#(I’ve also lost most of it since but I was completely conversational at the time)

[julietsbody]

romeo meets juliet — luke castellan x reader : chess can be played in many different situations. 

tags : 18+!! loser!luke (hes actually such a loser im sorry), college setting, brothers best friend!luke, mutual pining, religious imagery(?), classic literature references, body worship, smut, luke is pathetically in love 

a/n : save me nerdy boy with sad eyes save me

luke didn’t acknowledge your existence at first, he stuck to himself, from his classes, to his dorm, maybe even the lunchroom if his roomate, your brother, convinced him to come rather than just making all of his meals in the dorm. luke and your brother were complete opposites, luke was studying literature, mostly classic,  he didn’t speak to many people unless forced to— and your brother was studying engineering, which also basically required him to join a frat, and he spoke to nearly everyone with cockiness prominent in his tone. 

one thing they did have in common, though, was chess. 

now, your brother could never tell anyone, especially not his frat brothers, that he played chess, let alone was in the university’s chess club— but he felt pity for luke, most of the time luke played by himself, which was somehow equally as frustrating as having to play against someone else. 

the only people that knew about your brother playing chess was luke, the chess club, and you. 

luke remembers the first time you came trotting in to the dorm, complaining to your brother about some argument you had with your parents about how your friends are distracting you from your studies. your brother only rolls his eyes, barely listening to your non - stop whining about how it’s ridiculous, “i mean— you’re the one in a frat! why aren’t they mad at you?” 

“because i actually do my work,” he mumbles, and luke breathes out in a silent laugh, moving a piece on his chess board. 

“you’re in engineering, you don’t even have any actual work,” you frown, and albeit the fact that you’re wrong, you’re still confident in what you said. 

“are you stu— whatever,” your brother waves you off, deciding to change the subject when he motions to luke, the boy in a nirvana t-shirt, currently moving to a different side of the chess board as he plays against himself, “this is luke, my roommate, obviously.” 

luke immediately freezes, fingers curling around the chess piece he was adjusting to move— his eyes are wide, and they’re moving to look at you, only to immediately flicker to some other part of the room when they meet your expectant gaze. since he won’t speak first, you pick up the slack, “hey, luke.” 

your brother notices how luke looks like a scared, lost puppy even by the slightest implication of having to speak to a woman, let alone be perceived by one, so he moves to whisper in your ear, “he’s like, deathly afraid of women, i’ve never seen him speak to one, ever.” 

and you from that you don’t expect a response from luke, until he mumbles a short, “hi.” 

that’s when your head tilts, noticing the way his curls fall over his brows messily, like he doesn’t pay attention to styling it, or maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he pays too much attention to styling it. the way he wore something so simple, yet so telling about himself, the way he awkwardly places the chess piece back on the board on the spot he wanted to. he assumes the conversation is over, so he moves to the opposite side of the board to make a move against his own. 

“are you in the chess club?” you take a step closer, and he perks up, hand ghosting over the piece once more. 

luke doesn’t say anything, his lips twitch around words that don’t come out. your brother speaks in his place, “he’s the president, he’s a fucking grandmaster.”

luke just awkwardly laughs, moving his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes moving from the board to you, then to your brother, “i’m not like— actually the president,” another awkward, short chuckle, “i just— like.. um.. play a lot, i guess.” 

“you are the president, dude,” your brother corrects, being insufferable as he always is. 

but luke puts up with it, then you ask another question, “what do you major in?” 

“literature,” luke responds for himself this time, finally able to move his hand to make a proper move on the chess board, before mumbling, “mostly classic.” 

“you’re kidding, i am too, how have i not seen you before?” 

luke’s eyes finally meet yours, now, pausing on your eyes, then resuming down the shape of your face, memorizing each feature, the curve of your lashes, the shape of your lips— he swallows thickly. 

“i just— sit in the back.. and go to my dorm— as soon as class ends,” there’s that awkward, short chuckle again. 

“have you finished the paper?” 

luke nods, and that’s when your brother finally gets a bright idea. 

“you should help her, luke, with the work.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

that’s how it all started, with a simple suggestion, that’s when you came to the dorm more often, when he began to notice that you were actually in his classes, and when you realized he had an awful staring problem. he thought he was slick with it too, letting his eyes move around the room for a mere.. twenty seconds before they finally snap to you, and from there, they stay, until you finally return the gaze and he’s immediately nervously looking away. 

he hardly speaks to you, unless your brother urges him to, and he’s always avoiding looking at you when he speaks, stumbling over words, pausing in sentences to catch his losing breath. he was a complete and utter loser, terrible when it came to socializing, even worse when it’s with girls. with you, it somehow seemed to worsen. 

“am i the first girl you’ve ever talked to?” you ask once, far too blunt for your own liking, you didn’t mean to really say it, it kind of just came out when seeing how much his leg bounced under the table with nervousness, nearly sweating himself to death under your gaze. 

sweat beads down his temple when his eyes flutter up to meet yours, moving from the romeo and juliet book in his hands. isn’t it so ironic that he had just gotten done reading the scene in which romeo says, “did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! for i ne'er saw true beauty till this night,” when seeing juliet for the first time? truly, it isn’t the first time he saw you, but it’s night, and you are beautiful. truly, utterly, “beautiful.” 

“what?” 

oh, oh my god. saliva bubbles in his mouth, sour saliva, and he gulps it down, hoping it would somehow be a form of poison that would wake him from this nightmare. does he say what he meant? that he was thinking out loud? that he thinks you’re beautiful? or should he deny it? deny. he bursts into awkward laughs, “what— what do you mean— i.. i didn’t even say anything.. ha, haha.” 

“why are you acting like that?” your brows furrow. 

“like what?” 

“like you’re hiding something.” 

his breathing only shakes anymore, “i’m not hiding anything.. that’s like— a wild accusation.” 

“it’s not an accusation, i’m just saying,” you frown at him. 

his adam’s apple bobs with another swallow, “okay but like—“ 

“why are you harassing him?” your brother sighs, tired how much you press luke. 

“i’m not— whatever, i was asking you— am i the first girl you’ve ever spoken to?” 

your brother barks out a laugh, and luke’s eyes fall back down to the book in his hands. did not having proper conversations with women make him any less? romeo grabbed juliet’s hand once, and the first words he uttered to her was a promise to redeem himself if his hand was too unworthy to be touching her holy one. parallels sear in his mind, and he just mumbles a, “not really.” 

he has spoken to women before, sure, small greetings, maybe even the slightest indulgence of conversation— but luke keeps to himself, and to be honest, he was a man used to running from women, as he did from his mother. he grew up being afraid of women, well, afraid isn’t the proper word, intimidated is better, and he just decided to avoid them as much as possible. 

though, no matter how much he tries to avoid you, you’re always there, in his sight, in his mind. maybe it’s a disgrace, like romeo holding juliet’s hand, for him to even be thinking of you, looking at you— you were a goddess that offered a man on his knees the slightest bit of your grace, and now he was hooked. 

it was pathetic, really, how he anticipated every time he suspected you would be over, how his eyes always found their way to you in class, how he made sure to purposefully walk past you in the lunchroom on the days he went, which was oddly more now. 

a man who is still a virgin to adore a girl far too good for him, he is hopeless. 

“it’s okay if i am,” you adjust, okay, there might be a little hope, “anyway, how do you like romeo and juliet?” 

“it’s pretty nice—“ he notices the way your face perks up in shock, “kind of, i don’t know.” 

“i think it’s a bore, i’m sure the movie is much better.” 

“we should watch the movie— um.. together, sometime.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

if luke was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely mean to say it, and as soon as you left the dorm, he nearly doubled over with shock at his own words, and even more shock at the fact that you agreed. not only did you agree, you actually came, and it was just you and him. your brother was off at some frat party, again, and he had left luke completely alone with you, even when luke begged him not to. 

