#sometimes he even comes alone and it's just the four of them chatting about politics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?”

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?” Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,” you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

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bvccy · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

#James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x reader #40s Bucky Barnes #preserum Steve Rogers #bv;answers #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

I love your fic recs! Do you have any with Protective!Erik?

Protective! Erik is one of my favourite tropes so I have a TON of fics to share with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Protective! Erik fic recs

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – madneto, Pangea

Summary: Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

In Sound and Silence – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is assigned to care for the special patient in room 301.

How Not To Meet Your Future Boyfriend – ikeracity

Summary: Erik punches Charles in the face the first time they meet. There isn't anywhere their relationship can go from there but up.

Forgotten – FuryRed

Summary: Charles is having a really bad day. Not only has he woken up in the middle of the afternoon with no idea where he is or how he got there, but when he returns home he’s confronted by a stranger with intense eyes, who insists that he knows Charles rather more intimately than Charles remembers…

Thou Shalt Not Eat Stones – valancysnaith

Summary: Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first. One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Warning: Sensitive material, domestic abuse and dubious consent

Watch Your Back – swoopswoop

Summary: Bodyguard AU where Erik is overly protective and things aren't as simple as they seem.

If We Met Differently – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik wasn't the only mutant 'taken in' by Shaw, Erik learns this the hard way when a new mutant is dropped into his cell. They manage to escape together, but things aren't all roses after that. Erik has a score to settle and needs to make sure Charles is safe.

The Color of Love (Character Swap Remix) – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Nobody sees in color until they meet their soulmates. When your soulmate dies, your vision returns to black and white. What happens when your soulmate only dies for a few minutes?

Omega Online – miss_aphelion

Summary: Newly imprinted Charles is having trouble dealing with his overly protective alpha—so in desperation he seeks advice in an omega chat room. Emma Frost is more than happy to help, Raven isn't helping at all, and Erik can't stand to be out of touch with Charles for more than five minutes at a time.

Cannot be Contained in Words – wallhaditcoming (uvcatastrophe)

Summary: Crime syndicate head Erik Lehnsherr travels to London on business, where he meets oxford student Charles Xavier. Their liaison spawns into a years long transatlantic affair, kept apart by Erik's work and Charles' studies,which Erik chronicles in photographs. When distance ceases to be an issue after four long years, the overlap between Charles' past and Erik's work create a whole new set of complications.

A Pertinent Reminder – ikeracity, Pangea

Summary: Sometimes it's easy to forget that getting involved in Erik's mob business isn't all fine dining and sex on yachts. There's nothing like taking a couple of bullets to remind Charles of the reality.

Part 3 of the Associates series

A Dangerous Game – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: When a familiar enemy of Erik's returns to the city for some old-fashioned revenge, Charles is sucked deeper into the world of the mob than ever before.

Part 6 of the Associates series

You don’t choose the thug life (except when you do) – Anonymous

Summary: Charles is kidnapped and discovers that Erik, the Alpha he has been dating for the past few months and is head-over-heels for, is not just a wealthy businessman but actually the head of a syndicate.

He is rather unhappy about this discovery and Erik gets an earful for lying to him. Then Charles is kidnapped again and really, he hopes mating Erik won't result in weekly kidnapping because he has a thesis to finish and papers to grade.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster".

Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.

Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.

Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

Round the Corner Waiting – swoopswoop

Summary: When things go so spectacularly wrong during a relationship, Charles - now a single dad - almost makes a big mistake, only to be stopped by a mysterious man who just might turn his life back around.

Hide Your Fires – swoopswoop

Summary: As the sole heir, Prince Charles, had no problem with the roles and responsibility that would come with ruling a kingdom. Though he was the only one who did not see a problem. After years of being shuttled back and forth between kingdoms, his Regent hoping he would find a match more suitable to being King, he is finally sent to Genosha. Though the path has never been less clear than the one to a foreign kingdom with no ties to his native land.

Shaw’s Captive – swoopswoop

Summary: Magneto killed Shaw, it had to be done for the sake of mutant-kind but what he wasn't expecting to find hidden deep with Shaw's complex was a man held captive, obviously tortured, that somehow made Magneto turn into Erik.

Erik now has a potential human in his citadel as he continues the war with the human's.

Mind’s Eye Blind – Sperare

Summary: As far as Erik is concerned, if you want to scare a person into talking, you have to present him with something more compelling than what he stands to lose...

And there is nothing in the world more compelling than Charles.

Chipped – Rosawyn

Summary: Magneto's fledgling Brotherhood find Charles Xavier in a mutations research lab as an apparently willing subject for an experimental suppression device.

Okay, I Feel Better Now – Harleydoll

Summary: The AU in which Erik is sent to a mental health facility after being convicted for Shaw's murder and pleads insanity, and Charles is his paranoid schizophrenic of a roommate. Powers, Hellfire conspiracies, protective!Erik, and of course the inevitable angst.

Five Nights in Nuremberg – FuryRed

Summary: When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Notes: Unfinished but an excellent read. Highly recommend it.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

My Barbaric Darling – baehj2915

Summary: Erik is revivified caveman. Charles is the anthropologist(?) taking care of him. This is as ridiculous as it sounds. Romcom misunderstandings and prehistoric wooing ensues.

Swimming with Sharks – Not_You

Summary: Erik used to be a shark. Now he's not, and has to figure out how to be a good human father to his twins. Charles is willing to help.

Eucalyptus leaf of my soul - kageillusionz, ourgirlfriday

Summary: Zookeeper Raven at Taronga Zoo keeps having ideas on how to capitalize on interest in the zoo mascots, Koala Charles and Drop Bear Erik (the only drop bear in captivity!), who have captured the hearts and minds of the public. First it was to introduce prospective mates (It’ll generate attention, Hank. People are perverts. They’d love to see koala porn.). This idea was not effective the first through fifth attempts, as Erik and Charles seemed to show at best polite interest in the newcomer before resuming whatever marsupial debate they had going. However, the resulting lesbian koala orgies did indeed generate interest. Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Koala program, which was successful, as the public showed great interest in hugging Charles, and Charles seemed to enjoy being hugged.

Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Drop Bear program, and Hank, not for the first time, wished he had a flask handy.

Notes: Yes, they’re Koalas, yes they’re adorable, and yes, Erik is super protective even as a Drop Bear.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #protective Erik #long post

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

got my devotion || h. styles

sequel to ‘i can hate you sometimes’

warnings: mentions of sex & alcohol

word count: 2k

summary: you and harry work through your first argument as a couple...

part one.

“So, are we meant to believe that all of a sudden you don’t despise each other?” Sarah asked, her eyes flicking between Harry and yourself.

Harry shrugged, “Despise is a strong word.”

Sarah sent him a bored look, “Don’t act like you haven’t moaned about Y/N before.”

Suddenly, Mitch said, “Maybe it was more of a ‘I like you so I’ll pretend I hate you’?”

You looked between the three of them, shifting uncomfortably. Harry’s hand was resting on your lower back as the two of you sat opposite Sarah and Mitch. The night Harry and yourself had shared a few weeks ago was nothing but beautiful. And, for the most part, all of your friends had been supportive at the news of you and Harry’s sudden shift in relationship. Most people felt the same way about the pair of you: they secretly like each other. It had been somewhat of a running joke within the group that you and Harry were secretly in love. But it’s not like anybody ever expected to end up here: being presented with the news that you and Harry were somewhat of a ‘thing’. “Exactly,” Harry nodded, pointing at Mitch in agreement.

Sarah sent a cautious look towards the two of you. She sighed, as if giving in, “I mean, I am happy for the two of you. I just don’t understand how it all seemed to switch so suddenly? Like, why now? After so long you finally decide to act on however you felt before.”

The four of you were sitting at a restaurant in central London. It was fancy, fancier than anything you’d known growing up. But as soon as you’d become involved with Harry’s circle of friends (having met Sarah on a night out) it became somewhat of the norm for you. You’d worked hard not to let it get to your head, still enjoying the simplicities life had to offer. One of which, which you were sure you were truly witnessing for the first time, was love. Sure, you’d been in love before. There was the ‘first love’ with a boy named Ben, who you were sure you were in love with. It had lasted half a year maybe, but you were sure you’d felt heartbreak when it had ended. Then there was Ethan, which had been enjoyable while it lasted, but you both knew it was never anything long term. But that had been love, a love that wasn’t too hard to get over, but love nonetheless. You even still spoke to Ethan occasionally. Then, of course, there was all the minor ones in between, which hadn’t developed into anything more than dinner and sex. But this - what you had with Harry - you were sure was on the route to something wonderful. Some, perfect blossoming love. That, if it wasn't meant to last a lifetime, would certainly break, not just your heart, but you as a whole in the process. “I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “But it just felt right the other night.”

Sarah looked to you. You had been terribly quiet during dinner. It was unusual, Sarah thought, you were often bubbly and eager to bounce off everyone during most conversations. In fact, she was sure Mitch had said more than you had. She was waiting for you to say something, but she was only met with: “What do you want me to say?” you sighed.

“Just explain it to me, Y/N,” replied Sarah. “I’ve been subjected to four years of your rants about how much he irritates you. And now you’re acting as if none of it’s ever happened.”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? It just happened, and in the moment it felt right.”

“But it doesn’t now?” she said quickly. And it was then you realised she was just worried about you. Both of you. Your face softened and Harry’s tight grip on your thigh loosened. It was clear you were both just scared she wouldn’t accept whatever was going on between the two of you. But no, she just wanted the best for the both of you. You shook your head, “No, Sarah, it feels great.”

“Okay...” she trailed off; she was accepting that maybe, just maybe, you were both happy with each other. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Her frown moulded into her wonderful smile as she took a sip of her drink. And then the food arrived and all of the uneasy tension slipped into cheery chit chat.

Gradually, the more nights out you and Harry spent together as a couple amongst your friends, the more natural it began to feel. The very first one left you feeling terribly out of place. Sitting beside Harry, his arm hung over the back of your chair, the tips of his fingers lightly tracing little patterns on your arm, was a foreign feeling to you. But it was one you treasured. You got to laugh at his jokes openly now and send adoring looks his way.

For a moment, it felt like you were flying so high there was no way you could come back down.

But then the first argument came. It came two months into the little ideal world you and Harry had built for yourselves. It had spiralled from something completely harmless. Something that shouldn’t have sparked an argument in the first place. And all of a sudden, you felt as if everything the pair of you had built up came crashing down around you. And, being frank, it was terrifying. You’d been nothing but happy for two months with Harry by your side. You feared that he’d relapse and put up his cold front with you again. What if, after all that had happened, you fell back into despising one another?

He’d been round at your house, the two of you spending the evening cuddled up together. Benny had been asleep in front of the fire, twitching occasionally. Usually, cooking together (a glass of wine or two in your system) was the highlight of your week, but neither of you felt like it that particular evening. A pizza between the two of you. That was all it was meant to be, and yet it evolved into something so much more. You told him you’d pay for it - it was only a little less than £20 anyway. He told you’d he do it. But as you explained that he always paid for meals, he interjected saying something about him being the one that ‘makes the money anyway’. You scoffed, that had pissed you off. And in hindsight, you knew he didn’t mean that in a malicious way. Yes, he definitely made more money than you, but that didn’t mean you didn’t make any. You could most certainly pay £20 for a pizza.

From there, it had spiralled into a full-blown argument. You told him exactly so: that you made enough to support yourself and he should just let you buy the pizza. Looking back, you felt rather foolish for getting so worked up over a takeaway. But it was more the things Harry said; you could see the egotistical boy seeping through his tone. To cut the gruesome details, it resulted in Harry storming out of your house. He slammed the door shut behind him, waking Benny up with a harsh jolt.

You felt worse after this argument than any of the ones you’d had with Ben or Ethan. But then you’d never felt this strongly for someone before. A bigger argument with any of the others couldn’t have hurt you more than a minor one with Harry did. You were hopelessly devout to him.

