#was like okay i found the pen lets go!

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

[lex-the-flex]

coriolanus snow being jelly/ needy and demanding attention,,

been obsessed with him lately tehe <3

“You’re staring again, Coryo.” You announce through your focused state.

"Sorry, Y/N. Can't help it." He says, tossing his pen on the table.

Closing your notebook, you let out a sigh, rubbing your face in mere frustration. Leaning back in your chair, the study room’s ticking clock provides a low level profile for getting work done. But in this case, you were far more than ready to give up.

“It’s not fair! Why must our professors give us an essay and two projects to work on? Do they think we’re robots?!” Arachne questions, throwing her history book on the table.

Turning to face Coriolanus, you widely opened your eyes, hoping he shared the same annoyance at Arachne’s endless complaining. Thankfully he did. Offering you a small smile, you turned back to the study group.

“Because we’re preparing for the 10th Hunger Games. We need to know the importance of the games.” Clemensia replies.

“Besides, we’re all going to be mentors next year. So this is vital for the University. They accept any students who wish to be mentors.” Sejanus adds, leaning onto the table.

“Okay, Mr. Plinth Prize. Please spare us of your wisdom and can we please go get dinner before the mess hall closes?” Arachne asks, standing from her chair.

“Yes please! I’m starving.” Clemensia responds, grabbing her bag.

Standing from your spot at the table, you notice that everyone has practically bolted out the door: except for Coriolanus.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asks, grabbing his bag.

“Yeah, just exhausted, that’s all. I feel like I’m reaching my limit, Coryo.” You respond.

Following Coriolanus to the mess hall, you were so deep into your conversation that you stopped paying attention to the stairs. Upon reaching the second to last bottom step, the sole of your shoe got caught, and you started to fall forward towards the carpeted floor.

Unable to stop yourself, Coriolanus jumped in and leaped forward. Swiftly catching you in his arms, you couldn’t help but yelp at the action.

“Are you alright? What happened?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I think I just slipped.” You reply.

Glancing up at Coriolanus, his worried face and scrunched brows made your stomach turn with excitement. His icy blue eyes were forever locked onto your own e/c orbs and his once neat blonde curls were now draped over his forehead.

Keeping his arms gently around your forearms, the echoing ambiance of the mess hall seemed to fade, until Arachne interrupted.

“Oh what do we have here? Some new lovebirds in our midst no doubt.” She teases.

“Leave them alone.” Sejanus called out.

Finally letting go of Coriolanus, the two of you fixed your uniforms and promptly headed to get dinner. Waiting in line for your food, you couldn’t help but feel Coriolanus’ grip on your shoulders. As your heartbeat slowly started to return to normal, you refused to let Arachne’s constant jokes get in your head.

After all, you had better things to worry about.

Returning to the study room, Coriolanus offered to carry your meal, so once he opened his paper bag, you rested your hand on top of his to make sure he didn’t let go.

“There. Thanks, Coryo.” You replied.

Briefly pulling your hand away, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you. He wanted to keep you here, with his hand in yours. But he hesitantly let go, as he knew that the study session was almost over.

Finishing your meals, you let Clemensia proofread your essay, to which she found was brilliant. After a while, you noticed that Coriolanus slowly moved closer to you. And after a few minutes of concentrated silence, his fingers began to brush along the trim of your jacket. Facing him, he promptly motioned toward his pile of notes.

“Can you explain this to me, Y/N? I don’t know what this line means.” He asked.

Leaning closer, you ended up sitting on the edge of your chair. Offering his hand on the small of your back, Coriolanus gave you his full attention as you started to explain the poem to him.

#thanks anon! #thank you lovely anon #thanks for the request! #Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic #Coriolanus snow request #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[primalsharkman]

Petty? Pretty.

Kim Chaewon x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[Enemies to Lovers, Academic Rivals, Fake Dating]

Word Count: 5,385

You sighed as you put the pen down at the table. It was your final exam for the year, meaning that all your hard work has officially paid off. The projects you made were certainly extraordinary, definitely leagues apart for the company you were in. However, the pressure of coming in second was like a pump shotgun being shot into the back of your head multiple times. You know, you cannot let Chaewon win again this year.

Of course, Kim Chaewon. The school's greatest academe mind since, ever. Always getting the top grades, the top approval, and all the top boys. The latter which, you really didn't care for. But she had the run of the mill, taking the best with her for her own pleasure. Stories and rumors of her taking the university's quarterback spread around like wildfire. She'd deny it, but everyone knew otherwise.

You roamed around the halls in deep thought, the heavy weight of your books in your hand was very aching, but you were close to dumping them into your locker.

"Finally..." You sighed after arriving at your locker and opening the combination, and only then dumping the books inside.

Vacation was on your mind, but you knew the year isn't over yet. A familiar scent was on your tail, and you knew exactly who wears that specific perfume in your school.

Turning around, you found the academic goddess herself, standing beside you with her bag slinging by her side and giving you a stare. "I hope you did better than you did last year, it was almost too easy for me to beat you." Chaewon said, confidently and with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at her and crossed your arms, "I've had enough of your gloating, Kim. You're an egomaniac and you really need to get yourself checked before you break down once you see I did better than you."

"Big talk for someone who's only ever beaten me once, in a team debate, no less." Her voice pierced through your heart, and it did hurt. Sure, you did never beat her one on one, but you fought her so hard that you'd get recognized and put in the same conversations as her name did.

"What do you want, Kim? Are you just going to ogle your tits in front of me? Because let's be real, I wouldn't fuck you in a million years." She just chuckled at the statement and gave your crotch a light tap using her wrist.

"Trust me, I wouldn't fuck you in a million years too. But there is something I need." That was when you just smiled at her and closed your locker before walking away from her.

Chaewon panicked and followed your pace, keeping up by your side. "H-hey, I just said I need your help!" You waved her off before she grabbed your wrist and sped up to drag you away from the halls and into an empty area away from the students.

"Listen, I know we've had our differences but this is about prom." At this point was already looking at you like she made up her mind and she will do everything to convince you.

You sighed. "Let me guess, you want me to go with you to the prom?"

"Yes."

"I don't think we should, Chaewon."

"But we could win prom king and queen."

"Does that even matter?"

"If it means beating Yunjin and her very clingy boyfriend, yes."

You just stared into her eyes after that quick exchange, but you knew how insufferable the school couple was. They were everywhere, being flirty and just rubbing it in people's noses. It was a sight.

Pacing around the room and opening a window, it was easy to see that this was an opportunity to get your name trending again. But was it worth it when Chaewon's name is going to be beside yours?

"Okay, but I will dictate the ground rules. You will wear a black dress, you will do the talking, telling people that we got together recently and that you were the first to fall for me." Chaewon just looked at you angrily while the demands were being listed.

"Ugh, fine. I'll pay that price just to stick it to her. Just see how she likes it." She may hate you, but she really doesn't like being upstaged, and unfortunately for Yunjin, she got in the way.

A quick thought entered your mind. "Oh and one more thing," Chaewon turned around. "... You're not allowed to fall in love with me."

She just smiled, "Won't be a problem, I'll see you at my place then. Don't forget to bring flowers. Ciao~" She said as she left the vicinity. You were left standing there with nothing but your bag in hand, and shortly afterwards you went home.

_____________________________________________

The drive to Chaewon's was fast, thanks to the traffic not holding people up. Her apartment was still 3 floors up, so you had to climb up the flgiht of stairs to reach her door and give her a knock.

"God why did I listen to her..." You whisper to yourself while holding a bouquet of flowers in your hand as your cheeks fill with a red blush.

Chaewon opened the door and gave you a judging smirk. "For once, you finally listen to me huh?"

Embarrassed, you just looked away and handed her the flowers, which she gladly took and had a whiff of them. "They're pretty, okay? Don't be too shy, you're acting like this is real." She giggled as she went down the stairs waiting for you.

You opened the door for her, and she went inside without a word. You breathed out a sigh of relief and went back inside the driver's seat and started driving.

It was mostly a silent trip, neither even giving each other exchanging hi's and just humming to the song playing on the radio. It was nerve-wracking for you, as she can just say anything crazy in a second.

But then you heard a sweet and soft voice speak, it was soothing to the ear and yet you know Chaewon is never this soft and sweet. "So, this is it. Time to act flirty, you'll take care of me right?" You just nodded at her, "Just behave like a good girl and we'll win your petty prize." Getting out of the car and you open the door and take her hand before guiding her inside the venue.

The vibe around the prom was magnificent. It was themed as a romantic getaway, with beach designs and a drawing of a sunset as the backdrop for the stage. You can only look around as the people start filling in the place and you stare at Chaewon.

You weren't kidding yourself, she was looking spectacular. She left the flowers in the car but even with just one flower tucked on her ear, just looking at her makes your heart skip a beat.

You found some seats for you and Chaewon to sit in, it was in plain sight so everyone could see that the two of you are in this prom together. You put your arm around Chaewon and she gladly put her hands on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch.

"Dangerous game you're playing here. Be careful not to touch anything." You gulp as you say those words.

You only heard a small chuckle as she whispered, "Try not to get hard okay? We don't want you going in the bathroom leaving me out here don't we?" She sure has her way of being very provocative.

Yunjin and her boyfriend finally showed up, dressed perfectly to compliment each other's styles. Everyone was astounded at their sight, looking like the royal couple, everyone was reminded of who they really are.

The grunt Chaewon releases between her lips was pretty cute, she was angry, but most of all she was very petty. "Okay, time to turn up the heat." Those were the last words you heard before you felt her lips crash into yours.

Her kiss felt like floating in space freely. It felt freeing and wonderful. Next thing you know, you were making out with your rival and the event hasn't even begun. You could get lost in this feeling forever, and you wanted to stay in this moment. Somehow, someway, Kim Chaewon is a perfect match for you. The way she holds you, the way she wraps her hands around you, it is truly something worthwhile.

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud music entering your ears once you realize she let go. "...What the fuck was that for?" was all you can conjure up for your first, and possible the best kiss of your life.

"Gotta show them who's boss. And right now, we have the mental advantage. Everyone's looking at us right now." You did look around to see them whispering and muttering to each other about what they saw, even Yunjin was perplexed when she took her seat nearby.

"If this doesn't end in sex, i'm dropping you off the side of the highway." You claimed jokingly.

"Ha! As if you'd actually want to fuck me."

"With a kiss like that, now I know why all the boys want you."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh shut up, i'm giving you a genuine compliment." Chaewon smiles after hearing that and gives you another kiss. This time, it's even more passionate. Your pants were starting to tighten and it got really, really heated. You knew you had to get some food to calm yourself down before your primal instincts take over and bend her down the table and fuck her brains out.

Once you broke the kiss, you asked her. "Do you want me to get you a plate or no?"

"Okay, boyfriend. Go get me a plate." She hit your balls again as you stood up and you lightly kicked at her feet before walking towards the catering.

Right now, you didn't give a shit about the deal you made. It doesn't matter whether you win prom king and queen, because pretending to be her partner was already a thin line to walk on, but now that she's being very playful and teasing you to great extent, you might not last the night.

You got her the plate, and you sat back down next to her. Before she could even mutter a word you just dug into the food. Thankfully she didn't say anything and just ate.

Thank god no one bothered you two, just having people pass by and smile or even give a simple wave is enough. Chaewon was a tiger in academics but socially, she is so much worse. There's a reason she doesn't have a clique, or even a best friend. She just preferred studying and going at it alone. Even with projects, you saw firsthand how she asked the professors if she could do it alone. She was granted her wishes, and she's done better than all of them. You were no slouch of course but, you're not insane enough to do group work solo.

"Let's go dance. We need to be as cute as we can." She said as she put down her fork and wiped her lips with a tissue.

"Don't fucking tap my balls again, you stand up first." Chaewon nodded and stood up, waiting for you to join her.

Taking her hand, you guided her to the dance floor and thankfully, the music was set low. There were a few people on the floor including the royal couple but the spotlight was on you. Nobody thought the two best minds in the entire university would be on good terms, let alone dating.

Chaewon did her best to act as subby as possible, knowing that it was her best chance to win those votes. She smiled, giggled at your jokes and even started talking to the other students on the dance floor while you roamed her around in the dance. If this was the Chaewon you saw in school everyday, you might've just fallen for her instantly.

"Hey, look at me for a while would you?" You said as you grabbed her chin and made her face you.

"What do you want? I'm trying to win us some favor here..." She said in a quiet but rage-filled voice.

"Is it so bad for a couple to actually look at each other and talk? Come on, you know better than that."

Chaewon just nodded and looked at you. Your heart melted through every wall you ever put up once she did. How in the hell are you falling for Chaewon? You know how she is. You know every dirty tactic and every move she's done to you. You hated how she tapped your balls everytime she found an opening. You hated the way she liked other boys. You hated it when you found out she was absent for a week due to a fever. You hated missing her. You hated falling for her at every step of the way.

Chaewon yelped when you firmly grabbed her waist, pulled her close and straightened her hair out behind her ear. "If you're gonna kiss me, I'd do it that way too."

You ignored her words and just kissed her. You didn't care if everyone was watching, you didn't care if anyone actually wanted to see it. All you wanted to do was kiss your rival. The rival you desperately tried to hate because you knew she'd never love you. The rival you never asked out because she was too busy studying her tits out. The rival you only ever loved.

As you let the kiss go, Chaewon stared at you for a moment. She immediately let that go and went back to being the same Chaewon you know. For that night, she belonged to you. And you took full advantage of that fact. You ate, you danced, you loved. It was all you could think about for the rest of the night.

It was over soon enough, and you remembered why you were there in the first place. You breathed in heavily and made Chaewon put her arm around your waist as you waited for the announcements. You didn't even listen to the announcement, all you did was feel her touches and let her hear the names she wanted to being called. Next thing you know, you were up there with her, taking a ribbon and a crown. It was pretty funny looking, but seeing Chaewon's face light up is a pretty good sight. You smiled at the crowd and thanked them for the vote.

This was when Chaewon broke free. She let you go and went to the car so she could celebrate her victory. You followed suit and went back in your car.

"Well, i've had my fill of achievements for the day. Take me home." You just nodded and drove. It was a pretty slow night drive. You didn't go over 40, mostly because you just wanted to enjoy her company more.

"That's all you wanted? Seems pretty shallow to go through all that trouble." You said.

"Then I'm shallow. All I care about is that I am on top again." Spoken as softly as she could.

"You do realize we're gonna have to break up during the summer right? I can't fake date you forever."

"Then let's break up."

"Fine."

"Fine." She just crossed her arms and sat on the passenger's seat and stayed quiet.

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

You parked your car in the back, you wanted to clear your head space once you drop her off back at her door but you just stayed in the car first, and so did she.

The crickets chirping made the deafening sound of night feel, not so deafening. You took time to process everything that happened in there, and you looked at Chaewon, who seems to be doing the same thing.

"Hey, can I see your cock?"

"What the fuck, Chaewon?"

"Don't be a fucking pussy about it."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Why not?"

"Because... because I'm not sure if I like you or not."

"What?" Her eyes grew wider as you dropped those words.

"Just... let me think, okay? You were out here all night flirting with me like... it felt real chaewon. It felt real, all of it."

"You don't have to think about it..."

"Oh so now you're trying to restrict my thoughts of you? Don't play games with me Chaewon."

"I'm not!"

"Then why—"

"Just listen to me! You boar-headed dipshit! I like you too! Okay?! Is that enough?!"

You two just looked at each other with your eyebrows furrowed and neither of you were able to land a word after she confessed her feelings to you.

"I like you too. I didn't want to, but I like you! Get that through your thick fucking skull." She said angrily.

It was a lot to process. You both broke the rule of not falling for the other. And now you are at each other's throats because you both were confused and angry that the person both of you were trying to beat at every turn, was someone you actually were into.

If academics didn't mean a thing, you two would probably have hit it off at some point. But unfortunately, that pressure got to you both. For the first time, the weight of that pressure was actually lifted and you could only breathe out a strong, relieving sigh.

"Damn your kisses, Chaewon." You joked.

"Oh boo-hoo." She went for you and kissed you again. This time climbing out of her chair and sitting on your lap. This time, the kiss was different. It was more carnal than romantic. There was more tongue involved as you swing yours with hers and intertwined then as the shared kiss continued.

You grabbed her waist, and slowly reached out those hands into her ass. She gave out a lot moan and adjusted her position so you have full access to her plump, round ass.

She leaned her kisses towards your cheek and towards your ear, where you can hear every small moan and whimper she lets out of her mouth.

The hands you had around her ass were fondling them and enjoying the soft cushions they gave you. Chaewon was already getting wet, but you have yet to know that. You didn't want to go over what she considers her boundaries so you didn't move a muscle.

She felt your cock under her getting bigger and she just looked into your eyes. "Hey... we should take this inside."

You nodded and opened the door so she can climb out. You followed her and locked your car before heading up those dreaded stairs to her door. Once the two of you get there, she immediately opened it with her keys and dragged you inside by your collar.

It only took a shut of the door for her to throw herself at you with another kiss, jumping into your arms so your hands can carry her thighs as she wrapped her legs around you.

"Fuck..." you could only mutter as she rained down heavy kisses on your lips, your ears, and even your neck. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, and for your virgin ass, you went along for the ride.

"Take me to my bed. And take that goddamn suit off already."

"Yes, baby." You dragged your feet through the room and plopped her down the bed. You untied your necktie and threw it across the room. She kneeled on the bed as you stood over her, and she grabbed your polo and unbuttoned each and every single one while giving you the hungriest look a horny woman can give.

It was obvious she was having fun playing this game, and it felt like hell for you. Your cock was twitching in your pants and it started to hurt. She noticed you wincing and took off the polo before unbuckling the belt in your pants.

Her head was dangerously close to your cock and your hand moved itself to brush her hair and hold it down to your crotch, which was her eye-level. She pulled it all down and your cock sprung to hit her nose.

"Ow..." she said as she grabbed the hard cock in her hands, smiling.

"Your hands are pretty nice..."

"It fits your cock really well." She giggled and hummed as she dragged her hand down the length of your cock as you moan out quietly. She knew not to put too much pressure and she knew the perfect way to touch your cock and give you the pleasure your body is used to.

All you could do was grab her hair and turn it into a makeshift ponytail, where she smirked. "You know what it means when a guy does that to a girl right?"

"I think so. Do I get a guess?"

"No. You just get to feel your consequences." Her lips enveloped itself around the head of your cock, and the heat from her mouth makes you hold on the ponytail tighter.

She looks up at you as she takes your cock in painfully slow, licking along the way. You were panicking as the pleasure was getting too much for you, and Chaewon was just getting started. You didn't want to be a 10-second wonder.

She kept working around your cock, drenching it in her spit and sucking it like it was her final project. She's making sure it felt perfect.

Your legs were shaking at this point, your cheeks turning red at the possibility of you not being able to control yourself and not cum in her mouth. These sensations got you to let her hair go and put your hand on the wall nearby so you won't fall down.

Chaewon dragged her mouth down to the last inch of your cock, and tightly pulled out giving your cock a light lick at the end before she sat up and looked at you. "You're gonna cum, aren't you?"

"I'm trying so hard not to." You decided to be honest with her.

She pulled your waist down so you're sitting beside her. She gave you a smile and said, "Cum inside my mouth. I really want to know how nerd tastes." She giggled as she went down on your cock again, not holding out anymore and giving you the most sloppy and disgustingly heavenly blowjob you've ever had.

Her tongue was circling around your length as she bobbed her head up and down. You couldn't even speak due to how good she was sucking your cock. All you could do was grip her sheets and moan out her name again and again.

Her lips kissed your underside, and her free hand gave your balls some love, fondling them. She took your cock inside again and deepthroated every inch you can give her.

She was blushing. She enjoyed sucking cock, especially if that cock belonged to someone she knew on a personal level from many years ago. Sure, it was all on hatred, but she knew you better than anyone, and that turned her on even more.

Your cock was twitching in her mouth, she knew you weren't gonna last longer, so she pumped and sucked and the same time, and that was all it took for you to explode.

"M-ngmhHgh! Chaewon...! mmgh! fuck!" That was the most coherent sentence you can come up with while your body was in ecstacy. Orgasming to the point not even you have reached before.

Her mouth stayed where it was, your cum filling her cheeks as she swallowed each strand of cum, one stroke after another.

When she was done, she sucked your cock to clean it, and wiped her lips off before laughing.

"Nerd doesn't really taste different from jock. But I gotta say, your cock was so much cleaner and doesn't smell as bad."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yeah, no one sucks cock better than me."

You sat up and put a hand around her thigh. "So, what's next?"

She smiled as she pushed you down, "You're the first guy to ask for what I want."

You turned your head to look at her and she was taking off her dress, and you were watching her show off her body to you.

You were blushing but the next thing you see was her towering over you, and you get a VIP look of her beautiful pussy. It was shaven, it was perfect, and you wanted a piece.

Your mouth opened and she smiled before lowering herself down to you and sitting down on your face. She grinded slowly as you moved your tongue to eat her pussy out.

Her taste was a new sensation to you. The first time you've ever ate pussy, and you're already getting addicted to her taste. She was sweating and that only added to the tang of her flavor, you dug your tongue deep in her folds.

Your tongue found her hole opening up and you slid it in. "Oh..! Good boy... that's a good boy..." Chaewon muttered while hissing and holding on to your hair.

You closed your eyes and moved you head to tongue fuck her, as she moaned loudly like she had no neighbors. She gripped her bedside and bounced on your tongue as she kept moaning.

"Yes... baby... oh fuck! come on..." She kept hissing and moaning under the sensation of your upper lip kissing her clit and tongue fucking her. You picked up the pace and held on her thighs, taking your tongue out of her hole and focusing on licking the clit fast and good.

"Oh it has been a while! Yes! Don't you dare fucking stop, don't stop, don't stop!" She kept screaming while grinding her pussy on your tongue on her clit. You put more pressure by pushing your tongue into her sensitive clit more and more as she gets brought to the brink of her orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum! Please, don't stop! I'll get off if I want you to stop, okay? Please just... ah! Keep going!" Chaewon says as she reaches her orgasm and grinds on you harder as her moans become more hoarse and heavy.

You kept licking her to destroy her senses and feel an seemingly un-ending orgasm for Chaewon. She got off you and laid down the bed before catching her breath.

"Where... how did you learn... to eat pussy like that?"

"I never did. I only know the clit is the most sensitive part so, I guessed."

"You're a natural then, god damn. Despite being a nerd, that knowledge came in handy. Try using that knowledge to beat me next year okay?"

"What if I beg you to lose for once?"

"That's a price you don't wanna know." She smirked as she recovers.

"More pussy eating?"

"I have a list of demands. I'd rather show them to you before we start school next year."

"Good. But we're not done here Chae." You show her your hardened cock once again, showing her you have recovered from her blowjob.

Chaewon smirks and lifts her ass a little bit. "I want it deep, hard, and fast. None of that slow, methodical, romantic bullshit."

"You got it." You lined yourself up behind her and didn't even hesitate to stroke your cock and slide it deep in her.

"Mmph! Good! Just like that." All Chaewon could do was moan on her pillow as you started picking up the pace and fucking her pussy like your life depended on it.

You grabbed her ass and spanked it, earning a yelp from the girl. She kept asking for more, so you put a strong hold on her hips and crashed your cock deep inside her wet pussy again and again and again.

The sound of your sex was echoing across the room, it was erotic and accompanied with her moans after every thrust, it was truly music to your ears.

"Yes! Your cock is so big inside me! I love every single inCh of it! Mmm!"

Slapping her ass, you kept your mouth open and joined her moaning. "Good god Chaewon, your pussy is so good! So wet and so fucking delicious." You gave her ass another slap.

"Ah! So it is! Fuck I wanna fuck you again and again. Please, make me cum again, make me yours and I won't ever be a bitch around you again!"

"Good girl, I like that." You pulled her arms back into you and grabbed her head so your face is buried in her neck while you fuck her from behind.

"F-Fuck! Rub my clit!" You follow her command and rub her clit in the same pace you're fucking her pussy.

Her moans get even louder and you had to use your hand to cover it up so her neighbors wouldn't get the wrong idea.

Her bed was rocking and it was making a lot of noise. Between the creaking, the moaning, the sloshing sounds the sex was making, it was very hard to hide the fact you were fucking her like a machine.

She kept begging for you to cum inside her and you keep telling her to wait. You were looking for your orgasm but she was ready to unload hers.

"I'm gonna fucking squirt all over! Please I want your cum! I'm gonna fucking... ah!" You pulled out as you felt gushes of water from under her. You held on to her neck as she gripped your arm tightly while she was squirting. Your arm reached down and rubbed her clit so it felt extra pleasureable to her.

"God! I made a mess..." She yelped before you took her body and lied it down on the dry part of the bed and kissed her hard.

You slid your cock back in and fucked her in missionary. Her legs were up in the air as she was moaning in your kiss. The thrusts your cock was giving to her kept sloshing as the rest of her squirt and the never ending wetness of her pussy was lubricating your cock to the point where it looked like cum.

She already came multiple times and she wasn't going to stop, until you did. "What is taking so long?! Mm! My pussy is destroyed here... you need to fill me up, please daddy."

That was the last straw. The final push you needed. Once you heard her say daddy, your senses kicked into overdrive and you fucked her like a machine one more time before unloading your second round of cum in her pussy.

This orgasm hit you like a truck, it felt good, but once it was finished you feel like you have been ran over by a truck. It was tiring and you were drained.

"I guess... daddy is the magic word then." Chaewon giggled as she wrapped her arms around you and pecked your lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you. You must've been so surprised."