“you’re kidding, dude, i’m like— horrified of her,” luke frowns at your brother. 

“you need exposure therapy, or some shit, call me your therapist.” 

“you’re a shit therapist,” luke sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“and you need to grow some balls.” 

so, your brother left him, and now luke’s awkwardly standing with you at his door - step, staring at him expectantly, his lips twitch around so many possible words, possible sentences, and all that comes out is, “hey.” 

he’s been staring for you for at least a minute, and all he can say is hey. your lips curve to an amused smile, “hi, luke.” 

“um— you can come in, if you.. want, ‘course.” he moves out the way to let you in, watching you step past him so he can close the door. 

“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to,” you remark as if it’s the obvious, mostly because it is. 

when romeo stood underneath juliet’s balcony, he praised how captivating she was, considers her as glorious as an angel, a winged messenger above his head. in his own words : 

“one who makes mortals fall onto their backs to gaze up in awe as the angel strides across the clouds and sails through the air.”

consider luke on his back now, staring up at the stars in your eyes, the halo that shines above your head, the wings that flap with every stride you make— a goddess, an angel, venus incarnate, right before his eyes, staring at him like he had something deeply wrong with him. wait. he blinks a few times, and his eyes refocus onto your confused face. 

“are you okay, luke?” 

he quickly clears his throat, “yeah, yeah— duh, ‘course i am, uh.. we should,” he moves to the table in which his laptop was on, “watch the movie, yeah? ‘ts on my.. laptop, if you don’t mind.” 

“i don’t, at all,” you move to sit next to him on the couch in front of the table, watching the veins in his hands pulse, palms sweaty when he moves to open his laptop, shifting a few tabs and pressing a few keys until he mumbles a small okay and presses the space button. 

moaning. that’s all you hear, the sound of skin slapping, ah ah— oh fuck mmph you’re so b— luke slams the laptop shut. 

dear god, save him now. 

he can’t even bring himself to look at you, the sweat on his palms only worsens and spreads onto the top of the laptop as he smoothes his hands across it, replaying the scene a million times in his mind. to his surprise, you giggle, “you watch porn?” 

he’s quick to awkwardly scoff out a short laugh, “yeah— i mean, everyone does.. but like.. i don’t watch it— that much.” 

your finger moves to run along the vein on his arm, feeling him shudder under your touch, yet he doesn’t want you to stop, even the slightest touch makes his dick twitch in his pants, “are you a virgin, luke?” 

he inhales sharply, “y-yeah..” 

“do you want to have sex?” you lean the tiniest bit closer. 

he pauses, “yes.. of course—“ 

“with me?” 

“yes.” he responds quick, too fucking quick, it must’ve been at most a second after you said it for him to respond. the truth stings his tongue, to finally be able to say it out loud, how much he had fantasized about you in the late of night, even sneaking off to the bathrooms so his hand can dip underneath his waistband when he thinks about the times you’ve worn a tight shirt that frames your tits far too well. 

but it was wrong, wasn’t it? you were a goddess, on a pedestal, and he was merely just a man, staring up at your statue in the hopes that you would notice him one day. forbidden, possibly, but all those thoughts leave his mind when his eyes move from the finger tracing up his bicep to your neck, then your lips, then your eyes. 

“please tell me you’ve kissed before.” 

“yeah.. yeah— i have,” a playground kiss counts, right?

it seems to when your lips fall against his own, the kiss was so gentle, until he dared to kiss you back, then it got hungry, mostly on his end. he kissed you like a starving man, nearly devouring you but at the same time, being horrified to. your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, and to your surprise, he whimpers against your lips.

his hands are hesitant, unsure of where to go, does he touch your arm? your shoulder? your waist? he doesn’t want to push anything, so the waist seems far too much, his hands awkwardly place themselves on your arm, in a very weird position. 

“have you touched a girl before?” 

his lips are flushed from the kiss, eyes glazing over the position of his hands, and he quickly moves them off, “sorry— well, i just.. um.. didn’t want to push anything.” 

“you can,” you reassure, but his hands still hesitate, the flesh of a goddess, to be touched by someone so inexperienced. was he really worth it? any of it? to even be in your presence was a blessing, and it was still taking him forever to register the fact that you had actually kissed him, prayers passed through your lips into his. 

“are you sure?” 

“‘course i am.” 

it still took luke some getting used to, having you straddle his lap, you knew so much, it felt like more than just an honor to have you so close to him. his eyes flicked from your own to your lips, then to your tits, the low v - cut showing off your cleavage perfectly. and he looked like a complete deer in headlights, staring at the flesh pushed together between the window of clothing. you smile at his lack of self control, feeling the way his dick throbs underneath his pants, right against your ass, “you can touch them.” 

“wha— nono, ‘ts okay— i just..” he trails off, sweaty palms moving past you to slide across his knees. 

“really, luke, you can— why don’t i just..” you move to take off your shirt, his eyes immediately catching on to the lace of your bra, the way your tits are practically spilling out of it, all until you take off your bra as well and they immediately fall out. 

his hand twitches around nothing, desperately wondering what it must feel like to have your flesh underneath his palm, fingers curling around the plush of it. it seems you must’ve heard his prayers when you move to take his hands, pulling them back to press against your tits. 

soft, that’s his first thought, sweat sticks to your skin when his fingers curve around the flesh, gripping it ever so gently. praises spill from his lips almost immediately, thoughts he had since the day he saw you, finally being spoken, “y’re beautiful— fuck, i’ve always.. always wanted to— do this..” 

you smile so sweet at him, nectar nearly drips off your teeth, “can i ride you, luke?” 

his eyes finally meet yours, brows furrowing for a mere second, “huh— oh, oh.. yeah, ‘course you can.” 

you didn’t expect him to have a big, no matter how cruel that sounds, you had heard rumors of nerds with big dicks, but sought to never believe it until you saw it, and good fucking lord you saw it. as soon as his dick springs out from the pants and boxers you were tugging down, luke’s hands mindlessly moved to your waist, your eyes widen. 

no fucking way. he has to be.. six? seven inches, at least. slightly girthy too, he wasn’t all just length, and precum was beading from his red tip. he immediately inhales sharply when your fingers graze his dick, nervous under your gaze, “is it too small— i.. i’m sorry—“ 

“too small?” you scoff playfully at his scared expression, worried of what you think, “this might be the biggest dick i’ve ever seen, luke.” 

“that’s— a good thing.. right?” 

“obviously, god, it better fit,” this is the first time you’ve ever been concerned about whether or not a dick will fit, luke stiffens when you spit on your palm, pressing it to his dick and wettening it as you jerk him off, his response is immediate, carefully gripping at your skin and pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers. 

luke had jerked of many, many times, but it never felt as good as this. 

“fuck—“ he grunts out, already far too close from just a simple hand movements. 

you immediately stop, picking up on his nearing orgasm from the way his hips kept bucking up into your hands, pathetic whines slipping past his lips, but it was just so cute. the cutest thing, though, was his face when he got the first look at your vagina, he looked like a man staring at a piece of art he had admired. and this was art, sex was, you were, everything about you, it felt so sacred. 

his lashes flutter when you take his hand, guiding it to your sopping cunt, allowing him to feel the wetness that was nearly pouring from you. like nectar from a fountain, it coated his fingertips when he touched you, his eyes focused onto your face, making sure that he was doing it right. he notices the way you gasp when his fingertips brush against your clit, so he presses against it again, and again. 

he follows everything he has seen in pornos, spreading your folds, fingers grazing past your entrance, rubbing your clit— but he’s lost when you wave him off before he can finger you to prep you for his dick, wasn’t that something people did? “but don’t you…” 

“it’ll fit,” you mumble back, relying on how wet you are to make it easier. 

he watches the way your jaw falls when you move to press his tip against your entrance, allowing the tip to push into you and it’s already too big. his eyes widen at the feeling of your walls clenching around his tip, unable to hold back the noises that slip from his own lips. 