For the next few days, he didn’t say a thing, nor did you. Not to each other at least. You went out for drinks with Sarah, Charlotte and Ny. It beat drinking alone in your home with Benny, who, at the end of the day, wasn’t a great conversationalist. The three women sent apologetic smiles to you as you ranted about how much he frustrated you. And, as you were groaning about him, you began to realise that none of what you were saying was true. He didn’t frustrate you to no end, not even close. Every couple went through their rough patches - their ‘stormy days’ as Charlotte liked to put it. “Couples all have their stormy days, but remember Y/N, the sun is always going to come back out again,” she’d said.

The four of you had burst into a fit of stifled giggles, realising you’d all had one too many gin and tonics. But Charlotte’s little metaphor was actually quite useful, and in your tipsy state you had the sudden urge to apologise to Harry. He was ready to apologise too, but you were both perhaps the most stubborn out of your friendship circle. So it was a case of who was going to give in first. But, surprisingly, it was Harry.

You were lying in bed, nursing the ghost of a hangover that was pounding at your forehead from the night prior with the girls. Cuddled into your crisp sheets, you desperately needed some sort of medication, whatever you could find in your bathroom, and a glass of cold water. The sound of a knock at the door was enough of an excuse enough for you to drag your stiff body from bed. Benny followed you as you trudged downstairs. You swung open the door and Harry was stood there sheepishly. Sighing, you opened the door further to allow the man into your home.

You didn’t say a word; you didn’t want to let on how relieved you were to see him. He followed you through to the kitchen as you poured yourself a glass of water. Taking a sip of the cooling liquid, you turned to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

It felt so nice to hear his voice in such a gentle way after the last time you’d heard it. Because he was a generally quiet and calm man, it was such a shock to your system to hear him shouting at you. “It’s okay,” you grumbled.

“It doesn’t sound like it is,” he sighed.

“No, Harry, seriously I’m not angry at you anymore. I’m just a bit hungover, is all,” you informed him, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Did you go out last night?” he asked, his face softening

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just with Charlotte, Ny and Sarah.”

“Do you want me to go get you some aspirin or something? I can just run down to the shop, if you want. I’ll be like five minutes,” he said, getting ready to leave before he’d even given you the chance to say anything.

“It’s okay. There’s some in the bathroom.”

And before you knew it, he was back with the half-empty box of aspirin. After taking a couple, Harry began talking again, “I really am sorry about the other night. It’s just… I’m so desperate to spoil you. Paying whenever we buy food feels like the least I can do.”

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you smiled. “I was just worried you hated me again.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s funny?”

“I’m having a moment of deja vu,” you chuckled.

He smiled cheekily, “Yeah? Well, there’s a couple of other things we could do that might give you deja vu.”

You snorted, “That’s the least enticing line I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, give me a break, I’m trying. Did you seriously think I hated you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I was just paranoid. I really enjoyed what was happening between us and I was just afraid it was ending.”

“I wouldn’t want it to end, love. I’m completely devoted to you.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry styles imagines

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engagemachine · 3 years

Text

"You're so gentle," she tells me. They all say it. I hear it from my patients every time I take their arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around it, or when I place my stethoscope on their belly, or when I rub circles into their back when I've helped them sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in three days. Sometimes they cry, because it's the first tender touch they've felt since they've been in the hospital. It's very humbling and at the same time very concerning -- why has no one else offered this tenderness to you? Why am I always the first?

But I don't feel gentle. Not when a pair of ribs are cracking beneath my hands as I'm doing chest compressions on a Covid patient who's stopped breathing--the second time I've administered CPR on a Covid patient in two days. I don't feel gentle when I'm wrestling with a patient and begging for them to keep their oxygen mask on. When I have to hold them down and hold them still so my coworker can draw a blood sample. I don't feel gentle when I'm inserting a nasogastric tube down someone's nose, then throat, and into their belly while they're gagging around the tube and their arms are flailing. And I don't feel gentle when I'm washing a sacral wound with bleach and they're crying because it hurts. I don't feel gentle when I have to shout, beg, and plead for patients to listen, when I tell patients they're going to die if they don't keep their oxygen mask on. I don't feel gentle when I have to place a patient in restraints, or when I call a family member and tell them that their loved one's condition hasn't improved. I don't feel gentle when a patient tells me they can't breathe, they can't breathe, I can't breathe, and I'm yelling for coworkers to call the doctor while I'm cycling through different oxygen masks and trying to administer medication to slow their respirations and calm their anxiety.

I'm writing this because I feel like I've been living a little bit behind a veneer on here, although I know deep down that's not really true; I have always wanted my blog to feel like a positive space for anyone and everyone, including myself. I come here to have fun and destress and that's why you usually don't see me reblogging content having to do with politics or global news. I think it's possible to create a healthy space where one does talk about those things and spreads awareness for important causes, but for me, Tumblr is where I come when I need to escape the harsh realities of real life. This is my platform where I can indulge in my fictional proclivities and interests, where I can appreciate art, photography, beautiful writing, my favorite films, music, and cute animals. That's what this space is about. I also have loved meeting new people and getting to know my readers and making new friends and chatting about my stories. That's why I'm here and I thank you all so, so much for indulging me in my passions and for encouraging my writing the way that you have: it has helped me weather the current storm of stress I am feeling in more ways than I could possibly convey.

But I have to be very honest with you all about how much I've been struggling lately, as I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point and I'm somewhat at a loss for how to handle it.

Since September of last year, I've been on an accelerated track to finish the degree I'm working towards, which is a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I've been a nurse for four years, but I graduated from a two-year nursing program versus a four-year program because I wanted to get into the field earlier than some of my peers, which has been great. Anyway, my school counselor/mentor and I agreed that I could obtain my BSN in a year if I really pushed myself. The program I'm in is self-paced, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most of my classes I have finished in about three to four weeks. Other classes, like biochemistry, took substantially longer, about seven or eight weeks, if I remember correctly. All of the classes have relied on my ability to self-teach, as there are no scheduled lectures to attend, only assigned readings and videos to watch, if you choose to do so. Fast forward to the end of May, when I went to visit some family, and, upon my return home, really started to lose some of my motivation to complete my classes. I was meant to finish my program in August (this month) but agreed with my mentor that I would take a short break and put my last three classes on hold so that I could resume the program in September. I've enjoyed approximately a month off from school, but "enjoyed" is a term I use loosely here as I was also picking up extra shifts at work because we've been so short staffed and losing nurses left and right.

Which brings me to the main cause of my stress. This pandemic has completely changed the landscape for how I administer care to my patients, and the stress of the care itself has been so utterly overwhelming at times I can hardly bear it. I broke down in tears at work on Sunday morning, shortly after 4:30 am, right there at the the nurse's station, and was sobbing so hard that my supervisor had to pull me away so that I could have some privacy. I wish I could tell you that I sobbed harder than I have in a long time--but I had sobbed at work with that same intensity just four weeks prior, only, I had been alone at the time. It's becoming a trend--I either cry at work or I cry at home--because the stress of this job has become unbearable.

I wish--I desperately wish--I could convey to you the seriousness of Covid. I think so much of the world has already decided to move on from it because they're so tired of having to deal with it and, quite simply, are ready to return to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore and when--or if--we'll ever be able to return to it. And that has caused me a fair amount of stress and anxiety in and of itself. I miss traveling so much and I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I haven't seen one of my best friends since the fall of 2018 for this reason, which kills me.

I've seen so much death. Transferred so many patients to the PCU and ICU. Frantically chased patients' oxygen saturation, trying to keep them from circling the drain. Being responsible for six or seven human lives at one time is a stress you cannot fathom unless you have done it yourself. I have cried with a patient, a young woman, who had lost her husband to Covid only hours before in the ER, a young woman who was now faced with battling Covid herself but also planning the funeral of her high school sweetheart from her hospital bed. I have wheeled a patient to the ICU so that he could say one final goodbye to his wife--married for over 50 years--before they pulled the plug and removed her from the ventilator. I have raced down the hallway with my patient on BIPAP, pushing his bed to the ICU and praying that he doesn't stop breathing on the way there. I've had to console crying family members over the phone who are worried about their loved ones, not to mention my crying coworkers who are as overwhelmed as I am. These are just a handful of experiences from the past month alone. There are so many more.

The discomfort of my job has become secondary. I expect, now, to be wearing an N95 for a full twelve or thirteen-hour shift because there isn't time to take it off. Not having a chance to pee or go to the bathroom during that time. Not drinking any water until I'm in my car and taking off my mask and finally taking a deep breath.

On a more personal note, I am continuing to lose weight and it's so discouraging. In high school I used to wear a size 2 or 4. Now, depending on the brand, I wear a double 00. My hair is falling out because of my stress. I haven't slept during the night in... I don't even know how long. I'm constantly tired. Exhaustion hits me like a great tidal wave and I am powerless to stop it. I expect now to crash during the middle of the day on my couch, only to wake up at 11pm and be wide awake for the rest of the night, and, if not wide awake, then in an out of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I have thought about leaving my job, but the idea of job hunting during a pandemic, and while I'm in school... it just makes me feel even more stressed.

I need a break, but it feels like there's nowhere to go to escape. I fantasize about some great adventure, going somewhere I've never been, but I also really miss my family and I'm scared to go home to visit.

This post doesn't really have a conclusive ending. I'm just exhausted and overwhelmed. Any prayers/thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

#text

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

If He's Lucky I'll Let Him Join

Part 6: Things shift

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this, hope you like it. I only plan on 2 maybe 3 more parts of this.

Warnings: Swearing, smut (oral female receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it kids), voyeurism, 18+

Word Count: 6600

April 8, 2021

A: Hey want to go for a walk with Felix and I?

You stare at your screen for a few minutes, the message sitting on read. Since giving Auston your number a week and a half ago he has text you three times. Two were pictures of Felix, and the third was a meme.

The Leafs had a few days off during that stretch, you saw Fred a little but you haven’t seen Auston since you left his house. You also haven’t told Fred about Auston, and since he hasn’t brought it up you don’t think Auston told him.

It’s not that you did anything wrong or cheated on Fred; you aren’t in a relationship, with either man. You haven’t talked about what you are, or where this is heading, if anywhere. The season is almost half over and you have no idea what will happen after that. Last time the season ended you barely heard from Fred for three months, and Auston almost 4.

When you agreed to sleep with Auston, you never specified it would only be with Fred, only in threesome situations. You never discussed the dynamics of you and Auston, and what the boundaries were. You know all of this.

Yet something feels wrong. Like you shouldn’t have done that behind Fred’s back and you shouldn’t keep doing it without with Fred knowing. That you should talk to Fred before you and Auston sleep together again, assuming you do sleep with him again. You don’t even know if you want to sleep with him when it’s just Auston. Not that you had a bad time, it was far from it. You just don’t know what it means, if anything.

There is so much you are uncertain of, all you know is how you felt about Fred last year. Things were going great, and you talked about summer plans. They were loose plans like being his plus 1 to a teammates wedding, going up to the Muskoka’s for a weekend with Mitch and Steph. He even mentioned a five day trip to Iceland, though that seemed unlikely to happen given the amount of planning required. But everything was heading towards a relationship until the world stopped.

And now a year later, the world is spinning. People are getting vaccinated everywhere except Canada; but they say they are coming, and the countries with vaccinated people are easing restrictions. Everything seems to be heading for a new normal, but where does that leave you and Fred?

Some nights you feel like a set of holes for him to use like target practice. But other times you wake up to Fred gently brushing your hair, legs tangled beneath the sheets placing soft kisses on your forehead or shoulder and you feel like so much more.

Intimate dinners.

Sex.

Cute text messages.

Sex.

Lazy Sundays.

Sex.

Bubble baths together.

Sex.

So much back and forth, it’s very confusing. And that’s just with Fred, you can’t even begin to understand the dynamic of Auston.

He has been a roller coaster, and not just the way he throws you around in bed. The first time he was dominant, but ended it with a soft kiss. The kiss lingered on your lips for days, your mind was swirling from it. Sometimes his eyes are dark and full of fire, but other times you get glimpses of him and that kiss.

Sure you had some feelings for Auston last year, but you told yourself they were feelings of lust. Completely, 100% sexually driven. But they were just feelings of sex right? Just the heat developing in your core from being around him fogging the sense and reason of your brain.

