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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ [6K] friends with benefits, but oh no! there's feelings. canon adjacent, kind of? smut, summer, car sex.

You heard the rev of the engine just before the headlights flashed over your bedroom window, casting shadows over your sheets, your own silhouette on the wallpaper. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, the sound of the car idling across your street, waiting.

You did anyway, fingers parting the slats of the blinds as you turned off your television, grabbing a sweater to shove on, feet stuffed into sneakers as the knit fell to just above the hem of your skirt. A few months ago you would’ve rushed to check your reflection in a mirror, sprayed some perfume, dabbed on some gloss, maybe a cherry flavoured balm on your lips. Now, you just grabbed a set of keys from the dish in the hallway before you closed the front door as quietly as you could. You should’ve told your parents, you knew that. Hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, teenagers getting murdered in broad daylight, an Indiana summer scape being used as the scene for some ripped off horror movie plotline.

But sneaking off into the night with a pretty boy was all part and parcel of being young, wasn’t it?

The BMW was parked under a street lamp opposite your driveway and when he saw you making your way down, the boy got out of his car, greeting you at the passenger side with a kiss that he ducked down to give you eagerly before opening the door.

It wasn’t always like that. The terms and conditions of this… situation, used to be a lot more strict. There were rules that came with hooking up with the guy from the video store next door. A casual fuck at a party became accidentally more and long gone were the days that you’d been pressed against a wall by someone who was more man than boy now, stubble scratching across your chin and jaw as you kissed him, tongues tasting like tequila, like cherry vodka and cheap beer.

And you’d had enough sense left in you that night to pull away, gasping, panting, your hands in his hair as his snuck up your shirt, just barely, thumbs pushing nicely into your waist. You’d let your half lidded eyes drag across his pretty features and recognition managed to take over drunken hormones, over want.

“Hey, you’re the guy that works in Family Video, right?”

And he’d nodded, smiling a little lopsided as his gaze stayed on your lips a second too long, loving the way they were glossy and bitten red by him. “Mhmm,” the boy had said. “Steve. You’re the ice cream girl.”

Not much else was said that night, not when the girl from the ice cream shop liked the way the boy from the video store tasted. You liked the way Steve held you, how he pressed you into a dark corner of someone’s house party, his eyes only on you even when there were so many other girls trying to get his attention. He’d walked you home when the sun was coming up, his sports jacket draped over your shoulders, your shoes in your hands. You’d written your number on his hand with an eyeliner pencil, smudged but there.

He’d kissed you again when your neighbours sprinklers turned on, when the birds started singing from the cherry trees out back. It was a soft thing, too soft and too gentle not to mean much but when he pulled back, he squinted at you, looking regretful.

“I, uh, I’m not looking for anything serious right now,” he confessed. Steve looked sad about it. “I don’t wanna lead you on— I just, there’s a lot going on right now, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you understood. So you nodded and shrugged, the boy's jacket moving against your shoulders and you could smell his cologne, the smoke from the party, your own perfume where it now lingered on the collar.

So you said, “that’s okay. Doesn’t have to be serious, if we don’t want it to be. We can just… I don’t know. Hang out.”

Steve grinned that night, pleased, cheeks a little pink, ‘cause you both knew what hanging out meant. So he nodded too, told you to keep his jacket and that he’d get it back later, told you he’d see you soon and maybe he could take you for a drive or something.

Casual, no labels, no expectations. No feelings.

You were pretty certain that was the night you started falling for Steve Harrington.

—————

You took Steve’s offered kiss with your chin tilted up, trying hard not to smile, failing when he held out a hand for you to hold as you ducked into the car. He shut the door for you, crossed the front of the beemer, lit up by the headlights, his white t-shirt hanging loose around his collarbones, threadbare and worn. His hair wasn’t done like he usually didn’t it, the messy strands falling across his forehead instead of pushed back. It made him look softer, like the Steve you’d grown to know past midnight.

It had been months since that party. Months of hooking up on lunch breaks, using the staff room of the ice cream parlour to make out in instead of sharing food, rushing to Steve’s parked car to fool around in the back, letting the windows steam up, a sight too salacious for daylight. You didn’t date, Steve didn’t take you out to dinner, or the movies. You didn’t ask him too. Neither of you had met the other's parents, or friends. You knew a lot about Steve’s life, but you weren’t exactly enveloped in it.

That’s how it was supposed to be. Just sex. Fun.

But then Hawkins fell to scandal, a murderer on the loose, a boy you once knew from school. Weird goings on, strange sounds from the forest, news crews parked on streets, hoping for the latest story. Steve wasn’t around as much and when you did see him, he was with people you didn’t know as well. Nancy Wheeler, a kid called Dustin, Max Mayfield and another boy from the school basketball team.

You’d watch across the street as Steve closed up the video store hours too early with Robin Buckley, rushing to his car with his friends in tow like there was some sort of emergency. So lunch hour sex sessions turned into late night drives, when the rest of the town was asleep and every house you passed was lit up by the street lights, by the aquamarine glow of backyard pools.

Subtle changes happened first. There were still no dates, no talk of feelings. In fact, whatever was stressing Steve seemed to only be fixed by fucking you. He wasn’t rough about it, not mean, nor careless. But there was a different kind of urgency when he parked up somewhere dark and hidden, pushing his lips to yours and sighing hard like he’d been waiting all day to taste you. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to yours as he let you pant into his parted lips, quiet, soft noises mixing with the slap of his hips against yours. And when you were both fully dressed again and he was ready to take you home, he pressed extra kisses to your cheeks, your hand.

He’d stare at you, longer than he used to, eyes filled with something you weren’t able to place yet and the boy would tell you to promise him you’d be safe.

Steve would watch you until you made it inside, he’d do that all the time. But now he was in the habit of only pulling away when he saw your bedroom light flick on, your silhouette waving to him from behind the glass.

After that, Steve took to kissing you more and more, sex not required. A kiss hello, sweet and chaste, a kiss goodbye, longing, meaningful - even if you didn’t know what it was yet. He was touchy, more open, talking to you and opening up when you’d get into his car and see the boy’s tired eyes. He’d tell you it was fine, that it was nothing for you to worry about. But you spotted a bat in the back seat footwell once, an old looking thing with fucking nails poking out the top.

Steve had turned a little ashen when you stared at him, promising you earnestly that it was only for protection. You know, because of everything that was going on. You weren’t sure what made you believe him so easily, but you did. Night time drives turned into make outs broken up with Steve burrowing his face into your neck as you raked your hands through his hair. You’d watch him grow sluggish, words drowsy as he spoke about how the bad guys aren’t always bad, are they? And should we really believe what the cops on TV are telling us? And wouldn’t all of this just be so much easier if people had superpowers?

You weren’t sure what any of it was supposed to mean, but you’d nodded and dotted your lips over his hairline, letting him lean heavy against you until he scrubbed a hand over his face and coaxed you into his lap, telling you softly that he’d feel a lot fucking better if he got to make you fall apart with his fingers.

You let him. And you returned the favour too.

—————

You knew tonight was different by the way Steve was white knuckling the stick shift, antsy as he brought his touch to your bare thigh instead. He rubbed his thumb there, exhaled heavily when you covered his hand with your own.

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly. You didn’t dare break the quiet, the one that only came with driving out of town when the sky was inky, when the wheat fields whispered in the breeze and the bus stops stood empty. Hawkins was asleep, but there was something that Summer that made the town feel less than peaceful. Maybe it was the ‘wanted’ posters on every street light. Eddie Munson’s face staring back at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine.” He glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road for a second or two. He looked heavy, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas, the man with the earth on his back, cast in marble, ready to crumble. “Just a little stressed ‘bout stuff, that’s all.”

It was the same answer he always gave. You assumed it was his parents - his dad and his relentless tenacity about his job, his future. Maybe it was Keith, giving him a hard time about shifts. Maybe he had a friend in trouble. You were ready to ask, to pry a little deeper when the boy said:

“You’re not, uh— you don’t get headaches, do you? Like bad ones.”

You squinted at him, confused. You watched the streetlights run over his features, casting the boy in a white-yellow glow before they stopped completely, signalling you’d reached the edge of town. The water tower passed you both by, only fields, the road and stars for company now.

“Um, no more than anyone else who works with sugar loaded ice cream and six year old customers all day,” you joked. “Why?”

Steve didn’t laugh, shit, he didn’t even smile. He looked as serious as before and he ignored your question in favour of asking his own. His hand squeezed at your knee, affectionate, his thumb running circles into the inside of your leg before he had to let go to shift gears. “You don’t have nightmares, do you?”

You were really confused now. You leaned back against the door, watching as empty farm pastures blurred past Steve’s face. His lips were pressed right, concern in every part of his face, drawn in there like it was permanent. He looked tired, scared. Your throat drew tight. “Steve, is something wrong?”

“You’d tell me, right?” Steve was slowing the car down, pulling into an empty gas station lot that sat on an desolate road a few miles out of town. The place hasn’t been used in years, the pumps empty, the shutters on the windows covered in graffiti. But the neon sign above the roof still flickered, bathing you both in red and purple lights. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you? If you felt like…” Steve swallowed harshly searching for the right words. “If you didn’t feel safe?”

You unclipped your belt to lean forward, your hand resting on Steve’s thigh. Your brow was furrowed in concern, a worry knotting in your chest because you’d never seen the boy this serious. “Steve, what?” You watched as the boy exhaled again, a heavy, shaking thing and he looked at you with the most tender eyes. “Hey, hey, Steve, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Steve swallowed, throat bobbing hardly and his face crumpled, frustration and worry easily read. He was scarlet lights and inky shadows, neon purple bathing the dashboard as rain started to fall on the windscreen. Light drops of it, dotting here and there until it got heavier and heavier, a dull roar against the car roof. Water droplets slid down the windows, racing each other and Steve tried to find the words.

He couldn’t.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t really explain. Not right now,” Steve dragged a hand through his already messy and he truly did look apologetic. He looked so tired. “Just, please, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? If you needed help with something, or, or, someone to talk to? You’d come to me, wouldn’t you? You know you can talk to me? About anything? This— this isn’t all sex, I know, fuck, I know it was supposed to be but, shit, we care about each other right? I, I care about you— ”

You nodded, eyes wide, moving as close as could over the middle console, the parking brake digging into your tummy so you could clasp his cheeks between your hands. You soothed your thumbs over the slight stubble there, eyes searching his, wondering if you’d find any answers there. You didn’t. So instead you kept nodding, hoping the boy would believe you.

“I’d tell you, Steve. I’d come to you, it’s okay. I’m fine, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, not with me, okay?” Your voice was urgent, hushed, a frantic whisper almost drowned out by the rain.

But your words seemed to soothe the boy and he visibly relaxed, face leaning into your touch. “So, no nightmares?” He asked again.

“No nightmares,” you promised him and he turned his face into your palm, kissing the skin there, the way a boyfriend would. It made your stomach flip, an undeniably tender gesture. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded, eyes closing briefly to gather himself and the lights made the shadows under his lashes turn a deep ruby red. The rain splashed the hood of the car, puddles in the forecourt, purple lights reflecting back like an oil spill. “Yeah. I’m sorry, fuck, it’s just— I wish I could tell you.” Steve let his head fall back onto the seat when you moved your hands. “You must think I’m insane, right?”

You smiled wryly, bringing your feet up to rest on the dash, a move he would’ve told you off - semi jokingly - a few weeks ago for. “No more than I did when I first met you.” Your skirt gathered at your thighs with the move, pooling in the cradle there, cheap silk, lilac and more suited for a trip to the mall rather than a rainy night. But Steve tracked the movement, gaze dropping to the bare skin it uncovered before his eyes found your own again. “And for the record, Harrington, I care about you too.”

It seemed to break something in the boy, those earnest words, real enough to shatter, to make someone crumble in the best way. He punched out the breath he’d been holding and he leant his cheek against the headrest, eyes on you, amazingly soft. “I just wanna keep you safe,” he whispered and the statement made your heart ache.

This wasn’t part of the agreement. This wasn’t even in the rule book.

“I am safe,” you whispered back, brow still wrinkled in confusion. “Is this about Eddie Munson? The police are looking for him, Steve, they’ll find him soon—”

“Somethin’ like that,” Steve tried to smile but it was thin and tight lipped. “I didn’t mean to worry you, m’sorry.”

You smiled, still confused but eager to bring the boy out of his strange mood. You wanted to help, you wanted to comfort. “It’s okay,” you told him, soothing a hand over his thigh again. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout little, old me.”

Something in Steve’s expression told you maybe all he really did was worry about you. But he didn’t say anything more about it, not then. He just slid his hand over your own, let his fingers wrap around your wrist and climb up your forearm, tugging gently. “Hey, c’mere,” he whispered and you knew that look, you knew that tone of voice.

Wanting, needy. Desperation coloured it this time, something new.

He’d normally meet you in the backseat, lips crashing in the middle, a faux argument about who was on top that time. But instead, Steve just coaxed you onto his lap, sliding his chair back from the wheel to make room for you, your legs spread in either side of his hips. He seemed greedy for you, wide palms sneaking under your sweater immediately, the stitch between his brows softening once he got his hands on you.

“Wanna touch you,” the boy sighed and he sounded far away, voice dreamlike now you were closer, like his worries had been eased. “Can I? Wanna make you feel good, think ‘bout it all the time,” he confessed, leaning in until his forehead was pressed to yours, his chin tilted up to meet you, noses bumping.

You nodded, eyes falling shut because all you wanted to do was feel. It was easy with Steve, easy to close off the rest of the world and put all your trust in him. The cocoon of his car felt safe, warm and smelling like leather and his cologne, the hazy light filtering through the rain on the windshield, a kaleidoscope of crimson and violet.

“Yeah, please,” you nodded and your voice sounded so much softer and smaller than before, like you were giving into it, like you were begging him.

Maybe you were.

His hands found the hem of your sweater at the same time yours found his, but you tugged at his cotton shirt with more insistence. You watched his face falter, like he was remembering something. You frowned, fingertips searching under the material for the familiar feel of his warm skin, the trail of hair that led down his navel and into the band of his underwear. Your brow wrinkled deeper when you found something scratchy, a crinkled band that seemed to wrap around him. He flinched when you pressed your palm to it.

“Steve— what—?”

