your best friend and her boyfriend. Fuck that you thought, you don’t need a man.

“Fuck” you murmur and miss again. You watch your best friend’s boyfriend score another one and of course, you have to drink again. But just when you’re about to get the ball from drink, a stranger’s hand was quick to get the cup, remove the ball and drink the alcohol.

“Mind if I join and help you win?” He flashed you a dimpled smile that immediately made you smile back at him. You take back what you said earlier, maybe you do need someone.

“Come on! Let him in, maybe he’s a better competition” your best friend shouts once again. Oh, you’re very happy that you’re not going to the same college.

As you welcome the handsome stranger and gave him the honor of throwing the ball, you warned him first that your opponents can be very annoying but he doesn't seem to care and just let out a small laugh. Cocky you thought, but confidence looks sexy on him.

And finally. Fucking finally, your best friend had a taste of her own medicine.

“I’m Jaehyun by the way,” he was lowkey flirting with you and you’re not stupid to not notice. “Here, I’ll teach you how to throw” he put the ball in your palm and stood behind you, hands on your waist to keep you steady, arms raised together, and you swear his lips were so near at your nape that you got shivers whenever he talks. “let the ball bounce near a cup and it will land on one” he added. But how can you score if he’s making it hard for you? You did it anyways, threw the ball near a cup and he was right. It landed on the cup you wish to aim and finally, you’re starting to have fun.

The game went on and you and Jaehyun flirted, talked, and exchange deep glances the entire game but winning it at the same time. His one hand is always around your waist even if it's not necessary whenever he’s the one throwing the ball, and whenever the other team scores, he’s the one drinking the alcoholic beverage for you.

At the end of the game, you and Jaehyun won the golden prize which is very awkward when he showed it to you.

“All that frustration and competition for a condom?” you can’t believe that the prize is a single condom.

“We don’t have to use it, it can just be our trophy you know” he let out a small laugh and put the condom in his pocket, and changed the subject.

As the night went deeper, you and Jaehyun had your own little world in that corner at the kitchen with a beer in your hand while you talk about your interest from music to movies. It was pretty crowded but no one seems to care especially Jaehyun because he loves how incredibly close he is to you right now. Until a drunk person bumped Jaehyun and he accidentally spilled his beer on your blouse. Seems like the universe is making a way for you two to eventually hook up and use the condom.

“Shit-shit!” Jaehyun was panicking at the moment and he doesn’t know what to do other than remove his hoodie and cover you with it before anyone sees your see-through blouse and took you somewhere less crowded to help you clean up the mess he put you through.

In a stranger's room upstairs, he locked the door to let you change while he looks for something to dry your clothes with. Luckily, he saw a hairdryer and quickly plugged it in beside the bed and started drying your shirt.

You were conscious for some time, clinging to a stranger's blanket with nothing but your pants underneath it. You watch Jaehyun dry your bra, checking it from time to time if it's ready to go. And when it's finally dry, he hands it to you with an awkward smile but still managed to make your heart beat fast. “I’m really sorry,” he started, a quickly avoided his gaze from you again as you turn your back from him, put down the blanket, and wear your bra like there's no one with you.

“It was an accident, don’t beat yourself up,” you said, there’s no way he’s going to let this go you’re sure of it, so with all your bravery, you came closer to him while he's busy drying your blouse and kissed him on the cheek. “You've been saving me the whole night. You saved me from boredom and from losing and now, you're drying my clothes. So sweet of you,” you added and looked at him sweetly, resting your forehead on his and making the moment even more intense by putting down the blanket in front of him. Allowing him to see you with only wearing your bra and pants, inviting him to make this moment unforgettable for the two of you.

Of course, he's not stupid and did exactly what you had in mind. In one swift moved his lips are on your lips, hands on your shoulders to put your bra straps down, and you unclasped your bra and threw it on the floor before you started to kiss him more intensely.

Jaehyun kissed you exactly how you wanted to be kissed, with want and with lust. His breath and the sound of wet kisses sounded perfect as it surrounds the room. You felt him bite your neck then feel him smile against your skin when his intentions of turning you on even more is working.

Kisses became deeper, playful, and wet when he started to go down to your chest and started kissing the valley between your boobs. His big hands knead your right boob, while his left hand is placed on your waist. Oh when his tongue brushed on your nipple for the first time, you rolled your head back and arched your back as if you wanted him to do more and play more with your boobs.

And just like that the cold night became warm and you feel it getting warmer and warmer by every second and it’s all because of Jaehyun.

He flashed a dimpled smile at you when he saw that you're more than liking what he's doing to you and stopped to open the lampshade. The room was immediately softly illuminated which you thought is romantic even though everything that’s happening right now is totally unplanned.

"Your boobs have spit all over, wait let me get that for you" you were just about to tell him that it's fine but he was quick to remove his shirt and reveal his godlike body right before your eyes. “If you just want to kiss and touch the whole night, I’m fine with that but I am very horny right now that I got you covered with spit,” he said while wiping his spit from your boobs and chest using his shirt.  

If you’re perfectly honest, you’re nervous about what can happen in the next few minutes. But there’s no way in hell that you’re going to let this pass, it’s not every day a handsome man is eager to fuck you. You just have to suck it up, not tell him that you’re a virgin, perform and look like you know what you’re doing. "No, it's fine I'm horny too" and you proved it by kissing him again, cupping his face with both of your hands, and with all your strength you roll on top of him. "Wait here," you said as you push him back on the mattress when he tried to get a hold of you.

You went down from the bed to remove your pants and underwear, he did the same as quickly as he can and you think he's cute for being excited to fuck. You crawled in between his legs, sat nicely on top of him but the impatient guy sat up and met your lips again. One hand supporting his weight, one hand on your waist. "You're so fucking beautiful I'm having a hard time to breath for the last few minutes" he whispers so sexily while kissing your jaw, leaving his mark to remind you the next day about tonight.

For a minute, you felt shy because you've never been naked with someone in bed. But the way Jaehyun kisses you makes you trust him, the way he touches your body with care make you want him more. And again, those fucking lips just made you roll your hips against his hardening cock and it made you both moaned so good that he asked you to do it again. And so you did.

Letting his cock slide in between your folds is a new feeling for you. Not even grinding on your vibrator will give you such an amazing feeling. Grinding on Jaehyun's cock while his mouth plays with your boobs felt fucking good that your grip on his locks tightens but he doesn't care. But for someone untouched like you, you made sure you never forget the feeling whenever his tongue swirls while you roll your hips, how he bites your nipples whenever he feels you're slowing down, and the vibrations that share with you whenever he grunts a little too loud and you feel it all over your body.

Soon Jaehyun switched places with you, putting you underneath him to catch his breath and stop himself from cumming. He reached for your hand and hold it dearly, kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand. “Forgive me if I become rough tonight, I can promise an aftercare don’t worry,” he says and gave you one last kiss before he pulls away and gets the condom from the pocket of his discarded pants. Putting the protection in front of you to assure you, thank goodness to that condom you thought.

As soon as he crawls back in between your legs again, his hand moved around your body like he’s telling you he owns you, smiling in between kisses whenever he accidentally tickles you. Hands slipping in between your thighs and fingers brushed automatically on your very wet slit. You jolt because of the new feeling but careful not to show Jaehyun that this is your first time being finger fucked. So you closed your eyes to avoid his gaze but Jaehyun gave your ass a tight squeeze and put his thumb on your wet slit, admiring how wet he made you already which made you open your eyes again and moan his name deliciously.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, kissing your neck and down Jaehyun goes, kissing your body until he reaches your pussy to give you few licks before he fucks you.