“you’re like— the.. the girl of my dr— fuck— dreams,” luke hushed out between his mess of moans and grunts, he wondered if romeo ever felt this way when he kissed juliet for the first time, the sort of electric rush that riddled his bones, it felt unreal. you were a dream incarnate, one luke was always haunted with, the woman that would show up when his eyes would close at night, and now you were on his lap, sinking down on his dick. 

“am i? really?” you question, inhaling sharply when you finally reach the base of his cock. for some odd reason, you didn’t believe you were all he was putting you up to be, and that made him sick— how could you think of yourself as any less? you were perfect, a vision, to be fair, luke would adore you even if you were an enemy, just like romeo and juliet. 

he would stand at your balcony, stare at you from across the ballroom, kiss your knuckles, kiss you— he would do it all. he might even drink poison just to spend eternity with you. 

“yes, yes— are you.. kidding? mmph.. fuck— you’re like.. a fuckin’ goddess,” it comes out like a prayer, as if he was on his knees at your altar, kissing your legs, and whispering worshipping words. 

to nobody’s surprise, luke doesn’t last long at all when you’re bouncing on his cock, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from his throbbing cock by pawing at your tits, or moving to kiss you, his orgasm was just too close. “‘m g’na.. please.. g’na cum.. mmphh.. fuck!” 

when he does cum, you had pulled off him, jerking him off, and he’s practically writhing, a whimpering and damn near crying mess. and once he’s helped you to your orgasm as well, you’re falling into his arms, finding a safe - haven in how he smells like old books, mint, and cheap cologne. 

two star crossed lovers, one capulet, one montague. 

“these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. which, as they kiss, consume.” — romeo and juliet, act two, scene six.

[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and had sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s whose name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing out dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture most. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It felt instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the next room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they didn’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head back so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want or need Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you���re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[dustofthedailylife]

The Art Of Desire

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You are in need of a model for your anatomy class assignment. However, the last thing you expected was that your crush would volunteer to help you and that he would end up standing in front of you without a shirt.

Tags: Fluff, Suggestive (but still completely SFW)!, shy reader, partial nud*ty I guess? (Alhaitham is shirtless at some point), flirting, kissing

A/N: *throws fic into the room and leaves*

Being an artist while also being a scholar in Sumeru had always been somewhat difficult for you. The arts had never been something most people in Sumeru City appreciated or even actively looked down upon. It was a city of scholars after all, and the arts were too abstract to properly grasp for most of them.

Things had begun to become better after the old Grand Sage had been replaced and the new Archon had been freed but a lot of scholars still didn’t show much interest in the arts.

But due to that an assignment for one of your classes proved difficult. Anatomy.

You had no idea how learning human anatomy would help you as an architect later, but you did what you had to do. And it would surely help you with your personal art projects later on as well.

The only thing you had to find now was someone who could pose for you. Surely Kaveh would be able to help you right? He was your best friend and was once in the same situation.

You sought him out where he hung around the most - the Tavern.

As you walked through the Tavern door, warm air that smelled like wine and spices wafted your way and filled all your senses. You loved how homely it always felt here.

You scanned the tables to find Kaveh. Unfortunately for you though, he wasn’t alone. As you feared, Alhaitham was with him. You already considered turning around to leave again but Kaveh had already spotted you and was enthusiastically waving for you to come over to their table. 

And that was precisely the reason you rarely ever came here nowadays. Kaveh often met up with Alhaitham here for lunch. And your crush on the latter had slowly but surely turned you into a nonsense-blabbering mess during conversations with him. At this point, he probably thought you were stupid.

You hesitantly tiptoed over to their table and greeted them while your heart pounded heavily inside your chest. You sat down on the bench next to Kaveh who was already a bit tipsy. It wasn’t much of a surprise, since he was such a lightweight and practically got drunk as soon as he looked at wine the wrong way.

“Kaveh, I need your help!” You pleaded, trying to avoid eye contact with Alhaitham as much as possible once again.

“And that would be, my dear friend?” Kaveh replied in a singsong voice.

“Alright so… I need someone to pose for me. I need to draw a couple of detailed torso drawings for the anatomy course I’ve been taking, and since you also took that once I thought you could help me. I mean, you could also give me some tips. Right?” 

“Oh.” His smile faltered for a brief moment and his facial expression told you everything you needed to know. There was apparently a reason he couldn’t help but he didn’t outright want to turn you down. You knew how he is, he simply couldn’t say no and would inconvenience himself any time for his friends. And you definitely didn’t want him to do that for you. You’d be able to find someone else somehow.

“It’s okay if you can’t do it. Just say no.” You reassured him.

“I have an appointment in the desert with a client, but I’m sure I could make some ti–”

“I’ll help you.” Alhaitham cut Kaveh off.

Both of you snapped your heads in his direction in disbelief.

“Are you sick?! Why would you volunteer to help anyone but yourself?” Kaveh gasped and looked at the Scribe as if he’d lost his mind.

“It’s not much work, is it? They could just come to my office and draw me while I just sit there doing my work. Isn’t that correct?” Alhaitham inquired, boring his turquoise eyes into you. You simply nodded in reply and could feel your breath hitch in your throat. You were sure that if you would be standing right now your knees would’ve probably given in by now since they felt like jello. On top of that, your nervousness skyrocketed so badly that you were able to feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

The thought of being alone with Alhaitham for a prolonged period of time while ogling him as closely as you never dared before, made your heart flutter. You probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on drawing properly but if he was already offering it, you couldn’t possibly refuse. Especially since he usually didn’t do anyone any favors to begin with.

“Besides,” Alhaitham continued. “It gives me an excuse to decline every other meeting for the rest of the day.”

“Tch, typical. Of course, there’d be an egoistic reason for your volunteering.” Kaveh scoffed.

“I don’t see any issue with that. I help them with their assignment while also helping myself. It’s a beneficial endeavor for both of us.” Alhaitham reasoned, twirling his own wine cup between his fingers before turning to you again. "Wouldn't you agree, too?"

You slowly nodded before quickly averting your eyes again since you couldn't bear to look at Alhaitham for longer than a few seconds without getting flustered. You had no idea how you were supposed to look at him for a prolonged period of time to draw him if you were already reduced to a flustered mess by talking to him. The thought alone made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

Kaveh shook his head in annoyance and turned to you once more. “Just say the word and I’ll take a day off to help you. Rest assured, it would be no problem for me.”

“No, Kaveh. I couldn’t possibly ask you to neglect your own responsibilities for my projects. Just keep your focus on yourself. If Alhaitham is so kind to offer his help I’ll take him up on that.” You reassured him while trying to hide how nervous you actually were about the situation.

“Well, shall we get going then? My lunch break is almost over.” Alhaitham interrupts, immediately getting up from the table.

You somewhat hesitantly got up as well since you didn’t expect he meant you could draw him right now. You had no time to mentally prepare for it so this would be interesting.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care about getting back to work on time after your lunch break,” was the last thing you heard Kaveh yell before the door of the Tavern fell shut behind both of you.

As you quietly tailed behind Alhaitham back to his office the realization that you’d actually be drawing him now suddenly began to dawn on you.

Oh, just what did you agree to here? And how in the world should you avoid making this awkward now?

Once you arrived at his officeAlhaitham unlocked the door and motioned you inside.

“You can sit down at the table over there. Do you need anything?”