“Babe,” Steve tried to placate you with sweetness, his eyes worried, his hands holding your waist and pulling you closer. “Jus’ leave it on, yeah? It’s—”

“Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t help it, worry and panic taking over and you hated that you didn’t listen to the boy but you were tugging up the hem of his top before he could protest. A bandage was wound around his torso, crisscrossing at his stomach, climbing up to the bottom of his ribs. There was a dark shadow under the right side, like there was a bruise hiding there, or worse.

Suddenly, all the talk of keeping you safe seemed laughable. Your eyes watered at the sight of him, the skin that peeked out from the edges of the wrap a little mottled, an angry red mixing with green and yellow. “What happened?” You sounded distraught and the watery concern Steve that could hear was thick in your throat and it made him fucking ache.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie, but he sounded tired, like all he did was avoid the truth. “I’m okay, I swear. I promise you. I just, I just took a bad fall. Bruised my ribs, caught myself on somethin’ sharp, or whatever, but I’m good.”

You didn’t believe him. Your heart was telling you not to. But Steve Harrington was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was too exhausted to argue. You stared at him, saw how he pleaded with you, silent, hopeless.

Your hands found his jaw, thumbs smoothing over the apples of his cheeks and held him like he was precious. He was. So much more than some guy you found in the dark corners of a stranger’s house party. Who would’ve thought?

“Are you in trouble?” Your voice wobbled. You felt helpless. You were trying to tamp down the ugly thoughts in your head, wondering about all the worst case scenarios, thinking about the kinds of people who could do this to someone. You wondered if your dad could help, if he’d give you some cash if that’s what Steve needed, the spare room, a way out— “can I help? What can I do to help?”

“No, no,” Steve answered with a new sense of urgency, eyes wide. “No, listen, you’re staying far away from it all, okay?”

The fact Steve didn’t deny that there was something to fear, that there was something he was caught up in - something he wasn’t telling you - made your worry spike even more. “Steve, what the fuck is go—”

You were cut off by a kiss. A crushing thing, all consuming and it swallowed your words, your worries, your tears. Steve was warm all over, his lips just as hot, soft and plush and always tasting like mint chapstick. He chased your mouth as you went to pull away, an argument still on your tongue but he kissed you until you turned pliant, hands falling from where they’d been planted on his chest to winding around his neck. You made a soft noise of defeat when his tongue licked over the seam of your lips, your mouth opening for him, the kiss turning deeper. You took in the sound of Steve’s shaky gasps, the way his hands mapped out the curve of your back, the dip of your waist.

Steve kissed you until you both couldn’t breathe.

You pulled away panting, eyes heavier and half lidded than before and Steve’s were no better. He was trying to coax you back, his fingers on your chin but you were reminded about what lay under his shirt and your features were crumpling with concern again.

“M’gonna hurt you, I’m too heavy,” you whispered, aghast, shifting onto your knees awkwardly as if you suddenly just realised you were sitting on his lap. “Steve.”

“No, hey,” Steve protested, squeezing at your waist until you sat back on his lap. He whispered your name, serious. “You’re not hurting— Jesus, stay please? I’m fine, okay? Please. Babe, please, just…” he looked up at you, words trailing off and lingering in the small space that was between you both, floating in the red-purple light.

It was still raining.

“What do you need?” You asked him and you tried not to let your eyes turn glassy but the boy underneath you was gazing at you like you were the first one to ask him such a question in years. “What can I do to help, Steve, huh? I’ll do it, okay?”

“Need you,” Steve managed to choke out and he looked lost, he looked desperate but his eyes were hungry and falling to your lips and god, god, his hands were trailing up the sides of your ribs and he was groaning softly when he found you’d left your bra at home. “I swear to god, I promise, I just need you.”

It made it easy to fall into him, lips pressed to his as you tried to hold yourself off of the boy, just slightly, enough to hopefully not cause the boy any pain. But Steve was having none of it, sighing against your mouth and tugging you forward, his hands gripping your hips, sliding underneath your sweater and along the waistband of your skirt. He groaned, a sound you knew well, his lips chasing yours as he kept you pressed down in his lap, the cotton of your underwear pushed to the denim of his jeans. You kissed him back, pliant before turning eager, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you resisted the urge to roll your hips over him.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you whispered again and you sounded scared, worried. “Steve.”

“Shhh,” Steve soothed you with a hand on your jaw, tugging you back, keeping you grounded against his. His thumb was pushing to your cheek, trailing down to catch over your lip, his mouth ghosting over yours. Your noses knocked, breaths mixing. “S’okay, m’fine, yeah? You’re fine, babe.”

Steve watched through hooded eyes as he coaxed you into moving, a gentle back and forth of your hips over his and he smiled, nodding when you let out a soft noise, forehead falling to rest against his own. “There you go, there she is,” Steve whispered and it felt fond, it felt familiar, the way he spoke, the way he held you.

It didn’t feel like something friends did, not even friends with certain benefits. Not anymore. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I just need to, fuck,” Steve let his head fall back onto the chair, chin tilted up to watch your face, the scrunch of your nose when something made you feel good. He was blue in the shadows, navy, inky. Scarlet skin, red cheeks, purple lights making him ultraviolet. “I just need to feel you, I’ve not stopped thinkin’ about it all day, I swear. Is that crazy?”

You shook your head, lips parting as you let out a heavy breath, the kick up of Steve’s cock in his jeans hitting your clit just right. You kept rolling your hips, slow, even strokes over him. “No, s’not crazy,” you let out a quiet whine, chasing Steve’s touch as he gripped your hips a little tighter. “Think ‘bout you too.”

“Just wanna— wanna switch off sometimes, you know?” Steve groaned when you reached for the button of his jeans, wrapping an around your waist as he lifted his hips and helped you tug the denim down one handed. “Bein’ with you, it helps. It helps so much. I just wanna get lost in you— baby—”

Steve cut himself off with a groan, eyes clenched shut and the term of endearment falling from his lips too easily. You’d ached as he spoke, staring at his soft eyes, the tiredness around them, busying yourself with freeing his cock from from his boxers until you knelt up a little and pulled your own underwear to the side.

You were already wet from his kisses, the way he’d helped your rock your hips over his, but god. God, Steve was a stretch. The boy would normally work at you before hand, legs spread for him in the backseat so he could fit two fingers inside, his tongue and mouth helping ease you, melt you. Then he’d give you inch by inch, jaw unhinged and eyes dark as he talked you through it, telling you how good you were at taking his cock.

Desperation won over this time, though. It took a little squirming, a wriggle of your hips and a sharp gasp until he was fully seated inside of you and there was always a dull burn as you did. It was worth it though, to feel so suddenly full, to watch the way Steve’s brain seemed to glitch at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. He moaned, brows scrunched together as he pressed his fingertips into your hips so hard you were sure he’d leave a lavender coloured map of touches behind.

“Shit, shit,” the boy gasped out and he clung to you as you did him, pulling you into his chest so he could wrap both arms around you, big hands spanning across you back. “Baby, fuck, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You felt breathless at the sensation, stuffed full, your nose pressed to Steve’s neck as he surrounded you, as he held you. You shifted, just slightly, adjusting as he throbbed inside of your cunt and Steve hissed sharply through his teeth.

“You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, ohmygod.”

You laughed, softly, not at all mean and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling closer as you stayed still, just for a minute. “Easy, cowboy,” you murmured. Steve’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, grabbing them, kneading them. “You okay?”

He nodded and you pulled back enough to see the way his cheeks flushed pink, lips parted and eyes flutter closed. The boy sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you just feel so fucking good. You’re so warm,” he marvelled.

It was getting harder and harder to stay still, your cunt clenching around Steve’s cock, making you both gasp, soft noises falling from each of your mouths and it was anyone other than Steve, you would’ve seen embarrassed at the wetness gathering at the base of his cock, coating the insides of your thighs. “Can I move?” You asked him, whispering.

Steve nodded, too blissed out already, his pretty brown eyes getting that far away look to them. Hazy, fuzzy, dreamlike. He seemed less tired now, less stressed, less tense. So you lifted yourself up gently before settling back down on him, the tip of his cock nudging deep inside of you and it made you cry out, a strangled sound that Steve stole with a kiss. He kissed you through it all, hands everywhere at once, roaming over you, sneaking under skirts and sweaters to slide over your bare skin, like he was making sure you were real.

There was a neediness to it all that surpassed hormones and urges.

So you let him, kissed him back with just as much fervour as you rode him, hips moving slow and gentle, the pressure building between you both, filling the air in the car, filling the cracks between your ribs and it made you spin, it made you dizzy. You kissed Steve until he didn’t look so blue anymore, and when you pulled back, letting him mourn at your neck, your jaw, your chin, the rain had stopped and the purple light above the gas station was flickering.

“Steve,” you sighed, your voice cracking, watery.

“I know,” the boy mumbled back and he sounded the same.

You were staring into his eyes when you came. One hand pressed between your sticky thighs as you pushed mean fingers to your clit, the other in Steve’s hair, holding him to you, anchoring yourself. Steve swore as he felt you tighten around him, pussy fluttering as you came, movements turning a little messy and unbalanced but the boy gripped you under the ass and helped you move through it all, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on your skin.

“M’close,” Steve groaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the heat from his cheeks, the softness of his hair against your throat. “Fuck, babe, I’m so goddamn close, where—?”

You doubled down on your efforts despite your shaky thighs, despite how sensitive you were. You rocked over him, pace quickening, wanting nothing more than to make Steve fall apart. You heard him gasp, lips parting against your neck, heavy breaths falling over your skin. You held him to you, let him bury himself there, helped him hide until he could piece himself back together again.

“Inside,” you told him and your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore. You sounded wrecked, wild, desperate. It’s not something you and Steve did often, in fact, you’d only done it once before and you’d both been too tipsy to really remember it. But you were on the pill and Steve trusted you as much as you trusted him. “Wanna feel it, Steve, please, inside—”

“Oh, fuck!” Steve gasped as he came, hips bucking up into you with a little less rhythm than before and he abandoned his grip on your ass to wrap his arms around you again, pulling you in, crushing you to his chest. He held you, pumping you full, cock twitching as he cried out, the sound muffled against your cheek. He whispered your name, a prayer. “Fuck, fuck. Baby.”

You could feel how hard his heart was beating, your cheek pressed to his chest as the rain started back up, heavy drops on the car roof, more lines trailing down the steamed up windows. You could hear Steve’s soft pants in between, his breath huffing over your hairline. You felt the boy skin his lips over the same spot, his nose pressed to your forehead.

“You okay?” He whispered and you nodded, pulling back enough to look at him.

He looked so much softer than before, the harsh lines gone, tension released. Steve ran a hand over your cheek and you leaned into it, kissing his palm. “I should be asking you that.” You brushed a gentle hand over his side, where you knew his bruise lay under his shirt. “Did I hurt you?”

“Quite the opposite,” Steve laughed, soft, quiet. The rain was growing louder, heavier. He was still inside you, heavy, warm, big. It was a comfort you didn’t want to read too much into. “Feel cured,” he joked.

You huffed out a breath of a laugh, smiling, cheeks warm and you winced as you shifted up on your knees and Steve made a soft noise, cooing at you as he held your waist and helped you move. You bit your lip as you moved your stretched out underwear back into place, your body burned at the feel of Steve’s come slipping from between your folds, warm, wet.

“I don’t even have anything to help clean you up,” Steve murmured apologetically, but he would’ve been lying if the idea of you going home full of him didn’t make his dick twitch again.

“S’okay,” you told him and when you made to move off Steve’s lap, the boy gripped your thighs.

You looked at him, brows raised, because this was normally the part of the night where you fell back into the passenger seat, satisfied and a little numb, laughing over a stupid joke Steve cracked before he drove you home and kissed you goodnight. “Stay,” he asked, whispering. You watched him swallow roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can you just—? Stay here for a bit, yeah?”

You softened, eyebrows scrunching as you took on the emotion on Steve’s face, the shyness there, the hope. You nodded, settling gently back onto Steve’s lap and you reached out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, using the gesture as an excuse to let your fingers trail over his cheekbone. Steve turned, catching your knuckles with his lips, a fleeting kiss.

Then he sucked in a breath and seemed to ready himself, his hands on your hips again, sneaking under the fabric of your sweater so he could rub circles into your skin with his thumbs.

“So, it all started with this girl…”

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astaroth1357 · 2 months

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So. As something of a connoisseur of depictions of the 7 Deadly Sins in media, I was just mulling over FMAB and thought, “I don’t know if anyone as crossed this over with OM before, but that would actually be kinda fire though.”

Like, imagine each of the brothers with the destructive powers of their respective Homunculi.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer coming off as the most normal at first, until MC catches how his shadow bends and curves to avoid harsh light. They swear they sometimes hear him chuckling in the dark corners of the House, but they never actually find him anything there when they check. Red eyes reveal themselves in unlit rooms and follow them through the halls, all the while they keep wondering how he always seems to know where they are whenever he's away…

Mammon hardening his skin to be tougher than diamond, then using it to reinforce his claws and smoothly cut a perfect circle into glass display case. Him letting himself get punched when things don’t matter, but instantly hardening his cheek to break the assailant's hand whenever he starts getting serious. Or literally using his body to protect MC from harm as their first man and loyal shield.

Leviathan having a MASSIVE aquatic beast form that he shoves into a normal sized body, making him feel even more distant to others. Using transformations to regularly make himself look like his favorite anime characters/idols since he can’t stand the thought of looking at his true form. Yet, he still has that conservation of mass going, so he can simultaneously look like a 12 year-old girl and kick a car down the street like a soccerball.

Satan using his gifted sight to become an absolute force of nature. Not just a mere brute, but a sophisticated and effective killing machine with the wit and reflexes to mow down entire armies before breaking a sweat. Never blinded by fury, but harnessing his rage behind every inescapable strike. Him silently vowing that any threat to MC or his family will barely get to finish a thought before he's cut them down with precision and grace.

Asmodeus mostly using his extending nails for glorious manicures, but not being afraid to pierce the heart or lungs of anyone he doesn’t much like. He hears an incubus talking shit from a few tables down and stabs a hole through the jerk's skull while never looking away from his milkshake. His fights with Mammon getting 1000 times more destructive as his razor sharp claws bounce off his brother's skin and dig into the walls and furniture. The only thing he hates about them are how long it takes to scrub the blood off his nails afterwards.