"No, actually. I knew you were tightening up when your cock pulsated aggresively. So I expected the creampie sooner."

"God damn it, you're not gonna get pregnant now are you?"

"I'll be okay. I wouldn't have let you fuck if I was in danger of getting pregnant anyway." She giggled again.

"Really? Even after the kissing we've done earlier?" You sound a bit perplexed at this point.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm smarter than you, remember? Don't feel superior just because I called you daddy once."

"I'm just curious, no need to gloat."

She kissed your cheek and chuckled. "I'm okay, you don't need to worry."

You nodded and pulled out her before lying down beside. "So, what now?"

"What about it?" She looked upwards at the ceiling.

"What are we?"

"Right now? I can't say."

"We just told each other we liked each other. What else is there to think about?"

Chaewon playfully hits your arm. "You need to court me, genius."

"Wouldn't you just say yes immediately?"

"I probably would."

You held her hand and kissed it. "So, will you be my girlfriend?"

Chaewon smiles, and turns towards you. "Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

~FIN~

A/N: That was rough for a first fic, I didn't proof read this so I'm open to suggestions and whatnot. Twitter is the same handle as this one, you know where to find me.

#kim chaewon smut #izone smut #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut #enemies to lovers #fake dating #oneshot #academic rivals #smut #chaewon x reader #chaewon x male reader

[mournings-stars]

Maybe the wrapping wings around heddies but the reader wraps their wings around the characters?

okay i rly like this but what about with characters that don’t have wings?? (lmk if yall want characters w wings cus this is kinda silly funny haha)

charlie

she loves when your wings wrap around her — every time she hugs you, she’s waiting for that extra warmth and when it comes she just hugs you even tighter

she wouldn’t ask you to do it, but if you put a wing around her in public she’s trying not to get too excited

cuddling is a must for wings. you’re sitting on the couch? she wants a nice feathery blanket. lying in bed? same thing. watching a scary movie? she’s using your wings as a shield to duck under anytime theres a jump scare

if you asked her if she’d like a wing, she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her

“im starting to wonder if you’re just dating me for my wings,” you’d joke and she’d laugh and say, “they’re definitely a plus” while running her finger over the top of one (this girl likes to tease i know it)

she loves when you cuddle up to her and wrap your wings around her, like she just melts

she does not let anyone play with them. ever. if niffty tried to go scurrying around them, she’s taking her away faster than she can blink

your wings are hers as much as they are yours, but that’s a silent rule between you two that she doesn’t plan on voicing

she just gives “let me be your wings” from thumbelina vibes like you would have a duet like that

alastor

now if you ever need to gossip, he’s clearing his throat and you’re shielding your conversation with your wings while you two laugh and whisper

he does not want anyone touching him but if you put a wing around him he knows you guys have some important business to talk about

sometimes you throw up your wing, whisper, and he has to stop himself from laughing when you quickly put your wing down, alastor batting it with his microphone as you laughed

now if he’s ever hurt, that’s when your wings go around him, making sure no one sees so he can escape to saftey

you’d always come to his rescue even if he got mad at you for it, wings wrapping around him as you struck his attacker faster than he could summon his shadows (and he definitely gets pissed about it but hey what are … friends …. for!)

wings are for shit talking and the occasional life saver when it comes to al

angel dust

he loves the security of your wings

after a long day, you’d just lie in his room, wings wrapped around him as he held you close — he’d either fall asleep or want to sit in silence like that, but either way you were happy to help

sometimes you’d just sit at the bar, wing around him as you talked and laughed together

whenever you went out together, your wings were a strict barrier that no one dared to cross. you put a wing in front of angel when some guy approaches him? he and every other demon are backing off for the rest of the night. you’re walking down the street? wing around him and no one is approaching you

he definitely asks you to do it (in his own very special way) and he likes to tease you when you’re around other people

but you both know he treasures the safety your wings give him

pentious

my boy pentious 100% thinks you’ve turned against him the first time you drape your wings over him — you could’ve literally been sleeping and he’d accuse you of trying to smother him

“i was sleeping!” “your subconscious mind plans to kill me, too!”

he warms up to it though because the next time it happens you’re fast asleep and theres no attempt to block his airways, or whatever he thought you’d do, so he snuggles into the warmth

being a snake (i love snakes im gonna b a lil nerdy about this one) pen likes to burrow. especially at night. he’d start to curl up under the warmth of your wings and rest there until you eventually moved

some days you’d wake up and he’d be completely hidden beneath your wings. if you lift one, he’d very quickly tug it back (definitely how he found out about sensitive wings)

he felt very bad :(

cherri

wings are for parties!

they give you the best dance numbers — dramatic reveal, awesome poses, super dope flying routine…!

then they’re for comedowns because once you’re home from the club shit hits the fan and you’re wrapping your wings around her so she can even try to sleep

but then the morning comes and you brush it off cus it’s time to blow shit up!

definitely using your wings as a shield though — they’re probably dyed pink and red by now, with all the times you’ve had to cover the two of you from explosives

but she finds it super hot so…

velvette

she likes to fuck with you

1000% uses them as her personal armor — you’re basically a body guard

she’ll wrap them around herself while looking in the mirror, modeling your wings like a feather coat

“my wings are not going in your collection,” you’d have to tell her, still pulling her closer with them as you met her eyes in the mirror

“yeah, guess you’re right. can’t have anyone else getting a hold of these, can we?”

she loves being wrapped in them while she sleeps — she loves you sleeping next her, cause then she can lay them however she wants

it’s always best when you’re wings fold in and bring her closer though

definitely been used for a private moment in the office

she says they’re your best asset

vox

now this man is, under no circumstances, letting you wrap your wings around him

in public? absolutely not…

in private? well…. no! totally not!

at least not until you’re asleep and he’s situating himself beneath them. it’s not his fault a feather blanket helps him fall asleep

you’ve definitely waited until he fell asleep, draped you wings over him, and watched him relax into them

he’s not slick

like at all

not even in public

he’ll touch them and the minute one even wraps around him, his screen is buffering

speaking of in public… just wait til you’re at a party. he’s drunk and all over you, touching your wings, handling them like their his own, you have to use them to shield the two of you when he gets too handsy, and he loves it; pushing your buttons until your wings are around him and being more than satisfied by that

niffty

girl is crazy

she cleans them, climbs on them, inspects them (almost rips the fuck out of your feathers)

there’s no way you can wrap that girl up, she’s too quick

but she would love petting them and thats why shes here

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin velvette #vox x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #velvette headcanons #velvette x reader #vox headcanons #hazbin headcanons #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie x reader #niffty #i love angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #cherri bomb #cherri bomb x reader #sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #hazbin hotel charlie #angel dust #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #cherri hazbin hotel

[spencereidluver]

D is for Diana

summary: you overhear spencer calling his mother and telling her about you. how hes finally found someone like him and who can understand him

word count: 675

warnings: none, just fluff and spencer crushing

It was a normal Monday morning. The sounds of files rustling and pens against paper filled the room as people filled out their weekly paperwork. The only thing off was the slow speed the certified genius across from you was working. There was something on his mind, but from the look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to share.

“Hey Spence, I’m gonna go make some coffee in a little bit, do you want some?” You asked, trying to find a way of cheering him up without trying to pry at him. 

“I’m good, thank you though.” He said without so much as looking up from his desk.

You let him work for a little longer, before you finally let it get the best of you, and you just had to ask him. “Okay, Spencer,” you said, finally getting him to look up at you for the first time this morning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded. “I’m just waiting on a phone call from my mom.”

That made sense. Spencer always got nervous when his mother was brought up. His phone rang moments later, seemingly right on cue. “I’m gonna take this in the conference room, I’ll be back.” 

Spencer opened his phone as he stood up, greeting his mother with a warm “hello.” He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly hitting himself with the conference room door as he entered. You giggled to yourself before getting up and making your way to the kitchen to make the coffee you’d thought about earlier.

_____

With a freshly made cup of coffee in your hand, you couldn’t help but follow your unconscious lead to the conference room, leaning against the door to make sure Spencer’s conversation with his mom was going well. You weren’t trying to be weird or creepy, you just were trying to look out for your friend. You knew sometimes his mom said things that hurt him, mostly without realizing it.

As you reached the conference, you heard the squeaky giggle you’ve heard so many times come from behind the door. You almost left it at that, but curiosity got the best of you as you leaned your ear against the wooden door.

“No, mom. She’s perfect,” you heard Spencer say. “Everything about her is perfect.”

There was a pause, Diana was talking. You wondered who he was talking about. Spencer hadn’t talked to you about a special lady before. Maybe you’d stick around a little longer.

Spencer began to speak again. “No, she is the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s gorgeous too, mom… No, I haven't asked her out… No, no she doesn’t have a boyfriend… I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. And I don’t want to make work awkward if she says no.”

Work? The girl he liked was at work? 

“I can’t just ignore her if she says no mom. Our desks are right across from each other. I’d have to face her every day.”

Oh my god. He was talking about you. Your face turned a shade of red so dark it might be classified as maroon. Your stomach had so many butterflies it felt like it was migration season. 

You heard Spencer begin to tell his mom he’d have to be going soon, and you decided you’d better hurry back to your desk so he didn’t know you were listening. He’d die if he knew, you thought.

You thought for a second, before returning to the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee in Spencer’s favorite mug. You knew he’d said no, but you also knew, especially now, how much it’d mean to him if he came back to a warm cup of coffee on his desk. You add 5 sugar packets to the small mug, just how he liked it. 

You returned to your desk, sitting your mug on your desk and Spencer’s on his. You grabbed a sticky note and a pen and wrote: "For Spence <3,”before sticking it to the mug and returning to your seat.

next chapter: E is for Even Guys Like Me?

a/n: i'm so glad that this group of stories has been so well received :) i've worked so hard on them, and am trying my best to get ahead so i can release new parts at least every other day. i love reading all the comments you guys have left too... thank you all for the support. i'm so proud of the next chapter, it's definantly my favorite one in the series so far. it's pretty long, but in my own opinion, it's worth it. the chapters are going to start getting more relationship centered, starting next chapter!

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

[yzzart]

hii!! love your work and i appreciate you so much for writing for tom <3 i was wondering if you could write a tom blyth x reader for the interview the cast did of how well the know each other??

An unfair test.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: do you, Rachel and Josh, really, know Tom?

word count: 1.990!

notes: anon, you don't know how much i enjoy writing these types of interviews and i love you for requesting this! — and i'm serious, I LOVE writing this!

"And today, we'll be competing against each other to see how well we know our friend Tom Blyth!" — You explained, crossing your legs and excited about what could happen.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you took one of the small cards that Tom was holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Is asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him cheating?" — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and returning the small card to your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah?" —Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. - "Look at this!" — She exclaimed, surprised and Josh's laugh was followed by the camera.

"Alright, let's do it." — Tom continued with an excited tone, moving the pen, which will be used, and reading for quick seconds the question that was on one of the cards. — "First question…" — He placed the card with the name 'Vanity Fair' on his chest. — "…what is my biggest fear?"

Tom looked at you, with a funny look of complicity and as if he was saying "oh, you know the answer" and it was, impossible, to try or contain the laughter. — Receiving looks and attention from Rachel and Josh.

"She knows." — Josh stated, thinking about his possible answer or something that could come to a correct conclusion. — "She definitely knows." — Leaning on the chain, you touched his arm.

"It's kind of funny to look at you and be like, hm, let me guess." — Rachel leaned over, resting her fingers on her chin, indicating a thoughtful pose and appearance. — "Let me guess, you don't wanna die alone." — She laughed. — "Please, Y/N, give me a clue!" — Her head rested on your shoulder.

"Wait, i guess i'm not so sure about my answer." — Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened, dramatically, a little at your words. — "I just think! "— You bit your lip, poking his knee.

"I have a guess." — Rachel turned to her boyfriend, waiting for him to say something or even give the correct answer.

"I think, mine is probably a little bit more shallow, but i think i got a guess, too." — Tom laughed at Josh's comment.

"Mine's the opposite." — Rachel said. — "You have a fear of like open water." — She observed some reaction or at least a simple speck of something new on his face, trying to guess if she was correct, but, she found nothing. — "Okay, you don't."

"What, is that your guess?" — He asked, tilting his head, as if wanting confirmation and certainty, to Rachel.

"Yeah, that's my guess." — She shook her head.

"Okay, Josh?" — Tom asked.

"I was gonna say mountain lions." — He reflected, still not sure if he would really go ahead with this guess and loud, synchronized laughter erupted in the room.

"In what way is this more shallow?" — Your boyfriend questioned himself and looked for a justification, a meaning for that comment. — "I'm curious."

"That's very poetic, in certain words." — You raised his hand in defense.

"I thought you were gonna say something like conceptual." — He referred to Rachel's guess, which failed along the way, and tried to justify it.

"Are you sure about your guess, darling?" — Tom pointed the card, with the answer, at you and he couldn't hide, even biting his lip, the anxious smile and, really, hoping that you would say the right answer. — "Or will it be a concrete answer?"

"You're making me nervous, excuse me?" — Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Definitely snakes." — You replied confidently, looking at your boyfriend and then at the camera.

"Actually, ironically, and that's like my childhood fear…" — He waved his hand. — "…which i've already overcome." — Tom finally turned the little card over so that the answer was visible and being revealed. — "Snakes!"

"The purest irony, that's incredible." — Tom pointed at you, a sign of affirmation. — "And so funny at the same time."

"Yes!" — He turned the card over again.. — "I was afraid of snakes when i was a kid because i saw a lot of Indiana Jones, and i watched a lot." — A scenario of little Tom watching Indiana Jones played in his head, causing a smile to appear on his lips. — "And i feel like this fear transformed me, you know?"

"Because cool people can be afraid of snakes." — Rachel added.

"Because cool people are afraid of snakes." — Tom agreed.

"And the fact that on set, we had two snakes, and you had to act with them for one part, is impressive." — Tom once again placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly.

"But, i'm not afraid of them anymore." — Maybe, a little, but, he wouldn't say at that moment. — "I've had a lot of therapy, honey." — You laughed. — "That's my biggest childhood fear, like, it's the first thing that would come to my mind if you asked me that."

In the future, during the editing of the video, a scoreboard with your name, Rachel's and Josh's would appear at that moment and with each one's score. — And you would be ahead, even with your colleagues' comments about how unfair it seemed that you were winning. — Indeed.

"Next question!" — Tom warned, holding up another card. — "Who is my ideal dinner guest?" — He looked at you again as you thought of yet another answer or possible guess.

"Normally, i would say, but, anyway." — You shrugged, pretending to be thinking about something and got laughs in the room, including from the people who were working behind the cameras; Rachel rested her hand on your back, still laughing. — "This is difficult even for me."

"That's my first and foremost answer!" — Tom stuttered confidently, lifting the paper carefully so that the answer wasn't visible. — "But, let's consider a second option."

"I'm going to say Francis Lawrence…" — Rachel suggested, slowly, and focusing on the main camera in front of her. — "…director of The Hunger Games." — You laughed. — "And to be fair, we'd all have him as a special guest, and he's the best guest."

"He's a great dinner guest." — You mumbled. — "I think he could easily be my guess."

"Oh, mine too." — Rachel positioned herself. — “And i feel like you, that's your ideal, someone who can talk about wine and loves food.” — She paused, thinking about her words and acting as if she said something. — "Y/N could fit that description like a shame, now that i see it." — Her voice swore, and turning her head towards you .

"I was going to say that now!" — Josh said, crossing his arms. — "My guess, which i feel is terrible, is going to be Cyndi Lauper, you know." — He uncrossed his arms, resting one of them on his leg and Rachel hugged the other.

"Okay, okay." — Tom turns the paper to the camera. — "I think it would be David Bowie." — God, you would never get that right.

"I swear he didn't cross my mind for a second." — Your head shook in denial, and in disbelief.

"Me too, i wouldn't understand that." — Josh looked at one of the cameras and Rachel moved one of her hands, a little in disbelief and intrigued.

"What it is, i just think it would be really fun." — Tom tried to justify. — "Okay, so, we have no points for Rachel and Josh and…" — He acted out a movement like they were playing a drum. — "…one point for Y/N."

"We are terrible." — Rachel confessed to her boyfriend. — "Terrible."

“And i feel like she can get another point now.” — Tom read the question quickly, before looking at you, who furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Really?" — You questioned, shook your leg and the british nodded.

"What's my go-to karaoke song?" — He read it and, in the same second, he started writing the answer and thousands of songs ran through his mind; one after the other.

The last karaoke night where you and Tom were present was recent; and, magically, incredible to the point of completing an album of photos and videos in your gallery. — However, it was clearly impossible to conclude what his favorite song was. — And it wasn't an exaggeration or anything like that.

"And you saying i was going to get this one right." — Your complaint passed through the ears of your boyfriend, who showed an incredulous expression.

"Our last karaoke night was, like, two weeks ago?" — Tom didn't remember, and he remembered few things. — "I think, i'm not sure."

"I'm not going to karaoke with you guys" — Rachel's soft voice introduced. — "And i need to start going." — She turned to Josh and you.

"I don't think you sing." — Josh looked up as he spoke.

"He actually sings." — You answered him. — "And he dedicates himself like no one else, a true spectacle."

“I will say it was definitely a punk rock thing.” — Josh's guess entered his mind, and he thought about agreeing with it. — "Something like."

"I would say that a chorus of a Spice Girls or Backsteet Boys song with your voice crossed my mind, but i don't want to consider it as a guess right now." — You placed your hand on your mouth, laughing at the fictional scenario.

"And i would say i don't know what to say." — Rachel murmured. — "Serious."

"I'll give you a hint, it's probably not what you'd expect." — Tom tried to help, but nothing came to her mind.

"I guess that didn't help, dear."

"Mambo number five…" — Josh suggested, speaking quietly, but sure of his guess.

"Josh's mambo number five, what's your guess?" — Blyth directed the small card towards you and Rachel, waiting for your response.

"Any of backsteet boys." — You didn't even specify any of the group's songs, and you wouldn't even have time to choose them; it was as if all their names had disappeared from your consciousness. — "Any one."

"I'm gonna say…" — Rachel thought.

"No, i'll change mine to All the small things." — At the last second, Josh changed his guess and you thought about changing but decided against it.

"All the small things, okay." — Tom pointed out.

"I'm going to say 'I miss you' by Blink 182." — Rachel said with certainty, as there weren't many options due to the lack of opportunities to attend singing nights.

"Wow, it's really the 2000s." — He separated some cards on his lap before turning to the question. — "The answer is, somewhat surprisingly…" — For the third time, Tom turns over the paper with the answer. — "Senhorita by Justin Timberlake."

The disbelieving and doubtful reactions and expressions on your faces were met by Tom's warm and loud laugh. — None of you expected that song. — And you don't remember him singing it.

Or, simply put, that memory was in the back of your mind.

"No chance, not possible." — You said intrigued, looking at your boyfriend and shaking your head in denial, for the second time.

"I don't remember you singing that." — Josh also tried to remember or have some memory with the mentioned song but nothing happened, he didn't remember either. — "Serious."

"We sing!" — Tom insinuated, pointing at you and Josh, who looked at each other and still don't remember the moment; that is if it really existed and he sang that song. — "Because Y/N mentioned Backsteet boys, we can put at least half a point." — Therefore, your name would have a new punctuation, even though it was small and not very valid. — "And she continues ahead!"

"Oh, i give up." — Rachel and Josh spoke at the same time, holding their hands up and laughing loudly.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Please share all you can about Toa the orca calf, I think his story is very important. I don’t know too much but it seems like a case of activists being but in charge rather than actual experts.

Yeah it was a mess from start to finish. Toa was found stranded on the rocks, with witnesses saying the waves had thrown him up there. Already he would have been distressed and had been on his side on a hard surface for a few hours at least.

They got him back in the water and then videos of these interactions started to surface:

No PPE, giving Toa belly rubs and ignoring any formal rescue protocols (if you're trying to refloat a whale, you're not letting them turn upside down)

The sun was going down and DOC wanted people out of the water. Ingrid was on her way and giving instructions to her team. The decision was made to put Toa on a trailer overnight - it's unclear if that was her decision or not but it's clear that, despite not having any rehab facilities in New Zealand, people were determined to rehab this calf and release it back into the wild at any cost.

So they cobbled together a "sea pen" on a boat ramp in a dirty harbour. This is where Toa would eventually die in a few weeks time. Whale Rescue was already selling the story of a miraculous rescue and the plan to "reunite" Toa with his pod. And lying openly that orca calves had been successfully released in the wild before:

He wasn't injured, they said. He was fine. They just had to find his pod now.

When asked reasonable question about where the PPE was for volunteers, Whale Rescue immediately became defensive:

The call for PPE went ignored for about a day while people were in close contact with a sick orca. And the call went out for more "volunteers" aka anyone with a wetsuit. This sparked immediate concerns from the Advisory Group.

Photos like this started showing up - 6 people crowding Toa in a circle, no where for him to go if he wanted a break from people:

The excuse was that Toa needed help swimming. Yet he was swimming okay and avoiding the fences without any obvious issue. And so the habituation began... Despite continuing advice from the Technical Advisory Group - including Loro Parque and SeaWorld, who both have extensive calf raising experience.

"There is no need to have people 24/7 in the water when the animal is able to float and swim alone."

Finally PPE was being used but the habituation and intense contact with Toa continued. Ingrid gave it the okay and other inexperienced members of the public continued to encourage it.

Whale Rescue continued to affirm to the public that they are merely "duplicating natural behaviour" for Toa

And the cultish and unquestioning worship of Ingrid Visser allowed this to continue - note the amount of people in the water for Toa's "massage." They only started wearing PPE when people started questioning it.

If you're wondering what I mean by cultish behaviour see the comment thread below:

They actually believe that Ingrid was communicating with Toa. Because that's what she told them she was doing. And they believed it without question.

When Toa was moved into the freshwater pool due to storms, it got even worse.

This photo was quickly deleted but look how absolutely foul the water is:

There didn't appear to be any sort of filtration or pump system.

At this point volunteers and Ingrid were being fed by donated food from the local pubs, Ingrid was sleeping on site in a donated campervan and the entire community were rallying around trying to "help." Note how close they're all set up to the pool.

Putting him in the pool also made Toa a lot more accessible. Concerns were raised about the stress to the calf and an exclusion zone was agreed upon. Buuut it was immediately disregarded.

7 people! In that tiny pool! And the photos of the complete flouting of the rules continued to surface.

The comments find it all very amusing!

Roll up, roll up! Come and see the dying baby orca calf!

And then, as we near the end of this animal's torment, Ingrid brags to the press about how she's now TRAINING the animal she intends to release into the wild. Because we definitely want to be training cooperative care and making life saving feeding and hydrating procedures all about Choice.

Remember when Ingrid Visser didn't like the "exploitation" of orcas in captivity? Remember when she said that training "tricks", even husbandry behaviours, is cruel and bad? I do!

It makes me seriously wonder if she just wanted to be an orca trainer all her life.

But anyway, Toa's getting bouts of colic (gee, maybe changing the formula without permission wasn't a good idea!) and DOC is starting to get concerned about him. At this point, people are still denying that SeaWorld and Loro Parque are involved and any mention of a facility getting involved is immediately shut down.

This is what was being said in the Advisory Group:

At this point both SeaWorld and Loro Parque have provided formulas, advice ect. Ingrid Visser was claiming she knew these things all along and that the formulas were from her hand picked experts.

So these are what the comments were:

Whale Rescue thought it was appropriate to reply to comments of concern like this:

The cult of Visser continues to fuel the anti human care sentiment.

DOC starts to report concerns with Toa's health and Whale Rescue decides to double down that everything is completely Fine. Don't listen to DOC, keep giving us money.

The donations are getting up to 20k.

Because of Whale Rescue casting dispersions, anti DOC (Department of Conservation - who put in about 10k into the rescue efforts) sentiments grow.

And, only a few days later, Toa dies. I reached the end of my image limit but I still have plenty more screenshots I can share.

I recommend you check out the documents released by DOC to see the sources of these screenshots - the other screenshots were taken from news reports, Facebook groups and posts as well as videos:

#Toa #Toa the orca #cetacean welfare #orca #killer whale #Ingrid Visser #New Zealand #whale rescue #cetacean rehab #cetacean rescue

[stylesharrys]

all that you are | part 2 [mafiarry]

authors note: part 2 is here! another long one darlings, so get comfy and some snacks! next part will be posted sometime next week or the week after as I’m currently half way through writing. I hope you're enjoying the series so far!!

word count: 26,163 (i’m not even sorry)

warnings: lots of swearing, violence, use of deadly weapons, torture, murder, descriptions of a de*d body, arranged marriages, mentions of blood and abuse, smut; oral (fem receiving), a little dirty talk, kissing, teasing.

summary: the time has come for harry’s initiation as capo dei capi, and y/n has mixed feelings about the steps he has to take.

//

Y/N sighs softly, brows pinched together and a sad glint in her eyes. Maria stares back at her through the small screen of Y/N’s phone.

She hasn’t spoken to anyone since she found out Stefano isn’t Harry’s biological father three days ago. She’s been preparing herself for the backlash she thought she was bound to face, but it’s yet to come.

“Bruno’s just a massive dick, still. Nothing’s changed. Oh, but me, Dad and Uncle Giovanni are coming to New York next month!”

Y/N’s ears perk up and she feels tears of happiness well in her eyes. It doesn’t matter that it’s been a week and a half since she’s been gone, it already feels like a lifetime.