Auston finds moments to wrap his arms around you, placing soft kisses on your forehead or your lips. Doesn’t matter if Fred is in the other room or 5 feet away he will do it. While he drives his hard dick into your walls, he’ll have eyes dark with hunger. But after they are soft, and he doesn’t hesitate to lay soft and passionate kisses on your lips while Fred is lying inches beside you.

He exudes so much dominance, both men do. You are actually surprised it doesn’t turn into a pissing match with them, but they direct it all to you. They let you think you are in control, but the first chance they get they take over. Spilling words of venom, pulling orgasm after orgasm, juices coating their cocks and fingers.

The sight alone is enough to send you home with an ache between your legs. They are patient while you are with the other one, knowing their turn is coming. Not too patient though. But through all of it they don’t fight or get jealous of you.

Until last week ago that is, running into Auston in the elevator.

When he was hovering over you, kissing along the marks Fred had left earlier in the day, you got the feeling he was jealous you had spent time with him. You don’t know if it’s because he wasn’t there or that he didn’t like that you were sleeping with someone other than him, but he seemed bothered by it. But he would be naïve to think you and Fred only sleep together with him right?

An hour before that he was mumbling in your ear while cuddling on his couch. He looked at you like he wanted to hold you tight to his chest and never let you leave. Maybe it’s just a part of who he is, how he plays girls. You know he has a reputation around Toronto, besides his performance on the ice. There are rumours that over his first four seasons he has a revolving door of women while on road trips.

Obviously this year with Covid he has been much more mellow, no rumours or stories. But you don’t know if there is any truth to the rumours, you don’t know if he’s sleeping with other women. Not on road trips, the league has strict protocols in place for road teams. But at home they are supposed to follow local health guidelines. He could easily have another girl, and you are just someone he uses when called upon.

Maybe you are just a piece for him to bide his time with until restrictions are loosened, just an easy solution with the leagues COVID protocol’s. Or maybe he sees you as something more. Either way it’s all very convoluted.

Fingers hovering over your screen you mull over everything. Just before you go to type three little dots pop up as if he can sense your hesitation. You decide to wait before replying and are met with a selfie of him and Felix cuddling in bed, tattooed arm fully on display due to his lack of shirt. A “please play with me Y/N” text obviously supposed to be from Felix coming in immediately afterwards.

You can’t help the way your legs snap shut, rubbing together in search of friction. Or the involuntary groan that tumbles out as you stare at over his arm and down to his abs. But it’s the big beady eyes of Felix that win you over and without a second thought you quickly reply with a yes.

“Miss, I think you dropped your keys,” you hear someone call out. Ignoring it you pan around the somewhat busy street. Car horns are sirens are heard on the streets, wind howling between the buildings making the air crisp against your face. A hand gently touches your arm and you quickly spin around on your heels, wide eyed. “Sorry,” he chuckles seeing the shock on your face “I called out but I don’t think you heard me. Are these yours?”

He holds up a keychain in your view and you sigh slightly, “yes, thank you.”

When getting ready you decided to leave your purse at home, they aren’t the most convenient while walking a dog. You threw your debit card, TTC pass, phone and keys into your pocket. Arriving out front the coffee shop a couple minutes ago your hands were cold so you reached into your pocket for your gloves.

“No problem,” he smiles.

Scanning over his face you immediately notice his bright blue eyes grazing over your face. Thick flowing dark brown hair sticks out under his Montreal Canadians ball cap, a short scruffy beard on his chiseled jaw. He looks familiar but you can’t place it.

He is tall, similar in height to Auston and Fred. Even through his black peacoat you can tell his shoulders are just as wide. A red scarf gently popping out under the collar of his jacket. “I’m Josh,” he says, and you see him smile once again, instantly you think that it is just the best smile you have ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smile back.

“Can I buy your coffee? “he asks glancing to the shop behind you. “I assume that’s why you’re here,” he chuckles. “It’s not free though, it’ll cost you a half hour of your time through the park.”

You chuckle slightly, if you weren’t supposed to meet Auston in a few minutes you would struggle to say no. His wide smile and soft eyes are drawing you in, but on top of that he seems nice. Someone you would actually have a good afternoon chatting with. “I’m actually meeting someone,” you reply.

“Oh that’s a shame, I’m leaving Toronto in a few hours. Think I can get your number; take you out when I come back?”

Before you can answer you feel Felix brush against your legs and let out an excited bark. He jumps up on you almost knocking you over and you immediately feel Auston’s hands on your hips and Josh grip your elbow, holding you upright. Auston mumbles some bullshit to Felix about manners, but you ignore it. Trying to focus on the eager pup, when in actuality you feel fire ignite where their hands connect to you.

“Hey man,” Josh says to Auston releasing your elbow.

“Hey Josh,” Auston says politely stepping beside you. You immediately sense the tension, Auston puffing his chest keeping on hand on the small of your back. Josh’s gaze flicks between you and Auston a little, realizing this is the person you are meeting but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. You take a harsh swallow, the cold Toronto air burning your throat.

Tick tock, tick tock.

You have no longer how long you all have been standing there, likely only a few seconds but time feels like it has stopped. The only sound besides passing cars is the excited whines and yelps Felix lets out while he circles around your feet. Shifting awkwardly you stare between the two men not wanting to be the first to make a move. Finally Auston clears his throat glaring at Josh, pulling you in tighter to his chest. So close you can smell his cologne.

“Well I’m going to grab my coffee. Nice meeting you y/n,” Josh smiles, stepping around you to go through the door.

“A Hab really?” Auston jokes kissing your cheek, following Josh with his eyes until the door shuts behind him. His lips are warm on your cool skin, eyes look slightly heavy from the previous night's game, and dark curls pop out under the toque he’s wearing that barely covers his ears.

“What?” you ask confused, bending down to pet Felix who is still enthralled by your presence.

“Josh,” he nods inside and you shake your head shooting him a puzzled look. “That’s Josh Anderson. He plays for the Montreal Canadians.”

“Oh that’s why he looked familiar,” you say glancing back inside briefly, you watched the game last night and you remember him. He looks a little different without the equipment or covered in sweat, but his thick hair and smile is what stood out to you. Felix takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek causing you to laugh and look back at Auston. “You watch him for a sec so I can get our drinks?” Auston asks, handing you the leash.

Josh comes out first saying goodbye to you and giving Felix a few pets before making his way down the street. Auston is out not too long after, 2 paper cups in hand. You try to hand the leash back, but he tells you to keep it, feeding you some line about Felix being happy to see you. You know Felix doesn’t care who holds his leash, he is just happy to be on a walk but you aren’t going to object.

It’s only been two days since you saw him. Fred watched him for the Leaf’s short road trip and you spent some time over there during it. While Fred went to physio you would take him on long walks, walks too long for Fred and his knee right now. Fred joked about how close you were thinking it’s the first time you met him.

You took naps on the couch and played with him. He followed you around everywhere, whining and clawing at the door when Fred locked him out for an hour. When you finally opened the door he almost tackled you with his excitement. That night when you went to go to bed he climbed between the two of you resting his head on your chest while you fell asleep, gently petting the top of his head. Every time you saw him Felix would be more excited than the last.

“Thought you Canadians are inferior to the cold,” Auston jokes when a strong wind gust blows from the lake and through the streets. Shivering you pulling your zipper up further, pulling your toque further down your ears.

“Lets go warm up, my place is only a couple blocks away,” he puts a hand on your back to guide you. It’s the smallest contact, a slight brush against your back before his hand falls into his pocket for warmth. But through your jacket and sweater your skin burns from the ever so slight touch.

Stepping into the lobby you instantly feel the warmth of his building hit your face. “You had a good game last night,” you smile knowing he can’t see it through your mask.

“Woah you actually watched,” he teases, pulling his mask over his face.

“Yeah, you know hanging around hockey players all the time figured I should watch a game or two,” you joke. “You know with not teaching I have some spare time.”

“I’m glad you find time in your busy schedule to watch me on TV.” You give him a playful nudge hitting the button for the elevator. “How is it going with work? Find anything yet?” he asks, bending down to give Felix some pets for patiently waiting.

“No, all schools in Ontario go 100% online Monday so there are a lot of us in the same situation right now across the province. I’m sure something will come along I’m not too worried right now.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure something out,” he says looking up at you. His black mask is covering half of his face, but from the creases beside his eyes you can tell he is smiling at you. Before you can reply you hear the doors creak open and turn your attention to it.

You notice a body in the elevator who shifts into the corner to make space. Taking a step in you are met by a tall man with broad shoulders, hood of his Nike sweater pulled over his red hair, mask covering half of his face. But you immediately recognize the eyes, stopping you in your tracks.

Auston walks into your back not realizing you stopped and Felix jumps up at his feet. Fred stares at the two of you for a second with a look of confusion, blinking a few times. Like he doesn’t believe it’s actually you behind the mask; but his eyes soften and he turns his attention to the eager pup. You shift uncomfortably, eyes darting between Auston and Fred. Auston looks unphazed a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“What’s going on?” Fred asks standing up, still petting Felix’s head.

“Just grabbed some coffee,” you say quietly.

“Yeah just hanging out,” Auston adds in. “What about you?”

“Just getting home from the rink, was gonna see if you wanted to hangout.”

Auston glances over at you briefly before back to his friend, “yeah for sure man,” Auston replies. Stepping off the elevator on Auston’s floor the three of you head towards his apartment. The two of them chat about something from the game last night, almost oblivious to the fact you are there while you trail a few steps back.

Once inside Auston takes of Felix’s leash and wanders to the kitchen to get him some fresh water. Fred lingers once his shoes are off watching you remove your jacket and boots. Once you hang up your coat Fred’s hands are on your hip backing you against the door, handle digging into your back, “you two having fun.”

His words hang thick in the air, stepping closer he pushes you in further, his breath hot on your neck. When you don’t reply he squeezes your hips, driving the handle further into your back causing you to hiss out a yes. His musty cologne and hot breath has moisture pooling between your legs, the only thing holding you up is his nails digging into your skin.

“Hmm,” he hums as you take a few uneasy breaths. “How long has this been going on smuk,” he places soft open mouth kisses on your neck waiting for you to reply.

“Uh...” you stutter, voice catching in your throat when he nips your skin. “Just the,” you mumble groaning, “one other time

“Cute,” he mumbles placing a kiss to your cheek, the edge of his lips brushing the corner of yours. Pulling back slightly he smirks at you and turns his gaze down the hall, smugness plastered on his face while he locks eyes with Auston who silently watches the exchange.

Your chest heaves and you swallow dryly taking a minute. Without another word he leaves you trying to catch your breath while he walks down the hall. Craning your head slightly you see Auston at the other end watching the entire interaction. Expressionless he follows Fred to the couch, as you try to compose yourself.

You don’t know why but you contemplate walking down the hall and saying you aren’t feeling well and heading home. But that seems obvious. And Fred didn’t seem mad did he?

The three of you sit on the couch, Felix circling, constantly bringing someone a toy or whining for pets. It’s a lazy afternoon and easy, the boys watching some golf tournament that you have no interest in. Fred mindlessly runs circles over your ankle while they chat, your head resting on his pillow.

His touch is soft but soothing. Every circle he draws you feel your blood pressure drop before you finally are at ease. Fred is smiling, Auston laughs at something he said. Everything seems fine, like you worked yourself up over nothing.

“So y/n has the hots for Josh Anderson,” Auston says part way through golf which immediately catches your attention, turning your gaze from Felix to the boys. Auston has a smug look plastered on his face while he winks at you, and Fred has a dark mischievous grin.

“Oh yeah,” Fred grins as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Apparently we aren’t doing a good enough job,” Auston grins and your eyes go wide. You hear Fred laugh lightly squeezing your ankle tightly.

“Never said that,” you whisper, so faintly you aren’t even sure you spoke. Fred’s hand on your ankle tightens and he pulls you so you’re back is flat to the couch. Quickly his body is on yours, pinning your wrists to the couch at your side.

“Is that true baby? Are me and Auston not satisfying you? Not fulfilling your needs?” he murmurs eyes locked down at you. His chest presses into you, the air around you shifting. You try to swallow, but your throat is dry being starved of saliva.