*silently contemplates the possibility of Beel ripping himself in half to reveal a nightmarish second “stomach” capable of sucking anything into a blood-filled pocket dimension of which there is no light, hope, or escape* … Okay, moving on.

And of course, for those unaware FMAB Sloth could run at like the speed of sound which was threatening because he was also a behemoth. However, Belphie probably weights 125 pounds when wet, so… I admittedly get a giggle at the idea of him giving Lucifer a speed-of-light drop kick from across the House. That is probably all he would use it for, too. Him just getting those horns out and going into ramming speed… What a menace

Bonus: Wonder what kind of alchemist Solomon would be? 🤔

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loveshotzz · 1 year

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Favorite Part

steve harrington x fem!reader

🎵I’m tangled in his arms, this is my favorite part, suddenly there’s no worries anymore. 🎵

summary: In the middle of the night, you and steve miss each other.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: 18 + soft semi desperate spooning smut with no plot besides that you and steve had a long week apart, mentions of ass play (fem receiving), dirty talk, cream pie.

author’s note: adjusting to new meds has made writing not come easy, this little blurb is to help me get back into the swing of this. I hope you enjoy 🥹

Your bedroom was dark when you opened your eyes, nothing but the deep purple haze of the late night and the soft glow of street lights in the distance illuminating your four walls. The big tree outside your window dances shadows across your blinds, the low hum of wind carrying what’s left of the storm with it. You loved it best like this, surrounded by him, he’s warm like the sun that was somewhere shining on the other side of the planet, soft with sleep and the smell of spearmint fresh on his breath. The rich pine of his body wash still lingers on his skin from the shower you shared before climbing in bed too tired for anything but sleep. The rain tapping against your window in just the right rhythm to send you both into your dreams.

Your naked limbs lay tangled under the sheets, the dark patch of hair on his chest tickles against the dip of your back with every deep breath your boyfriend takes. The blunt edges of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips when he stirs like something exciting is happening to him in whatever place he’s lost in behind his shifting lids. A low puff of air exhales through his parted lips, fanning hot across the nape of your neck, goosebumps rising in its wake while his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. A tight grip by his big hands pulls you closer, strong arms caging you in. You wonder if he’s awake now, like you.

It’s only when you feel the softest press of his lips against your hairline that you know he is. Pushing deeper into his chest, he hums low in approval, wrapping himself even tighter around you, muscles flexing under a sea of freckles. His skin was tanner than usual from the beginnings of the summer sun and you swear you can still feel the heat it left behind while your fingertips trace invisible lines. Lulling your head back to rest against his shoulder, you open your neck up for more, enticing a path for his lips to go. You feel him smile, the stubble on his jaw a little more noticeable as he lights a fire inside of you with each kiss, the sweetness from before becoming a little more hungry when you grind against his hard length pressed between your ass.

“Sweet girl.” His voice is low with a warning he doesn’t mean, the hand on your hip working its way down to grab at the soft meat of your thigh, squeezing, encouraging.

Rolling your hips again, he palms the side of your ass cheek, his own hips meeting yours, his tip catches the entrance you’d only let him explore with his tongue or sometimes a thumb while he’d make you come undone. He taunts you with it, pushing just enough to have you whine, wiggling against him for more.

“That feels good, baby?” His lips brush against your ear with every word, nodding dumbly, the sleep is still so thick in his voice makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Is this where you want me?”

“Steve.” You huff already tired of his teasing, he chuckles in between sucking purple bruises where the one’s he’d left before had faded.

His palm curves under your knee to hook your leg over his hip and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when your thighs pull apart sticky, a disbelieving groan leaving his throat when his cock slides heavy between your slick lips. He can feel how wet you are from just a little bit of his teasing.

“Honey,” He sounds wrecked when he talks again, pulling your leg even farther back so his tip can catch your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. “Were you dreamin’ about me or somethin’?”

Maybe you were, you couldn’t remember, not when he starts circling your entrance, your walls fluttering around his head with anticipation.

“Please,” your voice sounds small, pleading, as the week of not seeing your boyfriend starts to all hit you at once. “Missed you so much, please, I need it.” It sounds like you're throwing a fit as all of it starts to feel like too much and he’s not even giving you enough.

“Shhh, I got you, I got you. I’ll always give you what you want, so sweet for me. Asking so nice baby.” He coos in your ear, his words dripping with honey as he lines himself up, your back arching against him as he inches in slow enough for you to adjust to the big stretch.

It’s like warm silk the way you wrap around him, your walls giving into him no matter how impossible it always seemed at first. Whispered words of I missed you’s, and I love you’s flow freely from his wet lips while you take him to the hilt. The thick patch of hair that frames his base rubbing against your clit in a way that has you keening.

“Fuuuuck.” He huffs, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his cock twitching against your muscles that flutter and constrict around him. Stilling your hips with a firm hold you can tell he’s trying hard not to cum.

He leaves lazy kisses along your back when he finally starts to move, he’s slow, taking his time so you can feel all of him. Every ridge and curve takes up space, stealing your breath with each punch to the spot only he can find. The tip of his nose runs along the back of your neck while his palm finds a new home on the swell of your breast, your nipples peaking instantly just for him.

“Takin’ me so well, look at you. Always so good to me baby.” His praise only adds to the lewd noises filling the room, sliding in and out of you with the kind of ease he usually only gets after he’s made you cum a few times. Steve feels like he might lose his mind.

You whine a little when he pinches your nipple, your own hand reaching behind to sink your fingers into his hair. You needed to kiss him. He obliges, always picking up on exactly what you want. What you need. His bottom lip connects with your top one in a messy way, the power of his thrusts making it hard for anything more than this. Panting into each other’s mouths, your tongues find each other, licking dirty in the middle. The animalistic need for each other finally comes to a head, when two of his fingers find your puffy ignored clit.

“Babbbyyy.” You're so loud and he loves the way you sound like you’re gonna cry, tightening around him like a vice.

His lips tug up in a smirk when he nods against your open mouth, silently telling you he knows. You make a mess of his fingers that circle the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl and your eyebrows pinch together.

“You wanna cum for me?” He sounds strained, teetering the edge like you despite the confidence of his words, his hips stuttering to prove it.

“P- please.” Your response makes him groan, his fingers picking up their pace as you meet each thrust with just as much vigor desperate to reach your high. White hot heat fills your insides as your body starts to come apart, the sound of your sweat slick skin smacking together bouncing off your walls.

“Saying please like that is gonna me cum too, you want that? You want it baby?” He eggs you on as your head falls back, your jaw going slack when he circles his hips hitting the deepest spot inside of you. “Say please one more time for me, come on.”

He’s practically growling for you to give him what he wants. A fucked out “please!” falling from your trembling lips before your body goes limp in his arms overwhelmed by all of him as your orgasm starts to rip through you like a tidal wave.

Your vision blurs from the intensity of it, mouth open in a silent scream as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He stills to paint your insides, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bites down on your pulse point to keep from crying out. His whole body trembling against yours as he pulls you impossibly close. You’ve never felt so full, as he slowly starts to leak out.

An aftershock causes you to flutter, making him hiss against your bruised skin overstimulated by the intensity of it all before he’s finally soft enough to slip out of you. The sleepiness from after the shower returns to both of your spent bodies as he nuzzles his face back into you making no moves to untangle himself.

“I really missed you.” He mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to his favorite spot behind your ear.

“I really missed you too Stevie.” You hum content, the sound of the storm returning filling the quiet again.

#my writing #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Friday)

Summary | Your last day alone with Joel should mean you spend it tangled up together, making the most of those last moments you have alone with him. But there are doubts creeping into his mind about what's best and things truly do come to a head.

Word Count | 5.9K

Chapter Warnings | I cannot stress this enough - ANGST. Joel is a little mean in this one but makes up for it I promise. Consumption of food, explicit smut, rough sex, possessive sex, unprotected PiV sex, oral sex (f) receiving, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, breeding kink, the briefest slice of daddy kink.

Authors Note | Well, this was hell of a rollercoaster, wasn't it? Sorry for the sheer spectrum of emotions I'm about to put you through, I can only apologise. I wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to @cupofjoel for letting me brainstorm the ideas for this chapter. Her love for these characters is inspirational and I am so grateful she helped me with these ideas. And thank you to each and every one of you that continues to support this story and who love Joel, Pretty Girl and Tommy as much as I do. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is only just starting to rise when Joel wakes the next morning. There’s very little light draining in through the curtains, but he can make your face out perfectly. He thinks if he were to ever go blind, he would have looked at you so much that your face would be permanently burnt onto his brain. He can make out the curve of your cheek, the way your lips are relaxed, and the way you inhale through your nose and blow out the air through your mouth. Not snoring, per se, just another one of your quirks that he loves. Loves just like the rest of you.

He's suspected for a while now that you felt the same as he did, that your feelings for him moved beyond the love you should have for him as your brother-in-law, that you loved him with just as much passion and ferocity that he loved you with, and that was dangerous. He tries to tell himself that it’ll be okay, that when Tommy turns up tomorrow with Joshua, he’ll slink back to the shadows, become Uncle Joel again, and only have you when he has to have you, when he buries himself inside you under the watchful eye of his brother and tries to give you another baby, but he knows it’s futile. He’s never going to be satisfied again.

He drags a frustrated hand over his face, pulse pounding behind his eyes. He wants to roll over, drag your warm body into his and never let you go, wants to keep you here forever, but he knows he can’t be that selfish, so instead, he gently pushes himself up from the bed, lower back screaming at him as he does. He’s behaved liked a horny teenager this whole week, pretending that this bubble of you and him is what real life is like, and not only is he going to pay for it with a broken heart, but he’s also paying for it with real aches and pains shooting through his aging body.

He drags on some clothes, leaves you sleeping soundly in bed, makes a pot of coffee and takes himself outside. He goes to sit down on the bench near the fire pit, but he’s reminded of his confession of a few nights ago. The one where he admitted he fucks another woman but can’t bear to fuck her on her back, because she’s not you. She doesn’t sound like you, but when he’s got her on all fours and he closes his eyes, he can just about convince himself that his cock is dragging in and out of your pussy instead. She’s a nice woman, he doesn’t deny it, and he knows he’s fucking her over by keeping her hanging. He makes a mental note to call her when he gets back and call things off.

His feet take him to the water’s edge, where he thinks back to yesterday, pressing you against that wood of the jetty, fucking into you, even though he knows you were sore, because you were just that desperate for him, that desperate for another child. He almost walks away to find somewhere else to sit, but then realises this entire fucking place is just full of the memories of him and you, he’s not going to find somewhere that you don’t permeate his thoughts.

He sits on the gravel of the shore, listening as the wind brings gentle waves of the lake crashing near him. The warmth of the coffee mug is burning into his skin, but he doesn’t move to set it down – the pain reminds him that he’s alive, that he can feel things. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.

He thinks about Tommy. About how he trusted him with this sacred thing, with holding and touching his wife to give them a family, to give them their dream, and how he took that trust in his hand and fucking crumbled it to dust, falling in love with her and letting her fall in love with him. He thinks it’s kind of poetic really, because ever since they were boys, growing up in Texas with their parents, they’ve shared mostly everything. Bedrooms, cars, the weight of their parent’s dying, looking after Sarah when she was younger and her mom had left, and they’d done it without falling out, without ruining their relationship. Now, the one thing they really shouldn’t have shared is going to change it all. He’s convinced when Tommy see’s the two of them he’s going to know something has changed, he’s going to be angry, he’s going to take you back for himself and that’ll be it, so he has to do it first. Joel cannot lose his brother, cannot lose this part of his family that means so much to him.

Despite you saying you could fix it, that you had a plan, that he would trust you, he just cannot see it, cannot see a way where someone doesn’t get hurt. He’s the big brother here, the one who should be sensible, so he knows this is it. He’ll give you this baby and that’ll be it, because if he continues to cash in this one night he gets to have with you a year, he’s only going to end up hurting you both, hanging on to this hope that maybe, one day, he’ll have more. He has to be the bigger man, so no matter how much it’s going to hurt, he’s got to give you up.

When you wake, much like yesterday morning, you’re alone. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, arms under the covers, but unlike yesterday, Joel’s side of the bed is cold, which means he’s been awake for much longer than he had been yesterday. You roll onto your back, listening out for any sign of him, the padding of his feet in the kitchen, the sound of the shower in the bathroom, but it’s silent, save for the rustling of the trees in the wind from outside.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back to last night. To the way you’d opened your heart to him, finally. God, you loved him something fierce. Loved him in a way that made you hurt. You finally said it out loud, spoke the love you felt to him into existence. Whenever you’ve said it before, you could almost convince yourself that it was the kind of love it should have been, familial and warm, but there was no denying it anymore. This love was like fire, burning inside you, threatening to burn out of control if you didn’t do something about it.

Joel had placed his heart in your hands, asked you not to break his heart, and by God you were going to try and keep it whole. Cradle it in your hands, nurture it, keep it safe. The plan was tenuous at best and you knew it, but Tommy needed to know. You had to tell him. You would, before this week was out, you were going to fix this.

You had one more day though, one more day of being wrapped up with Joel, and you’d be damned if you were going to waste it. You drag yourself out of bed, picking out some comfortable clothes – one of Joel’s t-shirts that smells like him, and your sweatpants. You head to the kitchen, there’s still no sign of Joel. You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot, tip some creamer into it, when you spot him.

He's stood at the edge of the water, skimming stones across the lake. His broad frame sticking out against the foliage and the water. Almost like he can sense you’re watching him, he turns around. You smile over the lip of your coffee mug, raising a hand to wave at him, but he doesn’t wave back, just turns back around and continues skimming stones across the water.

It hurts, the cold shoulder he gives you. After spilling your hearts to one another last night, the way he fucked you like you were the last person on earth and your time was running out, and now this? You suck in a deep breath, damping down the flare of anger that spreads through you. He doesn’t get to do this, you think, not now, not today. You finish your coffee, eyes still trained on the way his back pulls and flexes as he throws his stones. Maybe he just needs time, is what you think, some space, where you aren’t constantly crowding him, constantly in his presence.

You settle on the couch, TV playing low for background noise as you try and focus on the book you’re reading. You think you lie there for hours, watching the sun move across the sky, but he still doesn’t come to you.