“You are! When? What date!? Wait, why are you coming to New York with Father and Uncle Romero?”

Y/N can’t keep the questions at bay, doubt and worry bubbling within her. She may not know much about the business her family and others within the Famiglia conduct, but she knows it’s uncommon for women, especially daughters, to travel.

Maria shrugs, a hint of nervousness glimmering in her eyes.

“Some Nino dude in Harry’s family wants to marry me… I overheard Dad and Vanni talking about it,” her voice dies off in a hesitant whisper, tone full of fear and worry.

Y/N’s very rarely seen such a side of her cousin and she hates that she isn’t able to be by her side, to comfort her and beg Giovanni not to do this.

“What?! You can’t marry Nino, Maria. He’s dangerous!”

Her mind is in a frenzy, Harry’s words boiling in her head. Stay away from Nino. He’s merciless and evil. Her palms start to sweat, lungs tighten and it’s like someone’s sitting on her chest, restricting her lungs from fully expanding and it swells a panic deep in her gut.

Maria’s seemingly oblivious on the other end, or maybe she’s just trying to not let the gravity of the situation affect her.

“I mean, I met him at your wedding. He’s hot as fuck, dude,” she gawks in her typical, vibrant self but Y/N doesn’t let herself snort a laugh like she usually would.

Guilt is what’s bubbling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Maybe this is Harry’s doing. Maybe this is the punishment she has to face for snooping through his personal photos that he clearly hid away from prying eyes. Maybe all of this is Y/N’s fault.

She’s shaking her head instead, gripping the phone in a tight vice and swallowing back the raw pain her throat feels from willing herself not to scream.

“I’m going to fix this, okay? I’ll talk to Harry and I’ll fix this. I promise, Maria. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/N spends the rest of the afternoon gnawing her fingernails raw. She’s burnt holes in the ground from pacing back and forth and every time Mike has tried to converse with her, she’s unintentionally blanked him.

She hasn’t sat down since she ended the call with Maria, hasn’t had her hands out of her hair for longer than ten minutes before she’s tugging on it again.

She’s eager for Harry to come home, desperate to get on her knees and beg him not to do this. She doesn’t think he’s the kind of person to punish someone else to upset her but she doesn’t know him.

She doesn’t know what he’ll do to get a point across. She’s sure he doesn’t like the idea of hurting women, but when a man’s ego is bruised or they’re angry, they tend to go back on their word.

It’s another three hours of aimless pacing when Harry finally returns to the penthouse. The second he steps foot out of the elevator, she’s in the closest proximity they’ve been since their first dance; glossy eyes and a slightly pink nose. Her skin is a little blotchy and he knows for a fact she’s been crying.

Harry's first instinct is to throttle Mike, assuming he’s done or said something to upset her. Before his eyes can even find her guard, Y/N’s hands are gripping at his thick biceps and she’s forcing him to look at her, for once desperate for his attention.

“Don’t do this, please!” She starts out flat begging, no build up and Harry’s dark brows are pinched together, utter confusion plastered on his face but she continues her frantic spew.

“I’m sorry for snooping at those photos, I’m sorry! But don’t punish Maria for my mistakes, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make her marry him.”

Her tone of plea has Harry’s throat feeling tight, like a thick bubble has formed in his throat and he can’t swallow it. The fear in her words sends shockwaves through his body and the raw panic that swims in her eyes makes him feel sick.

He vowed he wouldn’t let her feel fear in his presence, that he would protect her through their marriage and he’s breaking his promises a week in.

“Y/N, stop,” he coos in the gentlest tone he can.

His hands reach up to clasp around her wrists and softly, he pulls them from his arms and keeps them in a hold of one hand, lowering them between their bodies so she rests her palms flat against his hard chest.

Her breathing stills; perhaps from realisation of their close proximity, perhaps in fear. There are small, dull bags beneath Harry’s eyes and he looks paler than usual.

For a brief moment, she forgets about Maria’s situation and wonders if he’s okay, unsure whether he’s eaten or not today, but the gravity of the situation sits heavy on her shoulders again and she’s thrown back in that state of panic.

“You really think I’d do something like that to you?”

His doubtful words are spoken in a hushed tone that’s just above a whisper and her panic drops a little, heart fluttering. Would he? Do something like that to her? Harry sighs tiredly, keeping his hold on her wrists and he soothingly thumbs across the soft skin.

“I found out this afternoon, and I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to talk to you about it. I had nothing to do with this, believe me,” he reassures her and she believes him, she does, but knowing he didn’t have a say in this matter and it’s still happening doesn’t make her feel any better.

The panic is rising again and she shakes her head, trying to rip away from his grasp but he holds her a little tighter and she’s staring up at him, those innocent doe eyes wide and watering.

“Maria’s a handful and she doesn’t think or care about the consequences of her actions. Uncle Romero decked her with an ashtray because she dyed her hair. What did she do a week later? Dyed it a brighter colour! She doesn’t care and he’ll hurt her and I can’t let that happen, Harry. Please, I can’t let that happen.”

He watches her in her whole glory for a fleeting moment; allows himself to wallow in her pity and fear.

It’s the first time she’s ever said his name to him and the first occurrence she’s shown such raw emotion other than fear in the two weeks they’ve been together.

It’s love, the way she speaks and begs for her cousin. An emotion full of fire and passion and fondness. It startles something in Harry’s gut and it’s like he struggles to address her properly, like he doesn’t want to risk never seeing her so herself again.

Harry opts for squeezing her wrists gently and bowing his head a little closer to hers.

“I don’t have the power to change things -- to decline the deal. Stefano is still Capo so what he says goes,” his voice is a strained apology and anger bubbles in his veins at the sight of a stray tear slipping past his girl's eye.

He’s furious at Stefano. For making Y/N cry or for stirring unsettling feelings in Harry’s stomach, he’s not sure, but he feels it and he knows what burning rage is. He bites it back, and isn't about to explode his frustrations on the poor girl.

“Stefano will be flying in for the meeting and he will be the one to decide, though it’s highly likely he’ll accept the deal. Salvatore has no doubt been down his throat about it,” he explains, his words dying off in a deep mumble but Y/N’s lips are still quivering.

“This whole thing has nothing to do with you or Maria. This is Nino’s way of trying to beat me, to earn the title as Capo. The only way he could take my place would be if he killed myself and Stefano. And it’s not something I’d ever put past him,” he admits.

Y/N doesn’t know what it is that has her keening into his touch, but she feels her heartbeat calm when he strokes his thumbs across her wrists. Her fear is very much prominent in the way she looks at him but there’s also an overwhelming amount of trust in her eyes that suggests she believes him and the look alone scares him.

It worries him what will happen if he can’t see through the silent promise of doing whatever he can to stop the marriage from happening.

“Come on, it’s late… let’s go to bed.”

He knows neither of them have it in them to show another ounce of verbal vulnerability so it’s not much of a shock to him when she agrees.

It also isn’t a shock to either when Y/N follows her nighttime routine as Harry brushes his teeth in the bathroom mirror, side by side for the first time.

Neither register the state of comfort and ease they for some reason feel as they unwind for the evening, not quite with it to realise the drastic change.

At least, not until Y/N’s getting comfy under the silk sheets she’s grown to appreciate and Harry follows after switching out the light.

Suddenly, crawling into bed together is what makes the situation really dawn on her and she takes into account his patience from just half an hour ago.

Harry’s in just a pair of plaid pyjama pants beneath the sheet and she’s facing him; eyes tracing the faint lines of his shoulder blades in his back under the dark light of the room.

She wants to test the waters a little further; she’s dipped her toes in the warm pool and now she’s ready to let it swim at her ankles, to allow herself an easy escape before she submerges fully into him, before the night bleeds into another day.

“I want to come to work with you,” she mutters softly before she can really process her thoughts because now that the words have spewed from her mouth, she regrets them.

Y/N most certainly does not want to go to work with him and she’s almost dead sure she’ll never want to either.

Harry frowns in the darkness of the room as he shuffles onto his other side, bleary eyes blinking to clear his vision to make out the outline of her soft features in the night.

He waits a beat, expecting a string of apologies to follow; begging him to forget about it. They’re both confused when it doesn’t, when the silence is more welcoming than usual and he nods slowly to himself.

He always said he doesn’t want his wife to feel trapped, like she has no sense of freedom. But he also doesn’t particularly want to expose Y/N to that side of his life, that side of him.

He supposes one day, she will see him for the monster he really is, and as much as he wishes to delay the inevitable, he’d rather her see him on his terms than by accident.

“If you go to sleep now, you can come with me next Thursday for a meeting,” he proposes, voice light but there’s an underlying timidness to his tone that Y/N doesn’t miss.

Something troubles her stomach, a warm yet uneasy feeling at the prospect of being surrounded by men like her husband, men she has no trust in and will likely scare her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything in return, too worried that her voice will betray her. Instead, she rolls over and closes her eyes; mood at ease and knowing he’s allowing her to attend a meeting instils a little more trust in the wavering faith she’s growing to have in him.

Sleep begins to roll over in gentle waves when a light heaviness sits around her midsection. She stills under the weight of his arm that slings across her middle and she hears the rustling of sheets as he shuffles closer, until she feels the heat from his chest radiating to her back.

Her heart is pounding but she doesn’t push him away.

It’s a start, Harry thinks.

//

The last time she was this nervous while staring at her reflection in the mirror was her wedding day. Y/N’s palms are growing clammy by the second, uncomfortable with sweat as she debates whether or not she should have the third button of her blouse up or not. She looks formal, important; like she runs a company and is about to head out for her meeting.

The reality of the situation is that she’s freaking out. It’s Harry’s men and Harry’s meeting that she’s about to sit in on. She’s been growing uneasy since she asked to go to work with him a week ago. A whole seven days of uncertainty and wanting to back out on her idea. But she doesn’t want to seem weak.

For the first three days after he said yes, it didn’t really register with her. She’s still shocked that he even agreed for her to come to work, convinced he’d laugh at her and say something demeaning like her father would.

Harry noticed her hesitancy as the days passed and without realising, she’s craved his presence and approval a little more since then.

She lets him hold her in the evenings when they sleep, even went as far as mustering up the courage and turning in his hold to snuggle into his chest last night. He knows why she did it; because she’s been worrying about today.

Neither of them brought the topic up since he first agreed, but Harry knows he probably should’ve reassured her before waiting until the last minute.

Now he’s watching her from the doorway of the closet. From his position, shoulder against the wall and arms crossed over his thick chest, he watches the way Y/N twists and turns to gauge her reflection, how she tucks her blouse in tighter before tugging it out to loosen it a little more.

“You look beautiful,” his gentle voice intends to coax her out of her bubble but instead, it pops it abruptly and gives her a startle.

With a hand on her chest, she turns around and catches her breath, cheeks pink under her light makeup and a nervous smile on her lips.

“Harry… you scared me,” she admits through a shaky breath.

She’s called him by his name several times in the past week, but fuck, if his heart doesn’t still leap when he hears it tumble from her lips. He offers an apologetic smile and unfolds his arms, stuffing thick hands into the tight pockets of his dress pants.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You do look beautiful, though. Are you ready?” he asks, tone as patient as he can muster so as to not shove more pressure on her aching shoulders. Y/N lets out a shaky breath and nerves and fears rattle her body to her core.

She’s scared; terrified, really. The thought of being in a large meeting room with several merciless killers and Made Men is not a soothing flicker in her mind.

She’s positively trembling the entire ride to one of Harry’s warehouses. She’s picking at her nails and knuckles and her gaze is fixed out of the window.

In the week leading up to this, she’s been out a couple more times with Mike; showing her around to cute lunch cafes and even one or two quirky bookstores that had caught her eye as he drove her around.

Harry is yet to take her out on the streets of New York but she knows he’s busy and the more she thinks about it, the more uneasy she feels about the idea of him taking her out in public.

She doesn’t know if she feels safe enough around him to know that he’ll protect her if something were to happen. She knows if an attack is to happen on her, it’ll likely be when she’s with Mike, but she also can’t help but feel she has a bigger target on her back if she’s seen roaming the streets or dining in restaurants with her husband.

Harry makes no effort to comfort her from his seat beside her in the back of the slick SUV. His thighs are slightly parted, hands clasped and folded over his middle and she’s registered the bouncing of his knee by the way the leather seats shift under the slight weight of the movement.

The thought of him being nervous doesn’t even take consideration in her mind, not when she’s too worried about her own nerves, when he’s done these kinds of meetings all his life.

But Harry is somewhat nervous. While he’s attended these meetings since he was initiated at age twelve after stabbing a man twice his age in the throat, he’s never ran a meeting with a woman by his side.

He knows he’ll be questioned about her presence; why a woman of the mafia is attending business meetings when she has no place, but Harry also knows it’s a perfect opportunity for him to assert his dominance, for Stefano’s men to get a taste of what life will be like when Harry eventually reigns as Capo.

He doesn’t let her know that, or anyone else, for that matter. Instead, he keeps quiet. He knows she’s too in her head to notice his nervous jitters and if he’s honest, he’s not too sure how to comfort her without coming off too forward or scaring her.

If his Mother or sister were in her situation, he’d press a kiss to their head and hold their hand. His wife is a little different in their current state of relationship.

By the time the car is pulling up to a large, industrial looking building, her fears and worries are only intensified. It’s chic and modern, no doubt about it… but it’s also relatively out of the way from the rest of the public and the seven other cars parked warrant a little more fear than before.

Demetri rounds the car and opens Harry’s door. He’s been Harry’s driver for three years and knows to keep his mouth shut unless spoken to. It’s not something he’s learnt from chauffeuring Harry around, but from his time working personally for Stefano and Salvatore in their younger years.

He’s been working for the Dellucci’s for three decades and while he knows Harry to be a much kinder man than most, he knows that feeling of having a bullet in his knee much better.

When Harry steps out of the car with a polite thanks, Demetri gently limps across the back and opens Y/N’s door. He doesn’t make eye contact with the young woman, another thing he learnt from the Dellucci’s.

She thanks him politely, hands soothing down her skirt and Harry stands beside her, a silent look between the two and she takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back and raising her chin.

She feigns confidence like a pro, and for a second, Harry’s almost fooled. Almost.

With a hand gently hovering over the small of her back, Harry guides her through the glass doors and into the lobby. A guard stands to the left; tall and lean and build like a fucking brick house.

He’s got on a slick suit and a little earpiece tucked away. He nods his head in greeting at Harry and takes a step out of the way, allowing the two through. He doesn’t spare a glance at Y/N.

She can hear her heart thumping in her ears as her little heels click against the marble floors. The lighting is dim through the halls, several locked doors on each side as she passes them until they reach the very end.

Harry stands before her, his hand on the doorknob and without thinking, Y/N latches onto his bicep; out of anxiety, needing to feel him close to her, to know he’ll protect her.

He stills momentarily, giving her a slither of a moment to know he understands, and he’s opening the door. There’s quiet chatter in the room, seats occupied aside from two. Did they know she was coming?

She recognises a fair few faces; two of Harry’s uncles and the dark red hair of Brian from the wedding. He appears happy to see her; grinning from ear to ear as he approaches the couple.

Harry greets his best friend with a firm, professional handshake. Like they haven’t fucked the same girl at the same time while sniffing coke of another stripper’s ass. His gaze is fixed on Y/N, though and she feels a little uncomfortable, not used to being under the gaze of men so close to her age.

“Y/N, lovely to see you again,” he says softly, nodding his head with a soft smile in a respectful greeting and she appreciates the lack of physical interaction he offers.

Harry’s hand finds its way on the small of her back again at the realisation of several eyes on his wife.

Brian still can’t hide his grin. By the shy look on her face and how she holds herself under Harry’s touch, he knows she has no clue how much Harry’s been swooning about her. About how peaceful she looks when she sleeps, that she’s infatuated with reading books and scribbling little annotations in the margins.

She doesn’t know that he’s been cooing over the way she gnaws on her inner cheek when she’s nervous and Brian feels about ready to start teasing his boss.

He keeps quiet, though, when Harry gives him a look. A look that suggests that while he may have that little dirt on him, if he does anything to ruin any progress with Y/N, he’ll surely cut off his balls and force feed them to him. Brian knows the kind of man Harry is, so it’s not something he’d put past him if he did something to truly upset or infuriate him.

The meeting begins as Y/N and Harry take their seats. None of the men address the female elephant in the room as Harry rolls through numbers and names, what they’re owed and how they’re going to get the Mexican Cartel in their books.

Y/N barely manages to register any of what he’s saying, too busy trying to slow her heart rate and stop her fucking hands from trembling. It isn’t until Harry takes note of the lack of responses in the room that he notices all eyes are glaring or perving on his wife and a wave of anger and protectiveness rolls over him in mini tsunami waves.

Harry casually leans back in his seat, hands slipping from the table and onto his lap as he brings forward the topic of Luca Buevello and how he owes almost twelve grand. It’s when he reminds the men of their terms and conditions when handling deals that he slowly inches his hand closer to Y/N’s lap, and knocking the edge of his hand with hers, their pinkies lock together.

Her heart is thumping over the gentle weight of his hand in her lap, over the way his strong, calloused finger is linked with hers. Spooning every night doesn’t feel nearly as intimate as this; secretly holding pinkies beneath a table in a room full of Made Men.

Nonetheless, the feeling offers a large sense of safety and relief to Y/N; the silent admission is enough to tell her that he’s there, he notices her state of discomfort, and he’ll protect her.

She’s easing down now and slowly allowing herself to listen to what Harry’s saying about the terms, when an older, somewhat tubbier man speaks up before Harry can finish.

“No disrespect, sir,” he begins, knowing to address Harry in the correct way while he’s temporarily on trial as Capo.

“But why is your gorgeous wife gracing us with her presence?” he continues, leaning forward on his desk and in his position, the light falls on the balding spot at the top of his head as he licks his lips.

“Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be listening in on such violent business, sweetheart,” he jeers.

Harry’s stunned for a half second, like he can’t believe the size of balls this forty year old perv has. Harry’s seething through gritted teeth, a dark and dangerous chuckle falling from his lips.

“You’d do well to keep your mouth shut, Riccardo,” his lock on Y/N’s pinkie tightens just a little. “Who knows what we might catch.”

Y/N purses her lips and bows her head as she suppresses a smile at Harry’s insulting comment. She feels a little lighter through the rest of the meeting, shoulders relaxed and she doesn’t feel as small under the men's gazes anymore. She’s holding Harry’s pinkie as tight as he holds hers, a silent reassurance and thanks. One they both understand and reciprocate.

It’s something Brian notices as the meeting draws to a close; that Harry moves his hand from her lap slowly and their pinkies release their hold. It has a furrowed brow and squinted eye plastered on his face as Harry dismisses his men.

He leaves Y/N in her seat as he sees them through the door, Brian hovering until the end as he comes back in.

“I’ve called Mike, he’s going to take you back to the penthouse, I’ve got some business I need to finish, okay? I’ll call you if I run late,” he informs in a gentle tone, back to Brian as to offer at least some sort of privacy between the two.

Y/N nods with a small smile, doesn’t argue or push for details -- she doesn’t want to know and she’s too caught by the end of his sentence. I’ll call you if I run late.

“Okay,” she breathily replies.

“Harry,” Brian pipes up quietly from the other end of the conference table, arms folded over his chest and he nods his head to the door, gesturing for a private word.

He mumbles a ‘be right back’ to Y/N and follows his right hand man outside. Pushing the door, he raises his brows expectantly at the redhead.

“Bro, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get laid and fuck all that pent up frustration out of your system,” he whispers through gritted teeth, smacking Harry on the side of his shoulder and the taller man can’t help but groan and roll his eyes.

Brian bounces on his toes. “Have you even slept with Y/N since the wedding night?” he pries.

Y/N knows it’s wrong, that she shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation. But when her name is spoken in a hushed tone between her husband and his best friend, she can’t help but feel at least a little intrigued.

The mention of their wedding night is enough to turn her mood sour and she can feel that familiar rumble of bile bubbling in her tummy again.

“Keep your voice down,” she hears him seethe through gritted teeth.

Harry shuffles uncomfortably in his spot and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing a hand down his tired face and shaking his head.

“We never fucked! I faked the sheets and she was too drunk to remember. I let her think we slept together,” he spits his secret through a whisper, face close to Brian as to stay as quiet as he can.

But Y/N hears -- she hears it all. She hears his admittance and she hears the white noise of everything else as it sinks in. He never slept with her. He never took her virginity. He never touched her. She feels light, like she’s floating and the impending, crushing weight of self hatred is no longer suffocating her.

She didn’t sleep with him.

She should hate him. Hate him for lying to her, for letting her believe she was drunk enough to allow him her body. Hate him for letting her hate herself. But she doesn’t, she can’t. All she can feel is free. She isn’t completely his, he didn’t take what is hers. That even in her most vulnerable state, he didn’t take advantage. That even when she was at her weakest point, he respected her.

It makes sense, now she knows the truth. How her thighs didn’t ache the next morning, that her core wasn’t pulsing and sore and she didn’t have bruises and marks littered across her hips and thighs. She feels stupid for not realising that the truth was always right in front of her.

“Are you serious? But you’ve been to the clubs since, right?” Brian pipes up again, arms across his chest like there’s no way in hell he’ll believe his friend hasn’t had sex for two weeks.

Harry shakes his head again with what Y/N deems as a pained sigh. “No, Bri. I’m a married man. Love between us or not, I won’t break or betray her trust,” he explains and while Y/N’s stomach flutters a little, Brian breaks into a laugh.

Harry frowns, can’t seem to understand what’s so funny.

“Sorry, bro… but you must be fucked if you think she trusts you,” Brian explains his amusement and it causes bolts of doubt to pile down Harry’s throat.

He knows it hasn’t been long, that he can’t ever expect her to trust him fully in such a short amount of time, but he hopes she knows he can trust his fidelity, at least.

His phone vibrates from his pocket and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Mike telling him he’s outside. He glares at Brian, not uttering another word and upon hearing movement from the other side of the door, Y/N quickly returns to her seat, feigning nonchalance and picking at her nails.

“Mike’s here. He’s waiting for you outside,” his voice speaks gently and she nods, standing from her seat and soothing out her skirt again.

She notices the small hint of a rosy hue that sits on the apples of his cheeks and she feels like she’s looking at him in a completely different light.

She doesn’t see such an intimidating monster anymore. She sees a man that did what he had to do to protect them both, despite how shitty it felt. She knows what happens in the rare instance that a man doesn’t take his wife’s virginity on their wedding night. That she’s passed around between willing uncles and cousins until they are satisfied. She sees a man that respected her in her weakest and most vulnerable moments.

Maybe that’s what possesses her to reach on her tiptoes and press her soft lips to his stubbly cheek in a gentle kiss. Maybe that’s why she squeezes his bicep as she passes him and shyly makes her way down the hall.

Harry watches her walk away with a stammer in his chest and a light blush on his cheeks; ignoring the teasing snickers from Brian and he watches Y/N disappear with Mike, turning back to his friend.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word.”

//

His knuckles are aching; sore and swollen with gashes of blood soaking the torn skin. There’s a mass amount of adrenaline that rushes through Harry when he goes on a debt collector run. There’s an excitement to hear their fucked excuses, maybe a bit of amusement for the sadistic part of him that loves to hear them beg for mercy.

Tonight is no different. Luca Buevello, a known affiliate and person of business with the New York Famiglia. He’s been a friend of the Dellucci’s for years but as of recent, too focused on gambling away his life to pay back what he owes.

Smacked out of his head when Harry and Brian arrived, they’ve got him roped and bound to a chair in the middle of his pristine kitchen; splatters of blood coating the white floors and counter doors.

They’ve been there for two hours. At first, it was a chat; Harry having at least a thread of trust in the man for knowing his step-father for so long, but he soon grew ballsy, commenting on his marriage and how he’d like to know how his Mother tastes. That’s what got him tied up with a black eye, broken nose and a kitchen steak knife lodged in his thigh.

Harry’s breathing slowly, chest heaving with deep breaths and his shirtsleeves have been rolled up to his elbows. The last time he was dressed like this was almost two weeks ago when he and Y/N were cooking pizzas together.

Maybe that’s what’s got him so impatient. He doesn’t want to be making appearances in debt collections. He wants to be at the penthouse with Y/N, finding out what’s going on with her, what that fucking kiss means.

“I’m losing my patience with you, Luca,” he starts, leaning the palms of his hands on the edge of a counter.

Brian’s got that sadistic smirk on his face, fingers gripping Luca’s fucked jaw to force him to look at him with blurred vision.

“I was willing to give you more time, but you just had to open your fucking mouth,” he tuts, pushing off the counter and walking toward him.

Luca’s face is unrecognisable, bruised and swollen and matted with sweat and blood. “Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to unlock your safe with your little fingerprint and give me my money,” he explains the simple steps, standing behind the man with a knife to the ropes.

“And if you try anything funny, you know we only need your finger to get that money. I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself here, Luca,” Harry tantalises, knowing the older man has never liked the younger one.

He’s just like Salvatore, doesn't think Harry should rule as Capo with his traitor blood. He’s team Nino, if you will.

Luca makes a muffled noise of acknowledgement and Harry cuts the rope. Brian pulls it off his body and takes a few steps back, watching with squinted eyes. Harry’s got a hand fisting the back of his shirt, just by his neck, and he guides him through the kitchen and into Luca’s personal office.

He mistakes Harry’s willingness for stupidity and in a haste of movements into the doorway of the office, Luca tugs the knife from his thigh with a muffled scream and rams it into Harry’s side in one swift motion. He doubles over in pain, grip on Luca faltering but Harry’s quicker, stronger than Luca anticipates.