The way he licked your wet folds made your toes curl and your legs spread even wider. Pushing his head away, crushing his head with your legs then spreading it wide again, and begged him but you’re not sure what for.  

“Jae- you eat pussy like a pro” or maybe you’re just telling that because it’s your first time being eaten out. That even the way he puts the right amount of force to stop your legs from closing whenever he flicks his tongue is perfect. And when he saw you relaxing and can handle the pleasure already, his hands cupped both of your boobs and pinched your nipples, making you moan his name loudly “Jae!-“ and arch your back as a sign that you’re almost there, and if he doesn’t stop soon you might cum now.

But of course, Jaehyun didn’t stop and made you cum using his tongue for the first time tonight. Your legs felt like jelly and you can even feel that your pussy is still sensitive. “Thought it’s going to be just a few licks?” you said weakly, wiping your pussy juices from his chin and planting a soft kiss on his lips as a thank you, but he doesn’t know that.

“Changed my mind, you taste good. I might even go for another round-“

And right before he goes down on you again, you stopped him and told him you’re still sensitive. Which thankfully he listened and kissed you instead of licking you. And when you’re finally good to go again, he holds you by your ankles, kiss your neck and touch your body for a few seconds before he finally lines his cock on your very wet slit. Sliding it up and down, teasing you and making you horny and even more aroused.  

When he finally pushed his cock in your hole, Jaehyun thought his dick will slide in smoothly because, one, he thought you’re not a virgin anymore and two, you’re dripping on the sheets but still he’s having a hard time pushing in. Then he saw your face, contorting like you’re in pain rather than seeing you furrow your brows, part your lips, and make beautiful sounds.

For you, it fucking hurts and you would rather suck it up than tell him you’re still a virgin and ruin the mood. But the man on top of you is not stupid and surprisingly he pulled out slowly and came closer to your body once again to face you, “I’m about to be your first time, am I right? You’re so tight and I’ve never encountered a hole like that ever since my first fuck”

Busted you thought. You thought of any more ways to get out of this situation but he looks like he’s okay with it. “Are you mad?” you asked shyly and avoiding his stare.

“No” he admitted, “Actually I’m turned on. But I’ll go slow and sorry if I hurt you at first. Want to try again?”

You nod oh eagerly to his question and finally, you can breathe and enjoy the moment. He gave you a few kisses before he continues and went back to lining his cock, he made you wrap your arms around his neck and asked you to spread your legs even wider. And when he pushed in again, there’s that good stretch you’ve been hearing so much about. The feeling of Jaehyun’s cock go slowly inside you was incredibly good even though he’s not fucking you raw right now.

“The condom is thin-“ he grunts and moaned a few times, “you’re so tight. And fuck you look hot. Does it feel good now?” he whispers and started to roll his hips once which made you both moan and let out sharp gasps.

He fucks you slow and deep until the sting from the stretch is replaced by pleasure. You rake his body with your nails, holding him on his nape, and grab a fistful of hair whenever he tries to give you a powerful thrust which you loved so you asked for more.

He sat on his knees and pull away from your body then immediately gave you a hard thrust, watching your boobs bounce with lidded eyes, kneading them whenever he wants to. In a matter of few minutes, his thrust became animalistic that your head is dangling on the edge of the bed, moaning and gasping sharply but the man above you kept on fucking you hard, savoring the condom and trying not to cum so soon. So whenever he’s on edge, he pulls out immediately and spreads kisses around your body, sucking your boobs until your nipples are swollen, playing with your slit until you’re cumming for the third time tonight using his fingers.

“Not yet, I want more time with you,” he says while kissing your neck and reaching for your hand to intertwine it with his.

“Jaehyun, I can’t take it anymore. Please cum already” you begged with ragged breaths.

“Fine, fine. Since you asked nicely, but promise me to give me your number after we fuck”

“I will if you make me cum using your dick” he was amused by your answer and effortlessly flipped you on your stomach and asked you to put your ass in the air. He kissed your shoulders first, making you feel safe before the grand finale. Hands on your ass while he slowly thrust in again and fuck, he does make your knees weak.

“You were just a virgin a few minutes ago, but now you’re begging huh, okay” he says before he gave you a hard thrust that made you land flat on your stomach but he was quick to lift your hips again and give you another hard thrust.

Thrust after thrust you feel the impact in your body and for sure your body will be sore the next day. You call his name over and over again but you’re not sure what you’re begging for because he is fucking you good. Hard but good. And when finally Jaehyun is on edge for the nth time tonight, he did not pull out and kept fucking you but this time he doubled his pace that you can only hear skin slapping and his beautiful moans.

“Fuck Jaehyun- I’m cumming again, don’t you dare fucking stop” you grip the sheets and arch your back more, taking every thrust Jaehyun gives you and shut your eyes close as you let go and cum for the fourth time tonight.

Thrust

Thrust

Thrust

He gave you three powerful thrusts before you both flop on the mattress and catch your breath together. Your bodies were warm and sweaty, the room smelled like sex but no one cares. You feel bad to the owner of this bed.

While you catch your breath and calm yourself down, Jaehyun busies himself with discarding the condom and looking for something to cover your exposed body before he makes a wrong decision like asking you for round two.

“Thanks” you said weakly when he covered you with the blanket.

“I hope you’re okay with me being your first” he says and lies beside you again, keeping you close to him.

“I’m more than okay with it” you kissed him on the lips like you’re keeping a souvenir, “I hate to ruin this moment that we shared but, we have to go back to the party” you watch him shook his head no and pretended to be asleep, “Mhmm. Come on, I’ll help you get dressed” you added.

To be perfectly honest Jaehyun wanted to stay with you for a few more minutes, he wanted to know more about you, he wanted to hold your hand just a little bit longer. “Stay with me” he asks of you, but you refused with a heavy heart. You exchanged cellphone numbers of course, but when you two got back to the party, hand in hand and back to flirting with each other, your friends are quick to get a hold of you. and the next thing you know you’re inside your friend’s car, on your way home and you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

On the next day, you woke up very sore and you couldn’t walk properly but the thought of what happened last night just makes you smile and all giggly. You waited for his text the whole day, checking your phone from time to time and hoping that whenever it beeps, Jaehyun’s name is on the screen but no.

You thought that waiting for him for a day is normal, maybe he got hungover and slept the whole day. But after a few days later, still you got no texts from him and that part is not normal anymore. You started to think that you’re just a one-time thing for him and you feel stupid for even thinking that Jaehyun can and eventually pursue you.

Everything that happened that night, should be forgotten and you should enjoy the remaining months of your summer before you finally move in to your college dorm. On top of that, you deleted his number and tried to forget the man who made you feel good in bed for the first time.

Now that you’re weeks away from officially being a college student, you decided to settle in your college dorm as early as now so you can have more time to know your dorm mates. Little did you know, that the world is incredibly small and you will end up being dorm mates with Jaehyun alongside his best friend Johnny who welcomed you with a big bear hug like you’ve known each other for years.

It’s not that you weren’t happy to see him when he opened the door for you, it’s just that... it was such an awkward moment because you’ve seen each other naked and... he didn’t call you back. Nonetheless, you pretended to know each other for the first time today, shake his hand and give him a hug. Which you didn’t want to end so soon.

“Hey, uhm… glad to see you settle in” he started and closed your door so Johnny would not hear whatever conversation you’re about to have.

“Yeah, thank you for welcoming me warmly. Johnny is sweet by the way” you said awkwardly while folding your clothes and putting them in your cabinet.

“Uh, about that. Uhm, can you uh-“

“Not tell him that something happened between us?” he nods slowly at what you said, “sure” you wanted to scoff so bad and throw a fit at him, but you didn’t want to ruin your move in day and just shrugged it off.