Your stomach growls and you think if you’re hungry, he must be as well, so you make BLT sandwiches, his favourite, and you take them down to the shore where he’s just sitting, looking out onto the water. You sit down next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but with enough distance to not crowd his space. You hand the plate to him, and thankfully he takes it, setting it between his feet, picking up one half of the sandwich to start eating.

It's silent except for the sound of you both eating and for the first time ever, it’s a little awkward. Not the usual, comfortable silence where neither of you have anything to say but are content to just be in each other’s company. You both have plenty to say to each other and you both know it as well, but neither of you want to make the first move.

“You alright?” You ask softly, deciding it’s better to just get this over and done with.

His response is short, “I’m fine.”

You sigh, frustration bubbling under your skin, “You certainly don’t seem fine.”

“I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.” He won’t look at you, eyes continuing to face to water.

“The right thing,” You scoff, shaking your head, “What happened to trusting me?”

He’s quiet for a moment and you’re sure if you listened hard enough you could hear his brain working to come up with his answer, “It just ain’t right,” He speaks quietly, “You ain’t mine to keep.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” You hiss, “I hate to break it to you Joel, but that isn’t just your decision to make, there’s two of us here.”

“I’m tryin’ to make it easier, make sure no-one gets hurt.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” You point out, because he is, this distance is cleaving you in two, “And you’re going to hurt yourself too,” You reach out and touch his arm with your hand, glad that he doesn’t flinch away from you, “The only person who doesn’t get hurt is Tommy if you keep going like this.”

“You’ll be okay though,” He mumbles, placing his big hand over your own on his arm, “He’s good to you, you’ve got your family, you don’t need me.”

“Stop it!” You wail, “Don’t say that about yourself,” Lifting yourself to your knees next to him, hand on his shoulder to try and get him to look at you, “I will always need you Joel, do you understand me?” You grab his chin in your hand, tugging him to look at you, his eyes just as glassy as your own, “Why are you doing this?”

“What’s your master plan, huh?” He asks, suddenly talking louder, more commanding, “You gonna ask him to share you? Let his brother have you whenever he wants? That how you’re gonna fix this?”

“Don’t fucking patronise me,” You accuse, pushing him with your hands, using the momentum so you can stand, “You promised to trust me Joel, promised me you’d let me fix this, what happened to that?”

“I just don’t see how we could ever fix this.”

“You’re unbelievable,” You spit, “For once in your life could you stand to make yourself happy?!”

“Not if it means hurtin’ Tommy,” He shakes his head, “Should never’a let ourselves get so caught up in this.”

“Joel, stop it,” You’re crying now, because it sounds like he’s telling you this is it, that he’s through, that it’s been a mistake, that he regrets it, and you can’t bear that, he’s standing up now too, towering over you, “I love you, doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Of course it does,” He murmurs, “I love you too, but it was never meant to happen like this, we were never meant to love each other this much.”

“So that’s it, we break our hearts because you’re scared to ask for what you want?” You sniffle, trying to dampen down your tears, keep things together, “Scared to let me fight for us?”

“There ain’t no way any good is going to come from this.” He motions his hand between the two of you.

It’s like a punch to the gut when the words leave his mouth, because it’s a total lie. Your beautiful son came from this. The happiest years of your life came from this, and you’re pretty sure Joel’s happiest years came from this too.

“So that’s it then?”

He doesn’t answer this time, just shakes his head and sighs, moving to turn away from you, so you swivel on your heel, rubbing your hands furiously over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. You make sure to slam the door to the lodge behind you, sure that Joel can hear your anger. You walk straight through the lodge and into the bedroom, throwing yourself down on the bed, face planted in his pillow.

You wrap your arms around it, taking in a single deep breath of his scent before you scream into the pillow, sobs soon following as you let out your frustration and anger and heartbreak. Why did life have to do this to you? Why did it have to throw you down this path, desperate to have a family with a man who simply couldn’t? In this moment you curse Tommy for suggesting this whole stupid fucking arrangement and for being so kind and understanding and only ever wanting to make you and his brother happy. Curse your own heart for being so easy to fall, eager to love, and you curse Joel Miller for taking that easy and eager heart and being reckless with it. He asked you not to break his heart, yet here he is breaking yours.

Joel knew almost immediately he’d fucked up. The way your bottom lip had wobbled as you turned to walk away from him, the way you slammed the door, and the way that two hours later, when the wind was too cold and he walked back to the lodge, he could still hear you crying in the bedroom. What a fucking mess he’s caused. Trying his best to not hurt anyone, and here you are, crying into a pillow because of him.

He’d wanted nothing more than to push that door open, get down on his hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness. Take your hands in his and pray for you to forgive him. He stays in the living room, thumbing through the book you’d been reading, watching some random sports game on the tv, until he couldn’t hear you crying anymore. He’s panicking, can feel that familiar tightness in his chest at the mess he’s made, not quite sure what to do. His brain is telling him to stay where he is, to stick to the plan – it hurts now, but maybe tomorrow when Tommy and Joshua arrive, and Sarah is here, it won’t seem so bad. On the other hand though, his heart is telling him to move, to go to you, scoop you into his arms and make it all better.

Joel Miller is a weak man where you’re concerned, and he cannot bear the hurt he’s caused, can’t stand that he’s the reason you’ve spent that last day you could have had together in tears, shut in the bedroom because he pushed you away. He stands, brain going into fix-it mode. He toasts some bread, spreads a thick layer of butter on it and covers it in jam, just like he knows you like it. He makes you a cup of tea with a splash of milk. Steeling himself outside the door, he taps his foot to it, mainly to let you know he’s coming in rather than looking for permission to enter.

The room is faintly lit by the bedside lamp on your side of the room. You’re led on the bed, curled into a tight ball on one side. He’d have thought you were sleeping if he didn’t know you better – if he didn’t know exactly how you slept – the exact cadence of your breathing and the way your body went lax when you finally nodded off. You’re facing away from him when as he walks over, places the steaming mug and the plate of food next to the lamp. He sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to grip your wrist, pulling you up like a ragdoll and into his arms. You’re a dead weight as he wraps your arms around his neck, his own resting around your back as he nuzzles his face into the warmth of your neck.

He can’t look at you right now, knows it’ll break his heart, but he revels in the way that you tighten your arms around him. That’s a good first step, he thinks. He lets his lips press softly to the delicate skin of your neck, not in a way that it usually does when he’s trying to turn you on though.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl.” Is all he can really think to say in this moment, but it’s poor, and he knows it.

He pulls away from you slightly, glancing at your face as he does. He was right, it does break his heart. The skin of your face is blotchy from the tears you’ve cried, eyes red and bloodshot, you look exhausted, and the heaviness in your bones is testament to that. He reaches over and picks up the steaming mug, holding it out to you as a sort of peace offering. You take it in your hands, blowing the steam away lightly before taking a sip, hissing when the hot liquid burns down your throat.

In any other circumstance, he’d laugh, press a kiss to the tip of your nose and tell you to be patient, but he’s likely going to get slapped if he tries to lighten the mood like that right now, so instead, he takes one of the slices of toast, cut into a triangle and holds it to your mouth.

You shake your head, “Not hungry.” Your voice is hoarse.

“Just a bite,” Joel implores, “I made it just how you like it.”

You don’t look at him, your eyes trained directly on the cup in your hand, but you nod lightly. His hand moves the slice of toast close enough to your mouth that all you need to do is lean forward and take a bite, which you do. He watches as you chew and then swallow and is quietly relieved when you lean forward and take another bite. He doesn’t force the other slice on you, leaves it where it is so you can have it if you want it. Instead, he lets his hand drop to your knee, warm and comforting as you sip at the tea again.

You set it down on the nightstand, finally accepting it’s too hot right now, and Joel is surprised when you turn and throw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder, crying once again.

“Oh pretty girl,” He coos, one hand resting at the nape of your neck to keep you anchored to him, the other around your lower back, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He’s rocking you back and forth, gently, trying to soothe you as you cry into him, fighting back his own tears as well. He can hear you mumbling something into his shoulder, but he can’t make out what it is.

He gently pushes you forward, “What was that, baby?”

You shake your head, sniffle again, as a fresh wave of tears start falling, but you manage to get out what he had missed you saying earlier, before you’re falling back into the comfort of his shoulder, “I love you so much, Joel.”

His hand is resting on the back of your head as you hold onto him tight, “I know, pretty girl, I love you too,” He dips down, lips pressed to the top of your head, “I’m so sorry,” He speaks again, “Please forgive me.”

You pull back from him, moving to wipe your tears away, but Joel moves quicker, palms resting on your cheeks as his thumbs brush away the drops from your face. He’s looking at you now, his beautiful, sad eyes, trained on your own, “Do you regret it?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, “Of course not, baby,” He leans forward, kissing your cheek softly, “I could never.”

You try and shake your head, but his hands are keeping your face still, “Then w-why,” You falter a little, hiccupping over your words, “Why d-did you say n-nothing good could come of t-this?”

He swallows, because he was wrong. So fucking wrong to say that, to say anything that he said to you earlier. He was frustrated but most of all he was scared, and he hurt you and now he’s not sure he can actually salvage this.

“I was scared, pretty girl,” Joel admits, “I’m scared of how much I love you and what would happen if I can’t have you anymore, and I thought it would be easier, y’know? Easier if I just tried to pull away, get you back where you belong with Tommy, but I didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“We made a baby,” You sniffle, “He’s something good.”

“Oh, pretty girl, you’re breakin’ my heart,” Joel sighs, God he wants to make this better somehow, “Everythin’ about this is good, I’m just a mean old man sometimes.”

Your hands are circling his wrists now, anchoring yourself to him, your eyes looking straight into his own, like you’re searching his very soul for any ounce of regret. He’s hoping you’ll see the truth, that he doesn’t regret this relationship with you, only his words from earlier.

“Will you let me fix this?” You ask, “Will you let me speak to Tommy?”

“If you think it’ll help, pretty girl, I’ll let you do anythin’.”

You seem satisfied with his answer, because all of a sudden, you’re surging forward and kissing him. Lips soft and gentle against his as he presses his hands into your face a little harder, just to make sure you’re real, that this is what you want. You open your mouth against his, letting your tongue into his mouth, his working against your own as you let out a throaty moan, swallowing it down into his own mouth as he shifts you both, laying you down onto the sheets on your back.

“You gonna let me make it up to you, pretty girl?” He murmurs, pulling back just a touch from your mouth, “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?”

You nod, but he doesn’t move, he’s waiting for your permission, “Please,” You whine, lifting your hips into his, feeling him already semi-hard in his pants, “Make me feel good Joel.”

So he does. He reaches his warm hands under his shirt that you're wearing, pulling it up and over your head. Your chest is bare underneath it, you didn’t bother with a bra today, mainly because you’d imagined you’d be spending most of it naked anyway. He trails his hot mouth down from your neck, kissing the skin between the valley of your tits, before he’s sucking one into his mouth. Your fingers tangle into his curls, keeping his head right there as he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue, pulling it into a stiff peak before he lavishes it with the attention of the flat of his tongue. He pulls his mouth from you, switching sides to your other breast – callused thumb working the nipple from before as he gives the same attention to this one, all whilst you’re grinding your hips up into him, friction causing a pool of wetness to gather between your thighs.

Once he feels like he’s worked you up enough here, he pulls away, wrapping his hands around your wrists to drag your hands to your tits. He settles your hands on them, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he drags his tongue over the skin of your tummy, “Play with them,” He demands, “Use your fingers on those perfect tits whilst I eat your pussy, pretty girl.”

You do as you’re told, rolling your nipples between your thumb and pointer finger as he drags your sweatpants off your legs. You spread your own legs for him as he settles between you, his mouth licking gently over your folds, before he’s using two fingers to spread the lips of your pussy, baring your aching cunt to his face.

“Dripping fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’,” He growls, biting into the soft skin of your thigh, sucking to leave a mark, “Always so fuckin’ eager for my cock, ain’t ya?”

Fuck, you love it when he’s like this. When his need to fuck you, to mark you, takes over, when he’s possessive with you, when he’s rough with you. When he uses his mouth and teeth to mark you as his own, even if you’re not, not really, not fully.

You buck your hips into his face, silently begging for him to make you feel good. He splays a wide palm over your tummy, pressing you down into the mattress to keep you still, as his warm tongue slips inside your hole, licking the slick that’s been gathering there for him. You get off on this, the way he laps at you, tasting you, groaning into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. He drags that perfect tongue all the way up your pussy, giving one singular flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue before he’s plunging two of his fingers into your cunt. You arch your back off the bed, crying out as he fucks you with his fingers, tip of his tongue teasingly flicking against that bundle of nerves. He’s rough with it, the way his fingers pound into you, but you don’t care. Let it hurt, is what you think, let me carry this delicious pain and ache with me for days so I can remember him like this.

He's pushing you so fast towards that edge. That knot that is pulled so tight inside you threatening to push you over the edge as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim, hands squeezing at your tits, “Joel, I’m-” You let out a high-pitched squeal, muscles clenching around his fingers, “Gonna come.”

He doesn’t bother to respond to you, just carries on exactly as he is until you’re literally screaming his name into the room. You push down onto his fingers and finally feel that tight rope snap inside of you, pleasure bursting at the base of your spine, throttling through the rest of your body like wildfire. You’re half aware of the fact you’re soaking the sheets as you continue to writhe your hips against his mouth. He’s pulling away from you, slipping his fingers from you, chuckling in that way that he does when he’s proud of himself.

“Fuckin’ love when you squirt for me, pretty girl,” He growls against the skin of your tummy as he trails his mouth back up your body, he’s pushing the two fingers he had inside you past your lips when he’s level with your face, smirking as you clean yourself off him, “Gonna let me fuck you now?” He asks, you moan in response around his fingers, “Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl, give you all the babies you want.”

He pulls back enough to drag his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him, pushing his own sweatpants down his legs, kicking them off to the bottom of the bed, letting his throbbing cock free. He’s settling between your thighs, your own hand reaching down to grip him, guiding him to your aching cunt. He swats your hand away, hands gripping the headboard above you as he pushes into you.