“Pretty sure he asked you a question princess.” You didn’t even notice but Auston moved across the room, his mouth is millimeters from your ear.

Tilting your head slightly, you feel a hand on your jaw holding you in place, forcing your gaze up to Fred. You aren’t even sure whose hand it is until you feel the leather bracelet brush your neck and immediately know its Auston.

“What do you say man, should we take her to your room? Show her how good she has it,” Fred doesn’t pull his eyes away, while his comments are fully directed at Auston. Another display of his dominance over you making the slick between your legs build even more. “Make her regret even mentioning thinking of him”

You practically can hear the smugness oozing off the man beside you, only answering a quick but firm, “yes.”

Fred’s body is off yours as fast as he was on you. In an instant he easily throws you over his shoulder, carrying you down the hall to Auston’s room. Once back on your feet they begin to remove your clothing. Fred on your right, Auston on your left, both sucking on your neck working in unison; articles of clothing littering his bedroom floor, leaving you in just your matching underwear. If it wasn’t for the two hot bodies pressed against you goosebumps would be popping all over your body.

Auston unclasps your bra, sliding his tongue along your collarbone. Fred sucks on your neck when you hear fabric ripping, your underwear being torn off of you. Fred smirks against you, knowing you have been on them for all the shredded underwear they have left you with over the last three months, but neither seems to care.

Auston’s hand makes work of your breast, massaging and pinching the nipple. Gently rolling it through his thumb and index finger while Fred manipulates your legs apart, thrusting two thick digits inside of your folds. The unexpected nature causes you to whine while both men chuckle against you.

“Most women would be happy to have one man and you have two” Auston murmurs.

“Let’s make sure she never thinks about him again,” Fred sneers. Your head falls back and you begin to moan louder, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of you. Auston’s other hand roams your back, sliding down to your ass, giving you firm squeezes to roll your hips forward further onto Fred’s digits.

If it wasn’t for both men on either side practically supporting your entire body weight, your knees would buckle. Fred pulls away slightly to get a better look at you, to watch you fall apart over his fingers. Your gaze meets his and his pupils are dilated, black with lust.

Increasing his fingers, thumb finding your clit you know you won’t last much longer. Incoherent thoughts are all you can manage, whimpers and curse words falling from your lips.

“Hear how wet you are princess?” Auston’s mouth is pressed against your ear. One hand cupping your breast his other firmly squeezing your ass. “Freddie’s hand is coated because of you,” he mumbles, you head a chuckle from the man on your right.

“This is nothing,” Fred asserts, but before you can process the weight of his words your orgasm crashes over you. Knees trembling, walls fluttering; blood pulsates through your body causing you to groan loudly.

As soon as you come down the boys release you and you almost fall over. Walking like a newborn deer on ice, you make your way to the bed while both men quickly strip. There must have been a silent exchange because Auston is quickly sitting in the middle of the mattress pulling you towards him.

Your back is to his chest and you can feel his hard erection pressed into your back as he brushes your hair aside exposing one side of his neck for him. “How many do you think it’ll take princess?” he hums his voice soft in your ear. “How many until you can’t even remember Josh’s name anymore?”

His words go right to your core, vibrating through your folds. Your chest heaves and your body shudders thinking of his statement. You know the question is rhetorical, but even if you had a number it wouldn’t be enough.

Fred stands at the end of the bed, eyes switching between yours and the slick dripping between your legs. Every time his eyes drop they stay a little longer, licking his lips at the sight. You begin to feel like a piece of meat and both men have been starved of food for weeks. You move your legs to close them, but Auston’s hands quickly grip your thighs holding you open for him.

Fred shakes his head while Auston rasps, “you know better than that princess,” in your ear; digging his thumbs into your flesh. Your entire body shivers and you take an uneasy exhale, knowing you are in for it. Quickly Fred crawls onto the bed, making his way towards your heat while someone, you aren’t sure who, bends your knees. Fred places soft kisses on the inside of your thigh and knee. The thought of what he will do has you dizzy. Flattening his tongue he licks up the mess from before, your entire body jolts but Auston firmly grips your legs open holding you is place.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles as Fred laps up all your juices. A few more licks and Fred thick fingers find your heat, curling back inside you “taste so good hun” he adds.

Throwing your head back against Auston’s shoulder you groan “fuck,” but all it does is give him a better view.

“Look at you taking Fred’s fingers,” Auston hums as you feel Fred’s mouth attach to your clit. Auston’s voice is hot and heavy, Fred’s fingers hitting your g-spot with every thrust and soon your second orgasm is building deep inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss while Fred’s tongue circles your clit, swirling in a figure eight on a continuous loop.

“You gonna cum again princess,” Auston says in your ear. “Coat his face?”

Incoherent sounds fall from both sets of your lips. You’re so wet that the obscene sound of his fingers fucking in and out of you makes your entire body heat up. Between both of their sinful mouths, Fred’s attached to your cunt and Auston’s whispering a string of filth on your ear, you are right back on the edge. Your heels dig into the mattress and it’s only a matter of time. Auston’s mouth purring in your ear, Fred’s tongue carefully circling your clit is more than you can take.

Your second orgasm rolls through you, little fires exploding in your hear. Fred slows slightly to draw it out while Auston holds you firm against his chest and you tremble in his embrace. His dick twitches against your back watching as white spills out. You sag against Auston’s chest, body tingling as your juices coat Fred’s face.

Pulling away from your heat your fog begins to settle. Fred has a dark smile, his beard coated in your slick heat. “What do you think does she need one more? Or should we fuck her ‘til she can’t walk anymore?” Fred says to Auston.

“She definitely needs one more,” Auston replies, hands digging harshly into your thighs keeping them spread apart.

“Ungh,” is all you can whimper in response, closing your eyes to take a few uneasy breaths while your legs relax, falling back to the mattress.

There must have been an exchange between the two or maybe you are still coming down from your high and don’t hear the question, but you do hear Auston say, “all you man I’m really enjoying the view.”

A hand is on your throat pulling your face away from Auston’s shoulder. Next a pair of lips are on yours, in a hot and hungry way. Immediately you know it’s Fred; not from the facial hair but the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Fingers are thrust back inside you, but your groans are swallowed by Fred’s mouth. Auston throws his calves over your shins, keeping you spread for his friend while his hands trail up your body. One finds your breast, the other finding your clit, thumb concentrating on pressing harsh circles into it.

Your pussy quivers at the contact it all becoming a lot. It’s almost too much. And then you feel Auston’s mouth on your neck and you know its game over. Being sandwiched between these men, fingers and tongues all over your skin has you pulling away from Fred for some much needed air.

“Holy fuck,” you moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, beads of sweat are rolling down the valley of your breasts. Your scream gets ripped from your throat and your vision goes white, wave after wave of euphoria rolling through you. Both men groan as your warmth spills around Fred’s wrist and onto the bed.

“God you are so beautiful when you cum,” Auston groans in your ear.

“Bet Josh would never make you feel like that,” Fred mumbles, finally pulling his fingers from you. Grabbing your jaw he forces your mouth open, shoving his fingers inside for you to lick clean. You have barely caught your breath and almost choke, but quickly work to clean your slick from his finger.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he purrs. Pulling away he lands beside you on the mattress, Auston quickly crawls out from behind. Falling backwards landing on the mattress, Fred brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead mumbling something to you in Danish.

Before you can react Auston in between your legs, hands on the back of your ankles pulling you closer, his throbbing tip pressing against your entrance “Remember the word,” Fred asks.

“Yeah,” you barely manage to say, throat incredibly dry.

“What is it,” Auston asks, waiting to continue.

“Yellow,” you manage to whisper through some uneasy breaths.

“You okay,” Auston asks, and you turn your head to stare up at him with a nod, tears resting in the edge of your eyes.

“You have to say it,” Fred says softly.

“M’okay” you say smiling at the softness of the two men, no matter how dominant or aggressive they are they always make you’re okay.

With that Auston thrusts inside your walls, Fred’s handiwork providing an easy lubrication so he gives you no time to adjust. Snapping his hips he sets a fast pace eyes dark and staring between your legs, watching his thick cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt. Pulling your bottom lip through your teeth you whimper, warm tears now rolling down your cheek.

“Just be thankful he is letting you off easy by being on top,” Fred winks rolling onto his side gently pressing his lips into your shoulder.

Wrapping your legs around his waist he snaps his hip, “figured she could use a minute,” he grunts. “But only a minute,” his hands are on your hips and he forcefully pulls you back increasing his pace causing you to cry out.

“Y/N,” Auston calls forcing you to whine as your head turns. “I think you should say thank you to Fred for taking such good care of you earlier,” he nods down to Fred’s hard member resting beside your hand. You honestly don’t think you could do much even if you tried, but when you slowly turn to meet Fred’s gaze he smiles at you.

“It would be nice if you said thank you skat,” Fred mumbles, sucking on your sweet spot beside your ear. Reaching out you wrap your hand around his length giving him a few slow tugs.

“Faster baby,” Fred mumbles, his words vibrating through your body. You try to set a fast pace, but Auston quickly has you distracted. Every thrust is hard and deep, brushing your g-spot before he pulls back. He knows exactly what he wants, each thrust calculated as he drags his cock along your walls. Every time he pounds into you your hand stutters around Fred’s length, but he’s loving it, smirking against your neck.

Each time Auston hits your g-spot you squirm and he is getting off on it. His eyes getting darker and darker, a grin tugging on his lips a little more each time. Fred continues to pepper your collar bone with kisses before working his way down your chest and back up again. His mouth is everywhere when his thumb attaches to your clit.

“Fuck Fred,” you jolt from the contact.

“Pretty sure it’s Auston making you feel this good,” Fred mumbles in your ear. “He’s the one with his dick buried inside you right now.”

Every statement is accompanied by harder faster circles on your bundle of nerves. Nails gripping your hips harder, cock sliding in and out faster. “He feel good baby?” Fred hums. “He feel good stretching you out? You’re taking him so well, you gonna cum all over his cock?”

“Fuck she’s close,” Auston announces as if you and Fred didn’t know. Releasing your hand from Fred’s cock you feel your body erupt around Auston’s dick.

If you thought the first three were intense, the fourth is pure fireworks. Every extremity is tingling and you feel lightning bolts erupt inside. Your walls flutter and both men groan as you disintegrate under Auston, melting into the bed. Neither man stops and soon you are met by Auston’s sticky warmth flooding your walls. He grunts and slows his hips, a few shallow thrusts and he spills everything he has inside you.

Fred pops his head up and looks towards your cunt, watching his friend coat your insides white. Momentary confusion crosses his face before turning back to you. Apart from the first time which Auston didn’t mean to, he has never once spent inside of you. Always spilling on your ass, tits or sometimes thrusting his cock inside your mouth so you can swallow it down. He doesn’t know when you and Auston fucked last week you told him can doesn’t need to pull out. He doesn’t know how every time over the past three months you have a moment of disappointed when Auston pulls out of you. How you are excited for your pussy to overflow with a mixture of both men’s cum.

Auston pulls out and falls beside you and Fred’s face softens. He smiles at you, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lip as he takes in your face. Absolutely fucked out and flush, hair a mess, splayed across the bed, makeup likely smeared down your cheek. Licking your lips you pull Fred’s face down for a searing earth shattering kiss.

Your hand tangles into his roots, his thumb drawing circles just below your ribcage. Tongue sliding into the others mouth and you tug harder trying to pull him on top of you but he doesn’t budge. Instead he falls onto his back pulling you on top of him.

“We all can’t go easy on you,” Fred winks while adjusting you over him. A mixture of sticky white fluids spill out and onto Fred while he lines himself up.

“Got one more in ya princess? You gonna cum for Freddie like you did me?” Auston asks and you shake your head, body barely functioning at this point.

“Oh baby we all know you do”

“Umph,” you mewl as he easily pulls you down, Auston’s cum spilling out around his girth.

Your hand quickly lands on Fred’s stomach, his abs covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your breath hitches when he bucks his hips while you try and take a minute, slowly grinding your hips, trying to compose yourself as best you can.

“Cocks not gonna ride itself,” Auston chortles from beside you.