“No. I should be fine.” You replied with a shy smile.

You were in fact everything but that.

While you were trying not to have a meltdown as you unpacked your stuff, Alhaitham was brewing some coffee and handed you a cup as well.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In terms of posing.”

“Oh. Uh– no actually not. Just sit on your chair and read or whatever?”

“Nothing easier than that.” He replied with a faint smile, grabbing a book from the bookshelf beside you and walking back to his desk.

You busied yourself by scanning the books on the shelves that littered his office while sipping on your coffee before you turned around again and had to stop yourself from immediately spitting your coffee out again. Although as soon as you did you wished you had never done so.

Alhaitham had unclasped his cape and had loosely thrown it over his desk and was just about to pull his shirt over his head. You were trying to process what was happening before your eyes but your mind was racing so fast that you failed to fully grasp the scene before you.

“W-what are you doing?!” You stammered.

“Didn’t you say this was for your anatomy assignment?” He inquired, seeming entirely unbothered before ultimately removing his shirt completely.

Well, yeah you did. And for that bare skin was sort of a requirement. You knew that full well, too. It just sort of slipped your mind that taking Alhaitham up on his offer would actually entail seeing him without a shirt as well.

“Y-yes.” You replied, moving your eyes over his now exposed abdominal muscles. His usual shirt already left little to the imagination, but actually seeing his trained body without the thin piece of fabric covering it was a sight for sore eyes.

He claimed to only be a feeble scholar but that notion couldn’t be any further from the truth.

“Then there you have the answer to your question.” He stated matter-of-factly before sitting down and opening his book to read. His face still looked as unbothered as it did before and he immediately lost himself in his book.

In the meantime, you tried your hardest to get yourself together again. Not only did you need to keep your eyes from wandering but also your mind. 

You traced every well-toned muscle of his upper body. How light and shadow formed their contours and how his pectorals moved whenever he flipped another page. You took note of every detail and etched it into your memory while suppressing the urge to brush over his defined muscles.

You sat down at the table and held onto your pen for dear life as you continued to analyze every little detail of his body. The embedded gem between his collarbones and hot it beautifully shimmered in the light of his office. The sharp V-Line that started right above his hips. The symmetric curve of his collarbones leading up to his shoulders. And his turquoise eyes that were boring into yours once again.

"Is anything the matter?" He inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

"N-no. I'm just trying to find a starting point." You stammered your poor attempt at an excuse.

After all 'Sorry, I was too distracted by staring at your body' wasn't something you could just say either.

“T-tell me if you’re getting too cold and we can take a break.”

“It’s 40 degrees outside, I’ll be fine.” He chuckled seemingly amused about your concern.

“Ri-right. Yeah. Okay.” You awkwardly bit your lip. For Archon's sake, why couldn’t you just behave normally around him?

After overcoming the first awkwardness you eventually started sketching. But the more the shapes on your paper resembled the beautiful man in front of you, the more flustered you became again and the more aware you became of the fact of how closely you were actually looking at him. Your attention to detail for this sketch was even more on point than it had ever been before. Upon realizing that it was because you were enjoying what you were seeing your cheeks started to burn in embarrassment.

You spent about an hour immersed in sketching, carefully studying every contour of his upper body. It felt so intimate that you couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever looked at him this way before. And even though you kept telling yourself that this was just a regular art study session to avoid getting flustered further, the endeavor proved completely unsuccessful. 

Eventually, you finished your piece and dropped your pen on the table. You lifted your sketchbook up to evaluate the page and the final result.

The once-blank page was now filled with an intricate pencil sketch of the handsome man with a dreamlike physique. You had to admit, he truly was the perfect subject for anatomy studies. And while you wouldn’t mind seeing him shirtless more often you doubt your heart could handle it another time. Because despite sitting the entire time you felt like you had just run a marathon.

“Your talent is quite impressive.” Alhaitham’s voice rang right next to your ear and made you flinch. You didn’t notice how he had approached you. And what made things worse is that he was still shirtless while standing next to you so closely you could feel the heat that emanated from his skin and smell his after-shave.

You gulped and got up from your chair avoiding looking into his eyes as much as possible because you feared that if you did your heart would burst out of your chest. 

“Thank you. That means a lot. I-I mean… it was quite easy to see the muscle definition on you.”

Facepalm. Why did you say that? You internally cringed at your choice of words and continued to avoid looking at him while you hastily started packing your bag again.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He remarked with a smirk and lifted your chin up with your sketchbook, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You opened your mouth in order to say something but everything you could’ve said died in your throat. So instead, you simply continue to stare at him while your heart felt like it was about to combust and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground in shame.

He huffed in amusement at your evident flustered state and closed the gap between your bodies, placing his arm next to your head on the wall, towering over you.

“Do you have any idea how obvious you are?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the way you look at me, or rather how you always avoid doing so now. And Kaveh happened to slip up and revealed your secret when he got drunk. And that’s why I can tell you that I feel the exact same way about you. And I’ve longed for a moment to tell you. You didn’t make it easy since you kept avoiding me lately.”

You didn’t know whether what was happening was wishful imagination or a fever dream because it felt surreal. 

He put your sketchbook back on the table and lifted your chin with his free hand now. He took hold of one of your hands and placed it on his abs.

“This is what you wanted to do the entire time, am I right?” He whispered while the bud of his thumb brushed past your lower lip. You slowly nodded as your traced along his toned stomach with a featherlight touch, feeling how the muscles moved below your fingertips.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered in a low tone when you looked up into his eyes.

He had barely even finished asking when you leaned into him more and took the initiative to place your lips on his for a shy kiss. But it was so fleeting it had you longing for more and it seems that the feeling was mutual.

He quickly snaked his arms around your waist and pressed you against him with fervor while he hungrily crashed his lips into yours once more. You slung your arms around his neck and entangled your fingers in his soft gray locks while pushing his face even closer to yours than it already was.

You could feel him smiling into the kiss, as you did so. His lips continued to gently caress yours like a tender whisper of affection shared only between you two. It made you feel lightheaded while also leaving you longing for more. It was an intoxicating feeling like no other. One you certainly could get addicted to - and maybe you already were. 

At some point, you had no idea for how long you had been standing there kissing but it felt like an eternity yet not long enough at the same time.

You were sure of one thing though – You needed more of it.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[crypticsketchpad]

HEY FOLKS DIDJA MISS ME. anyways here’s something I’ve been workin on for the past few weeks, some actual reference pics for the folks from these posts! I think it’s time they got a proper ref and lore post (it’s been, what, over a year since I made them?), soooooo :] buckle up. individual pics + bios under the cut; content warning for death, gore/body horror, unethical science and/or medical malpractice, I guess some minor mentions of self harm and emotional abuse… let’s just say they’ve been through a lot

CHIMERA

they/it - 23’5 - ~400 y/o - epic wubbox..?

Chimera can only be described as a true monstrosity among monsterkind. Its three components were unfortunately torn apart in an interdimensional travel accident, and in a desperate attempt to save them, their sibling Matrix decided to combine the three into one semi-intact body. Whether or not their efforts were successful is debatable; Chimera is highly physically unstable, and isn’t exactly all there mentally. It’s usually kept away from the eyes of the public, housed in the bowels of the Ethereal Island castle.

Resents Matrix for bringing them back, as they use this fact to control them. They insist that Chimera owes them their lives, and that they should be grateful, but constantly mistreats and neglects them.

Most of its original mechanical parts were damaged in the incident, so their body’s construction is supplemented by the body parts of other ethereal monsters.