You let out a gasp as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. He never fails to take your breath away when he’s inside you, slotting into you perfectly, stretching you just right. You’re so full of him, his body crowding over you from above as he starts dragging himself in and out of you. It’s rough, and it’s fast, he’s desperately trying to tell you that he’s sorry, that he’s built just for this, put on this earth to give you everything you wanted whilst making you feel good.

“I can’t,” Joel chokes out, “I can’t be gentle with you, pretty girl.”

You know, because he’s splitting you right open down the middle, both hands gripping the headboard as his hips slam into yours. He’s so fucking deep, his cock punching right into the depths of you. Your hands, settled on his sides, grind into his skin, nails digging in so hard you’re sure you’re going to puncture his skin, draw blood.

“D-don’t care Joel,” You manage to speak, before a particularly loud wail leaves your mouth, “Just… don’t fucking stop.”

And he doesn’t. Looking up at him, he’s like a man possessed. He’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you’re crying, tears of mixed pleasure and pain rolling down your cheeks as he tries to prove how sorry he really is, how much he regrets what he did, what he’s said. He was a fool to think he could get away with his attitude, and he will stay here, cock buried inside you for as long as he must to prove his remorse to you.

His low, rough grunts are mixing with your needy moans. He drops down, body pressed right to yours. He finds your hands at his sides, brings them up above your head, his fingers tangled in your own as his mouth bites and sucks at the skin of your neck, along your collarbone, leaving marks across your perfect skin, marking you as his own.

“You my good girl?” He rasps into your ear, breath hot against you as he uses his tongue to literally lick the salty tears from your face, “Cryin’ on my cock like a good girl, huh?”

“A-always Joel,” You mewl as he shifts your bodies slightly, his cock brushing against that spot inside you, making you cry out, “Always your good girl.”

“I know you are, pretty girl,” He grunts into your ear, “Mine, aren’t you?”

And you agree, because fuck it, you are. You are his. You’ve been his since the first time he knelt between your legs and asked Tommy how you liked it. You might be Tommy’s girl first, but you’re just as much Joel’s as you are Tommy’s. They both lay claim to you, both own you in some way, and you’re perfectly okay with that.

“Fuck, Joel,” You hiss quietly, turning your head so your cheek is pressed against his where he’s settled his face in the crook of his neck, “Please,” You beg, “Please come inside me.”

“You want me to fill you up, mama?” He asks, hips still bruising against yours, the slap of his skin on yours, the wet squelch of your pussy around him filling the room.

“Give me my baby, daddy,” You almost whisper to him, hands squeezing his where they’re still entwined above your head, “Let go for me, Joel.”

He pulls out of you abruptly, manhandling you with a roughness you’re not used to so you’re on your front. His hands pull at your hips, angling your ass up for him as he’s pounding straight back into you. He’s gathered your hands at the small of your back, your face pressed into the mattress. This new angle mean’s he’s driving into you in a completely different way as before, and you have to push your face further into the sheets, so your screams are muffled. Joel doesn’t like that though, his drags his fingers through your hair, fisting it tightly, pulling you up, so your screams of pleasure are echoing around the room.

“Don’t you dare,” He growls, “Don’t you dare hide these sounds from me, pretty girl.”

This angle is new. Your hands are gathered in one of his at your back, his other hand tangled in your hair means you’re arched off the bed for him, and you think if you could reach a hand down, you’d be able to feel him in your stomach he’s so fucking deep inside you.

It happens all of a sudden, he’s so fucking still, but you can feel him pouring himself into you, you can hear him spitting your name and a string of profanities as he lets go of the tight grip he has on your hair. He’s buried so deep inside you, his front draped over your back, the entire weight of him on your body, but he’s trying to push himself deeper into you, trying to get what he’s just planted inside of you to take. He’s just as desperate as you are for this, to see you swell with his baby again.

Once his brain is working again, he slips from inside of you, collapsing onto the bed on his back, dragging you with him. He pulls you so close, his thighs spread wide so your body fits between them, your front pressed against his as you drape you entire self on him. He grabs your hands, bringing the wrists he was just gripping to his lips, kissing softly at the skin to soothe you.

“Too much?” He mumbles into the top of your head, his chest heaving against yours as you both try and catch your breath.

“Just enough.” You mumble back into the sweat-soaked skin of his chest.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you drifting in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion, but he speaks again as he wraps those arms around you, anchoring you right where you are, “I will spend the rest of my life proving how sorry I am to you.”

“I believe you,” You muse, “I will always believe you.”

And that’s how you both fall asleep, his arms cradling you to his body. He wishes that he could freeze time, enjoy this for longer than the few seconds he has before you fall asleep. He’s sick of your time always running out, of that ticking clock counting down to the unknown. He has no idea what’s going to happen once this weekend is over. Has no idea what you’re going to say to Tommy, what you’re going to propose to him. He’s never been good at relinquishing control, especially when he can’t for the life of him tell what’s going to happen. But, if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that what he said to you last night is true. That he trusts you with his life, and he will follow you blindly into whatever abyss you’re going to drag him into.

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harrysonlylover · 7 months

Text

Hidden Actions (Mechanic Harry Part 5)

Summary: The magic from Prince Charming’s kiss did not last long. Will the past follow up with Y/n and Harry?

Wc: 8.5k

Warnings: Discussion about feelings, insecurities, self criticism, mentions of alcohol consumption , child neglect,social anxiety and struggling with fitting in.

A/n: Thank you for being so patient, i adore every single one of you. I hope this part pleases you ( I suggest that you revisit part 4 prior to reading this)

Mechanic H Masterlist

The mystery of our actions remains to be the most taunting dilemma that we must face every now and then. For some, it’s everyday while others barely encounter it once in their lives.

They are the lucky ones, immune against the torture of their brain with no time spared to rethink what they have done or even question its validity. Psychology can explain hundreds of actions whether the motive be fear, irrationality, bravery, stupidity, anxiety…

Though it is a great science, it can only go as far as objective feelings that no one bats an eye when spoken of. Psychology steps away when love interferes.

It is no secret that love is nothing but a chemical reaction in the human brain, merely another feeling that blinds us, but centuries of poems and prose, martyrs in the name of love, and letters scattered around oceans in glass bottles tend to disagree.

Love is what makes us act in hideous or gentle ways. Love is the main source, and everything else follows. The idiocy, irrationality, worry, hurt, happiness, peace of mind, calmness. Perhaps it is safe to say that Psychology’s enemy is love.

It is so silly to think that everything we dwell on or makes us giddy is due to a chemical reaction. Even the brain itself can barely function despite being responsible when the heart steps in.

Do we ever know or realize what we are doing?

Harry would like to believe that he does or so he’s convinced himself for a long time.

“Why don’t you visit us anymore?”

“Harry pick up the phone.”

“Don’t be like every other man and only speak to women for fucking”

“Why do you get so angry for nothing?”

Random questions or thoughts that have been spewed at him by strangers and even close ones. He’d like to think that they enter one ear and leave the other but with time, they resided inside of him and shaped themselves in the form of self-hatred.

He goes on with his life, never questioning anything until his brain gets tired and scolds him as his heart takes control. For the first time in human psychology, the heart leads the brain.

“Why let your lips part from hers and agonize her this way?”

The pondering kept him up at night, tossing and turning, not allowing any form of herbs to lull him to sleep. In his daily routine, when he’s fixing cars, going for a run, and cooking. Not even the loud sound of his Vinyls overpowered the sound of his thoughts.

But Harry has learned how to tame his feelings, how to shut unwanted emotions down in the abyss of his brain. He will continue to do so because after all we are only humans and there is no such thing as love.

Love is another card we pick only to lose all the others and pay the price.

The feeling of being unwanted has chased you your entire life like a shadow with a tight grip on your back. The laughter of other girls at you when you asked if you could hang out with them, the mocking of boys when you thought one of them liked you, or the teachers at school that said you were a lost hope.

A feeling that became a part of you, with nowhere to go as it continues to torture you whenever it likes. You’re not even sure what being loved feels like, there are days when the kind smile or compliment of a stranger creates sparkles in your heart and others where their rudeness or stares make you feel like an 8-year-old girl again whose friends stop talking when she arrives.

Time doesn’t heal, it molds the feelings and brings them out in different ways when you are unguarded and expect them the least. You’ve always wondered if immortal beings exist, not for the fun of it but to know if they have to live with old wounds for the end of time.

The only real friends you ever had were Mia and Lee, they took you under their wing in college and never parted from you ever since. They always sensed the apprehension in your attitude and knew how careful you were with friendships but managed to reassure you in their own way.

You haven’t seen them since you moved here but you call them from time to time and update them on your life. It is not the loneliness that you hate, it is the torturous thoughts you have at night or even in broad daylight of being unwanted.

To love dearly and be loved back is something you never got to delight in and it’s okay, maybe you were sent on Earth to give love but never receive it.

You knew from a young age that fairytales in books were only for daydreamers, Prince Charming may never come. In fact, Prince Charming in real life lies to you, plays games, pretends to like you, or doesn’t care to show interest if you are not up to his standards.

The only man you ever found so close to Prince Charming was Harry.

He had an aura about him that made him a mysterious prince, the one mothers warn their daughters about, but when you look closely, you’d realize that he is nothing but another prince simple and tender but in his own world.

It’s been merely over a week since he drove you to your job interview, the breeze from the road trip still lingers, as so does his hand on your waist and lips on yours. You try to remember how it felt, your surroundings at the time, the cherry and cigarettes taste, his curls tickling your face, and his hunger.

The sparkles he lit inside your body felt like fireworks on New Year’s, a ray of warm sunshine in winter, picking random chocolate only to find out that it’s your favorite, fallen petals on your hair as you walk beneath a blossoming tree and street cats rubbing on your ankle.

It was otherworldly and hiding your blush was useless, you didn’t even feel like hiding it. You wanted him to know. “Your kiss did this to me and I don’t want to stop smiling. Can we kiss again?”

Perhaps you are trying to recall the moment to avoid thinking of what followed. It was a joy to go to bed that night, seeing how much your life had changed in a few months, from getting a new remote job to having Harry kiss you.

But it all evaporated in the upcoming week.

You clocked into Harry’s garage earlier than usual with a plate of pancakes and strawberry jam in your hand. You couldn’t roll your lips without thinking about his own, they fit so perfectly like a puzzle piece you thought you’d never find.

In My Life by The Beatles filled Harry’s space with a good vibe as he was already working on Meena. You stood frozen in front of his shop, unsure of your next action like a young schoolgirl. The pancake dish was warm and uncomfortable in your hand, It was probably for the best to just go in as always but you’re not sure how you developed the giddiness feeling so fast.

Harry seemed to be stuck in his own world, you wondered what he thought of, whether it be about what to cook for lunch or what the best movie in Hollywood is. There are some things that he revealed by himself, yet you feel like you barely know him.

You hated it when the other person had you memorized like the back of their palm while you needed to pull out the information from them discreetly. It didn’t make you feel good, in the bigger picture it is nothing but a preference to be closed off from the other person. But in your own thoughts, that meant you were easy to decode and a simple dumb girl.

No one could barge in on someone else and ask them to talk about themselves, it is your own fault that you’re a bit chatty as well. Most of the time you feel like you are deceiving yourself, why would you consider yourself to be shy yet talk someone’s ear off when they show you the faintest hint of kindness?

You don’t realize what you are doing until the other person sighs or groans, there were times when you muttered a low ‘sorry’ under your breath and continued your day normally ignoring the clutch at your heart but not the voices that tell you you’re annoying.

What scares you about Harry is that he never did any of that, and although it should be something comforting, it sometimes keeps you up at night. What if he is secretly annoyed and doesn’t want to say anything? And what if he isn’t bothered at all? The latter thought scares you the most.

You didn’t realize how long you’ve been standing outside until the song on the Vinyl changed to ‘Here Comes The Sun’. You took a brave step forward and approached the table you always sit on. The strong smell of oil and metal filled your nostrils unlike the usual where hydrangeas would welcome you.

Harry still didn’t notice your arrival which made you uneasy as he would know when you are near miles away. He was too deep in his own train of thoughts, leaning over Meena and even though you couldn’t see his face but you know a pout is present on his lips.

You decided to clear your throat and mutter a low ‘Good Morning’. He didn’t turn his head immediately and it felt awkward to repeat it so you retaliated to your designated seat and removed the foil paper off the dish, you placed four pancakes in a new one and added a generous amount of strawberry jam over it with chopped bananas. It was the only way of saying thank you to him for driving you earlier last week.

You slowly approached him, making sure to not scare him off while working with dangerous materials, so you stood in front of him with a broad smile lowering the pancake dish to his level.

“I heard your Good Morning the first time” He growled in a snarky tone making you take a step backward and clutch onto the glass dish.

His attitude was something you’d never witnessed before and definitely not a thing anyone would do after a kiss. But you couldn’t possibly be so selfish as to dismiss the possibility of Harry having a bad day. For all you know, he may be stressed over personal things and a silly kiss isn’t an excuse for him to put on a smile for you. When our negative emotions get in the way, we don’t owe anyone an explanation and you can’t count the number of times you put on a brave face but with Harry, you assumed he wouldn’t do that.

To lie and pretend that his words did not feel like a knife going through your heart would do nothing good for both parties, he obviously wanted to be left alone so you wrapped up the food again and moved it aside where he could see it in case he got hungry.

The next few hours were weird. It was even more awkward than when you first began working for Harry. There were only a few appointments to schedule and not much to do. He didn’t allow you to clean up or organize anything, muttering things about messiness under his breath. You sat at your bar stool with your hands in your lap as you observed his cranky attitude and dismissive demeanor.

You hated it when someone was mad around you but especially when you were starting to get close with this someone. From the logical side, it is never your fault 90% of the time, and it probably isn’t in this case. But the anger of a person makes you feel small and guilty as if you were the reason for their fury.

Harry’s attitude was unexpected but again you couldn’t exactly think that way because he owes you nothing. The hours went by unbelievably slow, Recently you’ve ditched the company of books when you’re working knowing that Harry has become a better replacement but at least books don’t get mad.

You made a mental note to always keep any kind of book in your bag from now on ,as you readied your bike to leave with an attempt to ignore your grandfather’s car lying neglected behind the garage. You informed Harry that you were leaving to which he didn’t move a muscle before you glanced at the long-forgotten pancake dish, and hopped on your bike away from his store.