Your eyes go wide and Fred smirks, shooting you a wink, you start rising and dropping around him, Fred bucking his hips to press deep inside you. Feeling his tip almost in your belly a slew of curse words fall from your lips. With every thrust you can feel more of Auston’s cum spilling out. A part of you thinks Fred thrusts up and pulls your hips down so harshly to fuck it out of you, but either way you are heading back towards the edge.

“That’s right take me deep baby,” Fred praises his back arching off the bed slightly.

You can tell he is enjoying watching you squirm above him. Your overly sensitive cunt barely able to take any more. Luckily the time you spent with your hand wrapped around him earlier means his high is close too.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Fred praises.

“You gonna cum for him like you did for your me, huh? Milk his cock for all it’s worth?” Auston asks, drawing your gaze to his dark brown orbs. You had almost forgot Auston was there, you are barely able to focus on Fred the pound driving up into your cervix let alone the man beside you catching his breath.

“Mmgh, I don’t… I don’t think I can,” you keen helplessly into thin air.

“Yeah you can, princess,” Auston urges gently.

Auston sits up pinching your nipple and you hiss from the friction his hand is causing, mouth grazes along your throat, his mustache brushing it ever so slightly. You don’t need him, Fred’s cock driving into your throbbing pussy with every thrust. Fred will get you there, but Auston’s mouth on your neck, hand on your nipple sends you catapulting over the edge.

Fred’s hands dig into your hips and Auston’s arm catch your body as you tremble above his friend. Auston spews filth in your ear, Fred mumbling Danish praise below you, but you hear none of it. Vision whiting out, ears filled with a high pitch ring as Fred fucks you through your high. Wave after wave of ecstasy overwhelms your body, Fred gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before painting your walls white. The two men support you while Auston slowly lowers you onto Fred’s chest while you catch your breath.

Auston leans on his elbow beside you, brushing your hair drenched with sweat from your forehead. Both you and Fred are breathless, clammy with sweat as his dick softens inside of you.

“So you learn to keep other guy’s names out of your mouth,” Auston sneers .

“I was obviously joking,” you groan while Fred brings a hand up to lightly draw on your back.

“Wasn’t very funny,” Fred adds.

“One Andersen is more than enough,” you try to push off of Fred put he tightens his grip wrapping his arm around your back, pulling you back down to his chest.

You hear Auston’s feet on the wood floor, and he returns a minute later with some water and a damp wash cloth. Fred gingerly lifts your body, sliding his cock out as some cum spills out. Once off him, Auston hands you the glass and Fred the towel who gently wipes between your legs while you whimper from the contact.

Auston having found some boxers, pulls a t-shirt over your head and pulls you back into the bed with him. Lying on your side you curl into his arm, using his tattooed bicep as a pillow, your hand lying on his chest. Fred crawls in behind you, hand on your hip, warm breath on your neck.

You hear the click clacking of Felix’s nails on the wood floor as he gets closer. The bedroom door finally open, he lets himself in jumping onto the bed and curling up between your legs and Auston as you all quickly fall asleep.

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pegasister60 · 3 years

Text

AU where Tubbo just decides to start taking L’Manberg apart, plank by plank.

No “forever unfinished symphony.”

No “this country goes down with me.”

No “it was never meant to be.”

It was a mistake to rebuild it. He’s going to rectify that.

He built most of it himself. It’s his nation.

That means it’s his job to take it all down.

I want a tired Tubbo that just asks to borrow someone’s netherite axe. Then he just turns around and starts removing the podium.

Dream shows up sometimes.

Dream offers him things.

TNT.

Flint and steel.

Fire charge.

Tubbo politely declines every time.

This is his choice.

—

It’s sort of like when Tommy realized the disks had gotten in the way of everything. That he’d said something he immediately corrected by giving up his disks.

Except that hasn’t happened here.

No festival has happened.

The community house still stands.

But as the days go by, less and less of L’Manberg can say the same.

—

L’Manberg was never what it was meant to be.

It was never a special place where people could go and emancipate the tyranny and brutality of their rulers.

It was a place where people died. Over and over. From festivals and executions and wars and revolutions.

Even after every president promised change. Promised better.

It’s always been the same.

Well, it won’t be for much longer.

Because Tubbo is going to do what Wilbur tried to do.

He’s getting rid of L’Manberg.

One plank at a time.

—

He takes breaks to eat. Munching on pies that Sam brings sometimes.

He takes breaks to sleep. On the most stable parts that still stand, with the axe he’s using beside him as he stares at the stars.

Ranboo comes by sometimes and offers water bottles.

Tubbo will stop every so often to pull out splinters or shift the folded uniform that’s cushioning his knees as he removes another board.

There’s only so many left now.

—

Fundy hasn’t come by in a while. Neither has Niki or Eret.

Quackity, however, comes by everyday.

He used to try to tell him to stop. Tried to take the axe away or talk him out of it.

Tubbo stopped listening. It’s what he should’ve done ages ago.

It’s nothing against Quackity. Quackity’s just trying to protect L’Manberg.

And Tubbo has nothing to say that will convince Quackity to do anything else. He never has.

So he doesn’t speak. Keep working. Works around him, even.

Quackity stopped trying to stop him after the third day. Now he just watches from the hill.

Tubbo’s not sure if the quiet’s better.

—

It might’ve seemed like overkill to anyone else. But Tubbo knew it was necessary.

He took the axe that he’d been swinging for days now. One that wasn’t even his own.

And he struck a tree.

And he did it again.

And again.

Until he had a pile of lumber at his feet and a sign he wiped the writing off of.

Seemed a bit of a waste to put this wood with the rest of it. So he did the next best thing.

He made a lovely seating area.

A smooth, polished oak table. Four sturdy chairs. And an umbrella that could be slotted into the center of the table with colorful fabric from the lanterns.

Amazing how much could be done with a single tree.

—

Then it’s over.

Everyone was notified that they needed to move out or else their stuff would be placed by the Prime Path.

Ghostbur and Ranboo were the first ones to heed the warning. Chatting as they moved their chests and pets to somewhere else.

Tubbo’s not quite sure what Ranboo told Ghostbur about what was going on. It might’ve been the truth, might’ve been a lie.

Quite a few people had their stuff moved near the Prime Path with chests to distinguish which belong to who.

Well, they could come pick it up whenever they fancied.

Tubbo was done. And he’d be going now.

—

Tommy and Techno are treated to quite the sight when they sneak over under invisibility potions to see what’s been going on.

Or rather, they see nothing.

The crater’s the same size it’d always been, even if it’s drained of water now.

Tommy assumes Dream’s done this. Demands an explanation.

Dream shrugs.

No one ever did ask Tubbo why he did it.

—

It’s after days of traveling that he happens upon the swamp.

The one he decides to settle in.

The very same day he arrived he got into a dispute with the witch who lived there.

She wanted him gone, she said. It was her home and hers alone.

He was tired, he said. He couldn’t travel a chunk more.

They work something out.

He’ll bring her supplies for her potions. He’ll start farms for the ingredients she needs and to feed them. He’ll expand the house and make it look nice so they can both fit.

She won’t kill him. She’ll let him stay. She’ll teach him how to brew the right way, she says.

Tubbo’s taken worse deals.

He accepts.

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zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 7

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing

After Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing met, Zhang Yiqing once asked Bai Ming a question. He asked him: "What are your dreams?"

When he heard this question Bai Ming immediately beamed. He met Zhang Yiqing’s eyes and answered earnestly and solemnly, "my dream is you."

At this, Zhang Yiqing was momentarily taken aback.

"I'm seriously asking."

Bai Ming, "and I'm seriously answering."

Bai Ming indeed was serious. Before encountering the doors, he'd already been a fan of Zhang Yiqing, obsessively devoted to that handsome man onscreen.

Bai Ming collected Zhang Yiqing's every movie, every drama, and every commercial. And when he found out that Zhang Yiqing was quitting the silver screen to direct behind-the-scenes instead, Bai Ming went crazy for a good long while.

During that while, nobody in their organization dared to go through doors with him. They all knew Bai Ming was the sort of person capable of doing anything on a bad mood.

Back then, Bai Ming had not yet been the boss of their organization. He had just been a plain and simple door-crosser, though the potential he emanated often gave his fellow door-crossers the sense that he was no small-pond creature.

Bai Ming's family situation was more complicated. He'd lived at an orphanage since youth, and had only been found and brought back home after he turned twelve. Only then did he learn that his father was actually a rich man, and the reason his father brought him back had nothing to do with paternal devotion, but rather because his brother needed a healthy liver.

This sort of bloody melodrama was what befell Bai Ming.

The truth was, prior to actually meeting Zhang Yiqing, the two of them had seen each other once before.

It was at a cocktail party hosted by the Bai family. Bai Ming had stood in a corner, small and thin, and watched as a smiling Zhang Yiqing chatted with his father. Zhang Yiqing had been young back then, and had just recently snagged Best Actor—there was still a touch of youth in his appearance, but the unparalleled splendor of his later years could already be seen.

Bai Ming had stared at him for a long time, many thoughts flashing through his mind. At this point he was already a fan of Zhang Yiqing's movies, but was too nervous to just walk up and start talking to him. He could only gaze from afar.

And later, Bai Ming met the doors, so he'd thought that there was only ever to be the one encounter between he and Zhang Yiqing.

But fate was always an extraordinary thing. After many years of hard work, Bai Ming had staked out quite a position for himself in the world of the doors. One day, a good friend suddenly asked him: "Bai Ming, you like Zhang Yiqing, right?"

Lit cigarette hanging between his lips, Bai Ming vocalized a lazy, "mh."

"He's started entering doors too," his friend told him. "Want to consider taking him on?"

Bai Ming's head twisted to stare at his friend.

"What did you say?"

Looking innocently back at him, his friend repeated himself.

Bai Ming extinguished the cigarette and laughed, "this isn't a joke, is it?"

Of course it wasn't a joke. The moment he saw Zhang Yiqing again, Bai Ming knew that his dream was about to come true.

Zhang Yiqing, who had retreated behind the scenes, was no longer as tender as he'd been in his youth. He was no less handsome, however. Like an aged bottle of wine, he and his charms had not faded with time, in fact had begun to emanate a unique fragrance of maturity.

All competent people have arrogance, and Zhang Yiqing was a proud standout in his industry. He'd taken the laurels for Best Actor four times, not to mention countless other awards, both large and small. The year he turned to directing, the country had even nominated him for Best Director.

The only shame was that after encountering the doors, his fate was forced to take a sharp turn.

"Hello, I'm Bai Ming." The two sat face-to-face, and Bai Ming held a hand out to Zhang Yiqing with a smile. His smile was sincere, and paired with that harmless-looking face, there really was no visible aura of an apex predator about him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Naturally, Zhang Yiqing was fooled by Bai Ming. He took Bai Ming's hand and said, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Zhang Yiqing."

"Oh," Bai Ming nodded. "I've seen your movies."

Zhang Yiqing smiled politely. He likely thought Bai Ming was just a normal fan, or perhaps not even that—Bai Ming may just be an audience who had seen his movies in passing. But much later, when Zhang Yiqing saw that room stacked full of his own works, he would finally realize that Bai Ming was nowhere as harmless as he made himself look.

Of course, at this point, Zhang Yiqing was not aware of anything. He saw the headful of natural curls, the unsophisticated grin, and really took Bai Ming for a gentle-natured young man…

At this point Zhang Yiqing even failed to understand why everybody in Bai Ming's organization was so scared of him, to the point where Zhang Yiqing thought there really must be a misunderstanding…

Inside and outside the doors, Bai Ming did not change much. His personality stayed genial. When confronted with malicious words or even malicious people, he was never even vicious in return.

Sometimes, Zhang Yiqing even thought Bai Ming was being too nice, and would step up to protect Bai Ming.

"You're too well-tempered," was something Zhang Yiqing once said. "Nice people get taken advantage of. Harbor no intent to hurt, but preserve all instinct to caution!"[1]

Bai Ming listened to Zhang Yiqing's reprimand and said, beaming, "Zhang-ge's right to scold me."