EEKTO

The “primary” head, Eekto has the most control over Chimera’s body. It’s the only one who can see and hear clearly (though not by much…), so it serves as the collective’s eyes and mouth. Associated with the element of plasma, it now constantly leaks plasmic goop from its mouth, eyes, and neck joints, making it hard to speak without choking on its own saliva. The flame that engulfs its eyes grants Eekto enhanced vision in the dark, and allows it to detect things that aren’t visible to the average monster. In life, it was the oldest of the five siblings.

NOCK

The second most active head, what Nock lacks in hearing and sight it makes up for in chattiness. It’s the main mouth of the body, consuming large amounts of food at once in order to sustain all three of them. While usually relying on Eekto to be its eyes, it can also “see” by using its long, snake-like tongue to smell its surroundings, and is capable of picking up minor sound vibrations with the membranes of its Grumpyre wing “ears”. Nock’s demeanor is almost always disturbingly cheerful, and it seems to be in blissful denial of its current situation. It’s always happy to strike up a conversation with whatever monster happens to stumble upon them while lost in the castle- unless it’s Matrix, of course.

FRAKTAL

Fraktal, associated with the element of Crystal, was the worst fatality of the trio. Its head is basically all that remains of its original body, but even so, it’s in very bad shape. Frozen in a state of decay, it’s become a host to many crystalline growths that have covered its mangled face and “neck”. It is completely unresponsive to outside stimuli, and only ever moves when one of its other two siblings decides to move their shared body’s tail. The other two, however, act as if it is still alive somehow, treating and addressing it as such. Sometimes, though, one of the other heads may sense a signal from their tail; a faint, abstract thought that is not their own.

MATRIX

they/them - 11’1” - 431 y/o - rare wubbox

A self-proclaimed “genius” scientist, Matrix loves nothing more than to upgrade themself and others through body modification. Creating questionable prosthetics from miscellaneous materials, they kidnap and experiment on monsters against their will, leaving them mutilated at best, and in some cases, whatever unfortunate victim enters their lab never comes out. Matrix’s mission is to “improve” the lives of the Ethereal monsters, who they’ve proclaimed themself the leader of. They see other monsters as nothing more than test subjects who should be happy for the help they’re providing, falsely believing that their work will benefit monsterkind as a whole, and that anyone who opposes is simply ungrateful.

The first rare wubbox to ever exist, Matrix used their supernatural ability to create interdimensional rifts to access the human world. Inspired by what they saw, they rebuilt every part of themself in order to reflect that technological influence. Pleased by their transformation, they created copies of themself, which they distributed across the monster world; as such, nearly every rare wubbox is a clone of Matrix, with a few exceptions.

Using their aforementioned interdimensional abilities, they’ve shut off Ethereal Island from the rest of the monster world, preventing anyone other than themself from entering or leaving. Any Ethereal monsters who live on the Natural Islands are descended from ones who left their home island before Matrix and co’s arrival.

They were the one who rebuilt Chimera, and the perceived success of this operation is what inspired them to experiment on other monsters in an attempt to make them better than they were before. They also use this fact to keep Chimera under control, constantly reminding them that they literally owe them their lives.

Their extra set of tail-arms were assembled from parts leftover from Chimera’s creation. These arms are very flexible, and can extend and retract slightly, though they are not as strong as one may think. (Which means that unfortunately, Matrix can’t do the Doc Ock arm walk thingy.)

While Chimera’s components are affiliated with three of the Ethereal elements, Matrix is affiliated with the Mech element, and was taught the basics of engineering by one of their creators, a Vhamp named Khord. In the present day, they find Mech-element monsters the ideal subject to use for their projects.

ZYPHUR

it/its - 12’3” - 427 y/o - common wubbox

Scarred and damaged- not just physically but mentally- by the horrors it’s had to participate in, Zyphur is Matrix’s unwilling lab assistant. Serving as the brawn to its sibling’s brains, its main role is to gather subjects for Matrix to use in their experiments; it’s easily large and powerful enough to capture and restrain the other Ethereal monsters, but that doesn’t make the process any easier for all involved. Zyphur resents its job, and feels terrible forcing its captives to participate in the twisted whims of its older sibling, but it really doesn’t have a choice. It depends on them for food, shelter, and care, and feels obligated to help them due to familial ties. Despite this, Matrix constantly berates, mistreats, and manipulates it, keeping it as their own little lackey for whatever tasks they need done.

It was forced to help gather Chimera’s body parts immediately after the accident, and assisted Matrix in reassembling them. It was in a state of shock the entire time, still reeling from its own injuries, and begging its one remaining sibling for some semblance of comfort, which it never received. Before the accident, Matrix was often dismissive but still kind towards Zyphur, but this soon changed to pure disdain and superiority towards it in the aftermath.

Ended up the least scathed after the accident, with its most major injury being a severe head wound, practically ripping half its face apart. Despite Matrix’s efforts to repair it, this wound never healed properly, leaving a massive scar on one side of its mouth.

Associated with the Poison element, which is clearly visible in its eyes. Its major bodily fluids (notably tears, blood, and saliva) are tinted a vivid green and are somewhat acidic, leaving marks on whatever they touch. They are also toxic to other monsters and may cause skin damage or poisoning when exposed to them. In theory, Zyphur is capable of spitting jets of poison saliva as a defense mechanism, but tends to just let it passively drip out of its mouth.

Due to the extreme neglect, trauma, and isolation it’s had to endure, Zyphur is somewhat developmentally stunted, and behaves much younger than it is. When the Cataclysm and subsequent accident happened, it was mentally around 15 years old, and hasn’t emotionally progressed much since.

Most of the time, when its parts haven’t been repaired for a while, the edges of its gauntlet pieces are broken, with pieces of the prongs on the end often missing. This damage is self inflicted, fueled by Zyphur’s guilt towards the pain others have suffered because of it. It feels that Chimera’s components didn’t deserve to undergo such a horrible fate, and that it should have taken their place instead. Matrix simply sees this damage as the result of clumsiness, and often scolds it because of this.

Refuses to interact with Chimera- or any other monster, really- whenever it can help it; the feelings of guilt it holds about their situations are too painful to bear.

Very malnourished, and doesn’t get to eat real food very often. Its main diet consists of Matrix’s leftovers and whatever mutilated, “unusable” monster parts remain after their experiments.

ALVA

it/its - 13’5” - 433 y/o - common wubbox

A brilliant (albeit shut-in) scientist, Alva is the creator of Wublin Island and its denizens. When not looking after its “children” (the Wublins), it spends most of its time tinkering and experimenting with new ways to put the knowledge gained from its previous projects to good use. Between these two tasks, it’s almost always exhausted, and tends to overwork itself, refusing to sleep for days and putting its work and the needs of the Wublins before its own well-being. Despite this behavior, Alva is mostly satisfied with the life it’s built for itself.

One of the oldest living wubboxes from the Dawn of Fire, and one of the first to be created; it lived through the Cataclysm but doesn’t like to talk about its experience very much.

VERY bad at caring for itself in general; it doesn’t replace its parts as often as it should, causing itself chronic pain and fatigue. Alva tries to remedy this by occasionally using a shoddy cane it made for itself, but doesn’t do so often, insisting it’s fine- often while visibly having difficulty standing and walking.

Adores the Wublins and would do anything for them; though it’s quite exhausting caring for them all, it loves them very much, and tries its best to keep them happy. This also involves it hiding any sort of negative emotions or pain it feels in front of them, as it doesn’t want its children to worry about it.

Inherited the gift of the spark of life from its creator, a Galvana named Ivolta, who was the original inventor of the wubbox.

Typically doesn’t interact with the outside world much, but periodically allows airships from other islands to bring it supplies and monster eggs. It doesn’t like to leave the island, but may do so on rare occasions if its expertise is needed- namely, it was recently contacted by a team of monsters who want to use its statue-waking tech to reawaken the newly discovered Celestials.