Harry’s jaw twitched as he clenched onto the nearest object he could find in front of him, making it graze the palm of his hand. He wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall and he was not sure if allowing himself to cry was the right thing to do. He caught a glass bottle near him and threw it across the concrete as he panted and tugged at his hair.

Why do we act the way we do?

‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ sat neglected on your bedside table, you can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel like reading. Now that you thought about it, you never encountered a reading slump, books were your safe place.

As you stared at the book cover, you wondered as to why you were feeling this way. Books were supposed to save you from whatever was going on in your life, they stretched out a helping hand and pulled you out of your pool of thoughts.

You can’t even grasp the book! You pinched the bridge of your nose, took a deep breath, and lied down on your back as you stared at the ceiling.

You didn’t want it to come down to this; to allow your feelings to win. You closed your eyes and recalled Harry’s actions earlier today, he was an enigma that fooled you by allowing you to believe that you could decode him.

He likes his solitude, that’s for sure. In the movies, the evil characters do not come in contact with anyone, they keep their distance and sometimes cause harm to others.

Harry was just awkward around others, he despised socializing, and given his history with the town when he first moved in, you can’t blame him. He wasn’t gentle towards you on many occasions including when you first met. He’s always grumpy and relaxes when music is on, he has certain mechanisms that he follows to avoid being angry around you, but he hasn’t been this disrespectful directly ever since you asked him to repair his car, it felt like ages ago considering how much your relationship with him has developed.

Now you’re back to Zero.

Even if he changed his attitude later on, it would feel awkward to bring up the kiss. Very awkward.

Raising your expectations is something that you keep repeating when you know damn well that you’ll end up being disappointed. You genuinely couldn’t help it when it came to Harry.

He wronged you— yes. But what about the other times?

Sticking with you during the race, bringing you to his house when he’s secretive, introducing you to his pet, cooking for you multiple times, driving you to your job interview, braiding your hair, offering you strawberries and dismissing your insecurities.

All of these were acts of kindness that assured you how soft he was deep down, he wasn’t a mean person, but he tends to be very complicated.

If that was just the case, you could back down immediately and force yourself to forget him, after all you got hired and you no longer have to tolerate working at his garage. What’s better than avoiding someone physically if you’re trying to forget them?

But he kissed you, and he got jealous when Niall flirted with you.

He stares for too long at your physique, leaves hair ties around the garage for your hair, extra strawberries in the refrigerator, suggests new music and you could’ve sworn you saw Pride & Prejudice laying around.

That damned kiss. His lips were almost stuck to yours like glue, you could feel his grin and smile during the kiss even now that you’re miles away. His face and labored breaths exposed his rough guard. He was waiting for it as much as you were.

So—Why?

You sighed heavily and covered your face with your hands despite being alone in your bedroom. The window was open and the evening breeze welcomed itself in followed by the sound of crickets.

You hate that you’re allowing this to get to you. It was perhaps a bad day for him yet you’re psychoanalyzing him like it’s your job. You have to admit that as a social worker, you never met anyone like him.

Despite everything, you’re getting sick of having to come up with excuses for him in your head or explanations for his attitude. You tried to put yourself in his position only to get more furious when you remember that you barely know him while he is aware of every little detail.

He even knows about your anxiety and tendency to overthink yet he still acts—

Here goes your train of thoughts again.

You were used to letting people to walk all over you, but none of them acted friendly after.

If you allow this to continue, then not only will you lose sleep but also your peace of mind which you craved ever since you arrived here. Everything has been a complete whirlwind, so as you shut your eyes to the feeling of the night breeze caressing your skin, you finally figure out how to deal with a complicated Prince Charming.

The next morning, something changed in the air.

You felt more care free as you went on with your morning routine. You even woke up earlier than usual thanks to the kisses from the sun that sneaked through the window.

There was a certain calmness that wrapped your body in an embrace and clung to it tightly. You hoped it would last forever.

You devoured a yummy Omelette and biked to the Library seeing as you have 45 minutes to spare before heading to the garage.

Ah yes, the garage.

This type of communication with you and Harry was simply not going to work, you knew what the safer choice was and it’s time to put yourself first for once in your life.

The library was empty as usual with only Kitty sitting in her chair. You returned ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ and went through many shelves until your eyes landed on ‘The Great Gatsby’.

You’ve read it before which is why you should grab it, perhaps it will terminate this stupid reading slump of yours.

Kitty’s eyes brightened as soon as you walked towards her. What a woman.

“Oh dear I didn’t expect you to be back so soon! Did you not enjoy Oscar Wilde’s work?” She questioned you with a curious glance.

“It’s not that… I just couldn’t bear to read it. It’s a weird feeling so I think this could help.” You pointed to ‘The Great Gatsby’ , tipping Kitty a light smile before handing it in to have it registered.

“It is indeed a bother darling. Don’t worry it’ll fly by and you won’t feel it.” She assured you while checking in your new book.

Despite feeling good, you weren’t up for any conversation even with Kitty so you glanced around the place to pass time.

Your eyes landed on a very familiar item around Kitty’s neck. You inched your face closer to make sure that you’re not mistaken.

“That’s a nice necklace.” You pointed out as you stared at the same necklace Uncle George gave to Harry for fixing. The same one you admired with him as you read the engraving on the back.

“Forever more our love will reign, even when the stars don’t align”

“Thank you! My husband gave it to me for our 35th Anniversary. Look it even has words engraved on the back.” You thought it was a simple and cute coincidence right until she flipped the back of the necklace showing the same words you cooed over.

Her husband?

“I didn’t know you were married.” You spoke calmly ignoring the weird feeling in your chest.

“You know me… I’m not a chatty person. But if you wish to meet him just pass by his shop! His name is George.”

The pieces began clicking inside your head. Uncle George was buying flowers for Kitty, he asked Harry to fix the necklace for her which explains why he’s close to the both of them.

It was normal information yet it sparked a foreign feeling in your chest. You always saw Kitty as an older version of you, but to find out that George is her husband, the same man Harry looks up to…

“Why a mini clock though?” You cleared your throat not paying attention to your panicked facial expression.

“Me and George went through a lot before we let down our guard… we were young and stubborn, so that meant lots of wasted time. Miscommunication is very tricky Y/n. Beware of it.” She spoke with both love and pain mirroring in her eyes. You stared back at her with a blank expression feeling shivers go through your body.

“Sorry I need to go.” You grabbed the book and walked away in hurried steps not paying attention to the warm knowing smile she shot at you.

You didn’t care much about being lucky or attracting good vibes, but whatever feeling you were blessed with in the morning was gone and you’d do anything to earn it back.

You could’ve avoided asking her all these questions, maybe pour your attention somewhere else but as of late it seemed like fate was playing games with you.

It was just normal information right? So what if they’re married!

‘Cemetery Gates’ by The Smiths pierced your ears as you stepped into the garage. You didn’t stay silent on purpose, the Kitty and George situation just took a huge portion of your interest.

Harry was cleaning some of his tools when you walked in, his back was turned to you but he knew.

He has the sound of of your bike memorized, not to mention the strong odor of Strawberries that enriched the air.

You didn’t say Good Morning.

He was a proper asshole yesterday and he isn’t surprised one bit that you chose to ignore him. He deserved it, besides it’s better this way.

The kiss was something irrational on his part, yet it felt so right. He needed to taste your lips or he would’ve become a mad man.

But now that he got a glimpse of what it feels like to have your lips on his—

You still didn’t utter a word but he won’t push you. He hates that it has to come down to this but it’s for the better.

You are too pure for him.

He sets all the tools back in their place, and takes off his rings to continue his work. His curiosity got the best of him as he raised his eye level to get just a small glance—

Your yellow sundress was right above your knee, hugging your body perfectly. Your hair cascaded down to your waist with two small braids secured with a flower hair clip. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the braids.

You were positioned on the chair you always sit in, but something was off about you.

You were staring straight ahead with your hand under your chin. Not checking appointments, nor reading. Your eyes didn’t catch his despite his shameless staring.

He was well aware of what kissing you meant, the hope it’d give you, and the emotions it’d show.

Even his attitude yesterday was unaccounted for, instead of expressing his anger toward himself, you took the blame. He’s allowed you to do that several times and he simply can’t let that happen again.

He never felt this nervous around someone before, not even when you laughed and took his worries away.

Your silence scared him.

The idea of confronting you made his body weak, he never learned how to do that properly hence why he’s a lonely bird.

Snowy didn’t require much talking, the little bun is simple to live with but he definitely had to deal with Harry’s rants.

Communication was not his best trait.

Growing up didn’t include happy memories for Harry. He had to provide for his sister and himself by working random jobs. He can’t even remember the amount of times he got himself in trouble or messed with the wrong people, yet most of the time they’d let him go. He was just a boy, barely fifteen.

His father was an alcoholic who didn’t play the role of a parent correctly. If he wasn’t passed out on the couch then he’d be out getting drunk at a cheap bar. It wasn’t until he and his sister were left without food for two days that he knew he had to step up.

He was a very anxious kid, he even flinched from the most delicate sounds, he was an easy target for bullies at school. His innocence was stolen away before it even developed.

When it came down to his baby sister, nothing else mattered. He didn’t mind being hungry or wearing dirty clothes but his chest ached when he witnessed other girls making fun of his sister.

Harry doesn’t understand the decisions he makes, but the only one he has an explanation for is searching for jobs at a young age. He placed all of his anxiety and troubles with stuttering aside to see his younger sister smile.

After that, he didn’t have time for thinking about his choices, he always did what was best for his sister and his desire to avoid emotionally charged situations.

He never realized that he let down his guard with you until he caught himself smiling around you. He would be cooking food and it would make him wonder if you liked the dish or not.

Feeding Snow Bun or plucking the strawberries from his garden never failed to remind him of you. Everything did, even if it wasn’t related. You’re his sweet shortcake that laughs like there’s no tomorrow, furrows her eyebrows when reading books and asks the silliest questions about car repair.

You will forever deserve someone as pure as you. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to say that. The only person he confided his feelings on was Uncle George, Harry had a very soft spot for that man who opened up and told him that he sees his younger self in him.

Harry’s aware that Uncle George disapproves of his treatment to you, but only because it was a mistake he once made. Harry never failed to listen to his advice intently but he simply can’t seem to reach this bliss that he always hears about.

The more his attitude worsens, the more he feels you pulling away from him.

He’s losing you, and that will be in your favor.

He felt unexpected joy upon your success in getting hired. He never doubted your talent nor abilities. He wanted you away from that stupid institute since day one but he didn’t lie about needing a helping hand.

He scared customers away with his manners and lack of coherent communication but you? You pulled them in.

He’s pretty sure that you didn’t notice but they were coming in like bees. Your voice was soothing when you spoke on the phone, asking them to describe their issue word by word before giving them a date and telling them to have a nice day.

His appointments used to clash together despite his affinity for being organized which caused a fuss for him, but everything is better now that you’re around. The scheduling notebook was filled with adorable drawings that he admires every morning.

He got too caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice how the song changed to ‘In The Woods Somewhere’ by Hozier. He was speechless upon seeing you in the same position after what seemed like ten minutes of being a hostage to his thoughts.

Should he approach you? Maybe ask if you’re okay? Then he remembered what he did yesterday and took a few steps backward.

He opened the hood of the car that’s waiting for him and dived right in as an attempt to silence his thoughts and forget about the sight of a frustrated shortcake.

It appears like you lost your ability to communicate as well.

It’s been over an hour since you arrived and all you did was stare at the empty road ahead, you could feel Harry working next to you but you didn’t spare him a glance.

What went down with Kitty was eating you up. You kept telling yourself that it was a normal coincidence so why do you feel nauseous? Why does it feel like your whole world is upside down? That there’s something you should do…

Everything that occurred around you was a blur. You didn’t feel in touch with reality until later in the afternoon when a customer stopped by. The words that came out of their mouth felt incoherent as you stared back at them with a blank expression. Harry took over the situation immediately without any questions.

You were aware of the presence of a book in your bag yet all you could do was sit in your chair and think. Harry’s prying eyes did not go unnoticed by you.

“I scheduled that man’s appointment.” He muttered with his back turned to you.

“Okay.” It was all you had to say before hopping on your bike and leaving with a tense Harry standing in his garage.

It didn’t take long for you to get caught up with other issues.

Your new boss sent an email with your job offer and contract for you to keep. When you laid your eyes upon the mail, your brain instantly thought of Harry and his soft lips. There is no possibility for you to ever forget that moment.

You still felt a bit distraught and shaken when it came to Kitty and George, it made you feel unsettled. Whenever you thought about it, it’d be a few minutes before a green eyed man crawled into your thoughts.

You’re still confused as to why the new information from Kitty bothered you but you’re more startled from your feelings toward Harry. Usually, you recall every word said between you and the other person who harmed you. Maybe even replay the scene in your mind for years to come, or feel its maim coming back in the form of a new person which happened many times with Harry.

You could dream of him, work with him, make eye contact or allow him to dominate your mind but you can’t feel anything.

It’s a scary situation.

You’re not angry, upset, or disappointed even though you should be. You’re numb when it came to him, and you’re not sure how or why.

Your crush on Harry started to form when you first met him, he’s an angel really. Many would disagree and correct you by saying “an angel with devilish intentions” but you know damn well that it is not true.

A huge debate is happening inside your brain every day. Harry is sweet, generous, pretty and kind but he’s also non expressive, cold, and tough.

He’s allowed to have bad traits right?

He is aware of your perceptions, yet he acts out.

He knows about your anxiety, yet he doesn’t explain his attitude.

He listens to all your rants, yet he doesn’t understand that he could be the reason behind them.

You still come down to the garage every day and thankfully avoid these thoughts while “working”. It is in the evening when they strike with sharpness, or simply when your fingers touch your lips and hair strands.

Sooner or later, you’ll need to quit working with him. You already started your new remote job and it’s taking up your time since you spend your mornings and mid afternoons at the garage. Most of the days, you stay up till midnight or after to keep up with the work you should be doing in the mornings.

But you’re being patient for the sake of readying yourself to tell him and face him. So you zip your mouth shut, and ignore the sting in your eyes from the lack of sleep as you await the right moment.

After all, you’re used to cutting small pieces of yourself for the comfort of others, and it is said that midnights welcome distraught thoughts…

“Hello Av.”