Luca’s hand is still on the knife, trying to jab it deeper into his side but Harry grabs his wrist in a vice-like hold and tugs, twists it backward and breaks his thumb and wrist in a single snap. Luca falls to his knees, screaming and cursing profanities as Harry pulls the knife from his side and drags it across his throat in a quick slit.

Thick blood pools from the sharp incision as his body plummets to the floor, lifeless but still twitching. Harry’s breathing is heavy, groaning as he falls back against the door frame.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his shaking hand pulling up his torn and bloody shirt and blood is oozing frantically from the wound.

“Brian!” He calls out gruffly, hand applying pressure on the wound and the chirpy redhead bounds around the corner; coy smirk on his lips but it falters and his shoulders sag when he notices Harry’s state.

“I leave you for two minutes,” he mumbles through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s about to slice off Luca’s finger, unlock the safe and get the money, but Harry shakes his head, trembling hand pulling away from the gash in his side and he’s not sure he’s bled so much from a knife wound before.

“What the fuck? A little steak knife did that?” Brian quips, kneeling slightly to get a better look at the gash but there’s too much blood for him to actually see anything.

Harry shakes his head and pushes his shirt back down, maintaining the pressure. “I think he cut into a healing scar and it split,” he seethes, head bashing back against the wall as he bites back the flurries of pain.

//

It’s a painfully slow drive back to the penthouse. Harry’s laid out across the backseat while Brian drives, eyes on the road but his mind is focused on reminding Harry of what will happen if he bleeds all over his custom leather seats. Harry’s too busy trying not to bleed out to think of a snarky reply.

His mind is a little too preoccupied. He promised Y/N he’d call if he was running late and now it’s nearly 02:00 AM and he’s bleeding out in the backseat of his best friend's Maserati.

His phone is too wedged in his pocket and he can’t muster up the proper energy to call her or Mike. Besides, he supposes she’s asleep and he doesn’t want to wake her.

He’s groaning in discomfort, feeling woozy and lightheaded when they pull into the underground garage. He’s been hurt worse in the past; shot, stabbed, tortured, burned, but he took the knife out and the position of the knife tore into soft scar tissue of an old wound.

Brian holds his entire weight into his side as he punches in the code to the penthouse, both their suits are splattered in Harry’s blood. When they get inside, Harry can’t keep himself up, even with Brian’s support. Maybe it’s because he’s lost so much blood, or maybe it’s because he knows he’s home -- that he doesn’t have to be so alert anymore.

He falls straight into the dining table, chairs knocking over and in his delirious state, he sees Mike come flying into the kitchen with a gun in the air, eyes wide when he notices Harry’s state.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Mike seethes under a whispered breath, shoving the barrel of his gun down the back of his pants and rushing to Harry’s side.

Between the two of them, they manage to get him to the couch, shirt torn from his body as Brian raids the kitchen for hard liquor and a first aid kit. The frantic rummaging and knocking of furniture is what disturbs Y/N from her slumber. She stirs awake, brows furrowed in a sleepy state of confusion until another thud is heard from the kitchen with several deep, laboured grunts following.

She freezes in the middle of the bed, straining her ears to hear past the white noise of the quiet home. She hears it again.

“Fuck!” her heart is stammering and the noises continue. What if someone got into the penthouse? What if someone’s hurt Mike? Where’s Harry? Y/N’s mind runs on overdrive and she’s in that fight or flight situation.

She doesn’t even think as she reaches for Harry’s side of the bed and lifts the mattress just enough to retrieve the handgun he keeps there in the nights. The weight of the weapon sits heavy in her quaking hands but she swallows down her fear and checks the magazine is full.

She tiptoes to the door, eyes stinging with tears but she blinks them back quickly. If there is an intruder and she’s in danger, she can’t let tears cause a clouded vision. She can’t be stupid.

Light on her feet, Y/N sneaks out of the bedroom and follows the sounds. It’s not until she’s creeping down the stairs that she realises the rookie mistakes she’s probably making.

She didn’t check her phone to see if Mike or Harry texted her to hide, she didn’t call Harry to tell him what’s happening. She doesn’t do anything that will protect her apart from gripping the gun tighter.

She’s never held one of these before, let alone shot one, and she wonders if even in her alert, sleepy state, she’d have the guts and will power to shoot if she needs to. Wonder if she’ll be able to stand behind the bite of the shot and if the noise isn’t too deafening.

Y/N reaches the bottom of the stairs, creeping closer but her heartbeat sounds louder in her ears than the grunts do. It’s when she creeps the corner that the gun she’s raised lowers and a choked sigh slips from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she whispers shakily, gun dropping to the floor in a clang and she doesn't realise the safety’s been on the entire time.

Harry’s on the couch, a pool of his own blood smeared across his lap and on the oak floors. His shirt is stained red, shredded and thrown to the floor. Brian’s disinfecting the gash in the side of his abdomen, dotting the area with cotton balls and Mike sits to his other side, sterilising a needle with thread.

Her gaze catches him and he stares with wide eyes. The look of horror and shock on her face has Harry feeling sick, can’t believe he was stupid enough to have Brian bring him back to the penthouse, to inevitably set her up to see him in such a state. Y/N’s slowly making her way over, limbs weak and trembling as her legs carry her satin pyjama clad frame closer.

Bile is rising in her throat at the sight of him and he offers a weak smile. She hates that even in this state, he’s trying to reassure her, pretending that he’s okay. Y/N doesn’t know if she’s thankful or resentful -- does he really view her as such a frail child? Like she can’t deal with a bit of blood and a stab wound?

“I’m fine, it’s just a little blood,” he tries to ease her but it’s more than a little blood.

She keeps watching as Mike brings the needle to the skin, piercing through with no warning and Harry throws his head back with greeted teeth; seething profanities and the sight has something shifting in Y/N.

She shouldn’t be staring at his ripped torso, the way his sweat is letting his tanned skin gleam under the soft light of the lamp across the room. She shouldn’t have a certain feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach at the sight of his thick Adam’s apple bobbing, or the way his jaw tenses when Mike pierces the skin again.

She shouldn’t feel that tingle and throb between her parted thighs.

Her toes are wiggling against the oak floors, fingers twitching and Harry rolls his head back down; his chin meeting his chest and he’s staring up at her through his dark lashes. He notices the flush in her cheeks from across the room; the way her nipples have pearled against the silky material of her cropped satin cami.

He notices the way her thighs clench subconsciously before she runs back upstairs, and he’s left getting stitched with a semi and the knowledge that she’s undeniably dripping under those baby pink satin shorts. 

//

Harry enjoys a lot of things in life; the sunshine, fresh sheets, a cool beer at the end of a long day, and that overwhelmingly, indescribable feeling of sinking into a tight, soaked pussy at any given opportunity.

He’s been deprived of the latter for too long. Y/N’s been in New York for five weeks now, which means Harry hasn’t gotten his dick wet in seven.

He figured it’d be easier than this. That getting himself off in the shower or late nights in his office to a dirty porno would do the trick, but it hasn’t. He’s aching in his slick dress pants this morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes despite already being up for two hours and having showered.

Usually, he likes to think he’s perfectly gentlemanly when it comes to sexual wants and urges; that he can refrain from the need of sex there and then but he very clearly underestimated himself. He’s not entirely sure where this shift in his hormonal control has come from.

Lies.

He knows exactly what’s got him so pent up and frustratedly hung. Y/N, and the sight of her soaking through her baby pink satin shorts. Harry doesn’t want to admit that seeing her perky nipples pearl through her camisole was enough to give him a semi -- thinks he’s a little manlier than that, but tits are tits and he’s starting to grow needy.

Harry knows he needs a proper release soon, not one brought on by his hand or a dirty picture. He needs to bury himself deep in a tight little cunt and pound until his heart's content. But his head is stuck in another, equally frustrating rut.

It’s been three weeks since the stabbing and that damn kiss she planted on his cheek. She hasn’t spoken to him much since she caught him bloody on their couch with Mike stitching him up.

He doesn’t know if it’s because it scared her to see him hurt and it reminded her of what he’s capable of… or if seeing him like that made her doubt wanting to open up to him, push her away from growing closer.

He doesn’t know and it’s beginning to grate on him.

She’s said a total of seventeen words in the past three weeks (yes, he’s counted), and he’s a little worried. She hasn’t asked to attend anymore meetings, if she should still cook him dinner for when he gets home. She hasn’t asked anymore about Maria’s arrangement and he’s worried.

If only Harry allowed himself to look a little deeper at the situation. Because while seeing him bloody and beaten was a shock to the young woman, that’s not what drove her away, no.

What pushed her back from any more cheek kisses was the warm, melting sensation between her thighs at the sight of his sweaty chest -- the clouded thoughts and naughty shivers that ran up her skin at the sound of his grunts.

Y/N feels ashamed and embarrassed, but he doesn’t know that.

She’s tried to avoid him since that night -- no longer cuddling into him when they sleep or trying to wait up to see him for a few moments when he comes home. She’s been isolating away from him, trying to compartmentalise her thoughts about that night and the knowledge that he didn’t actually sleep with her, while also preparing herself for her family’s visit.

She thinks he hasn’t noticed her sudden withdrawal, but he has; figures she’ll talk in her own time. Harry’s not quite ready to push her away some more.

Her nerves for today have become her primary thought, though. She’s way too nervous about being in her father's presence for the first time in five weeks to push Harry away.

She knows they both need to be on their game today in case something happens, which means she needs to bite the bullet and address the situation, or at least, the effects of it.

Dressed in a mauve, midi wrap dress, her sandalled feet carry her from their room and into the kitchen. Harry watches her enter from his seat at the kitchen table; takes note of her loosely curled hair and how pretty and shy she looks.

She stops just in front of him, hands crossed at the front of her body and she rocks back and forth softly on the balls of her feet. She clears her throat as Harry sets down his coffee and turns to pay her his full attention.

“My family are visiting today,” she says in a casual tone, eyes focused on her pink painted toenails.

Harry dips his head with slightly squinted eyes, tries to see her face. “I know,” he plays, voice teasing and she looks up at him with a deep breath, hesitancy swimming in her eyes. Harry doesn’t move.

“And we both need to be with it today and not focussing on anything else,” she continues. She’s still toying with her fingers and Harry can’t help his deepening frown.

“Y/N,” he coos, “what’s going on?” He watches her take a deep breath and unclasp her hands, looking at him full on and Harry notices the pretty specs of lilac glitter on her eyelids.

“I’m sorry for being so distant the past few weeks,” she admits. “It’s just… after seeing you on the couch like that, it scared me a little and I didn’t know what to do, so I just distanced myself. I’m sorry.”

She leaves out the part where she got incredibly turned on by the sight of his glimmering chest and she hopes to God he buys her partly true admission. He does, or rather, lets on he does, and nods his head.

“It’s okay, I know that must’ve been scary for you,” he notes, leaving out the part where he knew she was dripping the entire time.

He waits a beat, like he’s trying to figure out where she’s wanting to take this conversation but he doesn’t have to think much before she’s speaking again.

“And um, well, about the kiss,” she chuckles nervously, cheeks heating in embarrassment and shyness.

Harry’s not sure if she’s about to tell him she regrets doing it, or apologise for overstepping boundaries. He doesn’t give her time to choose, too busy holding her clammy hands in his rough palms and tugging her a little closer to him. His knees are spread on the stool and she fits between them, unintentionally holding her breath at the closeness.

“Y/N, listen to me for a second,” he begins, massaging his thumb across her dainty knuckles and she nods, swallowing down her nerves.

“I know this marriage isn’t conventional, and I know neither of us got to marry for love. But it’s still a marriage and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me or in your own home. We’re together, until death does us part… I’d like for us to be comfortable around each other, to have some form of relationship,” he admits.

There’s something about the way he words it that stings a rattle in the pit of her stomach. We’re together, until death does us part. Y/N doesn’t think she truly realised the gravity of her living with him in New York.

This isn’t just some agreement where she can return home after a couple of months or years. This is her life now, her life until her dying breath.

Part of her wants to hate him for it, wants to scream and cry because she won’t have control over her future. The other part of her, the more logical part, takes it in its strides. In that part of her mind, she figures that if this is to be their lives now, they should make work what they can. They should be open with each other and allow a bond to form a connection.

Harry may choose to sleep with other women (not that she thinks he will after overhearing his conversation with Brian), and that will be okay. Y/N doesn’t have that option to meet other men and have affairs and she doesn’t want to be miserable in Harry’s presence.

She wants to feel comfort and lightness when they’re alone together, and wants to have a small smile on her face when his name is mentioned. She wants to know him at least a little bit. Someone she can trust and count on and talk to. She needs a friend, not just a husband.

But maybe she doesn’t want just a friend. Maybe she wants that kind of intimacy that she craves with him. Maybe she wants to be able to kiss his cheek when she likes. Maybe she wants him to kiss hers, too.

Harry’s in a similar boat. He knows he’s got it easier than her. That if he truly pleased, he could go to his whorehouses and fuck the night away. But that’s not the man his mother raised and he wants something with Y/N; something platonic or romantic, he’ll let her make those calls, but he wants something exclusive with her and her only.

He squeezes her hand, notices she’s deep in thought. “We need to communicate with each other, though. If you want to keep distance between us, that’s okay. And if you want the little touches and kisses, that’s okay, too. You were forced into this marriage, Y/N, but I won’t force anything else upon you.” Her hands are warm in his hold and she lets his words maul over in her mind. He’s right, she knows it. And for once, someone’s putting her first.

“Fear has no place in a marriage, Y/N. Not with me.”

//

Her nerves are eating at her insides, even after she threw up her breakfast once they arrived at one of Harry’s offices. It’s a different building to the one she accompanied him for the meeting a few weeks ago. It’s the same look, though; modern and chic and out of the way.

They’ve been waiting for almost two hours, spent the past 45 minutes of that time stuck in the same room as Stefano, Salvatore and Nino. Y/N’s been close to Harry’s side the whole time, doing her best to coil into herself under Nino’s discomforting gaze. He’s been staring the whole time; evil glint in his eye and filthy smirk on his lips.

Harry knows she wants nothing more than to punch him in the throat for proposing to marry Maria but she also knows she doesn’t have the guts and she has to be polite in the presence of other people. She’s tucked in Harry’s side; her arm looped around his and he takes it upon himself to intertwine their fingers and she squeezes it appreciatively.

There’s a constant silent understanding between them now, so it seems. A promise to have each other's backs and offer comfort and support when they know the other needs it. Y/N wonders if Harry will ever need hers.

Silence ticks away in the spacious room and it isn’t until Y/N hears commotion from down the hall that she moves in her seat. She peers to her side, looking through the window in the door and mousy brown hair catches with traces of pink catches her eye.

Y/N’s jumping from her seat before Harry can even make sense of what she’s doing. She doesn’t care that Stefano is likely glaring at her husband for not controlling his girl, or that Nino is likely getting a good look at her ass as she jumps up. All she cares about is Maria.

She sprints through the door and down the hall, eyes blazing with hope and their bodies crash into one another. Limbs are tangled in a frantic hold and Y/N can feel a warmth flow through her being, having the chance to be with her cousin again.

Maria is sobbing into the junction between her neck and shoulder; dampening the skin with salty tears but Y/N doesn’t mind. She’s close to tears herself and she doesn’t want to let go. She tells herself that Maria is safe in her arms but she knows her frail hold could barely save her from what she’s being condemned to.

Harry watches on solemnly. Though she’s sporting a sniffling nose and watering eyes, this is the happiest he’s ever seen her and when he watches her pull away, he’s engorged by her smile. Bright and heavenly, her brief happiness beams through the hall and Harry feels an odd sense of nauseating nostalgia -- a feeling he doesn’t come close to understanding.

For a moment, his heart flutters and he forgets about the situation at hand. He nearly forgets about his Familgia, about the mafia. All he can think is what he said this morning, of how bad he actually craves a relationship with his wife. He watches her smile falter when she sees her father and that gut instinct in him wants to pull her close and protect her from every man and woman that’s ever hurt her.

Harry makes no attempt to shake the feeling.

Instead, he entertains the idea of a real marriage with her in his head. He lets his mind wander to thoughts of loving her, getting to know her, of allowing her to love him. When her smile slips completely and she’s left with a frown, Harry makes a silent promise to himself that he will be the reason behind her next honest smile.

He’s always been open to love and the idea of it. Though he doesn’t much remember his father, he remembers the love he and his mother shared. He remembers having it instilled in him and Gemma even after Danny was gone. He remembers the words his mother used to promise him every night.

“Love is never a weakness, Harry. It’s the most painful thing you could ever endure, but it gives you a strength you never knew existed.”

He knows he doesn’t love Y/N -- knows better that she certainly doesn't love him and that’s okay. He thinks maybe one day, he could, but gaining her trust in the present is more important. Not for love, but for her.

Harry feels himself instinctively take a step closer when Bruno and Giovanni stand before his wife. He notices the way Y/N’s shoulders tense at the sight of them and her father pulls her into a timid and unwelcoming embrace.

She feels frozen in his hold, like she’s trapped again and her body is completely stiff. She can’t lift her arms to offer a warmer embrace and she honestly doesn’t want to. Y/N hopes Harry is watching, that he’s got an eye on her father and he’s ready to protect her if he needs to.

Harry does watch and his stomach bubbles. He hasn’t seen her this tense since their wedding night. He knows he shouldn’t, but he feels an odd sense of pride that he’s been able to encourage her to relax in his presence. But it doesn’t make the sight of her fear any less painful to witness, just because he’s not the cause of it.

He watches with squinted eyes as Y/N shifts in her dress uncomfortably. Giovanni’s lips are close to her ear but Harry can’t make out what he whispers -- he just knows it’s something cruel. Y/N pulls away from her father and her arms protectively wrap around herself.

Harry can see how she coils into her frame; making her look much smaller than she is as he bounds over. He’s sure he notices a flicker of something in Giovanni’s eyes as he meets the young Dellucci. Harry hasn’t got it in him for fake pleasantries. He stands in front of Y/N to shield her from her family's prying eyes.

Maria smiles shyly at Y/N as she hears them mumble their relief of being in the other's presence, when Giovanni reaches for Harry’s hand. He offers a firm greeting but his father-in-law takes it further and reaches forward, subtly leaning up on his own tiptoes as to reach Harry’s ears.

He feels his thick, musky breath on his neck and Harry tries not to grimace. “If she was still under my roof, she wouldn’t be seen dead wearing a dress so revealing to a family meeting.” Bruno is smirking from behind his father but Harry sees nothing entertaining about the situation.

His vision is dithering and he doesn’t know what he’s more offended and disgusted by: his demanding and controlling tone about his wife, or the sheer audacity he has to talk to him like that. Harry’s grip on Giovanni’s hand tightens like a vice and he knows the older man is struggling to stifle his groans under the crushing grip.

Harry snickers a hum, like he’s feigning agreement. “But she’s not under your roof, and Y/N can wear whatever the fuck she wants.” Giovanni tears his hand from Harry’s, eyes dark and swimming with absolute fury. He doesn’t expect for Harry to defend his daughter and the threatening tone he uses is taken as a challenge.

Giovanni straightens his jacket and stretches out his fingers -- popping his knuckles. Neither say a word to each other as the two Saccaro men saunter past Harry and into the meeting room. Y/N’s Uncle Romero follows close behind, keeping his head down and Harry thinks he’s the wisest out of the three.

Y/N is hovering behind him still, eyes glossy and fingers picking at her nails. A sense of safety washes over her when their eyes meet and she wants to reach out to hold his hand, to thank him, but she knows now is not the time. He’ll no doubt be the talk of California when her family returns home and she knows he needs to keep his hard facade up.

Instead, he offers a tight lipped smile and nods his head ever-so-subtly. She appreciates the acknowledgement and lets him guide her into the meeting room. She’s tucked beside him through it all, eyes focussed on her twiddling fingers or her fidgeting cousin.

She can’t really focus on anything that’s being said but whenever she hears Harry’s voice, she holds onto it. She doesn’t really take in what he’s saying but she lets his voice ground her, offering that piece of safety and reassurance.

Her fingers are busy tugging at the hem of her dress; trying to pull it further down her thighs when she feels Nino staring straight at her.

She doesn’t need to look up to know his eyes are zeroed in on her rounded chest and Harry catches on just as quickly. He allows for Stefano to take over, to discuss the terms in which this marriage would include. Harry reaches blindly for her hand and tugs it away from her dress.

She looks gorgeous and he isn’t about to let a comment from her father make her feel anything less than that. He intertwines their fingers and Y/N forces herself not to look, to keep her eyes on her cousin. Her heart spasms when she feels him lift their hands and his soft lips press a gentle kiss to the back of her palm.

She tries not to make it known that she’s choking on her breath and she knows Nino witnessed the display of affection and she wonders if that was Harry’s intention all along. To make him jealous? A silent warning to back off? She doesn’t know but her body is ignited in a welcoming sense of warmth.

She can’t focus on the legalities of the situation that Romero and Salvatore discuss. Nor can she focus on the comments Nino makes or how Giovanni and Bruno snicker like school children. All she can focus on is the turmoil in her head that he just kissed her hand in front of a room of other notorious mobsters.

It’s when Harry’s thumb starts to run smoothly over the divots of her knuckles that she feels herself swoon. She’s overwhelmed. He’s trying to make her feel safe and comfortable; something no one has ever done for her. She’s too caught up in her inner monologue of what this all means, that she doesn’t hear Harry’s voice raise as he tries to fight against another arranged marriage.

What she does hear, and what does snap her from her oblivious state, are a stack of papers that smack against the oak table and the faint scribble of Romero’s signature whizzing across the paper. Y/N’s frantic eyes dart between made men as her heart kicks up a fuss. That once comforting warmth is now a sweltering heat she can’t seem to bear.

Her eyes find Maria who looks all too calm and composed for her situation. Y/N swears she notices a hint of a smile flitter on her lips and she feels sick. She knows her hint of excitement is all for Nino’s looks, but Maria doesn’t know the type of person he is. She wants to scream at her to run, to never look back, but nothing comes out.

A hand squeezes hers and she looks to her side in search of Harry. His lips are pursed and there’s a hint of something she hasn’t seen before that swims in his eyes. Regret. Regret that he couldn’t stop the arrangement, that nothing he said or did was good enough to sway either party involved. Another part of him knows it’s not his fault. Stefano is Capo and therefore, his say goes.

Y/N looks away, can’t bear to look at her husband and see the same nauseating look in his eyes. She does, however, squeeze his hand back gratefully for his attempts. She knew not to get her hopes up, but she still feels like her spirit and soul have been shattered. Even being married to one of the most powerful Made Men of today’s society doesn’t protect your family.

“Then it’s agreed,” Nino smirks. “Maria Saccaro will be my wife.”

Y/N’s blood boils and she rises to her feet as hands are shaken across the table. She rests her hand on Harry’s shoulder as she stands, leaning to bring her lips to his ear.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” There’s anger and spits of venom laced in her raging voice and he can’t say he blames her.

He watches her leave the meeting room with squinted eyes before Bruno is leaning over to shake at his hand.

“Where’s she running off to?” he asks, but Harry knows better than to tell him anything. He scoffs at her brother and tightens his grip.

“Your sister hasn’t been a concern of yours for a long time. Don’t try that big brother bullshit with me now,” he warns.

He shoves Bruno with the force of his shoulder to greet Maria properly. Her eyes are a little wild, like she’s trying to process what’s just happened. She eyes him sceptically as he reaches for her hand in an open palm. When she sits her trembling fingers in his grasp, he closes his other hand above hers.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this,” he admits lowly as to not attract the attention of his family or hers. Maria doesn’t say anything and Harry doesn’t expect her to. Instead, he nods in a respectful way and is pulled out of the office with everybody else.

It’s Stefano that shakes his hand next, a gleaming smile and a sweat-dotted hairline. Harry frowns at the precipitation that sheens on his ageing skin.

“That’s how it’s done, boy,” he grins wickedly, like he hasn’t just condemned a young girl to a lifetime of misery with his psychotic nephew.

“Why are you sweating so much?” he asks with a grimace.

Harry chooses to ignore the comment he makes back and pulls his hand from Stefano’s clammy one. He wipes his now damp hand down his dress pants and eyes his step-father. He’s pulled away by Salvatore before he can answer and Brian is swooping in to his friends side, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“That went well,” he notes.

Harry rolls his eyes at his choice of words and clears his throat. “As well as an arrangement can go with the Saccaro’s, I suppose.” Brian scoffs, nudging his shoulder.

“You say that like you’re not married to one of them,” he snorts. Brian’s leaning on tiptoes, known for being one of the shortest, in search for the aforementioned woman.

“Where is she anyway? You know Mike’s not with her, right? Too busy ogling over her cousin.” Harry follows Brian's direction of a head nod and finds his wife's guard standing off to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets but his line of sight is strictly on Maria who looks all too lost and like she’s searching for the same woman Brian is.

Harry sighs. “She’s in the bathroom. Needed to cool herself down after that shitshow. Can you blame her?” he mumbles, shoulder brushing against Brian’s as they stand offish to the side. He hums, agreeing with his superior and rocks slightly on the balls of his feet.

Harry’s eyes are fixed on the corner that rounds to the bathroom and he’s beginning to get a bit impatient. She’s been in there for nearly ten minutes now. He’s been too caught in what Brians been saying and keeping tabs on Mike that he hasn’t noticed Giovanni sauntering off in search of his daughter.