Before the fall of Starhenge, Alva was Matrix’s best friend; the two were very close, bonding over their similar interests in robotics and bioengineering, and often collaborated on projects. However, after seeing how drastically different they are now and how harmful their “work” has become, it is disgusted by them, refusing to speak to them, despite their constant, oblivious attempts to befriend it again.

——————————————————

PHEW that was a lot haha, anyways, if anyone has any questions about these guys, feel free to ask in the replies or my askbox! (i’ll try and respond in a timely manner lmao) been working on this storyline for a while now and I can definitely expand on some of these things if anyone’s interested :]

[vicsbasement]

From what we’ve seen so far it almost looks like Carlos has been trying to make it easier for Charles? Take the chili plushie clip, Carlos is clearly teary eyed but he still tries to make Charles laugh. He is the one who’s hurting but he puts his own hurt aside because he notices that Charles is sad too and he has to make him laugh, because if there’s something else I’ve noticed in the past years is that Carlos loves seeing Charles happy

Anon! Firstly, are you the same anon from the other day? Let me kiss your brain, because I love talking about these boys so so so much and for some reason people really enjoyed the conversation we had. Anyway!!!! Let's talk about this for a second. Carlos is definitely having a hard time. If we're going blindly on the timeline, we have to assume Carlos knows about his exit from Ferrari ever since before the Dakar finale, (this is just especulation, though, because we don't know for certain) and he sort of, kind of, blew off Ferrari and the Maranello trials to go celebrate with his dad. Pretty sure he wouldn't have done this if he didn't have enough leverage on Ferrari because the trials at Maranello are SUPER important, but first, his dad just won Dakar at his age, and then he's like: well, I mean, I'm getting kicked out of the team anyway and I won't be active during the development of the next car, so, whatever, let's just do this,-- and he went and did it. That's my idea. He needed to be with his father because they all knew. I'm pretty sure they even knew during the training camp at Madrid / Portugal because he's surrounded by friends and already doing the absolute most to get in an amazing shape because he needs to be his best version this year. But-- then when he meets up with Charles again, Charles even feels blindsided. Because like I said previously, Lewis is Lewis. And he comes with sponsors and 7 world titles and his experience and all of a sudden Charles isn't really Ferrari's most important figure inside the team. So they're both trying to soothe each other. Because for the first time ever, Charles doesn't feel like the golden boy, he probably even feels like Ferrari did him dirty (that's what I would've thought, anyway) because who pays two or three times your salary to your second driver? Not any team, that's for certain. Carlos was stability for Charles and it's like his world was thrown off its axis. They were equals, similar in status, genuinely a good team. Charles feels bad and Carlos sees it, because he's lost his teammate, they were supposed to beat Ferrari's record of the teammates that lasted longer and now, well.

And Carlos knows this, and sees Charles handling it just as bad as himself and goes: well. If I don't have to think about this, and make him laugh, then neither of us need to focus on this, right? And the first challenge rolls around and he's tired but Charles is doing his best so why not sing until Charles' annoyed so he doesn't have to see how bone-tired Carlos is? He's sort of protecting Charles' heart by protecting his own. And then there's the little chili and I can simply see Carlos' thought process: this is the last first race of the year with Ferrari, and someone gifted him a chili. And he's chili and he's smooth operator and he's supposed to be fine, but his throat closes up and his eyes fill with tears and he doesn't want Charles to see him like this but it's so much. So he tries to laugh it off. And when he sees that Charles is also thinking the same thing he says, well. At least we're in this together. So he makes Charles laugh by saying he was a chili, too. We don't know what he means, but Charles is so fond and so filled with nostalgia that he laughs, anyway, even though his throat is dry and his eyes are filled with tears. And he gets to keep the chili plushie after Carlos reminded him they're supposed to part ways.

Remember Monza 2022? When Carlos completely ignored the woman who was guiding him to the back of the track so he could follow protocol? And he broke protocol to ask Charles if he was okay? Yeah, that's Carlos, to me. And I no longer feel like he's the only one capable of doing that for Charles, I really have seen Charles fight british and italian press and tell them to respect Carlos' last year in Ferrari, and I see Charles perfectly capable to soothe Carlos as much as Carlos has tried to soothe him. Because he's mourning in front of all of us, basically. And Carlos did go to Jeddah not only to help Ollie, but for Charles' sake, too. Did you see the smile Charles had on his face when they asked him about Carlos and he said that he'd called Senior and he'd told him that it was all okay and that he might've been going to the track later that day? He's doing that in front of all of us, showing us how much Carlos means to him. This is the best and worst time for Charlos fans right now and we have to deal with these two behaving like that for the rest of the year. I don't know how we're going to cope. Again, thank you for sending me these, because I just love to type until I don't make any sense.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Money, honey - Kokonoi Hajime

Content: imagine

Tropes: Tenjiku! Kokonoi, established relationship, neither Inui siblings exist for sake of convenience (or else there would be immense plot-holes but this is a fanfic so it doesn’t really matter)

Summary: you and Kokonoi having been put in a forced marriage at a young age and being okay with it. Both of you have seen and felt the positive impact you both make not only on your bank accounts but also on each other. yes the relationship you both share is more based on convenience, but he is your husband after all. So when during a Tenjiku meeting he is asked about the single diamond-encrusted ring on his finger, he reveals your existence to them. How convenient is it that you're coming to find him right now, too?

Vixens two cents: hi all! This is something that has been rotting away in my drafts for very, very long time, and since I’m on a streak today (3 posts in a day?!) I’ve decided to give this some daylight too. Let me know what you think of this, and remember that REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! yes, now enjoy the rich and famous!

"Wait Kokonoi, since when do you wear rings?" Rindou asked during a semi-official meeting where his attendance was only half-required. At that question Kokonoi’s faces into an uncharacteristically warm smile, his eyes softening as he said “I’ve always worn this ring, you must have failed to notice it prior..” his voice drifts off dreamily as he started at the diamond encrusted jewelry. Completely bewildered Rindou started to back away from the Financier, making a straight backwards lunge towards his brother.

“Ran.” Rindou nearly whisper-shouted, his voice cracking unattractively, fierce stare still fixed on the suspicious acting Koko. Slightly annoyed due to being interrupted, Ran sighs and turns to face Rindou “What could you possibly wa-“ “fucking emergency. Kokonoi has lost it. He’s gone. Fucking depleted. Only good for the loony bin.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ran questioned, excusing himself from the prior conversation before turning back to his brother. “Look, look. Over there. See that? The way he’s staring at that ring, which might I add I have never seen before?!” Rindou points at the male in question, prompting Ran’s eyes to follow the accusatory finger. And lo and behold, Rindou wasn’t lying. Both the expression and the jewelry Kokonoi wore looked awfully foreign, so soft that it made Ran’s skin crawl in disgust. “What the fuck.” Ran mumbled.

Both Haitanis were fixated on Kokonoi, eyes wide as saucers, hectically darting from his hand to his face and back down to the ring… The softness of his face- his normally cold eyes especially- was a spectacle incomparable to anything that they had ever seen. The brothers share a look, both of their mouths hanging open. „We have to clear this shit up.“ Rindou states and Ran nods in silent response, grabbing his brothers arm, tugging the both of them closer to Kokonoi.

„Hey Koko.“ Ran states, voice coming out slightly more strained than he would have liked. „What’s- whats good?“ Kokonoi didn’t spare them a glance when they approached, keeping his eyes transfixed on the ring on his finger. In desperation, the borthers‘s eyes meet once again, clearly helpless in this situation as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

„What do you need from me now, hmm?“ Kokonoi‘s voice was still sickly sweet as he spoke, clearly influenced by the glittering gems in the ring. „Well..“ Ran starts again, a little unsure how to phrase the question lingering on his mind. „So that ring…“ Rindou tries this time. „What about it?“ Kokonoi quips.