Harry’s voice echoed through the living room as he spoke into his phone.

He’s not a talkative person, nor the type to pick up his phone and spend hours chatting with someone, but in times of distress he knows who to call, and even then he barely speaks.

“Glad to know my brother is alive.” Her sarcasm had a painful undertone to it. He’s aware of how distant he’s become but he swears on the heavens that he can’t help it.

“Hm how are you?” Of course she’s well because he would never allow anything else.

“You know I’m the one who should be asking that.” Ava liked to lecture him, he’s the older brother but she’s wiser than him.

When it comes to emotions, she’s an open book. He is glad that she got this trait when he couldn’t. His whole purpose of protecting her years ago didn’t just revolve around the physical aspect. He believes that her emotional maturity and openness come as a reward for everything he sacrificed. His sister is the only good karma he ever experienced, but after you, he’s not so sure.

“I fucked up Av.” He breathed out after staying silent for a few minutes. She was used to his silence whether comfortable or not.

Despite his inability to open up, she had everything about him memorised. She was a bit shocked when he said that, partly because she instinctively knew that it’s about a partner and because he never mentioned meeting someone.

“How so?”

“I— It’s— I’m f—u—cking up things with a pu—re girl.” The shaking in his voice made her swallow down her throat, his stuttering alarmed her as he didn’t suffer from it since they were kids.

“Breathe H.” She’s not near him to calm him down and it breaks her heart because he’d travel across seas for her. She hoped that Snowy was near, he grounded Harry.

Harry rested his head against the wall, closed his eyes, breathed in and out for a few moments to muster up the courage he needed.

“I don’t know how to be normal Av. It’s so hard to keep driving people away.” His stuttering ceased but it didn’t erase the fact that he was hurting.

“There’s no such thing as normal.” She tried to help as much as she could, but she knew absolutely nothing about you. Not even your name.

“She never saw my birthmark.”

The silence on her part was loud.

“Oh.”

Harry was around twelve when a carnival stayed in their hometown for three months. Every night he waited for his father to pass out, before joining his hand with Ava’s and sneaking out to the carnival. Normally, kids would be drawn to rollercoasters, ponies, plushies and candies but Ava adored the area for psychedelics.

Harry caved at some point and walked around with her till they reached a fortune teller table. He doesn’t remember what she chatted with Ava about, but even though he did not speak to her directly, she did.

“Young man, Your soulmate will not notice your birth mark.” It had nothing to do with what she was discussing with his sister, and her smile was unsettling. At twelve, Harry had other things to worry about and his soulmate was not one of them.

Ava held on to that vision and teased him along the road. Surprisingly, his birth mark is the first thing everyone noticed about him, except you.

He’s not sure why he felt like he had to mention it, but it might explain more than talking about his idiocy.

“You can’t be true to her when you’re not true to yourself. Liking someone is complicated H. You are worth more than you know, you’re way too harsh on yourself. Did you try and ask her about how she feels?” She was good at giving advice. What kind of sister would she be if she didn’t help her brother out even when she’s clueless about his dilemma?

All she could hear was his heavy breathing as she awaited his answer.

“Snow Bun raided the fridge this morning…” He continued to talk about other mundane things that are irrelevant against his real issues. Whenever he did that, it was a silent cue for them to stop talking.

Harry deserved the world in her opinion, but he had already given it to her out selflessness and she’s sure he would do the same to you, only if he talked a bit more.

The following week was the most torturous period in Harry’s life, or so he thought.

He believed that his sister transmitted him some sort of invisible power he could use to behave normally around you.

But in reality, his words became jumbled whenever you were near. He had a tiny glimmer of hope that you would return to being yourself again.

He didn’t really think about what to do in case you continued with your abnormal behaviour, which you did.

Your Good Mornings never resumed and he found himself aching to witness the movement of your lips and hear the echo of your sweet voice.

He was not accustomed to being treated this way, he was now on the receiving end of the attitude he gave to other people.

You had every right to ignore him, but it pained him more than he thought it would.

He tried to play music that you might like and at some point he switched to a big cassette player just so he could put Swan Lake on (he didn’t find it on a Vinyl).

When the instrument caught your ear, you tilted your head slowly over your shoulder and were met with Harry whose back was turned to you but was trying to move his head to the side to catch your reaction.

There was nothing but uncomfortable silence between the two of you. As for appointments and schedules, he didn’t have to talk to you for that, he simply took a look at the journal.

He almost caved in and asked instead of checking the daily schedule, which would’ve made him look desperate but when he approached the table you sit at, you shifted your body towards the wall and placed your eyes on the book you pretended to read.

Your response confirmed nothing but the thoughts inside his head.

He will always drive people away.

If only both of you knew what was happening inside the other’s mind.

You were struggling as much as he was. You can’t figure out how to approach him and tell him that you want to leave.

His caution made you feel apprehensive, it was as if he always wanted to do or say something before backing off to a corner.

You shut down all sorts of communication with him because you didn’t want to hear his words of rejection coming straight out of his mouth.

“Sorry i mislead you…”

“I did it in the heat of the moment…”

“Look you’re a nice girl but…”

You imagined how it would go down and what he would say. You never understood how people can kiss each other and go back to living normally without addressing anything.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. There were other moments that made you feel warm on the inside, and they were sometimes as tiny as eye contact followed by a wink.

You couldn’t bear having him pity you ,so you resorted to mechanisms that made sure you wouldn’t need direct communication with him.

You had breakfast before clocking in and brought home cooked food every single day. You missed having him cook you terribly but not on the account of being degraded.

Your hair was styled neatly to avoid fallen hair strands because as much as you adored the feeling of his knuckles brushing against your skin and his fingers going through your hair, you needed to stay away.

By the time Thursday rolled around Harry could not handle the situation any longer.

He didn’t mind if you shouted in his face, cried, blamed him or uttered the most awful words. He just wanted to see you in your element, as delicate as his hydrangeas adding sunshine to his life. But as usual, he was met with silence and casual work related sentences.

He was filled with an awful emotion that settled in his stomach, and despite his past experiences and ability to move on quickly from emotionally charged situations, he felt like throwing up every time he recalled the interactions with you.

In the evening, he made himself a cup of chamomile tea and rested on his yellow sofa with Snowy snug in his lap. He was encouraging himself to finish Pride & Prejudice so he could tell you about it.

Maybe then, you would respond and not give him a cold shoulder despite him deserving it, perhaps he would be graced with your smile that he was forbidden from or the glimmer in your eyes that he ached to see.

Maybe he wouldn’t lose you after all.

You found a way to resign from working with Harry.

It isn’t very appropriate, but it will do the trick. There’s nothing better than escaping unwanted situations, let alone an awkward one where you can’t handle looking into the other person’s eyes that make you so weak.

Harry does not work on Fridays, at least not directly. He cleans up the garage, his tools and goes over maintenance stuff but he doesn’t fix any cars. He spends around 2-3 hours before heading back to his house.

Although it wasn’t a requirement , you used to spend Fridays with him at the garage, he never objected but his eyes spoke words he never let out and as much as you hated concluding his feelings, you couldn’t say that he disliked your company.

Even if you changed the Vinyl without asking so you could dance, even if you played around with his organized tools and even if you crept into his life and turned it upside down that he could no longer breathe properly when you’re not around.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you looked down to the piece of paper that had your stomach in knots. As silly as it sounded, you wrote him a letter. You could’ve texted, called or even said it to his face but you started off the wrong foot and even though it slowly got better later on, your current situation was charged with weird energy that you didn’t feel like questioning.

Next to you over six crumpled papers lay, resembling your attempt at displaying unresolved emotions. Words could only convey so little.

Your most recent letter is being judged with your hesitant eyes that rake over every word hoping they would somehow move and carry themselves to Harry to accompany him till he’s right in front of you.

‘Harry, I know this may appear childish and inappropriate but if I were able to stomach another interaction I’d say it to your face. I can no longer work with you at the garage. It is a simple statement but it costed me my peace of mind. I always thought of you as an enigma, but I never imagined you would be this complicated. When we first met I couldn’t divert my eyes from you, you’re a very pretty man with an even prettier heart but you waste so much time on looking for the gaps. It is no secret that I like you very much, there is around six letters crumpled next to this one and there will be even more if I tried to describe how kissing you felt like. You helped me more than you could ever imagine, and thanks to you I am capable of resigning and working in a respectable company. I can provide you with reasons that are legitimate and pass them as excuses but I will say this: I can no longer be around you and pretend that it doesn’t hurt, that I don’t like you badly, or that I don’t dream of your lips on mine. I would never say this to your face but this is my chance. Harry, you know how shy I am and that I tend to be a people pleaser but at the end of the day I am a human as well. I don’t have to mention all your sentiments, smiles, or warm touches for you to realise how we led each other on but know that I can no longer bear it. I wish you all the best in your life and I hope you find someone who understands you for who you are. Please take it upon yourself to keep my Grandad’s car as a memoire from me and take care of my beloved friend Snowy.

-Y/n.

After ten more minutes of intense gazing, you folded the letter and headed to H’s garage on your rented bike that you slowly adored so much it made you wonder how you will part from it once you buy a new car.

Obviously you wouldn’t go if you knew Harry would be there, he takes his sweet time in checking on the garage during Fridays, which is why you sneaked to the front of the shop so early in the morning.

The letter (wrapped with a white bow) was placed on poor Meena who was yet to be fixed. Harry never gave you a copy of the keys to the shop because he never asked of you to open up especially since he does it so early.

You walked for a decent distance to make sure that the letter can be seen. It would be embarrassing if he didn’t notice it.

You don’t want to think about embarrassment, unless you wish to come back and snatch the letter so you walk towards your bike with an intention to flee quickly.

“Y/n, sweetheart wait up!” The voice caught you off guard and sent shivers down your spine as you turned around with a silent cry for help.

It was just Uncle George.

He strolled slowly with a small box in his hand and a cheerful smile planted on his wrinkled but wise face.

“Good Morning Uncle George, how are you today?” You tried to appear as subtle as you could.

“I’m well darling, I’m glad I caught you before you left!” He spoke with relief as if he has been waiting a thousand years for you.

You glanced to the small wooden box he’s holding in his hand and your apprehension took over before any rational thoughts came in.

“Sorry Uncle if you want me to hand over something to Harry, I believe it is better if you do it.” You tipped him a light smile, as your cheeks burned red from shyness.

“And who said it is for him?” He placed the box in your hands before patting on them.

“Harry asked of me to make this necklace for you as a gift over two weeks ago. It took a while but I assume you know that good things take time?” Your expression was blank and you’re aware that he could probably feel the slight tremble in your hands.

“Sorry sweetheart, my wife is waiting for me.” He walked away toward his shop, something that you didn’t register until you felt the cold wind caressing your cheek, a gesture that Harry used to do.

Uncle George left you speechless as you stood on the pavement, the same way his wife did a while ago.

You no longer cared if Harry was going to show up, your hands immediately opened the box revealing a gold necklace whose design is a circular watch.

You had an inkling; or some sort of urge to turn it, something that your hands did without an order from your brain.

Shiny engraved words into gold stared back at you.

“To a delicate shortcake”

You returned to your apartment shortly after feeling the blood in your legs flow again. You’re not sure how you made it in one piece, not with how foggy your brain was.

Harry had a gift for you?

Delicate shortcake?

The more you try to unfold recent events, the more you get confused.

He did joke once about getting you a watch since you arrived late but you didn’t expect him to be so serious.

The necklace rested on your bedside table, stopping you from going to sleep with a peaceful mind.

To a delicate shortcake.

You huffed and changed your sleeping position to try and divert your attention. You had forgotten all about the letter. You’re not even sure if he read it or if you should come back just in case he didn’t.

A small part of you hoped that you would come back tomorrow and find the letter untouched, yet you had a weird intuition that made you feel unsettled.

You can’t recall when you slept or what your last thought was but the continuous ringing of your phone woke you up.

It took you a bit to register what was happening as you lifted your body up and picked up the phone.

It was one in the morning and Harry was calling you.

It might as well be a dream since you can no longer decipher anything. You waited a couple of seconds before answering just to prepare yourself mentally.

Why was he calling you at this hour?

“Hello?” You pressed the phone to your ear as your heart skipped a beat.

“Y/n— It’s me,Niall! I’m so sorry to call you this late. You’re the only one I could call. It’s about Harry.”