Starting that day, you tried your best not to be awkward with Jaehyun and really try your best to forget about the sex. The sex that felt good, the sex that can make your toes curl by just merely thinking about it. Although you had a hard time because whenever you touch yourself at night, you remember everything that happened between you two and you end up fantasizing about fucking Jaehyun again. But now that you’re living with him and you see him every day, it's not just about the sex now.

During the summer you were convinced that Jaehyun is a guy who had sex with you and left you hanging. But seeing him every day and knowing him even more by living together, the truth about Jaehyun slapped you so hard that you even liked him even more now. He is a warm person, whose heart is full of care and compassion, or maybe even more than that.

Eventually, you did forget about the sex and your little crush on Jaehyun. Thank goodness, you thought. You couldn’t have done it without a few hookups during your freshman year. And when everything is all nice and pleasant again between you and Jaehyun, you became good friends and started to look after each other.

You were like family in that small dorm during your starting years together. The two giant knows how to cook so a good meal is never a problem, you have study sessions whenever it’s needed and whenever someone is going through something, you were there for each other.

It was great and comforting because you do everything together. But not until Jaehyun realized that he’s not immune to your charms anymore and now he’s falling for you. Hard.

Over the years of living together, Jaehyun saw your true colors. Now he knows you’re more than just a hookup. You were a gem that he found in a stranger’s party and he was such a fool for not calling you back during the summer. It’s true what they say that regrets are always at the end. Now he can only admire you and love you in ways where he can’t ruin this amazing friendship that you have.

Jaehyun endured every heartbreak whenever he sees you with another man or hearing you moan from the other side of the room whenever you and your boyfriend have sex. And when that jerk broke your heart, his broke two times than yours because he can’t do anything to ease your pain, make you realize your true worth and help you move on.

“You don’t need that guy,” Jaehyun says as he pulls you for a hug while Johnny massages your toes. The two giants were a good support system, not to mention they really want to beat your ex’s butt but you told them ‘thanks but, no don’t do that’. And while you’re crying in Jaehyun’s arms, staining his hoodie with your tears, he promised to himself that he will never hurt you or make you cry.

Now that he’s frustrated and mad at himself because he can’t help you, he decided to help himself instead. He watched on the sides and used different girls to make him forget about you, which is hardly impossible by now because even the little things you do make him crazy. Like whenever you ask him to eat dinner with you when Johnny is out for work, or whenever you take care of him when he goes home batshit drunk and can’t even stand up straight.

For Jaehyun, his college years were all about yearning. Yearning for you, your attention, your touch, and your love. But even though you’re now single and have already moved on from your ex, he still can’t confess his feelings for you because he believes that you deserve someone better than him. Jaehyun knew he hurt you already, and he will not forgive himself if he does it again.  

Senior year

In a middle of a busy cafeteria, you, Johnny, and Jaehyun are thinking of ways how to earn money for your dorm rent. This semester made you guys bring out a lot of cash because of books and some of your rent money was needed to sacrifice for education. But now that you guys are a month late with your rent, you have no idea where to get cash knowing all too well that your parents won’t chip in.

“I could sell some of my clothes” Jaehyun suggested while drinking his coffee.

“Dude your clothes are all black, no one would ever buy those” Johnny bites back just to annoy his friend. “Though girls will buy it because it’s from you-“

“Stop it with your nonsense John”

“Or! You can sell some of your nudes, I already know a lot of buyers�� Johnny added with an annoying smile.

“Or you two can just fuck each other because you’re the hottest guys on campus but your asses are broke” you tease them further but you have no idea that you just gave out the solution to all your problems. “What?” you asked them as they both smile at you, shy for no reason, and eyeing each other like they’re having a secret conversation using their eyes.

Johnny clears his throat before he starts, “You just suggested to make porn… and porn is good money. A few students do it these days” he clears his throat again before he continues, “We know because we watch porn-“

“Okay, I don’t need to know that part. What are you saying? Are you suggesting we make porn?” you said, eyes big as you look at them.  

“You suggested it. Not us. But yeah. It’s good money Y/n” Johnny once again explained.

“Well, okay. I’ll hold the camera while you two fuck. How do we do this?” you avoid their eyes as your body heats the more you talk.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not fucking Johnny” Jaehyun announces.

“Nope. Me too I’m not fucking Jaehyun, you choose Y/n. No hard feelings, but consider the size” he winks but you know that he’s just joking.

Good thing the awkward conversation was cut when your alarm went off and you have to go to your next class. You gather your stuff and told them to think of better ways to earn money because there’s no way you’re having sex with any of them. Especially not with Jaehyun.

The idea of making money through porn crosses your mind every five minutes and you can’t concentrate with your class. Plus, your landlord kept on sending messages reminding you that in three days, you’re going to be two months late with the rent. But still, whenever you imagine having sex with any of them, it gives you great goosebumps and you can’t handle the awkwardness anymore.

After your class, you were spacing out and still weighing things over regarding the porn making, and unexpectedly, one of your friends brought up ‘amateur porn’ and you’ve never been so nervous in your life. She was talking about how she and her boyfriend went live for a good twenty minutes and they made loads of cash, “and guess what, it’s all for fun! We were really just fooling around but apparently, people do love those kinds of stuff and they pay good money”

Your mouth almost fell when she mentioned the cash they earned for only twenty minutes. And in that twenty minutes, you can cover one month's rent pay already. You just have to cum in front of thousands of people. So with a mind blinded by the possibility of earning too much cash, you said yes to the idea of making porn. The only question is, with whom?

Johnny and Jaehyun stood in front of you as they wait for your answer after telling them what your friend told you about making porn. Of course you picked Jaehyun. Not because you miss him, and not because you have history, but because you don’t want to be awkward with Johnny. While Jaehyun on the other hand is feeling proud and hopeful behind that poker face of his, he thought that you chose him because you already know what’s in store for you if you fuck with him again and of course he thought that maybe you miss him.

“Johnny doesn’t really need to hold the camera for us right? We can just place it, and secure it somewhere” you added and watch Jaehyun agree without looking at you.

“You two have the place tomorrow night then. M-make sure you raise the quota and cover three months of payment... for safety” Johnny says to Jaehyun and you with a smile that says, ‘thank goodness I didn’t have to watch you both fuck’.

Before you sleep tonight, unexpectedly Jaehyun paid you a visit. And there’s that nervous feeling again, you feel like you’re back in your freshman days when you don’t know what to do whenever you see Jaehyun and you just have to pretend that nothing is bothering you.

Breathing in and out, you opened the door quickly and went back to your bed and under the covers to cover your exposed legs. Little did you know that Jaehyun already saw that you’re not wearing anything besides your lacy panties and an oversized shirt.

“Your ears are red,” you teased him.

“Well next time you should wear pajamas instead of your underwear to sleep” he winked and placed the mask that you’re going to be using tomorrow and sat on the edge of your bed.  

“What are you? A stranger? You’re so far, come here” you invited him under your sheets and lie in bed face to face like nothings bothering you two. You put your hand above his head and feel his soft locks, careful not to grip so hard and hurt the man you used to have feelings for.

This is why Jaehyun can’t move on from you. You always make him feel like he’s your favorite person in the world.

“Are you going to leave me hanging again after we have sex tomorrow?” You confronted him.

“That’s impossible now, we live together” he giggles and catches your hand so he could hold it.

“Just promise me after the sex tomorrow we’ll still be friends” you felt his grip loosen up like he became hopeless like he didn’t like what you just said.