Y/N comes shuffling out of the bathroom when she notices her father waiting outside for her. The second their eyes meet, he’s shoving her into the wall and a finger is being pointed in her face. Her face is stricken with fear and she’s shuddering beneath his tall figure.

She tries to push him away -- to slip out from his grasp, but he’s grabbing her wrist and forcing her back against the wall. “You listen here, you little bitch,” he’s seething through gritted teeth. She can’t comprehend what’s happening. She doesn’t understand.

Y/N hasn’t done anything to warrant a punishment. She doesn’t understand that he’s taking his frustrations from Harry out on her. Giovanni isn’t a silly man. He knows he won’t stand much of a chance in a quarry with Harry, but he has his daughter to take his anger out on. He blames her, anyway. Harry wouldn’t have spoken to him or tried to break his hand if his daughter wasn’t acting like an insolent whore.

In a fit of fury and bravery, she rips her hand from Giovanni’s hold. She thinks if she’s loud enough, Harry will hear her and save her. How pathetic, running from one man just to beg for help from another.

“I’m not your property anymore,” she spits, but her moment of resilience is backfired as Giovanni raises his fist in an attempt to beat the respect back into her.

She cowers to the side when his fist kisses her eye and a sharp yelp cries from her lips. Her mind is frozen but her body is in shock. In the month she’s been away from him, she’s forgotten the painful impact behind the bite of his blows. She hasn’t been hit in two months and if she’s honest, she thinks that’s her longest streak.

Y/N’s shaking, chest rattling and she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. She feels like she’s stuck in her bedroom in California; screaming and begging for someone to take her away as he punches and kicks. She thinks this is about to be the same way -- that her father will bruise her black and blue to teach her a lesson.

But Harry’s growing impatient waiting for her to return. He’s rounding the corner as Giovanni takes a step away from the entrance to the bathroom, and that’s when he sees her cowering against the wall with an angry red cheek and mascara-smudged eyes. Y/N’s sobbing, holding her cheek, and neither her nor Giovanni notice his presence.

He goes to raise his hand again but Harry’s tackling him into the closest wall with a hand around his throat and another on his gun. He’s seething, fucking spitting through gritted teeth at the balls on this dude. Giovanni’s got a sick grin on his lips and Harry really can’t believe his eyes.

“What?” Giovanni croaks. “A month with you and she forgets how to respect men?”

Harry’s forcing an iron fist into the side of his face at the comment, ignoring the sharp sting that throbs in his side. Blood splattering from Giovanni’s nose and mouth to the opposing wall and Harry’s almost certain he’s torn his stitches. Giovanni spits at the floor, head rolling back to grin filthily at the younger man.

Y/N’s still stuck to the wall, watching everything unfold. Her hand is still close to her face as she cradles her blooming bruise but she can’t take her eyes off Harry. The commotion of it all attracts the attention of everyone else and Maria is gasping at the sight of her cousin.

She tries to reach for her, to coddle her and attend to her bruised face but Y/N doesn’t look her way and a firm hold on Maria’s shoulder stops her. She doesn’t need to look to see it’s her father holding her back. Brian’s got a hand on his gun, just like Stefano and Bruno do.

Mike’s watching it all unfold, horror seeping in his eyes at the sight of Y/N hurt. He knows this is his fault -- that he should’ve just followed and waited outside the restroom for her. Knows he should’ve been doing his fucking job properly because now she’s hurt and Harry’s angry.

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking throat out,” he warns through gritted teeth, spit hitting at Giovanni’s face and he smashes the back of his head against the wall for extra measure. He shoves off him, biting back the dull pain that aches in his side and turns to Y/N.

His eyes manage to block out the glares of confusion and glints of light that reflect from drawn guns. His main priority is attending to Y/N and chewing Mike out. He knows it’s not the guards fault but he has to make it known that incidents like this can never happen again.

There are many things Harry won’t stand for, and violence among women is one of them.

“Meeting adjourned, go catch your fucking flights” he mumbles.

He doesn’t care for the lingering looks of judgement from their families as he wraps an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and lets her coddle into his side. He ignores the confused glances and whispers of disapproval from Stefano and Salvatore.

Y/N keeps her face hidden from sight, knows she’s got all eyes on them and she wants to scream, coil into herself. Her father hit her, her brother watched, and her husband defended her honour. What kind of family was she born into?

//

It’s been hours.

Stefano flew back to England after the incident, claiming he didn’t feel too hot and the Saccaro’s hopped on their jet back to California. Harry’s been left with the mess to clear away paperwork and a shaken-up wife.

She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, thighs parted in her flowy dress as she watches Harry rummage through the freezer. They haven’t uttered a word since they left the warehouse and Y/N did well at pretending she didn’t hear him tear into Mike over the phone when they took a couple detours so he could put things in place.

He’s wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a thin dishcloth as he makes his way back over to her and she struggles to breath in his presence again. Harry stands between her thighs, peas in one hand while the other reaches up to brush her hair from her face to get a better look at her eye.

It’s swollen just a little but there’s a dull, purple marking that’s starting to stain the skin.

“This is gonna sting a little,” he warns in a soft tone.

She lets him raise the clothed peas to her face and gently press the frozen fabric to her eye. She winces at the foreign feeling and he coos, keeping her softly in place.

Her eyes flutter open to look back up at him. His brows are knit in a gentle frown and she can feel his warm breath fanning across her face; mint and cinnamon. He brushes hair from her eyes again and Y/N decides that out of all the men she’s ever known, ever met, he’s by far the kindest.

No man has defended her like him. No man has threatened her father for her.

Maybe it’s because the situation has finally had a chance to sink in and she’s grateful, or maybe it’s because what happened opened her eyes to what she wants and what could be. She doesn’t know, but something wills her to drop the peas and lean forward until her soft lips smear against his.

Harry’s eyes are wide in slight shock. He gives her a couple of seconds to pull away, to take it back -- but she doesn’t. So he lets himself sink into her touch and kiss her back, just as soft and tenderly. It’s as innocent as their first and last kiss, on their wedding day, but so much more is said behind it.

She pulls off him bashfully, cheeks tinted pink as she clears her throat and blinks down at her hands.

“Thank you,” she breathes.

Harry’s eyes are glued to her partly-shielded face and his hands reach for her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are wide, lips plump and glossy. He kisses her again, lips parted as he envelops hers. She hums against him, lips closed and he licks at her bottom one, coaxing them open. When her mouth parts the slightest, his tongue slides against hers.

Harry’s got his hands on her hips as he takes the lead of the kiss, allowing her hesitant tongue to explore his skilled one. Her own hands are trembling against his chest at the new form of intimacy between them but she can’t get enough. His taste and touch is intoxicating and she wants more.

Harry’s no better; his heads swimming and he’s trying to will himself not to fucking ruin her there and then on the kitchen counter. She’s sweet on his tongue and it’s fogging his senses. One hand leaves her hip to grip at her thigh and he manages to coax them around his waist, tugging him impossibly closer so he can smell her sweet perfume.

Y/N wants to tell him that she knows. Knows what he really did on their wedding night, that he faked the sheets. That while she remembers what he told her that night, she doesn’t fear him. That she knows he didn’t mean it. That she knows he will protect her.

She thinks she’s got the courage to tell him, to open up and learn who he truly is but there’s a harsh vibration coming from beside them as his phone rattles on the counter. He pulls away from her with a groan, lips swollen and pink and Y/N looks royally fucked and flushed.

He makes no effort to look at the caller ID and opts to answer it anyway, bringing it to his ear.

“It better be important,” he mumbles harshly.

His hand is kneading the fleshy skin of her hip above her dress and Y/N takes the moment to catch her breath.

“Harry,” he hears a breathy voice shudder across the other line. His brows furrow and he stands straighter. His eyes leave Y/N’s as he focuses on the wall behind her, blood running cold.

“Mum?” He treads carefully.

“It’s Stefano… he’s dead.”

Harry feels sick. He can’t focus on Anne’s insistent cries or Y/N’s pleading looks. He can’t let himself ravish in the sight of his wifes swollen lips and hooded eyes, or worry about his mother’s frantic state of urgency.

All he can hear is white noise and all he can feel is a biting numbness. He knows what this all means; that he is now Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia but he can’t focus on that right now, either.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think or feel. He can’t make sense of anything.

“Mum, stop,” he mumbles, hand pinching at the bridge of his nose and Y/N’s dipping her head to get a better look at him, to chase his gaze and find out what’s going on.

“Are you okay? Is Gemma okay? Are you safe? What happened!?” he asks frantically and while Anne confirms their safety, her sobs become a drilling in Harry’s ears and he can’t take it.

“Mum, just stop!” he raises his voice.

Harry tries to ignore the way Y/N flinches away from his sudden outburst. In his current state, though, he can hardly bring himself to actually care.

“Stay where you are and do not call anyone. I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before she has the chance to argue and his phone is shoved back in his pocket.

His hands find purchase in his unruly locks as he twists on his heels and seethes through gritted teeth.

“Fuck!” He’s red in the face, punching a hole into the closest wall and Y/N’s watching with wide eyes and trembling lips.

She slips off the counter, bare feet cautiously padding closer to him and she bravely sits a hand on his shoulder.

Harry spins to face her, vision clouded with anger and confusion. He can’t wrap his head around what’s happened. He saw Stefano just a few hours ago and now Harry thinks about it, he was acting oddly -- sweating and panting.

But he got home to England and now he’s dead? Now Harry will have to reign as Capo, and as much as he’s wanted this and he’s ready… he never thought it would happen this way.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Y/N speaks up softly, voice trembling and he has to remember she’s scared and vulnerable.

He takes a shaky breath and cups her jaw in his palms, dipping down to kiss her lips. She welcomes it briefly before she’s pulling away in confusion and curiosity. If she’s honest, she’s never seen Harry act so wildly before and not knowing the reason behind it is scary.

It doesn’t matter that she trusts him more than before now. She still needs to know.

“Stefano’s dead. I have to fly out to England,” he explains through a strained voice. Her eyes are wide, jaw slack and she’s sure her heart just stopped.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she breathes as she takes a step away from him. Her fingers are tangled in her hair, breath shallow as she paces nervously.

If Y/N knows anything about random deaths of Made Men within the mafia, it’s that they’re never random and are always planned and thought out by another. Stefano isn’t just dead. He’s been murdered.

No matter how much her family tried to shelter her from the Mafia life, she knows things about these types of situations -- a situation her family dealt with when her grandfather mysteriously died five years ago.

She knows an investigation will be undergone by the newly reigning Capo and if it shows that Stefano died in Anne’s presence, he’ll be expected to execute his mother to prove his loyalty to his men and his title, to his step-father's honour. Harry knows it, too. Maybe that’s why he’s so torn.

“I’m coming with you,” she blurts out, hands falling to her sides and Harry watches her, sceptical as she takes a step closer to him.

He’s shocked by her sudden outburst and he’s about to fight her on it, to assure her that Mike will be here to keep her safe when he’s gone. But this isn’t just about her safety.

She wants to be there for Harry’s support, to offer guidance and reassurance of her own. She wants to be there to prove to Harry that he can trust her, that she wants to be there to console and support his mother and sister.

“I’m coming with you,” she repeats and Harry doesn’t argue.

Neither of them hang around long enough to pack bags or set a plan in motion. Instead Harry kisses her feverishly and takes her hand in his.

He’s guiding her to the rooftop when his private jet lands and he’s calling Connor and Mike to give them an update. He keeps his composure, save for swears of anger when he gets on the plane but Y/N thinks she knows better.

His knee is jittering and he’s gnawing at his inner cheek. She can see a thin sheen of sweat that coats across his tanned skin and he taps his fingers in a frantic rhythm against his knee cap.

He can’t get out of his head. He’s now officially Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia and he thought owning the title he’s worked so hard towards would feel better than this.

Harry can’t help but feel he’s cheated his way to the top, despite having nothing to do with Stefano’s death.

He knows Y/N feels like she’s treading on eggshells as she watches him from the seat opposite his. He knows she’s worried about him, about his family, about what will happen now.

But she doesn’t say anything and he’s thankful for that. He’s thankful and overwhelmed that despite her bruising eye and uncertain anxiety, she’s worrying for him and silently reminding him that she’s here and waiting when he’s ready.

Harry’s never experienced anything of the sort before and he tries to remind himself that he most certainly doesn’t deserve it. But he’s selfish when it comes to her and he doesn’t plan on changing anything about that.

Y/N doesn’t want to overstep boundaries by asking what’s going through his head, by offering physical, emotional support. But Harry still needs it, so without voicing his desperate desires, he reaches forward for her hand and encourages her to stand from her seat and take the empty one beside him.

He guides her to intertwine their fingers and rest her head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of her hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures her in a gentle whisper and she nods, offering his hand an understanding squeeze and he lets out a breath of wanton relief.

//

There’s a car waiting for them when they arrive at the deserted landing strip not far from his family's mansion. He helps Y/N into the highrise of the SUV and gets in the driver's seat. The night is dark as they drive the lonely roads to his mother.

Y/N’s got her gaze fixed on the trees that whizz past her window and Harry’s had no choice but to stop jittering his knees as he drives.

She doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to put him further in his head and she knows nothing said will put him at ease until he sees Anne and Gemma. It’s not until now that it dawns on Y/N that she’ll be seeing her in-laws again and the throbbing of her eye reminds her of her current state and what they’ll think when they see her.

Anxiety is eating at her insides but she doesn’t let it show, she can’t. The focus right now is on Harry and his family and she will not take that away from him. She knows he’s never liked his step-father but it doesn’t make losing him easier. Or maybe it does, but with the current circumstances, nothing is easy right now.

It’s another twenty minutes before Harry is pulling into a gated home after his finger unlocks the biometrics. The house is huge; three stories and castle-like. There’s a little pond on the left side of the front of the house and two big Range Rovers off to the right. She swallows back the nerves as Harry parks the car but neither of them get out for a moment.

Y/N thinks she should wait for Harry to make the calls but right now, he’s a bit too in his head. He hasn’t been to this house in over five years and he's not sure how he’s going to take the sight of his step-father's dead body or his mother’s broken soul. He’s not stupid -- he knows his mother has never loved Stefano, but she’s scared and lonely and he’ll protect her and his sister over anything.

After a couple minutes of gaining his bearings, Harry clambers out of the car and rounds the front to help Y/N out. His hands cup beneath her arms as she steps down onto the ground; her hands bracing herself on his shoulders and he closes the door behind her. She’s peering up at him as he frowns at her bruising eye, thumbing softly against the skin and she tries not to wince under his touch.

“Stay close, and if you have to: run,” he warns with a lingering kiss to her forehead. She watches him tug the gun from the back of his pants and lets him gently shove her behind him. They’re sneaky as they make their way through the unlocked door. Y/N’s too alert to properly admire Anne’s home -- the chandeliers and high ceilings and windows. She’s too scared to take in the chic furnishing of her surroundings.

It’s silent as Harry creeps closer inside, knees bent and gun cocked to the ground but ready to be aimed. She’s thankful she changed her heels for a pair of flat pumps before they left for England. A desperate whimper is what catches their ears and she half expects Harry to falter his movements, but he doesn’t. He raises the gun and races through the hall and into the kitchen, Y/N following close behind with an erratic heart.

She watches with wide eyes at her surroundings. Stefano is dead on the floor -- foam smothered across his mouth with trails of blood that have pooled beneath his head. Her eyes find the owner of the whimpers and Gemma is trembling to her left. She’s hunched over a  cream couch that sits opposite a fancy fireplace.

“Oh my God…” Y/N can’t help the whimpering mutter that slips from her lips, and the sound of the familiar voice causes Gemma's head to perk up. Y/N doesn’t notice Anne sat emotionlessly at the kitchen table, but Harry does and he regards the older woman with caution. Gemma breaks into fits of uncontrollable tears upon seeing her brother and with all the energy she can muster, she jumps up and crashes into his arms.

Y/N doesn’t see him hold her close to his chest and coo at her. He refuses to look at the body, unlike Y/N who can’t fucking look away. She’s too fucking frozen looking at the dead body at her feet to hear the breathless and frantic mutters of “he’s gone, he’s finally gone,” that Gemma repeats against Harry’s chest. He’s trying to calm her erratic state, eyes on his mother and her wanton stare.

It’s when Gemma pulls away to take a breath that she also notices Y/N’s presence, and even through her bleary, blurry-eyed vision, she can make out the stricken horror and dark bruise painted across her face.

“Y/N!” she shrieks, shoulder knocking against Harry’s and she’s making for her sister-in-law.

The sound of her name breaks her from her trance and she opens her arms for the younger girl, welcoming her embrace and offering a sense of reassurance and comfort. Y/N coos as she smoothes down her matted brown hair and keeps her close. Harry’s heart quakes at the sight of his wife coddling his sister and he takes a deep breath, turning away and he’s reminded of how intimate they were just hours before this.

Anne still hasn’t said a word and Y/N thinks she gets the hint that she doesn’t want to talk about it around her daughter. She swallows her shaky nerves and pulls Gemma away at arm's length. “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?” she speaks, guiding the older girl away before she can blubber out questions about her eye.

When Harry’s certain they're out of sight and ear-shot, he pulls the seat beside his mother and sits. “What happened?” he asks lowly.

Anne still makes no attempt to look away from the table, and it isn’t until now that Harry notices all the food that’s been placed on it. They were halfway through dinner and by the position of Stefano’s body, it looks like he dropped dead during the meal.

Anne swallows. “I drugged his scotch with rat poison.” His eyes land on the half empty scotch glass and he takes in a deep and shaky breath. He’s cursing in his mind for the massive clean up he’s going to have to deal with as his first priority as Capo. He shakes the thought and pulls her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head when she lets her cheek rest on his shoulder.

Harry knows she’s never been happy with him, that she never loved him, or even liked him, for that matter. He knows the pain and heartache both she and his sister have had to endure for all these years and he wishes to God it was him that had the balls to off him years ago. But he’s proud of her. Proud because it’s the bravest and most strongest thing she’s ever done.

“I’ll cover it up, okay? I’ll get in contact with Riccardo and he can forge the autopsy. Once everything’s sorted, you and Gem are coming back to New York with Y/N and I, okay?”

He walks her through his plan and how it’ll work and Anne can do nothing but nod and sniffle back the tears of relief. She knows why she waited so fucking long to do this -- she didn’t want Harry to have to deal with the mess and the fights.

But there’s only so much a helpless woman and her daughter can take before one of them snaps. She’d rather have murder on her conscious for the rest of her life than on Gemma's.

“How is she?” Anne asks when she finally pulls away.

She’s reaching for her glass of wine and takes a sip, twisting in her seat to look at her son a little better. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw him and being apart for so long is making a bigger effect on her than she first anticipated. He keeps changing and she can’t keep up.

Harry watches her drink her wine with slumped shoulders and visibly lighter eyes. He knows they don’t have time to chit-chat right now, but he entertains her anyway.

“I saw the bruise…” She continues, brow raised but Harry takes no offence -- she’s not implying anything, she knows he’d never lay a hand on his wife, or any other woman unless they posed as a threat.

He scoffs and shakes his head, reaching for the port of whiskey and eyeing his mother skeptically. She shakes her head and he reaches for her bottle of wine with a chuckle instead.

“Giovanni paid a visit. Not letting him near her alone again,” he grunts, taking a long swig. Anne nods in understanding and takes a deep breath as she eyes her son.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks.

He knows it’s more than just a motherly check-in. She’s not just asking if her son is okay -- she’s asking if her son is okay after being forced into an arranged marriage with a woman he didn’t know. For a moment, they both forget the dead body that lays lifelessly slumped on the floor and neither of them hear Y/N’s soft feet pad down the stairs and carry her toward the kitchen to get Gemma some water.

But the sound of Harry’s voice causes her to stop beside the staircase. “It’s hard, Mum. I know she’s never felt safe in her entire life and I can feel how much she’s relaxing around me. I know she doesn’t trust me -- not yet -- not after what I let her believe happened on our wedding night,” he takes a breath and rubs a hand over his face.

Anne’s got her eyes on him and she can see the turmoil and uncertainty painted across his face. She can see the gears working behind his eyes and the fear and anxiety is damn near transparent. Y/N’s heart is hammering in her chest as she cowers behind the wall. She feels sick with herself, listening in on his private conversation but she needs to hear this just as badly as Harry needs to admit it.

“I want her to trust me. I want her to know that I’ll always respect her and what she wants.” She feels tearful and light -- like she’s floating and can finally breathe clearly for the first time in her life. She’s always known Harry was a genuine person, but hearing him speak so soft and fondly of her without knowing of her presence, stirs something deep inside of her.

No one has respected her like he has. No one has shown her common, human decency like he has and she feels stupid for feeling so grateful and happy, but she is. Y/N takes a moment to compose herself before letting her feet heavily carry her into the kitchen slowly, clearing her throat to make her arrival known.

Harry watches her with soft eyes as she grabs a glass from the counter and fills it with some tap water. He notices the way her bruise seems angrier in the light of the kitchen and Anne places her wine down, standing to greet her daughter-in-law. She rounds the kitchen island and hugs the girl comfortingly, allowing her fingers to ghost over her eye and cheek.

Y/N visibly keens into her shoulders a little with a shy, nervous smile. “I’m okay,” she says. “Just a little accident getting out of the shower this morning.” She tries to pass it off and Harry suddenly feels a little sick with himself. He didn’t think that maybe she wants to keep what happened as a secret, that maybe she’s embarrassed by it.

Anne nods, makes no attempt to throw Harry under the bus and she hums. “Oh, I know all about those shower incidents.” She tries to make light of the situation but Y/N can’t help the sadness she’s overwhelmed with at her confession and she’s willing herself to ignore the body. Anne is quick to sense her discomfort and takes a step back.

“Is Gemma okay?” She changes the subject.

Y/N nods with a shaky breath, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips, thankful for the switch in topic.

“She’s calmed down a little, yeah. But um…” her eyes glance over to Harry and back to Anne. “Is there somewhere else you guys can stay for the night? I can’t imagine you’re going to want to stay here and it’ll look too suspicious if you come back to New York with us before his um… his… you know… is announced.”

Anne’s lips part at her consideration and she thinks Harry’s got himself a little angel. Harry’s starting to think the same and all he wants is to grab hold of her pretty face and kiss those plump lips and tell her over and over again thank you, thank you, thank you.

He waits a beat, decides if his idea is something he can truly share. But he looks at Y/N and he feels light and warm and he wants her to know about this, wants to share it with her, too.

“How about the old house?” Harry suggests with a raised brow and Y/N’s furrow slightly in confusion. Anne feels her heart thumping in her chest and she knows going back to that house is exactly what she needs right now.

Maybe it’s what they all need, to go back to the house they used to live in. The house that Harry learnt to walk, where Danny taught him to talk and where Anne felt loved and safe. When Danny died, the house was handed over to Harry and he kept it in his name for years, hiding it from Stefano and claiming it was one of the safe houses he had.

It was never a lie. It’s always been a safe house. “I’ll make a few calls and we’ll go.”

//

Harry’s pulling up to the house with a shaky breath. It’s small, compared to the home they were just standing in and as Y/N leans forward in the passenger's seat, she can feel her heart swelling. It’s beautiful. She can tell Harry’s kept a frequent gardener because flowers have been blooming and tended to, and she feels dizzy knowing she’s about to embark on a part of Harry’s childhood.

Harry leaves the car first and opens Gemma’s door who was sitting behind him. He beats his mother to open her door and then he helps Y/N out and down to the ground, closing the door and hauling Gemma’s bag over his shoulder. “What is this place?” she asks tiredly, arms around her arms in the brisk, British air.

Anne smiles softly, heart full and her eyes are welling with tears at the sight of the old house. “Home,” she tells her. She fiddles with the keys in her hand before she leads the others to the front door and unlocks it. It’s dark and cold and Harry reaches in to switch on the light and mess around with the thermostat while Gemma and Anne take in their surroundings.

It’s the same since she was last here, Anne. The old school furniture and late 90’s wallpaper. A sense of comfortable nostalgia washes over her when she sees old photo frames sitting on the fireplace and she bashfully sheds a tear at the photo of her late first husband. She feels safe, comfortable as she sits on the couch and pulls Gemma down to sit with her.

Harry’s been here enough times in the recent past to have come accustomed to being back in the house. He’s kept a close watch on it, making sure no one tried breaking in or vandalising the property like Danny's old places were after he died. He’s been here enough to keep things clean and working in the event they needed to run, and while he did up the two spare rooms, he didn’t have it in him to change his parents or his childhood one.

While Anne shows Gemma around the house, Y/N is frozen by the entrance. She’s yet to step foot in the house and she feels like she shouldn’t -- that she shouldn’t be here, intruding on something so private and family oriented. She might be Harry’s wife, but she isn’t their family… not really.

“Hey, what are you doing out there?” Harry finally asks when he realises the chill is coming from the open front door.

She’s gnawing on her inner cheek, hands on the doorframe and he frowns. “I just -- I don’t want to intrude,” she explains. Her tone is shaky and vulnerable and Harry won’t have any of it. He grabs her wrist and gently tugs her inside, closing the door and allowing her to warm up a little.

She feels like she shouldn’t look around, like she’s out of place in a far too personal home. She knows she’s wanted Harry to open up to her but this feels too much, like he hasn’t actually had a choice in the matter. “Hey, communication, remember?” he pipes up softly, thumb under her chin to get her to look up at him.