It takes everything for Ran to choke out the question, and he thinks this might be the most uncomfortable situation he's ever been in.„Does it have any greater significance?“

The Haitani‘s pathetic try at interviewing the financier were interrupted by a smooth, honeylike voice„Haji?“. Crips and clean it cut through the air, ringing uncharacteristically high in comparison to the low huffs and grunts the Tenjiku hideout normally hears from it's members. The brothers barely have time to register the call before they notice the way that Kokonoi‘s head snaps up, his eyes wide and loving upon hearing the noise.

The hand he was previously so enthralled in drops, falling limply at his side as he focuses on the owner of the voice instead. „Yes?“ his voice is meek and soft when he speaks, lacking the sharp, silver-tongued edge it normally has and rather mirroring the call.

Finally, the brothers turn to look at the voice. As if the world had slowed down around them, their heads turned and met sight with something magical. A woman.

She was coming their way, slowly, confidently taking long strides, the long, open Trench-coat flowing smartly behind you, an invisible wind causing it to billow majestically with every step. The rhythmic click click click of your heels against the floor seemed to hypnotize as neither of them could peel their eyes away.

When they realised that you were coming their way, they scrambled to seem put together. Ran hastily pulled a hand over his hair, haphazardly smoothing down any flyaways, and Rindou straightens his uniform gloves and pushes his glasses up on his nose, forcing his eyes to be sleepy (he thinks it looks sexy).

Once you reach the three though, you dont spare either of them a moment of your time, passing them curtly and walking straight on towards Kokonoi. He in response opened his arms invitingly for you, which you took- giving him a quick side hug and a kiss on the cheek before pulling away and straightening yourself.

Both Haitanis clearly deflated at the display of affection and shared a glance. Whilst this answered some questions the brothers had, a million new ones took their place and zoomed around their brains hectically. Ran (still a little hopeful that perhaps you’re just Kokonoi’s long lost sister) opened his mouth, about to ask of your whereabouts and why you’re here (and what your connection to the financier is but he wouldn’t have asked even if he could).

You beat him to it though. “They want us both to be present during the board meeting, which I find ridiculous, but they specifically reached out to my agent to request both of our presences.” Your hands came up to his uniform as you spoke, smoothing out the collar and brushing off non-existent dust.

Kokonoi’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked down as you, one arm still wrapped around your wait loosely, keeping you pulled to his side. “What, aren’t you enough? I think I’d anything at all they should be happy it’s you and not me sitting there. Why’d they want both of us?”

The Haitani brothers watched you discuss as if they were watching a tennis match, eyes flipping left and right to follow the leader of the conversation, only to return back to the other to hear the response. They didn’t have the slightest idea what this was about, but they were oddly intrigued by your very adult-sounding problems.

“Something about co-ownership of our shared title in the board. Not sure why they couldn’t just get a different ambassador to act as triangulation if only one of us would come, but I suppose it’s because of some type of marital regulations that have to be followed.” Your left hand ended up resting on his collarbone, and shiny, glittering jewelry that embezzled your hand glinted in the overhead lights. One item in particular caught the eye upon closer inspection.

The ring.

The same ring that Kokonoi wore sat pretty on your left hand, the white-gold band mirroring his perfectly.

The brothers noticed. They noticed and shared a sullen, rather beat moment of eye contact, grieving the things that could have been. Rindou is shameless enough to butt into your important sounding conversation. “Wait hold on so you’re married?”

You both halted your conversation and turned your heads to face him before turning back to each other. “They don’t know?” You ask Hajime with slightly wide eyes, a voice just above a whisper. He looks back at you, eyes just as wide as he shrugs and whispers back: “No I haven’t told them, sorry sweetheart I hadn’t figured that they’d ever meet you.”

You look at him with an incredulous look, nodding slowly. “Right…” moments of awkward staring passed before both of you sighed. „You or me?“ Kokonoi asked you in a brief whisper, and you whispered back: „You, i did it last time.“

Kokonoi groaned, seemingly remembering the aforementioned ‚last time‘. The brothers shared another look, but chose to remain quiet, silently bidding for him to speak. „We’re bound by a contract strictly immersed in the world of business. What brought us together was a marriage of convenience and mutual agreement of such circumstances. Originally, we were arranged to stay solely engaged, but as we prospered together as an item, we both started seeing the benefits that came not only financially, but also in terms of time management and simple, casual things. So, individually we decided to make it a permanent, and we’re please try surprised by each others willingness to bind ourselves to this contract for life.“

Kokonoi’s voice sounded calm, almost rehearsed, but that was probably due to the frequency of how often both of you probably had to explain this. Despite the monotone nature of the words, his voice still sounded sincere, if not almost sweet at times, as he glanced at you every so often, eyes lighting up for a split second.

Something within the brothers stirred, something unbelievable. They for some reason didn’t doubt the nature and seemingly effortless chemistry between the two of you, and they couldn’t lie and say they didn’t see the way you two looked at one another. It was a complete picture, a stark contrast to the usually silver-tongued, quick-witted, highly calculated individual they knew Kokonoi to be.

No, this Kokonoi was unknown to them. This Kokonoi had a stable relationship- a wife. This Kokonoi has stars in his eyes as he watched you confirm what he said, adding details about how the two of you met. This Kokonoi held your waist softly and squeezed once, twice to remind you of the time, and why you were here in the first place. This Kokonoi whispered to you softly underneath his breath, prompting you to nod and give the Haitani‘s both a quick handshake and a goodbye before turning around in Koko‘s arm and allowing him to drag you off towards the exit.

Rindou took off his glasses and said a quick prayer, hoping that perhaps some day he could be hit with the same stroke of luck that Kokonoi had, and Ran watched as the two of you passed Kakucho, who seemed acquainted with you, and nodded as you exchanged a quick few words, presumably excusing your absence.

Both Haitani’s could tell that the debrief session after this would be juicy, and that they had to get to know you closer. Perhaps you could tag along to the next upper echelon meeting Tenjiku was hosting.

[joocomics]

ಬ sweet like sugar

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive wc: 1.2k

a/n: happy birthday jungsu ♡

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

The bell rings the moment he walks in.

Every day he arrives at the exact same time. He puts on the same dark blue apron and comes out of the kitchen to deal with the customers while his mother is baking different pastries. You’ve been coming here for long enough to tell everyone loves him, and the customers always come in with a smile and leave with even bigger one.

You made this coffee shop your spot before Jungsu started taking shifts - in comparison to a few other girls. You grew to like the calm atmosphere and the tasty pastries while it was still just his mom (the owner) and the middle aged waitress as the only working staff. However, after he started helping her out between his morning and afternoon classes more girls would drop by to hangout just to spend as much time as possible watching him interact with clients, clean the counter and bring out the next portion of pastry.

You can’t blame them.

Jungsu is an amazingly charming guy. He caught your eye with his gentle captivating features, but the more time you spend here, the harder it gets for you to not think about him after you leave. It’s his voice and the way he speaks; his genuine smile and the way he treats those around him; his fit body underneath the apron; his sparkling gaze every time he shoots you a look from behind the counter. Sometimes he winks at you and the thrill lingers in your chest for hours. You doubt he means anything by it, but at the same time it’s not like you’re complete strangers. You’ve been coming at the coffee shop to study and write your assignments for a while now and you’ve been actually getting to know each other from having occasional conversations; nothing too personal, just little bits about your daily life, work, how and why you picked your majors.

The previous week while you were rereading the first half of your assignment you caught a glimpse of his hand carefully picking up your empty cup of tea and placing a plate with a big chocolate cookie that you didn’t remember ordering.