“I was actually going to say that I want us to try again. Get things right this time”

And in that very moment, your world stopped and your body feels hot, suddenly you’re sweating and your heart is beating faster. To be honest you don’t know what to say.

Then,

“Kidding. I’m kidding. Just making you laugh before you sleep, and y-yeah. I promise nothing will change between us, cross my heart” he got up from your bed, turned off the lights and turned on your lampshade. “Sleep well okay?”

And just like that, he left again. You don’t know if you were relieved that it was only a joke or your heart broke because deep inside, you’re waiting for him to tell you that ever since Freshman year. Nonetheless, you do what you do best. Sleep it off and pretend nothing happened.

On the next day, you were at the kitchen preparing breakfast and spacing out while you flip pancakes. Most of them got burnt and you blame Jaehyun for that.

“I told you to sleep, didn’t I?”

There he goes again, startling you and flashing a very handsome smile at you like you’re not about to do something stupid later. “Johnny went to work early and took an overtime tonight just so you won’t get shy” he hands you a glass of water, figured you might need one because you looked so tensed.

“We can always text him when we're done” you added, he nods. And there’s the awkward silence again.

You finish your breakfast in one go, not even looking at Jaehyun. Usually, during breakfast, you talk mostly about your plans within the day but given the situation right now, obviously, you don’t want to know his plans because that includes you. Good thing the day went on normally. You cleaned the living room, he cleaned the kitchen, you cleaned your room, he cleaned his. You saw him changing his bedsheets and you think that’s a sweet gesture, you wanted to tease him but that won’t help you with your nervousness so you just smiled at him when he caught you looking.

When it’s finally afternoon and you’re going to fuck live in a few minutes, you were surprised at what he did to his room just so you won’t get nervous anymore. The golden ray of afternoon light was perfect and helped you calm in no time, Jaehyun lit some scented candles and lowered the thermostat of his air conditioning so you won’t get cold.

“Thought I should make this special- not that I’m saying our first wasn’t “ he rambles and scratches his head, ears turning red and now you can see that he’s nervous too. “But come on, I want to do right for you” he caresses your shoulders and nods his head as a signal that you two needed to start.

The mood was nothing like your first, there was no sexual tension or any sign of desire to fuck each other. In other words, he looked like he’s just doing this for the dorm rent and you are too. That’s why maybe stripping in front of Jaehyun while your back is against him was easier than you thought. But you didn’t know that the man was craving for you. He wanted to be the one removing your clothes while his lips roam on your neck, make you feel good and wanted just before the live starts. He wanted to do that.

“Remember your promise okay?” You put on your mask and Jaehyun did too. He was still fully clothed and while you’re lying in his bed comfortably, watching him strip in front of you but not for you. The camera is right above your head so the viewers can imagine that they are the ones having sex with Jaehyun. If that won't give you a lot of money then you don’t know what will.

Jaehyun was a natural, you wanted to tell him that he does look like a pornstar but you’re not allowed to talk. When he finally crawled on the bed, straight between your legs and spread them according to his want, a shiver went straight to your spine and immediately made you wet. He shamelessly kissed your inner thighs first and went all the way up until he reaches your lips.

Finally. You both thought.

But his kisses were different and you wonder why. You feel like you’re not kissing Jaehyun because you know how his kiss can affect you, although his touch was still the same. He can still make you jolt and part your lips with just using his fingers and a few teasing here and there. And when he finally put his cock inside you, that’s the part where you finally believe that Jaehyun is indeed the one in bed with you right now. You will never forget how that cock feels inside you, “I miss you” he whispered very softly, hoping that the viewers did not hear it.

Time flies so fast that the live will end in ten minutes now and Jaehyun has been fucking you deep and slow like he’s savoring the feeling again. When you heard him grunt and moan, that made your toes curl and clench accidentally around him. Making him groan a little louder and fuck you a bit faster. You moaned so loud just so he knows you’re very much close to your high, and in just a few minutes you both cum together and the next thing you know he’s pulling out and letting his cum land on top of your pussy lips for the viewer’s pleasure.

Fuck you wish he didn’t pull out.

He grabbed his phone from above you and turned the damn timer off because you may not know, but the timer was screaming at him that his time with you is over. You removed your mask and he removed his too. And there you saw tears in his eyes, or maybe those are sweat? Nonetheless, you asked him what’s wrong and made him look at you. But instead of answering your question, he kissed you. Hands on both sides and cupping your face as he kisses you deeper.

And there’s that kiss you’ve been waiting for. The kiss that you’ve been wanting to experience again for years and years. You shouldn’t be happy, but you’re actually genuinely happy that your rent pay is late and you get to do this again with Jaehyun.

“I missed you too” finally you said it.

He smiled so sweetly to you and went back to the kiss, spreading your legs again, checking your slit if you’re still wet. And without further ado, he thrust in. Slowly again, but this time he’s proving a point. Like he’s telling you something. And now that you can see his face, you can’t help but feel excited and the butterflies in your stomach are very much excited too that you were smiling in between kisses.

“Ride me” he says, and effortlessly he trades places with you. Holding you on your back, lips still locked like you’re not planning to stop any time soon. And for your own pleasure, you guided his hands and made him knead your boobs. He did more than kneading, Jaehyun sucked your nipples and pinched them to hear you moan.

“A lot has changed Jae” you said, pushing him down to the mattress and intertwined your fingers with his, kissed them and placed them on your hips. You started rolling your hips without a warning, making the man underneath you close his eyes and part his lips. There are many things you wanted to do with him now that you had the privilege to ride him, but you decided to go hard because this might be the last time you’re going to fuck Jaehyun again.

You ride him like you didn’t have sex for years. Skin slapping from rolling your hips faster than he expected, letting your boobs bounce in front of him and letting him touch them whenever he wants to. “It’s hard to pull out when you’re on top, want to switch places?” He was struggling to talk, obviously he’s trying so hard not to cum yet but you’re good at what you’re doing.

“Not tonight” and that promise just made Jaehyun moan deliciously like he’s excited to cum now just so he can experience cumming inside you.

“Y-yeah. That’s right Y/n fuck me. Oh you fuck me so good! Shit- why did I ever let you go. Fuck”

The thing is, you love seeing him all fucked up and love hearing him praise the way you fuck him... but he chose the wrong words. And those words went straight to your heart. The words ‘Why did I ever let you go?’ repeated over and over again while you ride so fast that you’re overstimulating him already. He was begging for you to stop but it was too late when you heard him.

When you finally stopped, you see his cum dripping from your pussy even though you’re not yet removing his cock from you. You catch your breath for a second and came closer to Jaehyun. Good thing he has enough strength to hug you and roll you to the mattress so he could have the honor to pull his cock out.

“You’re right a lot has changed,” he says because his silly crush on you grew and grew and now he’s completely in love with you. “Let’s not shower together, I’m afraid I’ll lure you to have shower sex with me”

“And what’s so wrong about that” you bite back.

“Oh so you’re confident now huh,” he kissed you once again, and shit you never want him to leave your lips.

But every good thing comes to an end. You went back to your room and showered separately, as planned and when you went to the living room, he was all cleaned up and looking so fresh. He was wearing his glasses, hair almost covering his eyes, he looked cozy in his oversized shirt and his favorite plaid pajamas. “Come here,” He pats the seat next to him, signaling you to come watch Netflix with him. Surprisingly, his arms wrapped around you and kept you close to him, subtly smelling your shampoo. He giggled at the thought of imagining you taking a shower while smiling because the sex was fucking awesome.

He played a movie and watched it with you just so he can still keep you close to him. Not even halfway through the movie, he caught you sleeping soundly on his lap and slowly covered your exposed legs with the blanket on the couch. He pats and pats your head until his attention was no longer in the movie that he’s watching but his mind lingers to what happened earlier and eventually fell asleep beside you too.