Zhang Yiqing didn’t know what went through his head then, but seeing Bai Ming's well-behaved smile, he reached out and gave that head a pat. Only after touching Bai Ming did he realize the gesture didn't seem quite right, and so he coughed once, before explaining, "it just looks good to touch."

Bai Ming just blinked his eyes noncommittally.

Bai Ming's hair was extremely fluffy and truly peak touch quality. Just seeing it made people want to pet it. But there really weren't that many people who’d dare to pet a tiger—Zhang Yiqing was one of few, though at that time, he had yet to discover the fact that Bai Ming was a ferocious beast, and not some adorable kitten.

But fake was fake in the end—Zhang Yiqing was no idiot either. By the time he became aware of the incongruities about Bai Ming's person, the two of them had already grown closer.

Zhang Yiqing had noticed the oddity and even joked about it, saying, "Bai Ming, how come I've discovered that anyone who crosses you gets struck with misfortune?"

Bai Ming batted his eyes at this.

"Don't they deserve it?"

At his smile, Zhang Yiqing froze. Zhang Yiqing had only been joking, but after careful thought, a layer of cold sweat began to dot his back. Because as far as he could remember, ever since he and Bai Ming started entering doors together, those who had wronged Bai Ming were not simply "unfortunate," they were all…dead.

That's right, dead. Dead via various odd accidents. Some things may seem accidental on the surface, but—upon multiple occurrences—could no longer be mere coincidence.

Incidental became inescapable after a certain point.

Having realized something, Zhang Yiqing looked once more to Bai Ming, and found that the young man who was once so easy to read now seemed something of a stranger.

The good thing was, that feeling only lasted for a moment, because Bai Ming grinned and scooted closer again.

"Zhang-ge, come get hotpot with me tonight?"

"Sure," Zhang Yiqing agreed.

The relationship between the two of them was still ambiguous at this moment, but one could die at any time inside the doors. Zhang Yiqing saw clearly Bai Ming's devotion to protecting him, and so the two got closer and closer—until one day, when Zhang Yiqing went to a party.

As a heavy hitter in the entertainment industry, there were naturally many people lined up to take a ride on his coattails. That was why that day, a coworker introduced him to a beautiful young woman.

Though Zhang Yiqing rejected her immediately, Bai Ming, who'd come along for fun, still saw everything.

Oddly enough, against Bai Ming's gaze, Zhang Yiqing felt a sense of guilt. The party hadn’t even been over when Bai Ming pulled Zhang Yiqing alone into a break room. Zhang Yiqing wanted to resist at first, but discovered that he wasn't at all Bai Ming's opponent—he was picked up and brought along as if he were a sack of rice.

"Does Zhang-ge have someone he likes?" was what Bai Ming asked him.

Zhang Yiqing said, "no."

"No?" Bai Ming said. "Then what's the deal with her?"

Watching Bai Ming's expression, Zhang Yiqing had the thought that the person before him seemed a bit drunk. He licked his lips, and spoke hoarsely: "I don't like her."

"You don't like her, but you'll still have her?" Bai Ming asked.

Zhang Yiqing opened his mouth, wanting to explain. But when the words got to his lips, the pride in his bones was for some reason set off by Bai Ming's accusatory tone. He lifted his chin and, with a cool expression, forced down the anxiety deep in his chest.

"So what if I will?"

Bai Ming pressed a hand to his lips, got closer, and hummed, "but I'll get angry."

Zhang Yiqing's brow furrowed.

Bai Ming, "I'll get very…very…angry."

Zhang Yiqing was just about to ask and so what if you get angry when Bai Ming shoved him onto the break room sofa. Bai Ming's fingers picked apart the first button on his shirt, and the man looked down at Zhang Yiqing from high above. His voice when he spoke was colder than anything Zhang Yiqing had heard from him.

"I don't want to wait anymore."

Zhang Yiqing's eyes went wide. This was the first time he became aware that Bai Ming and that harmless youth he thought he knew were two completely different people.

"Zhang-ge," Bai Ming said. "I like you. Do you like me?"

Zhang Yiqing swallowed, and he didn't answer Bai Ming's question. He only said, "calm down a second…"

Bai Ming watched him. "You also like me, right? You just don't want to admit it…But even if you don't admit it, that’s alright." He smiled, as handsome as an incubus. "It's fine as long as I like you."

Everything that happened after that was unspeakable.

By the time Zhang Yiqing once again regained consciousness, he was limp all over. Bai Ming had him wrapped up in blanket and was placing him into the car. Seeing him wake, Zhang Yiqing beamed.

"Zhang-ge, you're up? We're headed home now."

Zhang Yiqing wanted to speak, but found his voice nearly gone. He recalled something, and a smudge of red appeared over his cheeks as he grated out: "Animal."

Bai Ming batted his eyes. "Zhang-ge, are you calling me big?"

Zhang Yiqing, "…" He surrendered.

Bai Ming, "no worries, it's only 3AM. There's still plenty of time when we get back."

Zhang Yiqing wanted to retort, so Bai Ming caught him by the lips. Bai Ming's kiss was rough enough to turn his mouth an evocative red.

Zhang Yiqing went dizzy with the kiss. It was only then that he had the faint realization that he…seemed to have caught the attention of someone incredible.

Translator’s Notes:

害人之心不可有，防人之心不可無; idiom that literally means, “you can’t have intent to hurt people, but you can’t not be guarded against people.” The two phrases have parallel rhythms Chinese (note the four middle characters are identical), so coming up with a translation that mirrors that to some degree is both fun and difficult.

[Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(3)] | [Extra: Tan Zaozao]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #ugh sorry i got so fucking busy #disregard the tags on my last post TTT #tzz coming next chapter #we'll end as god (xzx) intended #i'm sooooo intrigued by BM and LQS's friendship

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

concubine nhs pt8 / on AO3

It’s always nice when Nie Mingjue comes to visit, and it’s always awful.

Most days, Nie Huaisang can pretend that he’s doing fine. Three years is a long time to get used to living like this, and he doesn’t miss the world outside the imperial palace, because there's nothing beyond those high walls. As long as he can believe that, he's fine.

On the first year of his life as a concubine, the emperor took him along when he went to the summer palace for the hotter months of the year, but that went poorly. In the summer palace it was too hard to avoid imperial relatives, ministers, and all manners of people eager to get in the good graces of Nie Huaisang, hoping it would give them influence over the emperor. Nie Huaisang had to ask to return to the capital, to hide in his little house where nobody can use him for their own schemes. The year after, the emperor eventually gave up when Nie Huaisang refused to return to the summer palace.

It's easier like this.

There's nothing outside Nie Huaisang’s little house.

There's nothing, until Nie Mingjue comes to visit and brings the world with him.

In those last three years, Nie Mingjue has visited five times. It is always the most exquisite of tortures when they are alone together. Nie Mingjue won't put up with his brother's attempts to cut himself from everything that's outside the palace, and tells him about what life is like out there.

He talks about the war, about home, about the people Nie Huaisang once counted as his friends. The Jiang siblings are doing well, he'll say, and Meng Yao, whom he stole from Nie Funyu, is the best personal servant he's ever had and will get promoted. The Wen have besieged Yunmeng for two month and nearly got in, until Wei Wuxian came up with another of his stratagems and saved the city. Last month, Nie Mingjue captured Wen Xu, who chose to kill himself with poison rather than be dragged in front of the emperor or used as a hostage. And just like Nie Huaisang suggested last time, they're sowing discord among the Wen's ranks, which might give them a chance to weaken them, and then perhaps they'll be able to get to the Nightless City before the end of the year.

When Nie Mingjue arrives, Nie Huaisang is always subdued at first, and reluctant to hear about these things. It no longer concerns him, he's already doing his part, he can't get involved, concubines who do politics never end well, and… and Nie Mingjue doesn't care. He continues talking until Nie Huaisang, his curiosity awakened, finds himself asking questions because Nie Mingjue is the worst storyteller, always leaving things so vague, forgetting important details.

Maybe he does it on purpose, so Nie Huaisang will become hungry for more, hungry enough to ask about this world he's become so good at forgetting, his question growing more and more precise as the afternoon passes. He needs to know what Wei Wuxian did exactly, how dangerous it was, whether it can be reproduced somewhere else. How was Wen Xu captured? What became of his wife and son? Are they really hoping to get Wen Zhuliu to their side? And what about that city they’d captured last year, do they still have it? Why not use it then?

Nie Mingjue smiles and answers everything, so Nie Huaisang continues asking more questions. Like every good caged bird, he knows more than one song to please those around him, because not everyone wants to hear the same tune.

There is only one topic that Nie Mingjue normally avoids, it might truly hurt his brother. At least, he usually avoids it. But not this time. This time, perhaps because the end of the war is finally on the horizon, Nie Mingjue asks his brother if he’s happy.

The question takes Nie Huaisang by surprise.

Of course he’s happy. He’s well fed, he has everything he can ask for, clothes and ink and books, he’s even going to have birds, his very own birds, all because he mentioned in passing his childhood love of them, and so the emperor decided to build him a whole aviary, all for himself, one where other people won’t be allowed to pester him.

Who wouldn’t be happy? Who wouldn’t be satisfied?

Nie Huaisang would have to be stupid to be unhappy.

But he can tell, also, that this isn’t what Nie Mingjue wants to hear. Nie Huaisang has become a little too used to reassuring people and being what they want him to be. The emperor likes to have a loving little songbird who worries about nothing. Nie Mingjue likes people to be clever and determined, to be independent.

It’s so easy to be what Nie Mingjue wants him to be. To say that no, he’s not quite happy, but willing to endure it all for the good of the empire. It’s not even a lie, Nie Huaisang is glad to be useful, and he’d do this even if he hated it, as long as it can help his brother.

“I’m going to take you back home someday,” Nie Mingjue, so fierce that it startles his brother. “The day Father dies, I’ll ask to have you back, I swear.”

Nie Huaisang hesitates. Home is an odd concept. Home is here, in his perfect little cage, living his perfect little life, happy in the arms of a perfect man who would give him the moon. This is home. It has always been home. It will always be home.

Home, he vaguely remembers, is also a great house where he was always busy. A place where people talked to him just because he was there, or because they had a task for him to do, and it was all they expected of him. He remembers laughing and sharing gossip, he remembers going fishing with some other boys. He recalls his aunts and uncles, working in his father’s home or in the nearby town, feeding him candies, asking after his studies, reminding him to be a good obedient son. And there were also evenings spent with Nie Mingjue when he was there, listening to his tales from the border, sharing jokes, being comforted by him when he missed his mother.

Home was all this, once, but now that feels like someone else’s dream.

Nie Huaisang scolds his brother for speaking like this, for not understanding that, much like wild birds kept too long, he’s not sure he could survive outside his cage anymore. He’s happy here. He’s home here.

Nie Huaisang knows he’s lucky, and he knows he must protect his brother, so he quickly changes the conversation to something safer, and waits for the emperor to return. Then Nie Mingjue will see that Nie Huaisang is, in fact, happy enough, that the emperor is good to him, that this little cage is a great place to live.

Everything always feels better when the emperor is there.

It's odd that the emperor isn't there yet.

Eventually, some servants arrive carrying a meal for Nie Huaisang and his guest, as well as an apology from the emperor who cannot join them. Something came up, as happens sometimes. Nie Huaisang is sad, as he always is when the emperor cannot join him, but Nie Mingjue's company makes up for it. They chat some more about the war, using weiqi stones on a map to imagine how things might go. Nie Huaisang, who plays the Wens in black, almost wins that little game.

"You're really wasted as a concubine," Nie Mingjue says as they tidy everything.

"Maybe, but the food here is better than in the army," Nie Huaisang laughs.

Nie Mingjue doesn't come the next day, and neither does the emperor. The two facts are linked, since they and some other ministers are stuck in a council that lasts until nightfall. Nie Huaisang misses both of them, but knows it’s already lucky either of them has any time at all to waste with him.

Nie Mingjue does come the day after, but it's to say goodbye. He really only came to the capital to ask for more funds and more men. The war is going well, but if the Wens find out that he's gone they could try to take advantage of his absence, so he cannot linger.