Her breathing catches in her throat for a moment and she blinks, wanting nothing more than to lift up on her tiptoes and kiss his lips again. She doesn’t know what any of this means between them; the kisses and the touches. She doesn’t know how he feels or what he wants and the uncertainty of the new situation is killing her.

“Just a little overwhelmed,” she admits and she thinks Harry believes her, but he knows her better than to believe that’s all that’s bothering her.

He nods, though, locks the door and intertwines their fingers to tug her through the house and up the stairs. She follows blindly and silently, too in her own head to notice the toothless baby pictures of Harry nailed to the walls.

He ushers her in a double bedroom, closing the door behind them both and sighing as he switches on the light. There’s not much character to the room and Y/N supposes it’s been used as a guest room since the past. The walls are bare and tan, a double bed standing against the left side wall with night stands either side. It’s cosy, and the bed looks a lot smaller than hers and Harry's back in New York.

She turns around to see him digging through a dresser, tugging out two t-shirts and a pair of sweats. He offers her the grey t-shirt and she takes it with a timid smile, rolling on the balls of her feet and he raises a brow.

“Do you have any shorts? Kinda don’t wanna sleep in my thong,” she admits bashfully. She notices the way Harry tries not to groan at the thought, or how he’s gnawing on his inner cheek and forcing his body to not grow a bulging erection.

She stifles a laugh at his reaction, a blush sitting on her cheeks but she doesn’t feel as nervous as she would’ve before today. Being as intimate as they were earlier has allowed her to relax more than usual in his presence and about the ideas of being sexual. But maybe the only thing stopping her is not knowing what will happen if she trusts him like that. Does he want to grow to love her? Will he let her grow to love him? Because she thinks she already is.

She cares for him, more than she’d admit to anyone else and maybe even him. The idea and realisation of it all scares her, but what has she really got to lose? She’s got him for the rest of her life.

Y/N dresses in the bathroom like she usually does every morning and night. When she comes back out after brushing her teeth with a new toothbrush she found in the cabinet, Harry is sitting on the edge of the bed, changing the dressing that wraps around his middle. The wound has healed a lot, skin scarring over but he has to be careful as to not tear the stitches again.

He watches her throw her dress and panties on the dresser and he swallows thickly. The last time he saw her wearing his clothes was their wedding night when he dressed her drunk ass and waited until she was asleep before he got in bed with her. Now, five weeks later, she’s in his boxers and a t-shirt, willingly crawling into bed to cuddle up to his chest. His heart surges at the progress they’ve made and he’s suddenly overly eager to have her in his arms.

Harry throws on a shirt once he secures his bandaging and crawls into the bed. His arm is outstretched, ready to welcome her in after she switches off the light and clambers into his good side. Her head sits on the junction between his arm and chest and her arm wraps around his middle as she settles into his hold.

It’s quiet for a few moments, darkness swarming them both and they can hear the muffled sounds of the tv down the hall that Gemma is no doubt watching in her room. Y/N wants to ask him if he’s okay, see how he’s feeling about the situation. And she thinks she’s built up the courage, but he speaks before she can.

“This was my dad’s house. I grew up here,” he rasps into the darkness.

Y/N feels her tummy coil from the amount of trust she’s about to be given. “When Dad died, the house was put in my name and I hid it from Stefano. He found the papers once, almost clicked on that it was mine and Mum’s home but I told him it was a safe house and the fucker believed me.” Harry squeezes her tighter without realising but it only encourages Y/N to coddle into him a little closer.

She doesn’t say anything — too afraid that if she asks any questions, he might not be so open about this. Instead, she stays quiet but she thinks Harry notices her inner turmoil because he starts to scratch at her scalp and kiss at her hairline.

“I learnt how to walk and talk in this place. Mum and Dad used to cook together every night and I remember Dad sleeping on my bedroom floor whenever I had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep,” he reminisces. Harry’s rubbing smooth circles across Y/N’s arm and she hums, barely taking in his words.

When she raises her head to look up at him, she’s got a lovesick grin on her face and she’s reminded of the way he consoled his little sister and mother, and how he held her close while he kissed Y/N’s lips so passionately. She’s reminded of everything he’s done for her -- of how much he’s protected and cared for her and she thinks her heart has grown three times its size.

“Why are you so kind?” She blurts out in a strained voice.

Her neck is craning up to get a better look at him and Harry dips his head so his chin sits against his chest, a smile on his lips as a soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. He doesn’t think he’s a kind person, but rather a respectful one to women and those who deserve it.

Y/N seems to read his thoughts and she adjusts her position so she’s kneeling beside him on her side; hand on his chest and her finger trails absent patterns through his shirt. “Don’t laugh like that, you are,” she tells him with a little more vigour. Harry’s reached a hand behind her body to rub soothingly at her back and he settles his laughs to hear her out.

She blushes. “You’re the first person to ever show me a shred of kindness and respect,” she begins in a shaky tone. Her fingers begin to tremble and Harry reaches for it with his free hand -- intertwining their fingers and offering that encouraging squeeze she’s been growing accustomed to.

Harry thinks his black heart is breaking at her admission and suddenly, holding her hand isn’t as close as he wants to be. He releases his hold and reaches up to cup the side of her jaw. He eases up to graze his thumb across her bruised cheekbone and she flinches under his featherlight touch. Harry has to remind himself she does it because of the pain and not because he’s touching her.

He swallows back the need to apologise but makes no effort to remove his hand. “I will always be kind to you and show you respect. You’re my wife, Y/N. A marriage is a team, not a contract,” he promises. Y/N can’t help the roll of her eyes or the scoff that teeters off her lips in an ironic laugh.

He can’t help but grin at the sound. 1 - 0 to Harry. He got her to laugh.

“This whole thing is a contract,” she reminds him and he can’t stop staring.

The lightness of her eyes is pulling him in and he thinks he wants to see that smile on her face every day for the rest of his life. “It doesn’t have to be,” he finds himself mumbling and neither of them say anything -- they both know what he means and upon the promising possibility, she reaches up to connect their lips.

It’s better than their last kiss and Y/N wonders if it will always be better with every intimate moment they share. Their lips are enveloped by the others and her hand crawls up his chest to cup at his stubbly jaw, pulling him closer. She’s confident as he licks up and into her mouth, massaging his tongue against hers in a sinful dance.

It doesn’t take long before he’s rolling her onto her back and slipping between her parted thighs. Harry’s got both hands pinned on either side of her head to support his crushing weight above her. Y/N’s thighs knock and rub across his healing wound but he doesn't care -- he’ll take whatever she’s comfortable enough to offer.

Her fingers are tangled in his messy curls as she tugs and pulls at the hairs. He’s groaning inaudibly into her mouth as she gasps into his. Harry lets one hand wander down her shoulder and over her chest, groping a tit in his wide palm and massaging and kneading the fatty flesh over her (his) t-shirt.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s chest presses to his when her back arches off the bed and he can feel her nipple pearling under his touch. She’s panting when he rolls the hardened nub between two fingers and lets his plump and warm lips smear down her neck in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Harry,” she lets out a wanton, breathy whine when his lips suckly soft bruises into the skin behind her ear.

He’s frustratingly hard in his boxers and he can almost smell Y/N’s wetness. He’s about to trail his hand down her stomach, to cup her through his boxers and let her get a taste of what he can give her, but she catches his wrist in a light grip and shakes her head.

Harry pulls out of her neck breathlessly. He expects to see her with wide eyes and a frantic stare, maybe even quivering lips. But he gets the opposite. He’s greeted with calm waves of excitement that wash over her eyes and her mouth is parted, eager for more but she’s refraining herself.

The sight causes Harry to frown in confusion.

“Not here, not yet,” she swallows. “I want to, but… not now,” Y/N tries to explain.

Harry doesn’t know what more to do than nod his head and move his hands to her waist, respectably, and kisses her swollen lips. He’s full of complete and utter adoration for his little angel and he knows she’s right, she’s always right. But that's not what he’s focussing on.

“When we’re home,” she decides for them both.

It’s those three words that send his heart on overdrive and mind in turmoil. When we’re home. When we’re home. When we’re home. The first time she’s ever called it home. Harry nods, pecking her lips as he bites back a smile.

“When we’re home.”

//

By the time she awakes, she’s alone and cold. The bed is empty on Harry’s side and she doesn’t realise that he replaced his body that she was cuddling with a pillow when he awoke an hour ago. Y/N’s stretching with a wide smile on her lips, and even though she’s chilly, she’s giddy with warmth from the memories of the night before.

She makes her way out of the room, pads of her toes soft on the carpet as she descends the stairs. It’s warmer as she enters the kitchen and she’s greeted with the wafting smells of pancakes and bacon. Gemma is sitting at the table digging into her food and Anne notices the girl's presence first from her position at the stove.

She raises a brow at her daughter-in-laws sleep attire, a knowing grin on her lips but Y/N doesn’t notice it. Her eyes are focussed on her husband. He’s off to the corner of the room, head down and hand stuffed into his suit pocket. He’s dressed and ready for the day and he’s holding the phone to his ear, muttering quietly.

Y/N fights back the blush of happiness that rises to her cheeks and she greets Anne, leaning against the counter while she flips another pancake. “Silly question, but how did you sleep?” she asks. Anne is visibly lighter in her mood as she makes breakfast and there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Y/N’s never seen in her before.

She flips the pancake again, smoothing down the old, tatty apron that Y/N doesn’t know Danny used to wear every morning. “Like a baby,” she tells her with a firm smile. The sight of her happiness warms Y/N’s heart and Harry joins them back in the kitchen frown set in his brow and his wife regards him cautiously.

Anne seems to sense his confusion without even looking at him. “What’s wrong?” she asks, dishing up a plate for Y/N and starting on Harry’s pancakes. She takes her plate from the woman but she’s too concerned about the look on Harry’s face to worry about food, despite what her stomach is telling her.

“That was Riccardo…” he starts, leaning forward on the counter. “He did the autopsy on Stefano at the house, was ready to fake the results to cover us,” he begins to explain.

Anne hums, refusing to make eye contact as she pours the batter into the frying pan. Harry’s eyes are flickering between her face and her movements. “And?” she asks, eyes still not meeting his.

He swallows. “Didn’t you say you laced his scotch with rat poison?” His words pique the curiosity of Gemma and she’s no longer got herself much of an appetite. Y/N’s got her eyes on Harry, like she’s trying to understand what he’s about to tell them but she’d never be able to prepare herself for the truth.

“Because he said he found large traces of Penicillin in Stefano’s blood from nearly six hours before his death…” Anne stills her movements, almost dropping the spatula in her hand as she stares at her son, eyes wide. “There’s no sign of rat poison,” he concludes, brows still furrowed tightly and Anne's shaking her head.

There’s confusion and unspoken fear in the air as the Anne struggles to take in what her son has said. “What? But he’s allergic to Penicillin… and he was in New York with you six hours before…” she’s trailing off at the end of her sentence, shoulders slumping and chest heaving.

It’s like the realisation of the untold truth weighs heavy on all of their shoulders at the same time. They’re all racking their brains back to six hours before his death -- when he was in New York, in the meeting, with the only person Harry can think of that wanted Stefano dead more than he, and it clicks.

“Nino.”

//

In her pretty yellow ditsy dress, Y/N is positively sweating from her seat at the dining table. Harry is sitting beside her, same solemn expression and dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. It’s 10 am and he hasn’t styled his hair -- in fact, he’s nervous as hell and in three short hours, he’ll be faced with the ceremony that will initiate him as Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia.

The laptop is set up in front of them, the reflection of their nervous faces staring back at them. It’s been a week since the night of Stefano’s death and four days since they’ve all been back in New York. Gemma and Anne are currently staying in the penthouse with Harry and Y/N, and neither of the latter two have slept soundly since.

Harry’s been on edge since Stefano’s death was announced. He’s been watching his back more than usual, like he’s waiting for Nino to strike down on him, too. He spoke with Salvatore to announce the news and Harry wonders if he suspects him or his son.

He’s heard nothing from his cousin or other members of the family. What he has received is a date and a location from Dante. The time and place of Harry’s coronation. The coronation where he will bleed and bind himself by duty and honour to the Famiglia and Dante himself. Where he will be marked and crowned as the youngest serving Capo known.

In the four days they’ve been back in New York, Harry has kept Y/N closer than before. Neither of them have left the penthouse since their arrival home but he’s gone as far as restricting her from using the balcony as precaution. He isn’t prepared to endanger or lose her.

She understands, of course. And while she doesn’t appreciate the lack of little freedom she had before, she’s thankful and she listens. He isn’t being paranoid, he’s being cautious. Harry isn’t the only one that thinks it’s Nino and Y/N will be damned if she lets her husband be played by him. She’s on his side, always.

“Hey!” A chipper voice is what breaks the pair from their distant monologues and they focus on the brown-haired beauty that is Maria Saccaro. The tips of her curls are barely pink anymore and she’s taken out the majority of her piercings. Y/N almost doesn’t recognise her in her cream sweater and light makeup. She looks younger, innocent.

She frowns. “Hey, Ria. How are you?” Y/N greets her cousin with a timid tone and she can feel Harry squeeze her thigh from under the table.

That’s another thing that’s had time to progress in the past week: their affections. Kisses and cuddles and holding hands at any opportunity -- even in front of the eyes of Anne and Gemma. The one thing they promised each other is the one thing they haven’t yet managed to do. But maybe that’s for the best. Now she’s thought about it, she’s not quite ready for that.

Maria shrugs with pursed lips and shimmies closer. Y/N can tell she’s sitting on her bed with her computer propped on her lap by the string of fairy lights wrapped around the metal rods of her bed frame. “I’m okay.” Y/N frowns harder. There’s something off about her cousin and it’s unsettling.

Harry clears his throat and leans a little closer into the frame. Maria hasn’t yet acknowledged his presence but Harry doesn’t take offence.

“Listen, we need to talk to you about this arrangement with Nino,” he says.

Y/N pries his hand off her thigh and intertwines their fingers in a show of support and reassurance.

The pair notice Maria’s shoulders visibly sag and the spark in her eye from when the papers were signed is completely gone. Y/N can sense her disgust and nausea on the topic and she squeezes Harry’s hand absentmindedly.

“Now that Harry’s Capo, we’re gonna try and find a loophole to get you out of this. We know you think Nino poisoned Stefano, too. We’re gonna stop this wedding, okay? Harry and I will find a way.”

There’s a flicker of silence that washes over them and both Harry and Y/N know Maria isn’t telling them something. She’s oddly quiet and reserved, like she’s swallowing back a lump of detrimental secrets.

“Maria?” Y/N asks, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted.

The young woman on the computer screen lets out a shaky breath and scratches at her eyebrows, lips pursed and Y/N can tell she’s gnawing on the skin. “I need to tell you something,” she admits in a worrisome tone. She’s never acted so oddly when sharing secrets with Y/N before and she’s starting to wonder if it’s because Harry is there, too.

He thinks the same but makes no attempt to excuse himself.

“I met someone.”

There’s another wave of silence that washes over the three and while Y/N is quivering in fear of the repercussions her cousin will have to face, Harry is squirming at another coverup he’ll have to forge after his initiation.

But Maria isn’t looking at Harry with pleading eyes that beg for forgiveness. She’s staring at Y/N instead, with a look on her face that cries for acceptance and understanding.

“Maria…” Y/N breathes, eyes closed and she’s gripping Harry’s hand much tighter than before. Her cousin is spluttering on the other end of the call and shuffling closer to the camera in an attempt to have her listen.

“I know, I know… but it’s not what you think!” She quickly tries to defend and Harry can’t believe his ears.

Y/N scoffs and neither of the other two have ever seen her act that way toward Maria.

“Oh, really? Then what is it, Maria? Huh? What is it? Tell me, because I can’t keep trying to cover and protect you, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Harry’s eyes are glued to his wife, slightly wide and glossy. He doesn’t know why he has the urge to let a tear shed at her dismay but he blinks it back and steadies his heart. His and Y/N’s knuckles are burning white from their tight grip on the other and they seem to need a better, grounding safe code that won’t break their hands.

Maria stays silent for a moment longer. Her head is bowed in self-disappointment and she knows Y/N’s right. But Maria’s serious this time. It’s not what it looks like.

“I met a girl…” she swallows, eyes fluttering nervously to the couple and they regard her with stone expressions but their eyes are drowning in confusion and curiosity.

Y/N can see how she’s trying to stop her bottom lip from trembling relentlessly and she’s wringing her hands out in her lap.

“Maria…” she whispers softly.

Her voice holds nothing but concern and sincerity and she wants to hold her cousin and never let go. Maria chuckles wetly and she sniffles back tears.

“I know, I know. Surprise, I’m gay,” she tries to joke but she blubbers into her hands instead.

Y/N’s crying with her, frustrated and angry at the world they live in and Harry feels sick to his stomach. He knows the kind of shit that happens to homosexuals within the tight confinements of the Mafia and it’s been something he’s disagreed with since he understood what gay meant. Since the beliefs that same-sex love is wrong were forced upon him at a young age.

“Who is she?” Harry speaks softly and both pairs of Saccaro eyes are on him. Y/N’s hand is trembling in his hold and he tugs her a little closer to him.

“A girl from church,” she admits and Maria can't help but laugh at her own predicament. Falling in love with a girl that she met in church. Could it happen to anyone but her?

Y/N and Harry snicker laughs under their breaths at the situation and it somehow seems to lighten the overall mood a bit. Harry nods and Y/N is coddling into his side, head on his shoulder. She’s hardly spoken to Maria and she doesn’t miss the side-eye glance that her cousin offers at her willing closeness to the made man.

“I’ll find a way to fix this, Maria,” Harry promises. “In the meantime, try not to deflower any more church girls.”

//

Upon the coronation of a Made Man to a Capo, there are many things that are required to take place to deem said party fit and honourable enough for such a title. There are limits that are pushed and tests that are made, edges that men are pushed to, pressure they’re hoped to crack under.

The chosen location is one of the many abandoned warehouses that the Famiglia have access to. It’s packed to the brim, every folding chair occupied and facing the platformed stage that Dante stands upon, beside a thick concrete looking podium.

He’s in another one of his slick black suits -- everyone in this place is -- and as Y/N looks around from her position beside Mike on the right of the stage, she’s the only woman on the premises.

She made it clear before they left an hour ago that she was unsure about this. Y/N doesn't know what to expect attending this kind of ceremony -- a coronation that women are typically sheltered from. But like Harry had said, things will change under his hand and let it start with his wife standing by his side from the second he reigns as Capo.

Harry’s still standing behind her, dressed in a crisp white suit -- a tradition that has followed through generations, a rule that must be followed. For blood is seen and tarnished on the white of a soul. Harry’s remembered that saying since he was a child.

The warehouse is silent as Dante raises a hand, chatters and mumblings falling still and Harry leans closer to Y/N, lips against her ear.

“Under no circumstances do you leave Mike’s side, unless it’s with me,” he reminds her, standing tall before she can utter anything back.

She doesn’t, but she lets her hand knock briskly against his to silently promise him that she understands and she’s here.

They’re both rattling with nerves. Harry doesn’t want to leave her side in fear someone will attack her. Y/N doesn’t want him to get on that stage in fear someone will take a shot. She’s gnawing on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling -- not that it’s doing much use, but she can’t show weakness for either of them.

Head high, shoulders low, Y/N. She can hear her mother's voice rattling in her head. It’s perhaps the only sound piece of advice she’s ever offered the young girl.

She tries to ignore the hard expressions of unfamiliar faces, tries to pretend she doesn’t know that every single one of them has at least two guns and a knife on their person. She tries to forget that half the population of the building despise Harry, that they believe he’s a traitor by blood. She tries to forget it all.

“We are here today to test the fitness and the loyalty of Harry Styles-Dellucci -- to determine the strength and honour to crown him Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia.” Dante’s overpowering voice booms and the coldness of it spikes shivers down Y/N’s torso and spine.

He extends an arm to Harry’s direction and her husband follows it. He climbs the tall step of the platform to stand beside his Boss and he meets Dante’s judging eyes. Between them both, they know Harry will own the position no matter how this goes, but for the sake of appearances, they put on facades and follow tradition.

When he stands beside his superior, he shows no emotion, ignoring the stares and snickers of disgust. He doesn’t have to look at the audience to know Nino is sitting front row with a filthy smirk on his thin lips.

“Remove your shirt. Show those of the Famiglia your scars of duty and honour,” Dante commands.

Harry shuts out all emotion, like he can’t feel anything. He shrugs off his blazer first, throwing it to the ground and off the platform. He stares blankly at the podium when removing his shirt and when it slips off his arms, he makes a point to let it drop at Nino’s feet.

Dante has to bite back a snicker. Y/N has to bite back a gasp.

No matter how many times she’s seen him shirtless, she never gets used to the sight of his scars. No matter how many times she traces her fingers across his chest and back, she never gets used to the feel of the raised or indented skin. He turns to the masses, shoulders squared and chin high, surging nothing but pride and power.

Dante circles him, a fixed blade glistening between his fingers as he twists it in his palm.

“Harry Styles-Dellucci is a valuable asset to the Mafia,” Dante begins, voice echoing through the ears and minds of his soldiers. “His allies ensure safety and power within our Famiglia. He has promised potential and respect since before his initiation at age 11, when he mercilessly stabbed a member of the Bratva through the bottom of his chin and through their skull,” his voice fades off in a low drawl and the admission sends shivers through Y/N’s body.

She’s struggling to hide her discomfort and in her weakened moment of unfamiliarity, she misses the way Nino eyes her with curiosity and knowingness. She misses the plan he plots right in his head. He’s got that sick smirk on his face and while Y/N doesn’t notice, Harry does, and it rattles something dangerous in the pit of him. Something monstrous and merciless.

Mike notices it all, but his gun stays strapped to his chest and his hands remain folded over his front -- awaiting the signal to take Y/N out of the situation, but it doesn’t come. Brian is close behind the two, eyes dark and there’s a chilling excitement that burns in his eyes; a hungry desire and need to kill.

“Today, we test Harry on his true self. We test his loyalty and we question his power. We initiate him with the three steps of the coronation,” he announces. “Bleed for the Famiglia, torture a traitor, take the oath.”

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, Y/N watches her husband spread his arms either side of him. She watches Dante raise the blade, watches it glisten under the beams of sun that peer through the cracks of the warehouse, and swallowing back uncertainty, she watches the blade swipe across the tanned skin of his chest in one succession and a red river is unleashed.

Harry shows no sign of pain, no flicker or glint of discomfort. His facade doesn’t falter and the blood spills down the divots of toned muscles until it stains the white pants of his suit. Everything is white noise to Y/N as he slices again across his left bicep before bringing the knife down a third time to his right.

She feels faint, dizzy. She’s ignoring the comments and snickers and Dante’s shrill voice as a piercing scream echoes through the warehouse. Another suit drags an unknown party to the platform; a brown, stitched bag wrapped around his head and he’s shoved down on his knees with a thud and a cry.

Y/N’s trying not to look, not to show the complete and utter stricken sickness and fear she’s hammered with. But the bag is torn from the stranger's head and she sees distant fear and desperation in his eyes. Then she hears it.

“Take his life. The same way you took your first.”

Y/N’s blood runs cold and she can’t hide the fear anymore. She doesn’t want to see this side of him, she doesn’t want to let it taint what she thinks and has grown to adore. She doesn’t want to fear and hate him, but she can’t look away. She doesn’t miss the way Harry’s head snaps up at Dante’s command and a bewildered look flashes across his face for a brief moment.

He doesn’t say anything, but Dante gives him a look. A look that tells him to shut up and do it. Harry wants to turn around, to look at her, to plead for her to forgive him, but he can’t.

He doesn’t ask the questions that rattle his mind: what did he do to deserve this fate? Who is he? Can he not redeem himself? No. Instead, Harry ignores the begs and pleads of the doomed man and with a flicker of regret and remorse in his eyes, he says a silent prayer and the knife is jabbed into the traitor's throat.

Y/N bites back the shrill that almost escapes her trembling lips and she loses her footing, crashing into Mike's side. There’s an onslaught of cheers and encouragement that burst from the soldiers and Famiglia and it drowns out Y/N’s empty sobs of disgust and worry. Mike is quick to wrap his arms around the girl, to hold her up and get her out of the situation.

But her eyes meet Harry’s as he turns to seek her comfort and she can’t move. She knows that look in his eyes, the look of uncertainty and an unwavering feeling of fear. She shakes her head and pushes her weight off Mike, swallowing back the bile for her husband's sake and she stands tall, head high and shoulders rolled back.

“No,” she protests. “I’m staying.”

Her voice is firmer than she hoped, steady and calm and in seeing the worry and unrelenting fear in Harry’s eyes, she’s calmed herself to a state of complete ease and serenity. She doesn’t squirm at the sight of the dead body on the floor -- she doesn’t gag at the sight of Harry’s blood dripping down his body.

She needs for the Famiglia to know Harry is their right choice. That he doesn’t have an insolent and untamed wife that will create a scene at the sight of a little blood. She needs them to think she’s an obedient little wife, that he’s whipped her into complete and utter submission.

So she watches on.

She watches Dante retrieve an old, leather-bound book from the podium and offer it palm-up to Harry. He knows what to do without prompting. Left hand to his heart, right hand on the book, he takes the oath.

“Born in blood, sworn in blood.” He places his palm upright and Dante takes another swipe across his golden skin.

Harry clenches a fist, lifts his hand just enough for blood to drip a few drops on the leather.

“Born by honour, sworn by honour,” he recites and his heart is racing. He can hear the beat stammering in his ears, can feel the sweat dot across his clammy skin and when Dante beckons the audience to rise, he turns to them.