It was very late when Johnny went home and caught you two all snuggled up on the couch, snoring and slept through to what you were watching. He had a hunch that you two had a great time, smiled and turned off the TV, and wished you both a good night's sleep.

“I have bad news” Johnny announces as you and Jaehyun wake up together on the couch, all smiles and in an incredibly good mood but Johnny was quick to ruin that. “The money you earned from yesterday’s live was not enough”

You don’t know why Jaehyun was still smiling at you even though what Johnny just told you completely ruined your day already. “That’s not bad news, right?” He whispers to you and gave you a look. “I’m okay with doing it again until we cover everything” Jaehyun says to Johnny while you three sit in front of each other, drinking your coffees.

“I’ll work double shifts at the radio station- are you fine with doing it again Y/n?” Johnny asks, and for a second there you feel like you’re in the hot seat.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay with it” you scratch your nape and awkwardly sip your coffee, “it’s easy money, I think if we do more lives we can cover three months pay”

“More lives it is. Don’t worry John, I’ll take other slots at the radio station too for groceries and stuff” Jaehyun added.

The live fucking continues and so is fooling around with Jaehyun, having better sex every after going live and whenever Johnny is not around. It’s like playing with fire, but you don’t exactly know if what you’re doing is wrong or right because you’re both single, so why are you guys hiding? You don’t get it, but you just go with the flow, enjoy what’s happening and hope for the best.

Every sex you have grown more and more intense to the point that your beds are moving and that gives you better reviews in live fucking. Not to mention the money is better now and you’re saving up faster than expected. But whenever the camera is off and you’re having sex without an audience, you guys fuck like you’re together and you love each other.

Sweet love bites here and there, sincere praises and longer kisses. For Jaehyun he feels like he’s having a dream because he gets to do the things he wanted to do with you. Remove your clothes while kissing you, whisper the things he has been holding back to say for years, and make you feel loved and important.

And just like the sex, your cuddling session became even warmer and sweeter. Cuddling after you take a shower has always been your thing, he visits you in your room with damped hair and you help him dry his hair, Netflix and chill, or order in and have a great meal together.

Days went by and you’re getting used to this sweet Jaehyun and you well know that’s dangerous. But you love every dangerous thing about Jaehyun. The following days grew extremely sweet and intimate. You sleep in his room every night and basically do everything together from now on. The only time you two were apart is during class hours but after that, Jaehyun is right outside your classroom waiting for you.

“What are you doing?” you giggle and try to finish the book you’re reading in bed when Jaehyun suddenly entered your room, crawled on your bed, and went in between your legs. Removing your glasses for safety, inviting you to fuck while Jaehyun nibs your ear and caress your legs. Oh his kisses always make your head turn and ask for more.

“Johnny is not around and I just took a shower, hmm? What do you say?” He uses that cute tone that can always make you stop what you’re doing and say yes to him. Forget the book, you can finish it later.

Removing your shorts and underwear while he continuously kisses you, smiling and giggling while he whispers ‘you always look pretty’ before he removes your shirt and exposes your boobs to him. You tried getting up and help him remove his clothes, but he stopped you and kissed you down on the mattress. “Nu-uh. Stay there I’ll treat you good tonight” he winked and proceeds to remove his clothes in between your spread legs, your hands roam freely in his well sculpted and fucking beautiful body.

Then he reached for your phone and took a nice picture while you two are kissing. The sound of the camera clicking made your eyes open, “send me this picture later. So I can stop missing you” you smiled and nod, then Jaehyun took one too many pictures so he could focus on you again. When he’s finally contented with all the pictures he got, he finally thrust in deep and slow while his mouth is sucking one of your nipples and he looks incredibly handsome.

This time, it’s you who grabbed your phone and took some pictures of him sucking your boobs and making you feel good, taking some pictures of his cock inside your pussy while he thrusts. Jaehyun had the idea of taking a video while you two fuck but this time, it’s for his and your eyes only. He took the phone from you and recorded how he fucks you good, and did not miss the part where you part your lips and moan.

“Jaehyun I’m almost there” you moan out, fingerings raking his nape or on his beautiful body. He puts the camera on the bedside table with a perfect angle of him fucking you, without masks or any cover. He intertwines his fingers with yours before he fucks you hard and fast. The camera that’s recording everything was completely forgotten and Jaehyun focused on making you feel good, making you cum at least two times using his dick and his fingers.

After your second high you were so exhausted that you were breathing heavily and Jaehyun is helping you to calm down while kissing your boobs and sucking them playfully. Even your cute moments like this was caught on camera and Jaehyun was more than happy about it.

“You okay? Want to cum for the third time?” He reached for your phone, stop the recording and went back in between your legs again and kiss you wherever he wants. You didn’t answer him ‘yes’ because to be completely honest you were still exhausted and he understood you well. For a good quiet minutes he was just staring at you, flashing his dimples, raking his fluffy hair and biting his lips at the same time. The silence felt good and not the usual awkward silence you have.

“The next live that we will be doing is going to be our last. And our dorm rent will be settled in no time” he started.

“And?”

“I’ll miss you”

Ouch. You wish he kept the quietness and peace instead. Just as you thought that life will now let you be with Jaehyun peacefully, here comes the heartbreak again. Truth is Jaehyun is still scared and very much afraid to hurt you that’s why he just wanted to fix himself before he could date you officially. He didn’t want to pursue his feeling with you just because you did porn together and fucked live, no you deserve better than that.

He loves you. So much, but he’s not ready yet.

You wanted to shout at him and asked him what else does he want from you? He is so good at making you feel like you’re always not enough for him and that makes your mind go crazy. He did it again. He left you hanging again when you’ve completely fallen in love with him. Turns out he’s not willing and ready to catch you. But as usual, you do what you do best. Shrugged it off and continue to live like it’s not bothering you.  

The live fucking and porn making stopped for a while because you and Jaehyun have final exams. And the awkwardness between you and Jaehyun came back in no time, nonetheless, it was a good week to have a breather and to let yourself think straight. But still, you can’t help but think about everything and miss Jaehyun.

“Are you on your way home?” Johnny asks Jaehyun through the phone.

“Yeah, just buying us dinner”  

“Good. Y/n is on her period”

“Am I suppose to be happy because I didn’t get her pregnant?” He chuckled proudly and having no clue what Johnny was saying.

“Take care of her she has period cramps dumb ass!“

“Oh right- right… sorry. Okay, yeah”

When Jaehyun arrived with the stuff that Johnny told him to buy for you and the dinner Jaehyun bought you, you were twisting in hurt inside your room grunting and very vocal about the pain while you hug the hot compress Johnny left you when Jaehyun entered your room.

“Ah- fuck it hurts” you groan and curl yourself, pressing that hot compress more on your lower abdomen and endure your period cramps. Jaehyun is just so sweet to stay beside you and rub your back while he watches you suffer.

“I want to help. Do you need anything other than that hot compress?” He was concerned and willing to make you feel better.

“Nothing I’m fine. You’re so sweet” you said in a little irritated tone but you’re not actually irritated with him. He scrolls through his phone with one hand, while the other is rubbing and caressing your back to give you comfort.

“Google says sex is good when-“

“I’m not having period sex with you, Jaehyun” but you do want him to touch you. Stupid hormones. Stupid period. It just makes you crave for him even more, desperate for even a kiss, or even just with his body closer to you.

“Are you horny?” He asks without shame, smiling at you and hoping that you say yes.

“I am” you admitted

“Just say yes, I got you” he was like seducing you, luring you to sin with him tonight while you bleed. And you like it.