Again, the emperor cannot join them. Three days without a visit is unusual, but not unheard off. Nie Huaisang tries not to show that it depresses him, for Nie Mingjue's sake. His brother understands when this whole thing is about duty, but gets puzzled or angry whenever Nie Huaisang tries to explain that he truly enjoys the emperor’s company because it is also about love.

He thinks Nie Huaisang is lying.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t like being lied to.

It's easier to just say the right things, to be what others expect him to be. It's the best way to ensure that people never stop loving him.

There's no lying in that, Nie Huaisang figures. Not really. He really is the loving little bird who loves poetry and painting. He is also the dedicated little brother who studies the war and guesses at its outcome.

He's never lying, and it's his own fault if he's too complicated to be loved as his entire self.

The emperor doesn't come.

Four days is a long time, unheard of.

The emperor doesn't come.

Five days now.

The emperor doesn't come.

But his brother does, on that sixth day, because the prince has never yet missed one of their weekly meetings.

"Has anything happened recently?" Nie Huaisang asks him, trying to sound calm and collected.

The prince likes the quiet. Usually Nie Huaisang respects that, copying the behaviour of his guest, silent and elegant, wanting the prince to like him. They rarely ever speak while having tea togethr. But today, Nie Huaisang is too worried to keep his mouth shut.

The prince throws him a puzzled look. He puts down his glass of tea, slow and elegant and irritatingly perfect.

"You don't know?" the prince asks in a voice devoid of emotion.

"Know what?" Nie Huaisang asks, wishing for once that he'd made more connections . He doesn't even trust his servants with any confidences, worried they might turn against him given a chance, but maybe that was a mistake. He's relied too much on the emperor as his only source of information about the palace, and now…

"I don't know either," the prince clarifies. "But he stopped visiting you. It has been noticed. A dispute?"

Nie Huaisang shakes his head. The last time they saw each other, the emperor was in an excellent mood. He seemed so happy that Nie Mingjue was coming to the capital, so excited to see his old friend again. It had been a happy night, they had chatted and laughed, they had gone to sleep holding each other close… in a rare stroke of luck, Nie Huaisang had even briefly woken up early enough to see the emperor as he left the bed the morning after, begging for a kiss before going back to sleep.

“Did he have an argument with my brother?” Nie Huaisang wonders, before shaking his head again. “No, da-ge would have said… Could your uncle have been pushing him to get a wife again?”

“He would visit you more, not less,” the prince calmly argues, starting to look puzzled as well. “I hope it does not last.”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Nie Huaisang says with a polite bow. “When I find what I have done wrong, I will endeavour to improve myself so I do not disappoint again.”

The prince says nothing. He picks up his tea again, finishes it, puts down the empty glass again.

“It will not last,” the prince says. “Brother cares too much.”

That’s the end of their conversation. The prince has obligations, and cannot stay. Nie Huaisang, ever the polite host for his brother-in-law, thanks the prince for coming, apologizes for bothering him with private matters, and promises again to do better in the future and avoid worrying anyone.

He’s then left alone again, and feeling lonely in a way he hadn’t in a long while. The emperor isn’t visiting on purpose, then. The prince did not say it exactly like that, but if the emperor had merely been busy, he would have said so. Has Nie Huaisang done something? Did he fail to do something? But it’s so odd. They’ve never had an argument, not really. The closest they’ve been to that was disagreeing here and there on the value of a poet’s work, and even then they’d always made up again before the evening was over.

It makes no sense.

Still there is that hope, however frail, that the prince might talk to his brother. Maybe he will complain against being dragged into their private life, and demand that the emperor sort this out so he doesn’t have to deal with Nie Huaisang’s emotional outbursts again. Or perhaps he’ll be nicer than that. The prince did seem concerned, and apparently he likes Nie Huaisang, or at least gets as close to it as he can ever get, so perhaps he will put in a kind word to his brother about that poor neglected little bird, all alone in his pretty cage…

But the emperor doesn’t come that night, and Nie Huaisang, alone in a bed too cold, struggles to fall asleep.

Then, after a week, while Nie Huaisang is reading the commentary to a military treaty, there is a knock on the door.

When he opens that door, the emperor is there, severe and distant like a true son of heavens, showing no hint of the gentle and tender man Nie Huaisang is used to seeing inside his little house. He is terrifying and distant, almost reminding Nie Huaisang of his father. Reminding him, also, who this man he loves truly is, when he's not playing pretend with him in their little house.

“We must talk,” the emperor says in a cold voice that tolerates no defiance.

And just like that, Nie Huaisang knows that it’s over.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #concubine au #well now we're all caught up to the first chapter yay #and all this just because I'm procrastinating on my time travel fic lol #but also yeah this au might go quiet again as I try to figure out where this all goes next

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w0wie · 3 years

Text

Percy Weasley Fics

(this is a new updated version)

key: *ongoing, !!personal favourites, AO3:

‘Percy take the wheel’ by kittysmith *!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033613/chapters/32322168

description: “A freak accident with Arthur's enchanted Ford Anglia causes a minor explosion and a major change in the Weasley household. With Arthur in a coma and Molly having passed away, Bill and Charlie can't afford to quit their jobs and must support the family from afar. Thus, it falls to Percy to handle the day-to-day, even if he's not sure that he can.”

‘Changeling’ by Knitwrit *!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929301 description: “Percy wakes up one night in the middle of a forest, alone and scared and in a body that seems smaller than it should, surrounded by the burnt remains of a powerful magical field.Is Percy crazy? A Seer? Was he attacked by a madman? Why does he have memories of things that haven't happened yet? Why doesn't his magic work the way he think it should?An A.U.”

‘Rather start a family than finish one’ by Elumish https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971645 description: “He knows, knows deep in his soul, that if Potter ever wanted to take over Britain, he could do it, and most of them would probably just cheer along.”

‘Invisible bruises’ by HPfanatic12 * https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288980 description: “Set during the summer before HBP Percy Weasley is eager to move on with his life and become the extraordinary person he knows he's meant to be. Too bad he didn't know that sometimes our deepest desires are the most dangerous.”

‘Unspeakable Truths’

by Irisen

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1139222

description: “Voldemort is stronger and the second wizarding war destroys the world as both Muggles and magicals knew it.

Percy Weasley, theorician and magical researcher manages to go back in time to try and find a way to save his family from the horrors of the battlefront. Unfortunately, he's no duelist and no great hero, so he'll have to find a clever way to get rid of any threat to them. The "clever way" he eventually chooses ends up leading him down a very, very dark path.”

listen to the warning (this fic can get heavy at times.)

‘Percy Weasley and the Operation of Saving the World’

by Maximillian

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779286

description: “Percy Weasley loves his family, and when he dies for his youngest brother, he has a chance to save his family from their greatest heartache. It's just a happy coincidence that he gets to save the wizarding world too.”

‘A real boy’ by theWitchBoy1832 https://archiveofourown.org/works/22731898 description: “Percy Weasley, or Marceline Weasley as he is known to his family, cuts his hair. He packs his brothers' clothes in his suitcase. He changes his name to Percy. He just doesn't know how he'll handle his family or life at Hogwarts as his new self.”

‘A new spring’ by likehandlingroses https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247547 description: “The 2014 Quidditch World Cup is looming, and Viktor Krum has come out of retirement to fulfill his life's ambition: to win a World Cup. The entire world is buzzing at the news--including Rita Skeeter, who is convinced Viktor has a love affair that he's hiding from the public eye. Astonishingly, she's correct. However, Viktor still has one trick up his sleeve: a lover that no one--least of all Rita--would suspect.”

Fanfiction.net or other:

‘The scarlet pimpernel’ by Elyse3 https://redhen-publications.com/pimpernel.html description: “ ‘The Redheaded Pimpernel’ was a theory which generated a fair bit of interest during the period between the release of Order of the Phoenix and that of Deathly Hallows. The main gist of it was that — unknown to Harry and his friends — Ron’s brother Percy was spying for the Order from within the Ministry.This story is not based upon that theory. It does not propose that Percy was spying for the Order. It does not propose that Percy was spying for anybody. It does propose, however, that he possessed a highly-functioning conscience.”

‘Catharsis’ by A'Jes' Blue https://m.fanfiction.net/s/219124/1/Catharsis description:

Perciver:

‘Weasleys and the Oliver Development’ by BoiJustLetMeBe * https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853377 description: “I just love the Weasleys and Perciver. The fics with * in the title were kinda the original ones planned for this series and follow similar head cannons, rest are just me having fun :))”

‘A Secret The Forest Keeps’ by Gay_Natasha_Saves_The_World * https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339511 description: “If anyone knew they would disapprove. A faun from an anti monarch family and a betrothed prince from the flower kingdom. The forest must keep secrets from themselves and from others. (A faerie au)”

‘Twenty-nine’ by Endrina !! https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468571 description:”A story about murder, the power of writing lists, the interest of the press, the politics of the Department of Magical Transportation and the struggle of being Percy Weasley.”

‘Ben Folds's Series

’ by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/681

description: “ Wherein book 7 is completely ignored because wars don't tend to happen so quickly; Percy Weasley runs a safehouse [because that's as close to administrative work as you can get in a war], and everyone gets a chance to play minor character bingo. Get your cards and markers ready!”

(both of these fics are more focused on plot rather than perceiver but I highly recommend you give them a read!)

‘The Maybe Non-Eventful Life of Percy Weasley’

by MalSpinningYarns

*!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482022

description: “Percy Weasley was living a normal life in London, well as normal a life you can have when your younger brothers are famous YouTubers and you have four other siblings, until his old school mate and now-famous rugby star Oliver Wood came out as gay. And Oliver wants to reconnect. Now Percy's being dragged into a world he know nothing about and his siblings certainly aren't helping.”

(muggle AU)

Fanfiction.net or other:

‘Percys pain’ by TheNotSoMutantTurtles https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3617688/1/Percy-s-Pain description: “Bill, I know I am the last person you ever want to hear from; I'm the last person anyone wants to hear from. but I'm not writing because of that, I'm writing because... remember the year I started Hogwarts and you told me to owl you if I ever had a problem? does the offer still stand after everything I've done? because I believe I may have a problem.” ( written pre-HBP. major trigger warning for homophobia/)

Misc:

Authors who write Percy-centric stories that are worth checking out: KittyWhiteCat on AO3, Gay_Natasha_Saves_The_World on AO3 (Or @lesbian-percy-weasley on Tumblr), @tamaha on AO3 and Tumblr (also check out the group chat ‘justice for Percy Weasley’ for more fic suggestions!)

#Harry Potter #percy weasley #perciver #the weasleys

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tomurasprincess · 4 years

Text

A Caged Dove Part 2 (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not.

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader Rating: T+ for this chapter, but E+ for future ones. Chapter Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, suggestion of forced marriage, murder Series Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, breeding, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stalking, yandere Word Count: 3.1k Note: Fairy Tale AU. (Still more Grimm than Disney). First part was my event entry into the @bnhabookclub, a group I am so happy to have joined. This series is actually something that I am really proud of, and I’m glad that it seems to be getting such a good response. I hope you all like part 2! Thank You: To @thewheezingwyvern, who continues to discusses this idea with me for hours, albeit with less screeching now that I’m actually posting. Woman, I really appreciate your help. @jojosmilktea, thank you again for making the gorgeous banner for me! I am but a humble peasant compared to your banner making, and must bow to the queen.

One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Finale)

You are being led to your assigned bedroom in the Todoroki castle, a large extravagant room unlike anything you've ever experienced back at your own home. The ceilings are tall and vaulted, with a gorgeous ornate fireplace along the back wall. A large four-poster bed dominates the space itself with a canopy hanging from all four posts. When you step into the bathroom, you notice the large claw foot tub in the middle of the room, and you find yourself immediately wanting to use it.

It has been a long day, and you were barely able to fix yourself up for the meeting properly. A fact that is unusual, considering the nature of this meeting. The royal family sometimes take days to meet with guests, even ones they summon. Having an immediate meeting with him left you off balance and feeling very unprepared for the meeting.