There’s an overwhelming gleam that oozes from him as they stand and kneel before him. Not Stefano’s soldiers. His.

“As reigning Boss of the Italian Mafia, I, Dante Vitiello, crown you, Harry Styles-Dellucci as Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia from here, until your final breath. All rise and hail your new leader.”

“Born in blood, sworn in blood.”

Y/N repeats the curse with her husband's men. She’s weak in the knees, besotted with the sight he is; basking in all his powerful glory. But she’s had that small slither of what his cold persona is capable of, of how quickly he can forget such a devastatingly evil act. And she’s reminded that despite how kindly he treats her, he is just as bad as the others.

//

Soft cotton towel wrapped around her body, Y/N rings her hair out in the bathroom sink. She rolls her head, neck cracking as she does so and it relieves some of the tension that’s built up through the day. She feels a little hazy if she’s honest -- a little out of touch with reality like she can’t actually fathom what happened today.

After the ceremony, Mike escorted her back to the penthouse while Harry took care of business and it’s safe to say she’s felt a little off since. It’s nearing midnight now and even after her call with Maria when she got home, Y/N doesn’t feel much different.

It’s an odd sensation that leads her down a path she’s never seen before. A part of her mind is reeling because she’s seen him in the shadows of a dark night, without an ounce of light shining on him and maybe it’s scaring her to know exactly what he’s capable of again.

It’s like she forgot and witnessing it brought it all back. But her heart is telling her to breathe. It’s telling her that really, what choice did he have in the matter. She noticed his hesitancy when Dante struck the command and she can only hope that no one else did and will question his strength and power.

Harry is a noble and loyal man. Becoming Capo isn’t something he’s doing to pass the time or to exert dominance as a power show. Y/N has to remind herself that it’s for the benefit of themselves and her family. That Harry can be the one to save her cousin from a marriage of neglect and misery. That Harry can be the one to enforce new laws and whither aged ones.

She tries to ignore the grave she’s dug by ignoring his presence when he got home. She busied herself with an hour-long shower and while part of her hopes he’s not there when she leaves the bathroom, the bigger part of her hopes he is. Y/N takes a deep breath as she smears her moisturiser into her skin, rubbing firm circles and wiping her fingers down her towel.

She doesn’t want to look at herself in the mirror because she knows she won’t be able to stomach the sight of herself. Not when she knows exactly what she’ll give into if he’s still home. “Snap out of it, Y/N,” she chastises herself and takes another deep breath. Her hand twists the door handle as she pulls it open slowly. She hasn’t locked the door in weeks.

She’s rattling a little in herself, eyes too focussed on her pink painted toes to notice much of her surroundings. But she does notice a pair of clothed legs hanging from the end of the bed and she jumps back in a shriek of surprise, one hand pressed over her heart, the other clutching her towel in place.

“Shit,” she seethes at the sight of him. Her heart is thumping and rattling against her ribs. “You scared me,” she breathes half-heartedly but Harry takes it as more than just surprising her at the end of their bed. He takes it as a general newfound fear she has for him, stemming from nothing but the earlier events of the day.

Y/N’s trying to crack a smile but the sight of his solemn self-scowl doesn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach. Harry shakes his head. “I won’t apologise for who I am,” he tells her.

His tone is sharp and one of a pointed and accusing nature, like he’s defensive and he can’t believe she’d ever view him differently. Or maybe it’s that he can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to possibly fuck up any progress they’ve made.

She’s frowning at his sudden tone of reply and she’s trying to understand what’s going through his head.

“What are you--” He’s cutting her off before she can verbally express her confusion.

“I was born into violence and death, Y/N. I live and breathe for the Famiglia. It’s who I am and I won’t apologise for it.” Silence swarms them both for a moment and Harry allows for his words to sink into her pretty little head.

It’s a silent reminder that if they try this, a relationship of any kind, she will have to accept every part of him. Even his deepest and darkest parts. If they’re going into this platonically or romantically, he will not hide who he is.

Y/N understands, of course, she does. She doesn’t want him to change, she wants to learn to adapt and understand. She isn’t silly. She knows she’s been sheltered from the cruel and harsh realities of their lives and she wants to learn. She wants to know it all, no matter how dark and sick it is.

She takes a step between his parted thighs and his face is level with her stomach through the towel. She feels bold when she lets her fingers tangle in his dark curls, when her nails gently scratch and massage at his scalp. She does it to let him know she’s listening, that she understands. That she’s thankful he trusts her enough to show this vulnerable side of himself.

Or maybe she’s got it wrong and he doesn’t trust her at all. Maybe he tells her because he knows she’s no threat to him. That she’s not strong enough to be. Y/N doesn’t let herself dwell on the thought too long. Instead, her fingers tighten on his curls and she tugs just gently enough for him to get the hint.

He looks up at her through long lashes, chin raised and she thinks he looks like a fucking angel with brown curls for a halo.

“I was born into the same world as you, Harry. I know it was different because I’m a woman but if you can accept my scars, I can accept yours.”

His eyes are in flames as he lets his hands grip her hips over the towel, needing to feel her, to know he’s not dreaming.

She pretends the simple touch doesn’t ignite her entire body and soul. “I don’t want to be trapped in a contract with a man who doesn’t care for me. I’ve had that all my life with my father,” she swallows and Harry’s can’t look away.

She’s opening up and she’s trusting him and he thinks he might be falling for her. But he’s frustrated -- frustrated that she doubts his care for her.

“I want a relationship with you, as stupid and naive as it may sound. I want for us to trust each other and care -- even if it’s just as a friend. We both deserve that at least.”

He wants to tell her that she doesn't know what he deserves. That no matter how many good and selfless deeds he does, it’ll never even begin to make a dent in the horror and sin he’s caused upon the world. Wants to tell her that he certainly doesn’t deserve her. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he feels up her hips until his palms are sprawled across the sides of her curved waist and he tugs her down. She bends her knees until she’s straddling his lap, the hem of the towel riding up just enough for her bare core to sit on the clothed crotch of his dress pants. Her arms are around his neck as he noses at her cheek tenderly -- drinking her in.

In the unfamiliar state, she finds comfort under his touch. Her mind is frantic and it’s telling her every reason to pull away but she can’t bring herself to. Not when her heart is telling her she’s safe and this is the right thing. Not when his lips are meeting hers again and she forgets what reality feels like for a moment.

He knows she’s soaked as she gently rubs herself against his crotch. His length is bloating in his pants as she suckles innocently on his bottom lip. He’s licking into her mouth, savouring the sweetness of her on his tongue but he thinks he needs more. “Please. Wanna feel you, please,” she pleads through an unsteady whisper full of eager desperation.

Harry nods against her lips, arms wrapping around her middle and he lifts her in his arms. He spins them and kneels on the bed, gently easing her in the centre of the mattress and her own hands untuck the towel and tug it open. In her exposed state, Y/N’s mind is rolling in fear and anxiety. What if she’s not enough for him? What if he isn’t attracted to her like she thought he was? What if he changes his mind?

“Holy shit,” he breathes and her nerves and worries are eased just as quickly as they were built.

She’s gorgeous, completely bare beneath his body and her nipples have pearled under the cool air of the night. Her breasts are still full as they flatten against her chest and her little kitty looks smooth and delicious and Harry is eager for a taste.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, his hands on her spread thighs and he kisses her knees tenderly.

The affirmation alone has a blanket of safety and comfort settling over her and Y/N’s confidence is quick to begin to grow again -- despite having no experience in whatever is going to happen. There’s just something about seeing his gentle nature hours after being cruel and merciless that she can’t wrap her head around. She knows what he’s capable of but knows more than anything else that he’ll never direct that anger to her. The way he interacts with his mother and sister is enough to speak volumes.

“I want this, Harry,” she promises. “I want to feel this with you.”

The verbal confirmation and tugging on his fingers are enough for Harry and he nods, kissing his way up her thighs as he situates himself between her body. He knows what she’s asking for, to feel him completely but he knows better than her that she’s not as ready as she thinks she is.

His face is level with her pulsing core and she shudders at the sensation of his warm breath on her sweetest spot. Her eyes are fluttering with nerves and excitement and she doesn’t know what to expect. He kisses at the apex of her thighs softly and massages at her hips.

“Relax for me, we’ll do this slowly,” he reassures her but Harry wonders what he’s actually doing.

She’s confessed how she feels and he’s given her nothing back but silence and kisses. Her words replay in his head and he’s torn. Even if it’s just as a friend. He thinks he might be a bit of an idiot. What are they? What are they doing? Will touching her give false hope that they’re building for something more than an arrangement? For something romantic and promising? Who is it giving false hope to?

But her insistent, breathless begs of “Please, Harry. Please, want this so bad,” is enough to sway him in her current favour and he supposes the logistics of what they are is something they can discuss another time.

He’s not the only one. Y/N’s in the same boat, worried and doubting that this is a good idea. She pushes the nagging away by telling herself the same thing every time.

Platonic or romantic, she will take what she can get. They have each other until their final breath. They have time.

Harry licks a broad stripe from her hole to her clit, tongue soaking up her arousal and flicking across her throbbing little bud. Y/N’s fingers are tangled in his curls, tugging deliciously at the wanton tendrils that tickle at her thighs.

“Oh my God.” She’s breathless and her eyes are wide, the cool yet warm sensation of his skilled tongue swirling around her intimate little honeypot.

“Tastes so good,” he hums in praises of appreciation.

His words are muffled but Y/N hears them loud and clear. She feels like she’s finally in tune with her body and soul -- like every feeling before this has never compared. His tongue is everything she didn’t know she needed and with every stroke and build of her release, she feels heavier and heavier.

He’s been between her thighs for mere minutes but she can feel an unfamiliar weight that sits heavy on her lower abdomen that she’s never experienced before. Harry can’t get enough of her sweetness or the way her velvety smooth lips feel against his hot tongue. She’s pretty and warm and he’s slurping at every string of wetness she has to offer.

He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more. The sight and taste of her, or the knowledge that he’s the first one to make her feel this way and the last. No one else will ever get a taste of her sweet little cunt or have the privilege to watch it clench and throb when he pulls away. No one will be blessed with this sight but him and it makes his cock twitch and bloat until it’s painful in his pants.

He’s immersing himself in her entirety, lips and chin and cheeks soaked. “Pretty little cunt, baby.”

His lips have taken to her neglected little clit and he suckles teasingly, teeth grazing across her most sensitive nub and Y/N’s thrashing beneath him, pulling at his hair so harshly but he loves the burn. Harry keeps her as still as he can when he feels her squirm and he thinks he’ll try something.

One hand releases his hold on her and his middle finger tauntingly probes at her swollen hole. She thrashes again and tightens at the risk of intrusion but he coos her, slurping her up and she relaxes the best she can.

Y/N’s got his filthy words replaying in her mind and she feels like a dirty little girl. She’s thrown back to all those times her dainty little fingers weaved their way into her panties late at night at the blank thoughts of faceless lovers. Now she’s riding her cunt against her husband.

He eases his digit in her dripping hole and she clenches around it desperately. Harry groans at the sensation of her walls fluttering around his finger and it only makes him impossibly harder. She gets used to the intrusion quickly and the pinches of discomfort twist and ease into waves of undeniable pleasure.

Y/N’s thighs are trembling when he slowly starts to pump his digit in her cunt, curling it in a ‘come hither’ motion and she’s seeing stars. She can’t believe how deep his thick finger is reaching and the way he manages to hit every dazing spot she never even knew existed. Harry continues to suckle on her clit, eyeing the underswell of her breasts as she shudders and trembles.

Her head is thrown back, eyes pinched closed as the burning becomes too much and she can’t control the overwhelming senses that take over her body.

“Oh god, what’s -- what’s hap-- oh my God!” She’s coming on his tongue in a rush of arousal and panic; a feeling she’s never even come close to experiencing with just her nimble fingers.

Harry guides her through her high, sucking and fingering until she’s quivering with tears in her eyes. She wants to look down at him, to see what he looks like in between her thighs but she isn’t ready for such a sinful sight -- she doesn’t think she’ll be able to look without blushing in pure shyness and embarrassment.

He eases his movements when she begins to twitch in the aftershock and he kisses down her thighs, smearing her wetness across the plushy skin until he’s crawling up her body with a glistening face and mischievous eyes.

Y/N can hardly see through the white spots that distort her vision but she makes out his grin and can’t help the bashful smile that tugs on her parted lips.

“Happy first orgasm,” he congratulates her and an outrageous laugh bubbles deep from within her chest and Harry is fucking gleaming at the sound of it.

He grabs the towel she’s laying on and pulls it from beneath her body, bunching it up to wipe his face dry before pressing a kiss to her cheek. She watches him scurry to the bathroom, door pushed ajar but she can still see him taking off his clothes. She sees the thick length of his hard cock slap up against his midsection when he tugs down his boxers and she struggles for breath.

Her cheeks are hot and heavy and she wants nothing more than to feel the weight of his pink tip on her tongue. Y/N has to blink and clear her throat. She can’t believe she’s actually thinking these things. It’s minutes later when he’s crawling back on the bed with just a pair of boxers and the tent is still visible in his briefs, despite how hard he’s tried to hide it.

They talk for hours, whispering the night away with midnight giggles and reminiscent childhood memories that no one else knows. And for the first time, they fall asleep in each other’s arms with limbs tangled, light hearts, and a floating feeling that maybe this is the start of them.

//

what a fuckin ride lmaooo. please do leave some feedback and let me know what you think of the series. I'm so excited for you all to see what happens next!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines

[lovesuhng]

pink pen

w.c: 1.1k fluff

You didn't know how many hours you had been in that library; you were tired, but needed to study as much as necessary to do well on your final exams. Your concentration was broken when you felt a touch on your shoulder and then came face to face with one of the most handsome men you had ever seen at that university. His bright eyes, paired with the glasses that fit perfectly on his face, the black shirt that hugged his body nicely and the smile that lifted your worries instantly. You realized he had said something, but you had no idea what it was; after all, you had gotten lost in the almost perfect features of the man in front of you.

"Sorry, can you repeat, please?" You thought that must have sounded like an idiot at that moment, but you were sure when he chuckled before replying.

"Ah, okay. Do you have a pen to lend me? I know it's silly to come to study without bringing a pen, but I must have lost all the ones I had."

"Of course." You searched your pencil case and the only pen you found was a pink one filled with glitter and with a cat on top. You felt embarrassed to hand it to the man, but he accepted it nonetheless.

"How cute! This little cat looks like my Lucy. I promise I'll give it back as soon as I finish taking my notes."

And with that, the man went back to where he was studying, a table right next to yours. You wanted to finish studying quickly, but ended up taking longer than you should have because you kept finding yourself looking at him all the time. You had never seen him at the university before, but you would do anything to find out who he was.

That's how you ended up meeting Na Jaemin, a medical student well-known to many at the university, the very definition of sunshine and certainly one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. You were already used to going to the library, but your visits to the place became more frequent, both to study and in the hope of seeing the man again, although he rarely appeared there.

One day you were in front of the library, looking through the large glass doors searching for Jaemin, but found no sign of him.

"Are you looking for something?

You jumped and screamed, startled by the voice that spoke right next to your ear. You were once again so focused that didn't even see Jaemin approaching. The man was laughing at the situation you found yourself in.

"Do you really find it funny to scare others?"

"It's not my fault you're always lost in the clouds." You just rolled your eyes and Jaemin laughed again. "But you didn't answer my question."

Of course, you wouldn't answer that you were looking for him, so you said the first thing that came to your mind. "I... uh... was looking to see if there was any available table because I need to study, but there isn't, so I'll look for another place to study. Bye."

You wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but were stopped by Jaemin calling your name.

"How do you know my name?"

"Let's just say I found out." You couldn't help but be surprised by the possibility that Jaemin had asked someone about your. "There's a café nearby that's great for studying. Do you want to go with me? I was already heading there." You could swear Jaemin was nervous about making this invitation to you, but it was probably just your fertile mind creating a scenario that didn't exist.

After accepting the invitation, you were already at the café with their orders placed. Both of you chatted a bit and started studying or at least trying to. Sometimes Jaemin caught himself looking at you. He found it cute how focused you were while reading or when you got a little frustrated because you didn't understand your own notes.

The truth was that Na Jaemin had been watching you for a long time; he always found you beautiful, intelligent, and was really interested in getting to know you better. With everyone else, Jaemin was the most communicative person there was, but whenever he tried to approach you, something stopped him or he just froze.

"Oh..." you said in surprise, catching Jaemin's attention. "You're still using my pen."

"Am I?!" Jaemin said with fake surprise. "It brought me a lot of luck in the last tests, but I guess it's time to give it back..."

"No need!" You interrupted Jaemin, speaking a little louder and becoming embarrassed immediately after. "Since it brought you luck, you can keep it. It kind of suits you."

When tiredness took over, Jaemin insisted on accompanying you to your dormitory, even though you said a thousand times that you didn't need it. On the way, he explained extremely excitedly that he had three kittens, Luna, Luke, and the famous Lucy, and that although they were very similar, the kitten on the tip of the pen you had given him reminded him more of Lucy than her siblings. At that moment, you realized that you could listen to the man talk about the things he likes for hours and that he became even more adorable talking about them.

"Even though I'm allergic, I love kittens." you said when they reached the front of your dormitory.

"You could come to my apartment to meet my babies any day soon..." Jaemin noticed the invitation he had made. "I mean... if you want to, of course."

"I would love to, Jaemin."

Then Jaemin approached and held one of your hands. You were praying that Jaemin wouldn't notice how nervous you were about his touch.

"Can I confess something?" You just nodded. "That day in the library, I asked to borrow your pen because I wanted an excuse to talk to you." Surprise was written all over your face. You wanted to say something, but nothing came out of your mouth. Jaemin noticed this and continued. "I've seen you for weeks, always wanted to get closer to you, but never knew how, and today I made up this excuse to invite you to study just to get to know more about you."

"I've been looking for you all week, but I thought I'd never see you again in that huge university."

"So, does that mean..."

"That I would also like to know more about you..." you handed your phone to Jaemin, in a silent request for him to write down his number. As soon as he did that, you stood on tiptoe and kissed the man's cheek, who was surprised by your gesture. You were about to enter the building when you turned to Jaemin and said, "Oh... that pen suits you more than me."

At that moment, standing in front of your building with a silly smile on his face, Jaemin realized he was stupidly falling in love with the girl with the pink pen.

#nct scenarios #nct #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream au #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin #na jaemin x y/n

[xxblairexxss]

Pick me up (Part 1)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Charles got a call from Monaco prison and he wished you took it more seriously.

I had this in my draft for quite a while so I guess I should share it with you guys because I think it’s adorable!

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne

“Is it recording?” You took a step back and accidentally hit your hind foot against the leg of the armchair. “Oh my god. Wait, let me sit first.” You plonked yourself on the mint coloured seat and brought your hair up to tie it into a messy bun.

The sound of a dial tone resounded from your phone. You had enabled the loud speaker once the call was connected to the number you had clicked. “I’m so nervous!” You covered your grin and whispered to the other phone that was propped up against your mirror and was recording, the time at the top end of the screen started calculating every seconds.

“Hello…?”

“Oh!” Your mouth formed an ‘O’ as you quickly pressed on the space button. “Hello, this is a collect call from the Remand Prison of Monaco for inmate Y/N Y/L/N.” Came on the text-to-speech voice from your laptop that you had set aside.

“What the heck?!” You heard Charles’s voice went louder into the phone as he cleared his throat after.

You clicked on a different tab and pressed on the spacebar key again. “Say yes if you would like to accept this call.”

“Yes, please.”

“Baby!” You cried out.

“Honey, what the fuck is going on?” You had a hard time to control your giggle hearing how tensed he was.

You sighed. “I–I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“Can you come pick me up?” You faked a wept and quickly covered your mouth to bury your smile, as if he could see your face.

“How did you get arrested?” You could hear he was getting stressed and then came a soft sound of a door being closed. You were so sure he had segregated himself because his voice was louder this time.

You held your tongue, trying to make it looked as if you were having trouble to talk from heavy crying. “I told you I was going to go to Starbucks, right?”

“Yeah? And did you get possessed or something?”

“No! I found this cute mug and this old lady tried to steal it from my hand so I whacked her in the head.”

He breathed out and you knew he was trying to calm himself down so there was only silence in the air for a few seconds. “You….beat an old lady for a mug? Honey….” The tone of his voice changed from fretted to full of disappointment.

“She tried to steal it from me!” You replied, defending yourself.

“Didn’t give you a reason to smack her! What were you thinking? What— what am— are you okay, honey? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, but they made me wear this jail outfit. I don’t like it and it’s cold here.” You could barely took a breath when he replied to you straight away.

“The audacity of you to complain about that after you punched someone, Y/N. What am I supposed to do now? When can they release you? How many years?”

“They said you can come pick me up but you have to bring a pen because there’s some agreements you have to sign.” You answered. You had been silently giggling so you hoped the phone call didn’t pick up the sound of it.

“What agreement? Oh my god, how serious is this matter? What else should I bring?” He sounded like he was walking back and forth, probably from the agitation or he was indeed, looking for a pen.

“I don’t know! You need to come in 30 minutes or they won’t accept any appeal and you’ll have to wait for another month.” You pulled the phone away and winced when he howled in distress.

“Y/N! You should have told me earlier! Can you please take this seriously? We spent 10 minutes on the phone already. I’m coming.”

“Charles, wait!” He ended the call before you could say anything and convulsed with laughter, your body and shoulders shook from it. “I need to call him back before he literally go and pay the prison a visit. Bye!” You clicked on the red button on the screen of your phone and the video ended.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc blurb

[hysteria-things]

hi! i recently found your account, and i js wanna say omg ur so talented, like ur fr my new fav writer. could u maybe write something about a virgin reader, whos only ever fingered herself, and so when matt (or chris but im a matt girl and im being self indulgent about this), and she squirts, and is super embarrassed about it and he comforts her about it? u dont have to, but idk i js think u could do this idea rlly well:)

FIRST TIME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x virgin!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt have been together for quite sometime, but never had sex. he knows you’re a virgin and he’s so patient with you, but now you think you’re ready

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT but fluff!, making out, mini panic attack, praising, p in v, squirting

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,066

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: for anon and @mattsleftnipple03

these were pretty much the same so i combined them! hope you like :)

thank you and love you guys🫶

the pen in your hand scribbles on the piece of paper in front of you as you ponder. you’re in art class and your best friend sits across from you at the big table.

art class is basically a free period because let’s face it, you guys don’t do anything except gossip and draw for fun.

you’ve been asking your friend a series of questions about what losing your virginity is like since she has experience. the only experience you’ve ever gotten was your fingers, and to be honest, it gets old after a while.

you’re not embarrassed about being a senior in high school and still a virgin, but your boyfriend who graduated last year lost his with his ex a while back. you guys have talked about having sex for the first time for quite some time, but you were never ready.

no words can describe how grateful you are for matt. he’s been super patient and understanding with you.

but now, you think you’re ready.

“is there a reason you are asking me these questions?” your best friend asks, raising a brow.

you shrug, your hand still having a mind of its own with the pen. “i’m thinking about going all the way with matt.”

she smiles, genuinely looking happy for you. “oh my god! when?”

“i told him i plan on this weekend.”

“that’s so exciting!”

“yeah, but,” you pause to take a deep breath. “i feel nervous.”

she reaches over to stop your drawing hand. “it’s totally normal to feel nervous. matt’s such a sweet guy. i’m sure if you feel the slightest bit of discomfort, he’ll stop immediately.”

you smile at the mention of your boyfriend. she’s not wrong. matt will do anything to make you feel comfortable. he’s not one to force anything on someone. “you’re right.”

she gives your hand a light squeeze. “let me know how it goes.” she winks just as the bell rings for dismissal.

the rain outside is pattering on the window, you and matt cuddling comfortably on his bed. you guys just woke up from the best nap of your life.

you nibble on the inside of your mouth. “matt?”

“hm?” he hums, picking up his head that was resting on your chest.

“i want to do it.”

he beams at you. “positive?”

you bite your lip in excitement and nod. matt lifts himself to get more serious. “don’t be afraid to tell me to stop, okay?”

“i know,” you reply. he leans in and kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. he breaks the kiss to take off his and your shirt but goes back at it to unclip your bra.

the skin-to-skin contact felt warm and comforting, but your anxiety is starting to take over.

you try to brush it off until matt reaches for your pants. yanking his hands away, you cover your top half with the comforter as you feel tears start to form.

matt freezes, a hint of guilt on his face. you try your best to take as many deep breaths as possible. “i’m so sorry, y/n.”

he carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs soothingly to calm you down. “n-no it’s not you.” you take three deep breaths before continuing. “it’s silly. the thought of a penis about to be inside of me freaks me out.”

you chuckle along with him, the humor helping you relax. “we don’t have—”

“i want to.” you say truthfully. “i just need a second.”

he goes through different breathing techniques with you until you calm down from your mini panic attack. he asks if you're okay at least a hundred times before you shut him up by kissing him again.

he hesitates with your pants not wanting to trigger you again, but after a beat, he pulls them down with your underwear.

his pajama pants soon end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he comes under the blanket with you and pecks you on the temple, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. “so proud of you.” he starts, making you blush. “you ready?”

you give him the okay, and he slowly starts pushing into you. the stretch makes you cringe and hiss, causing him to halt. “hurts?”

you shake your head. “pressure… keep going.”

dampening your lips by licking them, he continues to move. his eyes are dead set on your face to sense any discomfort. you let out a ‘mmph’ when he’s all the way in.

when he doesn’t see any bad signs, he starts moving his hips. you moan softly, the pain turning into pleasure.