“Okay” you answered softly. Shy but he knew you’re not that type anymore.

Jaehyun scoop over and went under the covers with you. Giving you that warmth that you need, making your body warm and comfortable, and basically giving everything you want. He intertwines his fingers with you, kissed your knuckles, and then your lips. Softly. Slowly. It’s every girl’s dream kiss. And just like his kiss, his hand creeps under the covers, all the way down until he reaches your thighs and spread one leg to gain access to your hole.

“W-wait. Let me just remove the tampon” shyly you inform him and discarded it quickly under the covers and throw it into the trash bin. Going back to the comfort that Jaeyun is giving you, his hand went back in between your legs and tease your clothed slit the moment you’re back under the covers. Smiling so handsomely and innocently while he lies beside you like he’s not doing something lustful under the covers.

“Do you think this will work-“ and just before you finish your question, Jaehyun ran a finger on your very wet slit which turned him on immediately. He flicked his finger, drawing small circles in your nub and listening to you moan while your grip on the sheets tightens and try your best not to close your legs.

“Do you like this?” his lips were very close to your neck and the way he talks to you was so sultry that even his words can make you moan.

“Mhmm. F-fuck Jae, my clit is sensitive” but your legs say others wise because you spread them even more under the covers and your hips voluntarily move to meet his fingers. When he felt your legs shake and hear your moans become higher than usual, he figured you were close, went on top of you and started to hump your thigh while his hand is inside your now ruined panties reaching deep in your hole making you feel good and over sensitive. Jaehyun grunted so loud and moaned deliciously beside your ear, moving his hips like how he fucks you and you feel his hard cock poke your thigh from the inside of his pants. Soon, Jaehyun came inside his pants and did not care about being embarrassed.

While you were coming down from your high, the man on top of you kept kissing you like you’re all that matters to him. Even though you well know that you’re just fooling yourself.

The night ended with Jaehyun sleeping beside you and further taking care of you after you both cleanup. But you woke up the next day without him beside you and thankfully, Johnny came out of nowhere to rescue you from your ugly thoughts. He came into your room with a cup of coffee and some bread for you, smiling like he has no problems in life and to be honest, you love how he’s always like this.

Since both of you don’t have classes today, you went to the groceries with Johnny and had a nice dinner at a fast food he loves. It felt great. It felt great to be with a guy who’s not Jaehyun. The man always keeps you on your toes and you feel like your head is always in the clouds whenever you’re with him but Johnny, he keeps you grounded.

“Shoot. The landlord is really testing me- he wants the money tonight or else they have to kick us out tomorrow. Fuck!” He says typing aggressively on his phone, telling Jaehyun immediately.

“Were not due until next week why are they doing this to us. We have no choice but to go live then” you said calmly, unbothered as much as possible because you just want this to be over now and move on from Jaehyun.

“You can't. You have your period and Jaehyun is not available- fuck why is he not picking up”

“There are other ways to make a guy cum Johnny. I’m sure you know that” you chuckle and shook your head in disbelief.

“Still, Jaehyun is not answering” he gave up and put down his phone.

“Well you’re available. I just want this to be over Johnny” clearly he didn’t expect you to suggest such a thing. You continue to eat your food in silence and so is the man in front of you. Obviously, he was bothered with what you suggested but it appears that he has no choice. You watch him fidget on his phone, maybe he’s not yet done contacting Jaehyun and still hoping that his friend will end up last minute but...

“Okay” he let a sigh of relief, “I texted Jaehyun that well do it but we're not going to uhm- uh, fuck. Blow job then? No more, no less? A bit of kissing maybe. Tell me what do you want? I’ll be able to do this comfortably if I know that you like what I’m doing to you”

“Hmm. Okay, let’s start by... be gentle with me. You’re a big guy and you know... what I mean”

“I may be big physically but I’m warm on the inside, being gentle is not a problem” he smiles and pour you a glass of water before he asks for the bill. “What else?” he added.

“Touch me, don’t hesitate. If you feel like my jaw needs rest then you can tell me to stop” he nods and told you he will surely not forget about that.

The conversation went on until you reached home and get ready for the live. Unlike Jaehyun who made you feel so nervous the day you had your first live with him, Johnny makes you feel calm and comfortable the whole time.

Now that you’re in front of Johnny, half naked with only your panties and your mask on, everything happened perfectly. It wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t awkward too, and quite frankly you had fun with Johnny. Even though the audience noticed that you’re not with Jaehyun right now, they can’t help but love Johnny’s hot body too and the way he fuck your face gently in front of the camera. Hands cupping both sides of your face as he thrust his long, hard and veiny cock in your mouth. Smiling through the pleasure whenever you purposely swirl your tongue and bob your head aggressively.

After the cum-filled and messy live with Johnny, you wired the money to your landlord immediately and secure the rent for good until the three of you graduates. Now you and Johnny can breathe normally after cleaning up and enjoy the warmth of your bed. “Do you like Jaehyun?” He blurted out, trying not to look at your exposed boobs but you roll your body and face the ceiling and so his efforts went to waste.

“Yeah but I don’t think he likes me enough. Y-you know what I mean” he shook his head to tell you he has no idea about Jaehyun’s intentions with you.

“Just have patience with him if you like him, after all, you’re the only girl that can do this to him”

“Do what?” you ask with eagerness.

“Did you really think that I won't notice you two fucking behind my back?” You laughed at what he said and laughed your shyness away, “but it’s alright. I figured maybe you like each other so I didn’t dare stop you two”

The giggling and laughing with Johnny under the soft light of your lampshade continued until you passed out and Johnny was the one who helped you get dressed. And on the same night, Jaehyun heard and saw you and Johnny laugh over a half closed door. Seeing your bodies close to each other made his blood boil and became jealous in no time. That’s why on the next day, Jaehyun was expressing his anger while you three are gathered in the kitchen. He’s not saying a word, but he kept on closing the cabinets a little too rough while he prepares his meal. Then it hit you, he’s jealous.

You confronted him and went to his room, closed and locked the door so Johnny won't hear the unpleasant conversation you’re about to have with Jaehyun. “Don’t be angry with Johnny, I’m the one who suggested it-“

“Like that’s going to make me feel better Y/n. Get out, you’re wasting your time” he turned his back and proceeds to fix his bed.

“It’s not like we cheated Jae. Were not together” you blurted as calm as possible. Little did you know that you just triggered something in him that makes him want to punch a wall and pour his anger out but he can’t. At least not in front of you. So instead, he shouted at you. So loud that you got scared for a second there.

“You know, I’m always afraid to hurt you but you! You don’t care if you hurt me!”

“Don’t act as if you love me, Jae. You never did. You never even tried!” You shouted back and walked away towards his door, banging it and walked straight to your room with tears in your eyes.

The fight was short but unforgettable.

Later that day, Jaehyun got worried when you didn’t eat lunch and dinner and your door was still locked and he can hear you crying from the other side. He kept on knocking at your door until you got annoyed and unlocked it but you covered yourself with your thick sheets.

“Come on why are you crying? Don’t cry over a stupid guy like me you don’t deserve it. I’m sorry” you feel his embrace and rub your back so you know that he’s sincere. And finally, you removed the sheets but still, you don’t want to look him in the eye.

You have a lot of questions for Jaehyun, and you think now is the perfect time to cry it all out and let him know what he’s doing to you. Why he didn’t text you back the night after you fuck for the first time, why he never ask you out when he promised he would, why he’s jealous all of a sudden.