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scourgebff · 4 months

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more from the hollycinder partners in crime au, their little family ( original concept/au idea by @the-owl-tree )! i imagine dovewing got cinderheart’s build with hollyleaf’s striking features while ivypool is leaning more towards hollyleaf’s tall stature but cinderheart’s recognizable markings.

holly’s disappearance into the tunnels after upending the entire normalcy of thunderclan had left quite a stir in her wake. ivy and dove grow up trying to make sense of and deal with her legacy in their own ways. cinder is in the middle, fiercely protecting her daughters’ youth from a world which wants to press the weight of everything on their shoulders far too readily while also struggling to figure out her own identity.

very detailed brainrot under the cut

it seemed like an ironic twist of fate in the eyes of lionblaze and jayfeather that dove was to take holly’s part in the prophecy, quickly sweeping her under their wing and closely guiding her paws. the lingering worry that she would stray from them and onto a dangerous path as holly had- doubly so since lion was made dove’s mentor. lion is fiercely protective of dove, seeing in her a bright potential and genuinely wants her to succeed. however it is quite clear to everyone that he’s projecting his sister onto her, for all her talent and resourcefulness going beyond the shadowy pelt and leading to heightened expectations. dove swallows down her discomfort at the pressure, wanting to make everyone proud and live up to their expectations, not only as warrior but as part of a prophecy so much larger than herself. one that she feels is partially to blame for driving her other parent away, as jay eventually reveals to her to full truth, leading to feelings of guilt she doesn’t even particularly understand. torn between stars and shadows, her paws wander over clan borders in search of an answer or escape for herself while discovering things she’d never expect.

meanwhile ivy feels like a spectator in her own life. listening in on near constant rumors and gossip about her family that she isn’t even included in, instigated by a cat she doesn’t even know. getting even further frustrated by just how passively helpless to remedy anything she is. while cinder treats the two girls completely equally, ivy isn’t blind to the practically palpable anticipation thunderclan holds towards dove. she’s a prodigy, with the undivided attention of both the clan’s healers and one if not the strongest warrior as a mentor, sent on journeys and given extra assignments as cats discuss how promising she is- yet also the level of suspicion cats hold towards her for being related to both a traitor, a healer, and a windclanner. ivy is of course of the exact same blood, yet she might as well not exist to anyone but dove and cinder bar a few extended family members. feeling isolated yet reluctant to try and burden her already troubled closest kin with insecurities she feels are ‘insignificant’, ivy meets hawkfrost who seems to not mind listening. in fact he says he relates to her, having a controversial family history himself. ivy asks for advice, ending up gaining confidence with his helpful suggestions and in turn drawing closer to the dark forest. she seems more well adjusted, yet in truth she’s merely getting better at lying and giving cats a spectacle to notice her by. while her social life improves, the unease in her grows as she’s gradually lured into working for the dark forest. ivy with new confidence and supposedly trustworthy new friends feels as if she can balance the danger despite rising escalation.

cinder, ivy, and dove remain extremely close. there is certainly friction between ivy and dove, however cinder is incredibly involved in their lives. refusing to let them lash out at each other and drift apart, she’s reminded all too painfully of her bitter last interaction with holly. she regrets how they ended, strangely enough considering how she didn’t regret dirtying her paws with blood to cover up holly’s sins. what she will not tolerate however is disrespect against her kits, growing estranged from her childhood friends jay and lion upon seeing how oddly they treat dove. it’s an uncomfortable situation, yet dove and ivy both are incredibly grateful to always have cinder in their corner. just for her they’ll set their reservations towards each other aside to form an at least temporarily stable truce. that being said, cinderheart being a reincarnation of cinderpelt actually has relevance to her character here that can be a whole other post on its own so i won’t go into it.

holly is more washed than a rack full of clean dishes icl. fleeing into the tunnels was a temporary solution, made at the peak of her mental crisis she initially tries to ignore how horrifically she treated so many cats. pushing it aside, and trying to restart herself. yet she can never forget cinder, even when she leaves the tunnels to become a wanderer cinder’s loyalty always sticks out so clearly. the kindness that holly had pushed and pushed and pushed until it broke and now here they were after that blow-out argument upon the gathering’s aftermath. a lot can be said for the time she’s out living as a rouge, but she eventually will have to come back and face her horrible past mistakes. unfortunately not before meeting a cat who might change everything for the worse- darktail C:

there’s some more i could mention because the cinderholly brainrot is infectious but i already rambled enough sorry TY IF U ACTUALLY READ THIS LOL UH </3 reward for making it down here is the fullbodies of these very normal not tortured individuals i consider them an equally normal amount

#warrior cats #wc #hollyleaf #cinderheart #dovewing #ivypool #hollycinder #hollyleaf x cinderheart #my art

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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idk if u listen to taylor swift but her song mastermind (which is kinda like maneuvering things around to get together with someone) would be so cool to read with TASM! Peter !! Maybe the reader realizes Peter is Spiderman after recognizing his voice and then tries her hardest to become Peter’s friend in school and kinda puts all the pieces together herself (+ the line ‘to assess the equation of you’ is so peter coded) also I feel like smart reader deserves more rep 😞 like no way she wouldn’t recognize his cocky ass voice

Again this is just like. Me spilling out my random thoughts 🤭 -🍁 (sorry for spam)

Hi lovely! I didn't stick to this very faithfully, but it did inspire an idea that I'd be remiss not to give you credit for! It's established relationship, where reader has figured out Peter is Spiderman (I agree she's not dumb and that needs to be regonized). Thank you <33

cw: a whiff of harassment (more of an attempt really, but if that will upset you please don't read)

tasm!Spiderman x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s hard to feel totally vulnerable walking around the city at night when you know you’re never really by yourself. Peter thinks he’s so stealthy, but he can’t always avoid casting shadows on the street ahead of you; you were bound to catch onto his well-intentioned stalking eventually. You’re not totally sure why he doesn’t just walk you home as himself (you’re coming from his apartment, it’s not like it would have been so difficult to ask), but your boyfriend seems to prefer stepping into his alter-ego when he thinks there’s any possibility for danger.

It turns out this time, he was right.

It’s not that you don’t see the man walking in the opposite direction of you (you’d have to be blind to miss the slow, performative up-down he gives you) or notice his mouth moving in your periphery, but you’re city-trained; you keep your eyes ahead, hoping he’ll see that you’ve got your earbuds in and leave you alone when he doesn’t get the attention he wants.

The man passes you, and you’re thinking you’re in the clear when there’s a forceful tug on your elbow. You very nearly pitch forward in your haste to get away from the unwelcome touch, but then the hand is wrenched away, and you turn to find the man stuck to a newspaper dispenser with one wrist covered in a familiar white filmy substance. A second later, and his other hand is webbed to the car behind him.

You pull out your earbuds just as Spiderman lands in front of you, the tilt of his head indicating that he’s looking you over for damage.

“Hey, what the fuck!” The man sputters. “I was just trying to pay the bitch a compliment—”

“Alright, thanks for that, pal.” Spiderman webs his mouth shut, and your harasser continues his muffled protests. “Maybe we just have different styles, but most of my compliments don’t start with unsolicited commentary on a stranger’s boobs.”

You curl your lip, and the man looks like a dog on its leash the way he’s tugging against his restraints. Your rescuer webs his feet in place, stopping their scraping against the sidewalk.

“You know,” he says, turning to you, and he’s not even trying to disguise his voice, “you should really have at least one earbud out if you’re walking by yourself at night. That’s just the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook.”

You grin at him. “I think the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook would really advocate more for playing damsel in distress to lure charming heroes your way. Walk me home, handsome?”

You start back on your way, and he follows you like it’s all he knows how to do. He’s quiet, and though you can’t see his expression behind the mask, you wonder if you’ve actually startled Spiderman into silence. If he expects you to be bashful and awestruck, he’s got another thing coming; you’re typically a bit shy around new people, but Peter isn’t new people.

“Yeah?” he asks after a second, and you wonder if you’d be able to detect the slight pitchiness to his voice if you didn’t know it so well. “So was that the plan all along? Get yourself attacked to get yourself rescued?”

“No.” You shrug, casting a disdainful glance back toward the man who’d grabbed you. “I don’t go out looking for trouble, but I know that if it finds me,” you say, looking up into the mask with a simpering smile, “I’ve got Brooklyn’s friendly neighborhood hero to protect me.”

You think he actually gulps. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, sweetheart, but you really should take some precautionary measures too.”

“Well, I suppose I could’ve asked my boyfriend to walk home with me,” you muse, “but he seemed like he was eager to have me gone. Better things to do, apparently.”

“What?” It’s a squawk, and then Peter clears his throat from behind the mask. “I’m sure if your boyfriend’s a sensible guy—which, I mean, anyone who managed to snag a girl like you must not be totally airheaded—I’m sure he didn’t mean to rush you off.”

“I don’t know.” You frown, looking off in front of you contemplatively. “He’s book smart for sure, but he can be kind of dense sometimes.” You can feel your companion’s hesitation like a prickle at your side, his uncertainty of how to go about this conversation with you, and it catches him offguard when you stop to look up at him with coy, wide eyes. “Do you think you’re a sensible guy?”

His voice is strangled. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, slowly moving into his space.

“I—I like to think so, sure.”

It’s all you can do not to giggle at how easily his cocky persona has come undone. You’re having too much fun to even feel bad about the torment you’re inflicting upon your boyfriend. “Maybe I should be with you, then,” you say.

He actually takes a step back. “But—but—uh, listen, you’re really pretty, but didn’t you say you had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, batting your eyelashes up at him, “what about him?”

You’ve got your hands on his shoulders, lips so close to his face you can feel the warmth of his breath through the mask, and you actually think he’s going to do it. He’s going to let you kiss him. You shove playfully at his chest, unable to contain your laughter anymore.

“Pete, c’mon,” you say, careful to keep your voice low. “You must think I’m an idiot. You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?”

There’s a few moments of wordless sputtering which you can’t really hold against him, and then Peter’s whisking you into an alley, pulling his mask off.

“Sorry for fucking with you,” you say while he’s still getting his bearings. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “It was just so easy to flirt back. You made it too much fun for me.”

“Jesus, babe.” Peter fists a hand in his hair, already fluffy from being handled so much. “When did you figure it out?”

“I mean, before today, but not very long ago,” you admit. “I knew something was up for a lot longer, but I didn’t put it together until you helped me with that mugger a few weeks ago.” You quirk a playful eyebrow. “You should at least try to distort your voice if you’re going to be Spiderman around people who know you in real life, you know.”

“Never had to with Flash,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

You turn a bit more sheepish, unsure if you should feel guiltier about keeping your realization from him. To be fair, though, he’d kept a whole crime-fighting secret identity from you. “Is there ever a right time?” you ask him with a little shrug. “I guess I eventually wanted you to tell me on your own. I get why you didn’t, but it’s not like you’re exactly choosing to trust me here.”

“I do,” Peter says immediately. He takes your shoulder in hand, like he needs to keep you steady to make sure you’re hearing him. “I do trust you, honey. It was never about trust.” He passes a hand over his face, shock melding into something more like dread. “It just, it could be dangerous for you, if you’re ever seen with me and it's obvious you know who I am, or something. I didn’t want to drag you into anything. There are…not everyone thinks of me as the friendly neighborhood hero you do.”

He gives you a little smile, and you return it, stroking his jaw in an attempt at comfort. “I know,” you say softly.

“We’re going to have to be careful.”

“I know. Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“If we’re being careful, you should probably put your mask back on.”

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cooki3face · 5 months

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be genuine and intentional about everything you do.

be real even if it doesn’t gain you positive social reinforcement from others.

trust yourself, trust spirit, trust divine timing and the divine plan.

put yourself first even when it’s difficult, if you don’t know how, you do your best to learn to do so.

everyone is healing from something. show people grace always just not at the expense of your wellbeing or livelihood.

you can make room for people, love people, support people, etc. without the addition of unconditional tolerance, without the addition of struggling, without the addition of pouring all that you have to into others.

ask yourself questions about who you are, what makes you who you are, what aspects of your shadow rule over you most.

the only way out is through. feel all of your emotions, do what you feel called to do, experience all things as a whole. be brave, hide from no obstacle.

when you feel frustrated or feel any type of way at all, say you are and honor those feelings by taking action or putting action behind them.

even when you make mistakes, let your mistakes guide you towards real solutions and growth.

you are not what you can do for others or how much you can give to others. this has everything to do with your tolerance, your care, your intimacy, etc.

you cannot stand between people and their karmic cycles and lessons just because you love them. What is for them is what is for them. Don’t make the mistake of believing that it is your responsibility to deliver everyone to their salvation.

what someone cannot do for themselves they cannot do for you. when someone does not love themselves, they cannot love you genuinely beyond their fears and their ego. When someone cannot protect themselves they cannot protect you, not even from themselves. When someone cannot make the right choices in their lives, they cannot make the right choices in yours.

what we push out into the atmosphere is a reflection of what we have sitting within us. Do not let other peoples perceptions of you, criticisms (that aren’t productive or constructive), insults, or opinions, tell you who you’re meant to be or who you are. It has everything to do with them and nothing to do with you.

hold people accountable for what they do do and what they don’t do.

take it upon yourself to find lessons out of everything you go through and spin gold out of all your experiences.

just because they’re not doing it to you doesn’t mean they won’t. When you choose to turn a blind eye to bad behavior because it’s not being done directly to you, you’re enabling that behavior.

take your time.

show yourself grace. Offer yourself forgiveness and receive it.

Someone who loves you and loves you genuinely will honor you and serve you Justice.

When people show you who they are, believe them. Even when they show you who they are through their behavior towards others.

Your job as a girl and as a woman is to fall in love with yourself and remain in that space. It is not your job to go out into the world and fall in love with a man with the expectation that he will love you genuinely. When you fall in love with yourself, someone who’s meant for you will come to you, fall in love with you and contribute to the love you already hold in your heart for yourself.

Your divinity, if you allow it, is as big as any.

you are just as good as anyone else even without having to prove yourself worthy of love and affection.

Your responsibility as a human being is to advocate for the wellness and safety of other human beings and the repair of the world.

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #divine masculine #advice #teenage advice

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mikareo · 5 months

Text

“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.

contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes.

Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure.

It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.

Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents.

The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan.

An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid.

But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.

It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by.

Tick.

The time is now.

As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century.

“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.

The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.”

At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons.

“Your majesty,” you bow your head.

As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.

While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away.

This is pointless.

Why is he being forced to be here?

It’s not like you're his bride.

Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin.

Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.

So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.

It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.

You aren’t really his type.

“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”

Typical Sae.

Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.

“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”

With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different.

“So the rumors are true then?”

You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother.

“Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.

A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart.

Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.

“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words.

“What is it that you make me out to be?”

There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume.

…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.

Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise.

This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.

“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit.

Sae would never say those things.

The people would never say those things.

Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.

As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?

In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.

“Are these your words?” he interrogates.

One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”

“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks.

“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”

So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.

And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.

Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks.

Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.

He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.

With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence.

Oh how he cannot stand you.

You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.

He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living.

“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”

Oh no…

“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”

Please, just shut up.

“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”

He hates that damn sound.

There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.

“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”

“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”

“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”

A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent.

“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”

You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people.

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.

“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”

“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”

“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”

“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”

The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you.

He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami.

Rin knows he’s frightening…

…and he’s enjoying it.

“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.”

He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”

“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”

On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.

Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face.

Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.

The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.

Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.

As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep.

You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.

A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child.

“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”

“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”

A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”

The castle staff?

He’s to stand with lowly servants?

Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father.

“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”

There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.

“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”

This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.

“You are a disgrace.”

His father tells him these things often.

“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”

That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.

With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.

So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…

…when he, himself, has no significance at all?

His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.

The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.

A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself.

A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.

A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.

“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”

Why are you looking at him like that?

The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all.

The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.

“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.

“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement.

“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”

While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.

“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?

“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?

“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?

A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”

“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now.

“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”

You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”

Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels.

“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”

Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”

You’re apologizing?

“I don’t regret anything, though.”

That makes more sense.

Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”

You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”

Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.

He should thank the man in the moon.

Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”

“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”

“...right there.”

One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful.

For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…

…if only you were his…

…but you aren’t.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

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