“you can go faster,” you whisper, and he does. your nails leave crescent marks on his shoulders as he peppers kisses on your chest, neck, and face.

you squeeze your eyes closed, the softest of sounds leaving your lips. then, your legs twitch, and a watery liquid squirts out of you. your eyes widen, and matt stops the second he notices. “what’s wrong? need me to stop?”

“no. i think i…” your cheeks burn, too embarrassed to admit what you’re thinking.

“that’s okay. it’s completely natural.” he reassures, grabbing one of your hands to interlock with his above your head. “you’re doing so well, y/n. so fucking proud of you.”

he continues to rock his hips, this time pulling out more and thrusting back in a smidge harder. “oh.” you moan, arching your back when he starts hitting a certain spot. “oh shit, matt. just like that.”

he tries his best not to pick up speed to scare you, so instead he keeps the rhythm you’re comfortable with. he grunts, taking the hand that’s not holding yours and placing it on your hip.

the grip you have on his hand tightens, indicating that you’re close when his tip keeps abusing your g-spot.

you whimper, your legs starting to quiver from pleasure. “i’m close.”

“cum, baby. you’re doing such a good job.”

you sigh of relief when your cum slowly starts to ooze around him. matt’s right there with you with just a few more thrusts before spilling into the condom.

the feeling of him pulling out of you makes you wince, but then you two giggle. “i did it!” you say proudly, holding up your hand to give him a high five.

he laughs. “damn right you did.” he takes your high five, followed by a handhold.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

would you consider writing headcanons for percy and a mortal reader? like maybe someone he can’t help but fall for even though he’s afraid of putting them in danger given the differences in their worlds? i love your writing by the way!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x mortal! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x mortal! reader hcs warning: language, mentions of death and blood and all that gross stuff author's note: i thought this one was gonna be a pain in my but to write but it was actually so cutesy???? also the last line is brutal i know but i couldn't help myself. so good, love love love. hope you guys like it too!!

you guys met in school, obvi

percy was struggling to read the board and you could tell, silently sliding your notes over to him and pretending not to, just to save him the embarrassment

"thank you for...ya know," percy muttered once the teacher turned her back.

"of course. my eyes bug out sometimes too. we gotta look out for each other," the girl mused back, a soft smile on her face as she playfully winked at him.

his stomach instantly became an olympic athlete, doing flips and twists like nobody’s business

he knew it wouldn't work out though

she was, probably, just another mortal and he wasn't willing to put her life in danger

even if she was super cute

and sweet

and caring

did i mention cute? okay, just checking.

but, he indulged a little bit, allowing side conversations during class and sharing of lunches

but no more, he promised himself

and then he kissed her

yeah, that promise didn't last long

it was fine and he lied...a lot.

"oh, cute necklace! is that from like a summer camp or something?"

"something like that, yeah."

"you've got so many scars, percy. you must be like super clumsy."

"sooooo clumsy. ha..."

"you mind if i borrow this pen real quick? i just need to-"

"NO NOT THAT PEN- sorry, sorry, here’s another one. that ones, er, special."

he didn't want to lie, really, but he also didn't want to hurt her.

to know is to put her in danger

and he couldn't have that

she’d met his mom, obviously she was the most important thing in his life

not just anybody meets mrs. sally jackson

and then, while riding the subway on the way to the aquarium for a date, it happened.

becuase of course it did.

percy was holding onto the pole, his free hand firmly resting on her waist and holding her close and away from the creeps of the new york undergrounds

"percy...why's that guy staring at you like that?" the girl whispered up to him.

percy's eyes instantly darting in the direction she nodded to, ready to scare off anyone who dared to look at his girlfriend in the wrong way

but then he faltered, his shoulder's sinking and his brain working double time to figure out how to get her out of here safety and deal with the monster.

"peresus jackson. i think this is your stop," the man hissed, standing up from his seat and shoving aside new yorkers as he approached.

percy pushed y/n behind him, taking a protective stand as he dug riptide out of his pocket

"nope. we're going all the way madison today. nice try," percy replied, uncapping riptide.

"percy?! is that a sword?" y/n asked in her panic, causing percy to turn to her with a furrowed brow.

"you can see this?" he holds riptide up for emphasis

"yes! obviously!"

"hold that thought," he said before swinging at the monster.

all the other new yorkers quickly scrambled to one side of the train, whipping their phones out and recording.

y/n slapped these phones down with a glare, shaking her head at them. 

she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but she wasn’t just gonna let them record percy with a sword. That would surely land him in juvie.

percy, once done with the monster, quickly grabbed hold of y/n wrist and pulled her out of the subway just as the doors slammed shut behind them.

he dragged her with him, running all the way until he found a secluded ally to duck into, his eyes rapidly looking around for more danger.

"percy, what's going on?! where did you get a sword?! why do you even carry that on you and why did that man want to kill you and-"

"are you okay?" percy whispered through her worried rant and she stopped, nodding up at him.

"y-yeah, i'm okay. are you?"

"i've fought worse."

"percy...what do you mean? be honest with me...please," she all but begged and percy hung his head, hoping to avoid this moment for his whole life.

"it's gonna sound crazy."

"tell me anyway."

so he did.

he told her everything, correcting every lie he told her, every half-truth.

she listened, nodding along and asking the occasional question, but mainly listening

"so, yeah, that's everything."

"what i'm hearing is my boyfriend is a total badass."

"that's what you got out of that?!?! not the whole 'half-god' thing?!?!?"

"i kinda already figured that. i mean, look at you-"

"shut up."

a few weeks later, while they were hanging out in percy's room and sally was making cookies for them, is when the reality of it all hit y/n.

"percy?" she whispered, causing the boy to pull his eyes from the movie that was on and look down at her.

"yeah?"

"am i...am i gonna be in, like, danger? with you?"

"honestly? yes. every second you spend with me is probably another year you lose from your life."

there was pause, percy swallowing thickly before opening his mouth to give her permission to leave, he'd understand. hades, he'd do the same.

"okay," she replied with a shrug, cuddling closer.

"you sure?" he pushed, thought he really didn't want her to change her mind.

"thirty seconds spent with you is worth thirty years without you to me. easily."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Nerdy Natasha Hcs pt.2

warnings: masturbation, blowjobs, edging, I don't even know

pairings: intersex Natasha x fem reader

Sfw

. Nerdy Natasha who: Always brings you to a museum as a date. She always says it will be fun for both of you (she just wants to go and see old artifacts.) The whole time you guys are at the museum, you stare and smile, and she drags you along to something cool that she found.

. Nerdy Natasha who Gets so shy when you hold her hand in the Hallways. Her head would always be down as a blush coated her face. You would tell her she's adorable and kiss her as you enter class.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Will always sneak behind you and embrace herself in you. Her strong arms would wrap around your waist as she tucked her head between your neck while you cooked breakfast for the two of you.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Will go to the Lego store at the mall and buy one of those Lego flower sets and two Lego people that look like you two. She would build the flowers in 30 minutes and drive over to your house as fast as she could, sprinting out of her car just to give you your gift. She couldn't even talk because she was out of breath.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Comes up to you and gives you a hug as she wraps her head down on your shoulder if she had a bad day. You would be scratching her head and telling her it's gonna be okay. She would also be bending down so much because of the height difference.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Can't stop talking about you to her family at dinner. Yelena gets super annoyed whenever Natasha goes on a tangent about how great you are and how she would never date anyone else. But Alexi and Melina are super invested in her life. A huge smile always plaster their faces when she talks about you.

. Nerdy Natasha who will always take photos of you with a Polaroid camera and hang those photos up on the wall. You always tell her to take them down because you don't think you look that good, and she will literally talk for hours about how you are the most beautiful girl in the world and how you are the one thing she could stare at for days.

. Nerdy Natasha who Loves it t when you sketch random drawings on her arm. you would carefully move your pen over her skin and veins while the teacher discusses a new project due in the next few weeks.

. Nerdy Natasha who will literally do anything you ask her. You need her to tie your shoe because it's not tight enough? She's kneeling in the middle of the dirty sidewalk tying your shoe. You're craving something that's not in your pantry? She's jogging to the nearest store to get you the food that you want.

. Nerdy Natasha who would always let you fix her eyebrows for her. She would lie on her space-themed bed as you lay on top of her, carefully plucking the out-of-place eyebrows with a tweezer. She would always complain about how bad it hurt too.

"Oww, y/n, be gentle. I can feel that you know that, right?"

"Stop it, Natasha; I know that didn't hurt. You're just being a big crybaby right now."

. Nerdy Natasha who will carry your bridal style to her car if it had been raining the previous day and you want to keep your new heels neat.

. Nerdy Natasha who Would be on one of those kiss cam videos at her school. She would be so shy because she was being recorded and would only give you a small peck on the lips. Everyone found it adorable, though.

. Nerdy Natasha who loves doing skincare with you. You would always have her sit on a chair as you put moisturizers and serums on her face. After a while, though, she would always complain about being unable to see because her glasses would be off.

"Y/nnn, are you almost done? I can't see, and my optome-"

"My gosh, Nat, do you ever stop whining?"

. Nerdy Natasha who loves to do movie marathons with you. And it will be the stupidest movie, too. They would have bad CGI and a bad soundtrack. After a while, you wouldn't mind because Natasha was having the time of her life.

. Nerdy Natasha who loves to go on Ikea dates with you. She would always point out a cute bedframe or couch that she liked and rant about how she's gonna put that in the house that the two of you will buy when you are done with high school and college.

nsfw

. Nerdy Natasha who sitting in her desk chair with her arms tied behind the head of the seat while you used a Fleshlight to get her off. She would be begging you to ride her so she could feel your pussy around her.

. Nerdy Natasha who would have the biggest mommy kink ever.

"Please let me make you feel good, Mommy, please."

. Nerdy Natasha who would wake up in the middle of the night with the biggest hard-on ever. She would reach over to her nightstand to get her glasses and look down at her boxers. She would be so scared to wake you up and tell you what happened she would quietly lay back down and hump your ass till she came. You obviously woke up after the first few minutes because of her loud breathing and whining. You didn't help her either. You just pretended to be asleep.

. Nerdy Natasha, who is almost on the verge of tears while you suck her off under her desk while she's studying for an upcoming exam. You whispered in her ear that she needed a 'little break'. Next thing she knows, her cock is stuffed in your mouth.

. Nerdy Natasha who gets caught watching porn by you, She's so embarrassed. She wasn't jerking off or anything to it (she was hard though) she had a pen and notebook by her side with a couple of notes written down on the white sheet of paper.

"Y/n! You said you weren't going to be home this early!" She yelled out to you, frantically shutting her laptop.

"Nat, baby. I could've helped you learn some of that stuff, you know that, right honey?"

. Nerdy Natasha who stays having dark hickeys on her neck. Yelena thinks it's the funniest thing in the world while Melina and Alexei are yelling at her once more. She would let you make a heart with hickeys on her back

. Nerdy Natasha who Sends you a picture of her lying on her bed with a hard-on. She would text you about how desperate she is to be inside you and that you must come home soon.

. Nerdy Natasha who would always be so mesmerized by your boobs. You don't think she's actually ever seen anyone else's before. She would be so scared to touch them too. You would lead her hand to your chest so she could feel them.

. Nerdy Natasha who always gets edged by you.

. Nerdy Natasha who will have a shopping basket online filled with different kinds of sex toys that she would never tell you about. You would go on her computer to look at the notes for a class and instead find the website she was looking at with a shopping bag full of toys.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x female #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #marvel #natasha x reader #marvel smut #black widow smut

[luveline]

what abouttttt

zombie!steve and reader (at any point tho i feel like this would make sense after the college got attacked) are like scavenging in a pharmacy and steve wanting to make his girl laugh puts on the stupidest prescription glasses that he found near the front desk but then? reader comes over and hes like have you always had that mole? and he refuses to take them off even tho theyre far sighted which makes the trek back to camp slightly unsafe but he cant stop staring at readers face because hes never seen it so clear

thank you for your request<3

“I really need some chocolate,” you lament, pulling at his hand as you drift together down the aisle toward the snack section. “If they don’t have any, I’m going to kill myself.” 

“You better kill me first.” Steve pulls you back. “Seriously. Have the decency.” 

“Find me some candy and I won’t have to.” 

“Find yourself some candy, loser. I need some painkillers. I’m sick of dealing with you.” 

You push at his arm. He resists the urge to yank you in for a kiss, letting your hand drop to part ways at the top of the aisle. He makes for the back of the store where the in-store pharmacy signs hangs half off of the wall, green glass shattered like coarse sugar grains underfoot. Steve cringes, clearing a path to the desk with the side of his shoe. 

“You okay?” you call from a few feet away, unseen but close enough to be heard clearly. 

“Fine! Signs of candy?” 

“No,” you say dejectedly. He nearly misses it. 

Steve’ll find you some chocolate if it’s the last thing he does, but first, he needs painkillers. His knee aches like he’s been beaten, a funny burning string of pain lining the underside of his leg every other step. Ideally he’d like some codeine, but more realistically he wants advil. He doesn’t know where to start, never does, but if you come over he’ll pretend he understands what things go where. 

He’s lucky. He bends down and finds a bottle of motrin on the floor, looking up to find a shelf teeming with it. “Yes,” he says, ecstatic. Things rarely ever go so obviously his way. “Fucking yes.” 

He shoves as many bottles of tylenol in his various pockets as he can. Then he looks around for anything interesting. He’s sure there’s a ton of things you could benefit from. He’s been wondering about epi-pens and emergency precautions, because god forbid something happen to you he couldn’t correct. Love makes him worry. You’re worrisome, you’re so sad lately, he knows you’re a few days from another burnout. He can’t handle it —he’ll take care of you, but seeing you down for the count hurts every single time. 

He leans heavily on the counter and lets himself think. Absent-minded, he reaches out to spin the intact rungs of a glasses stand, prescription lenses shining against the glare of the sun seeping in from the store’s caved metal roof. “Plus two,” he says to himself, “plus three, what?” He grabs an obscene pair and shoves it up his nose, blinking in surprise at the way his vision blurs. 

He turns the display to the mirrored back and grins. 

“Hey, loser? You okay?” he calls. 

You don’t answer. 

“Babe?” he says sharply. 

“Oh, you’re talking to me?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

You appear at the end of the aisle with an arm full of chips, less blurry the closer you get. “Sorry. Don’t call me loser then. Oh, gosh, what are you wearing?” 

“Gosh,” he mimics with a laugh. “I’ve no idea.” 

His poor attempt at a southern accent makes you laugh too. “Nice glasses, Harrington. I didn’t know you needed them.” Steve crossed his arms in front of him. You drop the chips beside his sleeve and station yourself as he had, a mirror, your smile charmed as you push the glasses up his nose. “You look ridiculous. Here,” —you take a nicer pair from the rack and open the legs— “swap them.” 

He would, but he’s looking at you, and he’s thinking, What?

You move your head away from him instinctively, but ultimately let him hold your face, his thumb on the hill of your chin, fingers curled over your cheek. He can see the little silver scars of a cruel hand around your mouth, and the cut on your cheek from a surprising wooden beam, but what he’s never noticed is the pigmentation under your mouth. The little wrinkles by your eyes. Hell, he’s never realised your eyelashes looked quite like that until now. 

“Hey–” he starts, though you’re already ducking your chin. “Wait–”

“Stop, you’re staring.” 

“Yeah, I’m staring. You always had that freckle?” 

“Long as I can remember.” 

“Wait,” he pleads, trying to grab your chin as you step away. 

“I need chocolate, Steve, I’m not kidding. You can do whatever you want to me if you help me find some.” 

“You will come to love that decision very soon.” 

You giggle like crazy. Steve swaps the less attractive glasses for the ones you’ve recommended and follows you down the aisle to help you look for your sugar fix. He nearly trips over a split can of condensed milk, and you might act like you don’t like him, but you catch him by the arm and allow him to hold on. 

He isn’t great at helping you look, but he finds a couple of bars of cooking chocolate in the baking essentials aisle and decides it’s good enough to head home with. You eat lines of it as you walk, your fingers pressed between Steve’s, a little dab of chocolate he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise in the corner of your lips. 

“You sure you don’t want some?” you ask between bites. 

He’s gonna watch you eat the whole thing. “No thanks. I’m saving room for Robin’s artichoke heart and refried bean combo.” 

“Would you take those off?” Your cheek twitches as you smile. Your eyes glow with affection. “You can barely walk.” 

“You don’t like them?” 

“They really, really suit you, actually. I love them,” you say, to his secret delight. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

He trips over his own feet and has to grab your arm to stop from falling. “That’s the problem,” you say, in love enough to smile even when the world has gone to shit for you a thousand times. Your eyes follow down his nose to his lips. 

Steve grins and ducks forward for a kiss. “Oh, sorry,” he says when the glasses bump your nose. 

You laugh and touch under his chin to help him out. You taste like chocolate still as he kisses against the seam of your lips, a quick but blissfully deep kiss, a handful of seconds where Steve feels like you’re one in the same before he pulls away, just enough to see both of your eyes. 

“What’re you looking at?” you ask. 

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he lies. “Want me to get it?” 

“Yes,” you say bashfully. 

He kisses the tip of your nose, then the corner of your lip. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[romantichomicide95]

ೃ✧ megumi fushiguro

๑ summary: megumi study session. rewards.

๑ cw: 18+!, f!reader, cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, penetration, dom!megumi,

➜ word count: 1.4k

"Ugh, Gumi, I just can't get motivated to study," you groaned, stepping into Megumi's dorm room. Earlier, he had texted you, expressing concern about your slipping grades and urging you to come over for a study session. Your boyfriend was undeniably intelligent, effortlessly excelling in both your regular classes and the rigorous training to become jujutsu sorcerers. In contrast, you often found yourself struggling with the academic aspect.

"Too bad. You need to study," he replied with his usual gruffness, motioning for you to join him at his desk. As you made your way towards him, he surprised you by pulling you down onto his lap, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Alright," he murmured, "You really need to ace this test so we are going to make studying a little more interesting yeah? Every time you can focus and study for a designated amount of time, I'll reward you."

You turn your head to look at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Reward me how exactly?”

“Focus.” he says forcefully turning your head back to the books laid out in front of you. “If you can stay focused and do what I ask then I’ll do something like this…” he says placing a soft kiss to your neck, “or this,” he adds nibbling your ear.

You couldn't deny the appeal of his proposal. Not only would it provide an incentive to study, but it also promised a good time with your boyfriend. You nodded eagerly. “Deal," you agreed excitedly, turning your attention to the textbooks in front of you.

You stayed seated on Megumi’s lap, his head rested on your shoulder looking at the pages in front of you. He placed soft kisses along your neck as you took notes from the textbook. It was actually quite distracting to say the least.

His soft kisses quickly turned into hickeys, blue and purple marks left in the wake of his lips on your skin.

“Gumiii.” you whine, turning to face him again. You try to capture his lips in a kiss but he pulls away quickly.

“Study.” He says forcing your head away again, pointing to the spot you left off. “No rewards if you’re not studying. Take notes. I know you can multitask.”

You begrudgingly oblige as his lips fall to your neck once more. You feel wetness pool between your legs and you move your skirt to just enough for him to rut his thigh between your legs. You instinctively grind your heat down against him, your breathe hitching at the feeling of his thigh against your clothed clit.

You begin to roll your hips against him as his arms wrap around you holding you close. His hands are at your waist, guiding you along his thigh as you try to focus your attention on the books in front of you.

That fails when one of his hands glides up your leg, leaving goosebumps as he trails his fingers across your soft skin. His fingers trace up over your panties as he bites and sucks at the skin of your neck, you let out a soft moan, stopping your movements as he rubs the outside of your underwear, right over your sensitive clit.

He brings his fingers up, sliding two digits into your mouth with one simple command “suck”. You take his fingers in, swirling your tongue around them, as he shoves them deeper and deeper down your throat.

“Spread your legs for me pretty girl.” He commands, and you do as you’re told. You bite your lip as he brings his wet fingers down to tease your clit, mixing your saliva with your slick, eliciting a whimper to escape your lips. You close your eyes as he slides two fingers inside you, and you drop your pen on the desk.

Megumi suddenly stops, his fingers don’t move, his thumb presses down hard on your clit, his voice whispering in your ear. “If you want me to touch you, pick up your pen. If you don’t keep studying, I won’t keep touching you.”

“Fuck.. okay.” You continue working on your notes, while Megumi’s fingers fuck you at a slow pace. He’s taking his time, relishing in the feeling of your slick coating his fingers. “That’s right pretty girl, you’re doing so good. Keep taking notes.” He whispers pushing your hair aside so he can place kisses to your neck again.

His fingers pump in and out of you, his pace quickening as his thumb circles your needy clit. His other hand is up your shirt, stimulating your nipples. His fingers curl inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. You roll your hips into his fingers, dropping the pen again, as your eyes roll back. You can’t help it, not when his fingers reach deep into your cunt, fire burning in your stomach as his thumb works your puffy clit.

Megumi stops once again, pulling his fingers away, causing you to whine as he grabs your chin, forcing you to turn to face him. You pout at him. “Gumi … baby, please.” You say as he pinches your cheeks together.

“I told you, if you want me to touch you…then study.”

“Gumi…come on. I want you.” You say, though it almost comes out as a beg. You turn to look at him, his gaze lingers on your lips for a second before he’s looking at you over those pretty thick eyelashes of his.

“If you want me, than you’ll finish your notes. You’ll get what you want if you can be a good girl and do that for me yeah?”

You do as you’re told, but as you turn around Megumi lifts you up off his lap and you can hear the soft metallic noise and “click” of his belt coming undone, and his pants hitting the floor. Before you can react he’s sliding your panties down to your ankles.

“Wanna feel you around my cock, but don’t stop writing.” He says bending you over his desk. He lets out a sharp exhale as he sinks his cock into you inch by inch until he’s filled you up, you tilt your head back at the sensation and clench around him causing him to slightly whimper. And then he…just sits there. Gripping your hips, cock buried inside you.

“If you want me to move. Keep working.” He says, and you do so as he slowly starts to pick up his pace. “Fuck…so tight.” He whispers, mostly to himself.

You’re trying really hard to focus, it’s getting increasingly harder once he reaches around you to circle your clit. “Gumi I-I can’t, feels t-too good.”

“You can…and…you will. One more page.” He grunts He grips a clump of your hair, pushing your head down close to the desk. “If you want me to keep going…finish.” . You focus as best as you can on finishing the chapter, the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass filling the room as his pace becomes erratic.

“D-done.” you say closing your eyes, focusing on the way Megumi’s cock fills you up.

“Good job pretty girl…C’mere.” Megumi pulls out and turns you around lifting you up on his desk before he’s sinking himself back inside you, from this angle his cock fills you all the way up. His lips are on yours now, and you’re finally able to taste how sweet his kisses are, hungry and desperate.

“So..fuck-fucking pretty.” He watches as you throw your head back, arching your back as you rut your hips against his. His fingers dig into your flesh and his lips are back on your neck. He pounds his cock into you relentlessly, biting your neck every time you clench around him. You feel tears brim at the corners of your eyelashes. He fits so perfectly inside you, his cock hitting your cervix with every fevered thrust.

“F-fuck. You feel so good..E-every damn time.”

You reach around Megumi, fingers digging into his back as you feel orgasm pool in your stomach. “G-gunna cum Gumi.”

“F-fuck Me t-too.” He breathes into your neck, burying his head in your shoulder as he feels you cum around his cock whimpers of his name escaping your lips. He follows shortly after, filling you up with his cum.

“Fuck.” He says, looking down at you, brushing your hair out of your face. “So pretty. You did good.”

“Yeah?” you reply, “We should study like this more often.”

taglist: @satorizz @withthegraceofthewind @belfiguevel @chilichopsticks

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also shout out to @mrsackermannx for our brainstorming with this even though i changed it a little and it took a million years to write.

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #megumi drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

#writeblr #warm up #i can't write rn but i have SO much words in here bc im reading the chorus of dragons books #(just started book 4) #and this woman's writing is just LIVING in my brain. let me out!!! #(i read roughly like 2-4 books a week usually bc i go on long walks with my dog but when a book is REALLY good like. it eats my life. ) #anyway ...... so like here's a story that idk i've tried to explain to other people as being wild #but maybe im the only one who thinks it is wild??? #so i play pokemon go (i just started in jan) bc i love pokemon and as i have mentioned i walk goblin for like an hour in the morning #and i don't like a lot of fitness trackers due to the fact it makes me .sad. but i also wanted the little digital rewards. enter pokemon go #anyway so they make you make friends to complete quests. so i used a reddit thread. i do not usually use reddit. i don't have an acct #i lurked. i just googled like ''pokemon go reddit '' and randomly added a bunch of numbers #i was on that page for all of 15 minutes. there are THOUSANDS of responses on that page. #here's what's wild: in that group of people. even though i am not on reddit and it was one random event once #it turns out one of those people lives in the town i live in. or at least very close. i only know this because #when we send each other gifts. it's from the same freaking area. #i can't ask them to meet up bc pokemon go doesn't have a messaging app lol but like . what are the fucking chances that #a random person posts in a random reddit thread and HAPPENS to get added by someone ELSE from their SAME TOWN #who by pure fucking CHANCE is ALSO playing pokemon go and looking for friends #i googled it there's only 42000 people in my broad region. the .......... smallness ! of the world!!!