FLASHBACK (In the middle of junior year)

It was very late already and some crazy person is ringing your doorbell nonstop. This couldn’t be Jaehyun or Johnny obviously they don’t need to ring the doorbell because they live here and they know the code. That’s why you were surprised that Jaehyun is the one ringing it and turns out he is batshit drunk and can’t even remember the code. “Where is Johnny when you need him” you murmur, “Jae, help yourself too. I can’t carry you all the way up to the fourth floor,” you said sternly to the handsome guy clinging on to you, breath smells like alcohol, eyes lidded but can still appreciate your beautiful face.

When you finally carried him successfully back to your place, without any hesitation he puked on your sleepwear and smiled so sweetly at you like he did nothing wrong. You wanted to slap him and wake him from his drunken state but Jaehyun was quick with his hands and unbutton your sleepwear and used it to wipe the small amount of puke on the floor.

You cover yourself with your arms and walked straight to your room and get a clean shirt before you take care of Jaehyun. He was murmuring “sorry” as he sees you walk away from him and weakly sit on the floor with dirty clothes and hope that you will come back to him.

When he sees you all dressed up again with a damped cloth on your hand, he smiled and spread his arms like he’s about to give you a hug. “Why are you acting cute- here hold this while I remove your socks” you hand him the damped cloth and proceed to remove his dirty socks and throw it with your dirty sleepwear. He looks at you lovingly as you wipe his face with the utmost care, looking at your lips and thinking about kissing it but no. He may be drunk but he won’t do that to you.

“Go on a date with me,” he says while you continue to wipe his face and help him take off his hoodie. You giggle and boops his nose before you stand and help him to get on his feet, “try asking me again when you’re sober” you opened his room door and told him to don’t forget to change his pants and greet him good night.

But after a few minutes, you’re all tucked in bed and half asleep already when you feel a pair of arms cage you. You can still smell his breath and figured maybe Jaehyun is clingy like this whenever he’s really drunk, which rarely happens.

“It's so sweet, knowing that you love me. Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet. Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair. It's so sweet” he sings a few lines from Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex and smells your hair until his breath tickles your nape.

Sweet. He’s not only clingy while he’s drunk, but he’s sweet too. “I think I like you more when you’re rarely this drunk” you turn your body and faced him. Seeing Jaehyun with sleepy eyes, lips curved in a weak smile, but arms conscious enough to keep you near him.

“Then I’ll get drunk every day if that makes you love me”

But on the next day, he just thanked you for taking care of him and forgot about the date. And on the next few days and following weeks, you hear him fuck different girls and have one night stands every now and then.

BACK TO PRESENT TIME SENIOR YEAR

“I keep on hurting you I’m sorry. Don’t cry, please. I hate that I’m hurting you. This is the reason why I can’t pursue my feelings for you. I’m a mess and I’m not ready”

And just as you thought that this day couldn’t get any worse. It just did. You look at Jaehyun as he tells you the truth and admits his true feelings with you. How he fell in love with you but chose not to pursue his feelings because he’s not ready and you deserve better. And from there you stopped listening to him and told him to leave you alone. Jaehyun was speechless and hopeless, he wanted to explain and express his long bottled feelings for you but you don’t want to.

All this time you thought that it’s you who’s lacking that’s why he can’t even try and ask you out. But now that you know the truth and he would rather make you feel small than swallow his pride and try to make things work with you, well you just can’t be around him anymore.

Graduation is approaching near and your dorm has been quiet ever since you finished paying the rent and Jaehyun got mad because of what you and Johnny did. You look at the quiet place while you eat your instant noodle and reminisce the good days you spent with the two giants who made your college years unforgettable and happy. Actually, they even made your life easier.

Days become even more lonely now that Jaehyun and Johnny became busy with their last requirements and you’ve been alone for a few days now. You wake up without the two boys, go to class or run some errands, they go home but you’re not home, and by the time you arrive home they have shifts to the radio station again.

Today is your birthday and you spend it with some of your classmates which are all sweet and you treat them to dinner. Johnny left a bouquet of flowers on your bed before he left for work, together with a sweet happy birthday card. And Jaehyun… well, let’s just say that maybe he forgot about it because being a graduating student makes you busy.

While you were having a nice dream of Jaehyun singing a happy birthday song to you with a small cupcake in his hand, in reality, he woke you up by patting your head and a kiss on your forehead, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ and kissing your face until you’re awake and what’s happening right now is finally registering in your mind. You wrapped your arms around him and decided to forgive him for being stupid and accept his apology. “Is this for me?” you point at the chocolate cake on the bedside drawer a blew the candle, making your room dark and only the soft light from your window lights up your room.

“What did you wish for” he came closer to you and rests his forehead on yours. Oh you missed his presence, but all you feel right now is the heartbreak and remember what happened a few weeks ago.

“You, Jaehyun” you whisper and closed your eyes, not caring if there are tears in your eyes. You’re not afraid to show him that you ache for him.

“I told you, I can’t-“ you didn’t want to hurt yourself further and listen to those hurtful words so you kissed him and pulled him on top of you.

Everything happened so fast and naturally. You removed your shorts, he was quick to spread your legs and free his hardening cock. Not even bothering to reach for a condom, he fucked you in the dark and whispered “I’m sorry” over and over again that it hurts your ear and your heart so you put your thumb in his mouth and let him suck it good while his thrust was slowly picking up the pace and you hear skin slapping surrounds your room

“Jaehyun-“ you moan his name when you felt that familiar feeling of being on edge but you’re not yet ready to let go. You’re not yet ready to let him go. So you tried with all your might to clench and stop yourself from cumming but what you’re doing to Jaehyun just makes him want to fuck you more.

And so he did.

He covered your mouth not because he didn’t want to let Johnny know that you’re fucking but because he never wants to hear your beautiful moans again. He closed his eyes so he could no longer see your face and dream about you underneath him, and with that, he continues to thrust so harshly that it’s hurting you so good and your grip on his shoulders will surely leave a mark.

Soon you failed and cum before Jaehyun could. You exchanged sharp exhales, gasps, and quiet grunts before he lies beside you and kiss you deeply the whole night. One last time.  

As expected, you woke up alone in your bed with a sore body. You stretched for a few minutes before you got out of bed and head outside to have breakfast. At first, you thought that you will be alone again today but turns out Johnny is free.

“Belated Happy birthday. Did you like the flowers I got you?” he greets you good morning and gave you a bear hug.

“I did. I put it in a vase, it’s in my room. Thank you” now that Johnny is here and you’re not alone eating breakfast, you can’t help but wish for Jaehyun to be here.

“Jaehyun is uhm… working. I can take you out today, let’s have dinner and celebrate your birthday again. What do you say?” he offers excitedly and even showed you a great restaurant from his phone.

When the evening comes and you and Johnny should be out by now but you were having a hard time to chose what to wear, Jaehyun arrived out of nowhere with a girl on his shoulders. Someone not familiar and they’re holding hands.

“I think your friends are going out on a date aren’t they babe?” the girl asks Jaehyun, like she's tying to get his attention but Jaehyun’s eyes are glued on you. Eyes that are very much sorry because he didn’t mean for you to see his new girlfriend after your birthday. So this is why Johnny was rushing you tonight. He didn’t want you to see Jaehyun with his new girlfriend because he knew it will hurt you greatly.

“Y/n-“ Jaehyun called you but you didn’t bother looking back and told Johnny that you’re ready now… even though your earrings don't match with your dress. If he can try and be in a relationship with someone else then what does that make you? Why can’t he try for you?

The night went on, carrying the lie that you’re okay but to be honest, you don’t want to go back to that fucking dorm. Good thing, Johnny was trying so hard to cheer you up and make you forget about what happened. Which is working and for that you’re thankful.