And as for Prince Shouto himself, you really don't know what to make of him. On one hand, you can see the Todoroki royal bearing about him, the kind of manner you would expect from the heir to the throne. On the other hand, you see something in his mismatched eyes that you do not like. Something dark and possessive. It worries you in a way that you cannot explain, but there is nothing to do right now but play along.

Play along and hope that Prince Shouto will come to his senses, drop this madness. You are no fit companion for the heir to the throne, no future queen to sit beside him. There are far better options for one such as him, and you do not want the kind of responsibility this will lead to. You just have to prove to him that there are better options for him. Or at worst, wait for your parents to return from their trip and explain that you do not want this. Even the Todoroki family, as powerful as they are, cannot ignore the right of noble parents to refuse a match.

You sigh to yourself as you go to bed, hoping a better answer will come to you in the morning.

~~~~

You are woken up gently by someone calling your name in the distance, and you blearily open your eyes to see a handmaiden standing beside your bed. You realize quickly that it's not your own that you brought with you on this journey, and you instantly inquire about that. "Excuse me, but where is the girl from my household?"

"I am terribly sorry Princess, but I was summoned here to take care of you for your rendezvous with his Royal Highness," she gives a deep curtsy to these words.

"You are dismissed," you say gently, "I would prefer to use my own handmaiden. She already knows exactly what to do in order to get me ready for such a big event."

The handmaid's face turns panicked, her eyes flicking about as if she's worried that someone will hear what you said. "I am terribly sorry Princess," she whispers, "but I must be the one to do it or I could face a reprimand."

You recognize the word reprimand the way it's intended, the hidden meaning behind it clear. She will be punished, most likely severely, if you don't allow her to finish this task. Refusing or failing a task given to you by the nobility can have horrible consequences, even with the kind hearted royal family.

You give a sigh as you roll gracelessly out of bed. "Alright then, you may assist me." At your words, the panic leaves her face and she gives you a bright smile. What kind of punishment would make her so scared, you wonder, her fear being so intense that it makes you worried.

You shake your head before realizing that there is nothing you can do for her and that there is no way to find out. She seems too timid to get any real answers out of. You allow her to lead you to the bathroom with little complaint as she helps get you out of your nightclothes and into the bath. She helps you with every aspect of cleaning your body, of washing your hair, picking and laying out clothes for you. Then she assists you with putting on every piece of clothing before applying your makeup and fixing your hair.

By the time she is done with all of this, you almost feel like going back to bed. Taking this much time to get ready every morning is exhausting, and it's not something you need to do back home. She leads you to a full length mirror against the wall of your bedroom and encourages you to look into it.

What you see almost takes your breath away at the woman staring back at you. You are in a gorgeous, floor length ball gown, a dark red color with traces of silver swirling through the pattern. The jewelry is all silver, rubies inlaid in every piece in such a way that it almost looks like drops of blood woven into the metal itself. Your hair has been kept long, but with braids here and there that have been wrapped around the back of your head like a crown. You have never worn such finery in your life, never looked so beautiful. The perks of being courted by a prince, you suppose.

"Thank you, you did a wonderful job," you compliment the handmaid. "And I suppose it's your job to take me to Prince Shouto, as well?" You realize what you called him as soon as the handmaiden's eyes get wide and frightened, and you belatedly realize that you don't know if he gave you permission to call him that outside of being alone with him. You decide you need to confirm that one way or the other when you meet him, lest you get yourself in trouble.

The woman wisely chooses to ignore your possible slipup, merely nodding at you as she motions you through the door. You walk through several long, empty corridors, as you quietly take in the sights of the palace. You have never been here personally, but you have heard the stories, and it truly does live up to the reputation of splendor. Maybe a bit too much splendor, you laugh to yourself, as you can't imagine living here regularly.

Finally you reach your destination, an open air courtyard within the palace gates. It is surrounded by beautiful flowers of all different types and colors, and a large cherry tree in the middle of the area. It's under the tree where Prince Shouto stands waiting for you. He is in his full prince regalia, his suit jacket and pants black with silver accents here and there. An elaborate sword hangs at his waist in a gold scabbard. You glance up at his face to see him already looking at you, a small smirk gracing his face as he notices your attention.

You make your way slowly towards him, stopping at the acceptable range for a noblewoman of your station. But Prince Shouto does not seem to care about such a thing, as he immediately moves even closer to you, the distance between you bordering impropriety. This is the distance a husband and a wife would be from each other, you think in alarm. You try to take a step back, but he simply grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist. He takes one slender finger under your chin to tip your face back so that he can stare into your eyes.

Your heart is pounding as you're frozen in indecision. Nothing about your training tells you how to react when a prince ignores all manner of modern decency to pursue a lower class noblewoman. Your eyes dart back and forth, a pathetic plea for help as you know no one would dare go against the Crown Prince.

He lets out a small growl that brings you back to attention, and you find yourself gazing into his eyes at the heat that lay in them. "Look at me, Princess," he whispers, "and no one else."

Your eyes widen at his possessive tone, and you try to think of a response until he suddenly pulls away completely. His face is back to his neutral look, and it's as if you never saw the darkness, the fire in his eyes.

Before you leave the garden with him, he reaches up to pluck a blossom from the tree right overhead. You give him a questioning look before he reaches down to tuck it into your braids. You reach up to gently touch the flower in your hair, before giving a slight smile at the rather boyish gesture. He smiles back at you and offers you an arm, and left with nothing else to do, you take it.

The next few hours are pleasant, if nothing more than idle chit chat. You take a pleasant stroll through the gardens as he explains the castle grounds. You occasionally drift into castle drama with one noble or the other, but never anything controversial. To your surprise however, he seems very interested in your own opinion on various political issues. Even when you two disagree, he listens to your opinion and even modifies his opinion when he finds you made a good point. This is rather pleasant, you think to yourself. Maybe your instincts were wrong after all.

"I am delighted that you agreed to go on this date with me, Princess."

You inwardly roll your eyes at the statement, but bite back a retort. You both know that you had no real choice in the matter.

"It has been rather pleasant, Prince Shouto. I am surprised, however, that you take my opinion into consideration. I am not as familiar in the area of politics as you are, as my own territory is small."

"You again do yourself a disservice. You are quite well read, and even in this talk we have had today, you have proven yourself to be a rather quick learner. Anyone who reads as much as you do must be. It is a surprise you have had no one court you before me."

"Thank you, Prince Shouto, that is very kind of you to say. That means quite a lot coming from you, someone who has been groomed for politics and ruling all his life." As you say this though, something strikes you as odd about what he said. "I'm sorry, but how do you know that I read a lot? Or that I haven't been courted."

He smirks as he shrugs his shoulders in a distinctly un-prince like fashion. "Oh, it is simply known. Many people talk about the Princess who would prefer to read in her library over getting married."

"That is not entirely true, Prince Shouto. If you don't mind me saying, of course," you hastily add. "There was one who wanted to court me, a local noble in my territory. But something happened to make him drop everything, leave the country."

Prince Shouto's gaze turns dark, almost murderous. "Is that so? Are you talking about the foolish noble who tried to run to the country of one of our enemies? He tried to steal something from the crown, was found guilty of treason and was swiftly executed."

You stare at him in horror as you try to reconcile his words with the friendly, sweet man who had wanted to marry you. You thought you had loved him, was looking forward to a life by his side. For him to be convicted of treason, to be dead, it left you speechless.

"I - I did not know that," you say quietly. "How did you know?"

"It is my job to know what's going on with my country," he says impassively, "and what's going on with people who try to take what's mine."

The wording of this strikes you as odd. Stealing from the crown was a capital offense, but the prince seems to take it almost personally. As if it was an attack on him directly. You shake your head and chalk it up to one of the many strange facets to Prince Shouto.

He takes you to an unknown building on the last stop of the tour and leads you down a long corridor until you reach two huge double doors. He pushes them open, motioning you inside. As you walk through the door, you can't stop yourself from letting out an audible gasp.

The room is a library, although that is a poor description for the vast beauty of this place. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line every wall, with tables and chairs in the middle for sitting and reading. On the far side of the wall sits a little reading cubbyhole, similar to what you have at home, for when you want to hide away from the world and immerse yourself in a book.

You forget all sense of manners as you rush away towards one of the bookshelves, turning your back to a prince in a shocking breach of decorum. But as you turn back to apologize, you don't miss the way his face is flush with pleasure at your enjoyment.

"Please continue, Princess," his smile turns sharp, "this room is for you, after all."

"What, what do you mean this room is for me?" You ask in confusion.

"As my wife, this library will be all yours."

Your eyes light up a bit at the thought of all of this being yours, although you're still slightly confused by his statement. But you decide to take his comment about continuing at face value, and you walk hurriedly to the first bookshelf you see before gently running your fingertips along the shelves. They are full of books that you love, all of the classics and nonfiction, the romance and the horror. You wander through the whole library, checking every section and simply breathing in the smell of old books.

But you notice a disturbing trend as you go through the library, something that becomes more and more obvious as you look around. This is not a complete library by any means. But the genres, the books that are missing, are all the ones that you do not like. You glance at the classics section, and notice all of your favorite authors are here, and the few who you dislike are conspicuously missing. The same with some of the nonfiction. Whole genres of books are missing, entire sections of authors.

As you get to the back section of the library, things become even more chilling. An entire bookshelf, full of all the books you have wanted to read but could not for one reason or another. There are classic first editions here that you could not buy even with a year's worth of your family's salary. Some of these are even books you had piled up by your bed, waiting to read.

You whirl around in horror as the dawning realization hits you, and you come face to face with Prince Shouto. There is a gleam in his eyes that makes you understand that he knows precisely what you just realized. "What is the meaning of this," you try to make your voice come out strongly, but instead it comes out in a low whisper.

"I told you," he wraps an arm around you as he pulls you flush against his body, "this is going to be your library." His smile turns dark as he adds the next part. "When you become my wife."

When. Not if. No room for argument. No wiggle room. Just an absolute statement from the heir apparent of the Todoroki Empire. "You said you were given permission to court me," you try to say reasonably, "but saying when makes it seem like it is already decided. When my parents return from their diplomatic mission, I can always make them withdraw their permission."

He laughs outright at that, a motion that you can even feel being pressed so closely against him. "Ahh, my poor naive little princess." He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear that has loosened from your braids. "You assume that you'll even be given a chance to talk to them."

It feels like your heart falls all the way down into your stomach. "You can't keep me prisoner here," you try to say, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. You are within the Royal Palace, in the arms of the Crown Prince. If he doesn't wish for anyone to see you, excuse after excuse could be made. And his family is so well loved that every single one of them would be believed.

You are trapped. Completely and utterly trapped. You can see no way of escape from this no matter how hard you try, and your breath begins to come out in short gasps. You can feel the walls closing in on you, as if you're being placed inside a cage from which you cannot escape.

If he notices your panic, then he gives no indication. He leans forward and kisses the top of your head. "I promise you, being married to me will not be so bad. You'll have everything you've ever wanted." He pulls you in for a heated kiss, his tongue deftly sliding into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. His hand comes to the back of your head, cupping it firmly so that there is no way out.

When he pulls away, your cheeks are slightly flushed, and you gasp for air. "Prince Shouto, please ---"

"There is a better word you can be using now, you know," he interrupts you.

A better term? You don't know what that would be as your mind struggles to keep up with everything that is happening. You try to slow your mind down, try to think of what he could possibly mean. And it finally hits you. You glance at him and see his amusement as he motions for you to go on.

A tear rolls down your face as you whisper the damning words. "Prince Shouto, my - my husband."

He smiles in sheer contentment at hearing those words from you, words that he's longed for ever since he first laid eyes on you. "Ah, now there's my good princess," he whispers as he kisses away the tear from your cheek.

A good princess, you think bitterly. You will not be thought of as a good princess when you free yourself. You only wish you could see the look on the prince’s face when he realizes his caged bird flew away.

~~~~

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @shoutogepi, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @mimikarasu, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @hoefortodo, @mhafanfics19, @oktamaki, @daringbanshee, @otaku-explosion, @hellomary16, @vanillaicebaby, @theravencawsatmidnight

#shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #yandere shouto #yandere shoto #yandere bnha #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #eventual smut #a caged dove #bnhabookclub

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