On the same night, you swore to yourself that you will never let Jaehyun into your life again and make you feel small. You will never throw yourself to him again, or even spare a glance and waste your time with the one and only guy whom you allowed to break your heart over and over again. But not anymore.

Jaehyun was nothing but sweet to you and that’s all he’ll ever be.

Five years later

When you came home from work, you caught your boyfriend cooking dinner with a glass of cold wine beside him. You greet him, “hey” and kissed him on the cheek before you wrap your arms around his strong built body.

“Tired? Hows work? I have big news��� he says while stirring something from the pan. You told him he could tell the big news first because he looks excited, and so he did. With big smiles and overflowing excitement, he said that “Jaehyun is going to get married and I’m his best man!” you almost let out a laugh but you stopped yourself.

“Mhmm. Guess who’s taking care of the wedding....” you teased him. But just as you burst your boyfriend’s bubble, his reaction was quite unexpected.

“N-no, don’t tell me it’s you” he suddenly stopped cooking, he wasn’t mad. Just shocked at the moment and because of the big news.

“Johnny- Don’t tell me you’re being jealous right now...” you tease him further, “he’s like a college fling baby, and you’re the real deal!” you kiss him on the lips but he’s still sulking and went back to cooking.

“We both know it’s not just a fling” he whines.

“He’s getting married and we’re literally inseparable. What are you so jealous of? You know I saw Jaehyun looked at his fiancé and guess what,”

“What?” he turns off the stove and prepared two plates for dinner which you helped him do.

“He never looked at me that way, but you did” you see a shy smile on his face now and poke his cheek but he's quick to catch your hand and pull you into a hug. The kind of hug only Johnny can provide.

“Sorry, that was so childish of me”

“It’s okay. Dinner looks good, is this a new recipe?”

Soon after dinner, Johnny expresses his apology in bed in many ways he can, making you feel good and treating you right as always until it became too exhausting because you don’t think you could cum anymore after having your fourth…or fifth? To be honest you’re not sure anymore.

But even though you’re tired and exhausted, you still can’t help but reminisce. Throughout the years of forgetting Jaehyun, Johnny has always been patient with you and waited for you to heal from Jaehyun. Johnny brought you to the movies and went out with you while Jaehyun only promised. It's like Jaehyun kept promising you things but Johnny is the one keeping them.

“I thought you’re exhausted?” He kissed your shoulder to bring you back to Earth when he saw you spacing out. “Stop thinking. I’ll marry you too, you know that right?” oh you know that all too well, so you nod and kissed him. Whispered ‘i love yous’ over and over again, and thanked him for being the one for you. It was never easy for both of you, but still, you yearn for each other. Sometimes, love will point us to the wrong person so we could find the right person to us. Yes, Jaehyun was sweet, but Johnny is not only sweet in fact he showed his love to you since day 1.

#nct-writers #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #kdiner #cznnet #nct smut #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best. 

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all.  i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep. 

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.” 

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.” 

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?” 

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy. 

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?” 

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping. 

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.” 

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry. 

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister. 

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table. 

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.” 

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river. 

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while. 

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again. 

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.” 

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more. 

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been. 

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek. 

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold. 

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left. 

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?” 

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice. 

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.” 

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?” 

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.” 

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was. 

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face. 

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything. 

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so. 

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?” 

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.” 

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer. 

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.” 

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.” 

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.” 

“Can you not do that here?” 

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.” 

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.” 

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.” 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.” 

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.” 

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas. 

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.” 

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?” 

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?” 

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.” 

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.” 

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands. 

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.” 

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.” 

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.” 

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.” 

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.” 

“Deal.” 

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

 You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him. 

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity. 

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face. 

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same. 

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.” 

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.” 

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.” 

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body. 

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.” 

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.” 

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.” 

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you. 

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.” 

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice. 

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle. 

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out. 

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could. 

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.” 

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.” 

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”  

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?” 

“I might.” 

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.” 

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates. 

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms. 

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.” 

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.” 

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.” 

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.” 

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.” 

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.” 

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.” 

“You do have you.” 

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.” 

“You respected that?” 

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.” 

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know. 

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing. 

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.” 

“What have you done now?” 

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan. 

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee. 

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle. 

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.” 

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you. 

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.” 

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.” 

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.” 

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.” 

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.” 

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you. 

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward. 

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry. 

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” 

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.” 

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house. 

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?” 

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to. 

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way. 

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now. 

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.” 

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth. 

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.” 

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.” 

“His name is Theodore.” 

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up. 

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother. 

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?” 

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.” 

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood. 

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her. 

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?” 

“To Theodore.” 

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.” 

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.” 

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.” 

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?” 

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.” 

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.” 

“He loves you.” 

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.” 

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right. 

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.” 

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.” 

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.” 

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.” 

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.” 

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.” 

“How have you ended up?” 

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.” 

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact. 

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?” 

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.” 

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours. 

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”  

“Thank you.” 

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so. 

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover. 

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open. 

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.” 

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.” 

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.” 

“You asked?” 

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.” 

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?” 

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.” 

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.” 

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.” 

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.” 

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.” 

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?” 

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?” 

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns. 

“Did she ever love me?” 

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.” 

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.” 

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace. 

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck. 

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing. 

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. 

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair. 

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.” 

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.” 

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.” 

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.” 

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house. 

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere. 

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee. 

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.” 

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt. 

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.” 

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her. 

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.” 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?” 

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.” 

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.” 

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.” 

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.” 

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.” 

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.” 

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.” 

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it. 

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so. 

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing? 

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance. 

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there.  At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do. 

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point. 

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her. 

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke. 

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.” 

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around. 

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face. 

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man. 

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered. 

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip. 

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.” 

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about. 

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.” 

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.” 

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .” 

“I look exhausted.” 

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.” 

“I’m. . .” 

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this? 

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it. 

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .” 

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.” 

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.” 

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today. 

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?” 

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.” 

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.” 

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it. 

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like. 

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again. 

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice. 

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.” 

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop. 

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.” 

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .” 

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is. 

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.” 

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“I could.” 

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?” 

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.” 

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?” 

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.” 

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.” 

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.” 

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love. 

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do. 

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.” 

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.” 

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.” 

“Why not?” 

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.” 

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.” 

“Do you want to marry him?” 

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance. 

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.” 

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?” 

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.” 

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.” 

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.” 

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?” 

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.” 

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time. 

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.” 

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here. 

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second. 

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you. 

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress. 

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you. 

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.” 

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes. 

“Tomorrow?” 

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.” 

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?” 

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it. 

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.” 

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day. 

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.” 

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?” 

“Yes?” 

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?” 

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.” 

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box. 

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?” 

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is. 

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.” 

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?” 

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.” 

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.” 

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.” 

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?” 

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.” 

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?” 

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.” 

“Did you ever love me?” 

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement. 

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date. 

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him. 

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did. 

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.” 

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America. 

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave. 

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?” 

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.” 

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years. 

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.” 

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.” 

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.” 

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.” 

“I love you too.” 

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that. 

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle. 

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own. 

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks. 

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way. 

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.” 

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck. 

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that. 

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?” 

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head. 

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist. 

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?” 

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it. 

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers. 

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin. 

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder. 

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?” 

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips. 

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?” 

You nod your head, “Please.” 

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience. 

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you. 

“Good?” 

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.” 

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.” 

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure. 

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him. 

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up. 

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them. 

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.” 

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting. 

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills. 

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book. 

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction. 

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard. 

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other. 

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.” 

“I love you too.” 

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.” 

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