“Oh, I didn’t…”

“It’s on me.” He smiled at you with glimmer in his eye. “You need energy in order to finish that.”

You try not to get into your head; to not overthink his actions. He’s just being kind… but he’s also the most attractive guy you’ve seen in real life, and it’s hard not to daydream about him - with you, outside of this coffee shop.

Today Jungsu is closing the place.

You don’t realise you and him are the only people left until you hear him say goodbye to someone; pretty loud, because of the sudden rain that started pouring heavily.

You’re surprised by how lost you must have been in your own head during your study session to not notice how much time has passed since you came here.

Loud thunder sneaks inside the place before Jungsu shuts the door, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

You close your laptop and start gathering your notes.

“I totally lost track of time,” you say through a flustered smile as he walks slowly towards your table after turning around the sign to we are closed.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to hurry.”

He pulls a chair from the table besides you and sits down.

“It’s pouring really hard.” He speaks.

“Yeah…” You take a deep breath with the realisation that the storm is getting worse. A lightning strikes as you stare through the glass windows. “It’s one crazy summer.”

“Why don’t you wait here until it slows down?” The slight concern is noticeable in his voice. “It’s not safe to drive in a weather like this.”

You nod with appreciation and put your bag back where it was.

For the next half an hour you help out Jungsu with cleaning up the space despite his efforts to convince you not to.

You notice him take off his apron, revealing a nice buttoned up shirt underneath.

“I’ve been learning how to bake.” He says, putting it aside.

“What exactly?”

“Well, today I made ginger cookies.” He grabs a glass jar and opens it for you. “Would you like to try them and tell me if I suck?”

“Wait!” Your eyes widen with a pleasant surprise when the memory bursts into your mind. “Did you made that chocolate chip one you served me the other week?”

Jungsu chuckles and immediately looks down, too flustered to look back at you.

“It was so delicious, Jungsu!” You exclaim, taking a minute to observe his face closer before he glances up, making it your turn to look away.

You sneak a hand inside the jar and take a cookie. It smells amazing and you can already guess it would taste just as good.

“Be honest.” Jungsu warns you, leaving the jar on the table behind you.

Just as you expected… the cookies are great. The wonderful taste settles on your tongue and you humm delightfully, impressed by his skills.

“Do you know what I was thinking that day?” Soon enough, he speaks out more softly while staring down at your lips.

“When you treated me the chocolate chip cookie?” You ask as the thoughts of what possibly he might say next race inside your head.

“Yeah,” he nods, finally meeting your intrigued gaze and holding onto it. His lips, so sensually shaped, separate apart again once he sees you shrugging shoulders. “How bad I wish I could kiss you.”

This is the last thing you expect to hear from him, but how exciting it feels when he says it and looks closer into your eyes to search for your reaction… Your whole face turns warmer from the way his gaze becomes more vulnerable while still remaining focused as he tries to read your mind.

His hands rest onto the countertop and you sense your muscles tense from suddenly being so close to him, right between his two arms; but it’s thrilling in the best way possible and your body responds on the instant.

Your head tilts as you slowly guide your lips to his.

“You can,” you whisper.

To Jungsu, you’ve been tempting from the start, but right now in this very moment, you’re irresistible. He shuts his eyes, breathing in your captivating scent.

As he gathers a bit more courage your one hand slides up his arm all the way to his shoulder, curiously and gently, as if you take your time to enjoy how his muscles and each vein feel against your skin.

The kiss is undeniably sweet like sugar.

Your lips touch gently causing an exciting sensation to burst like fireworks inside your tummy. One after another, the kisses multiply and they eventually turn into an intense make out session with you still sat on the counter and Jungsu’s hands wandering underneath your shirt.

His fingertips go over the straps of your bra and the feeling makes him wish he could do more with you here - strip you from your clothes, feel the most intimate curves of yours on his tongue, hear you moan from the marks he’d leave on your bare skin. He tries to stop himself from fantasising too much as his lips go red and swollen; as the warm pressure grows inside him forcing muffled sounds into your mouth.

He can’t have you naked in the kitchen, but he’s not ready to let go of you yet either.

His hands are still beneath your shirt when he breaks the kiss, letting you take a deep breath.

“We should…” he whispers through his overwhelmed breathing, but you already nod despite his unfinished sentence. “I think the storm is over, do you want to continue this in my car?”

“Y-Yes,” you say with desire dripping from your tongue. “I’d love to.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[highly-flammable]

Little Klamille things: Season 1 Edition - Episode 1x02 to 1x03

1x02 - House of the Rising Son:

The Painting:

Klaus apparently tracked down the artist after the night they met to buy the painting they bonded over. Mind you, this had been quite the trying night for him, and right after he and Cami talked about the artist, he went to talk with Elijah, and then went on with his shenanigans to dethrone Marcel.

But that painting never left his mind, and sometime within the following couple of months (TO 1x02 and the following episodes take place a couple of months after TVD 4x20/TO 1x01), he managed to find the artist and get that painting for himself. Oh, and funny thing is, considering there were only a handful of people watching the painting, I don’t think the work was supposed to be excellent, but it struck a chord with both Cami and Klaus, so he bought it.

Oh No, I’ve Lost My Touch:

Klaus’ mouth was literally hanging wide open in shock (you can see it in the corner of the screen) when Cami blew Marcel off after he tried to get her to give Marcel a chance.

Marcel was being sweet towards her, but Klaus was the one who had charmingly pulled her over and set the whole interaction up. He was clearly banking on his charisma working on this human girl, and he was just baffled that it wasn’t the case. Hence him musing “Perhaps I’ve lost my touch, or maybe you’ve lost yours.”

Not All Bad Boys Are Created Equal:

Important to note, Cami was sort of smiling at Klaus when he was putting on his little act. She had also been quite happy to see him when he walked over to her to muse about the artist, so she always kind of liked him and was amused by him. And here’s my opinion, which will also tie into the next point: she would have had a slightly harder time saying no had Klaus asked her out for himself. She still would have refused because she could tell he was a bad boy, but between the two bad boys, her preference was clear.

Klaus Keeping Their First Conversation Alive in Cami’s Mind:

When Klaus later showed up at Rousseau’s to tell her to give Marcel a chance, she talked about how she needed only good in her life, and he added that she meant she didn’t need someone who was tragically wounded and damaged by demons he could not escape. This interaction was the reason that their conversation about the painting started becoming significant in Cami’s mind. When they had originally had that conversation, Klaus was the one asking the questions, and Cami was just relating to the artist. She wouldn’t have thought too much of it, for in her mind the most interesting thing Klaus had still done was putting that 100 dollar bill on the bartop earlier that evening. But this exchange right here was when this understanding passed between them that he was relating too, and unlike Cami, he was trapped with his demons. And this set him apart from the generic bad boys, because he was self-aware on some level and willing to admit that he was indeed damaged and therefore not right for someone like her.

1x03 - Tangled Up In Blue

Thank Goodness He’s Just Rebekah’s Brother:

Cami was clearly a bit worried that Klaus was the infamous on-again, off-again of Rebekah’s since the two of them showed up together. So our girl kind of already had a crush. This is also evidenced by the fact that right after she and Klaus talked about Marcel being the guy of Rebekah’s, Cami was basically admiring Klaus.

Is That How You Talk to an Almost Stranger?:

Klaus was being a complete seducer when he said “You do look stunning.” That line delivery was laced with very obvious lust (like dude, you could try being a little more subtle). This is even worse considering they had people around them, including his own sister. And don’t forget that while they had seen each other around, he and Cami were still nothing more than acquaintances.

Barely Knows the Girl but Already Protective of Her:

Klaus was keeping an eye on Cami the entire time she was in that party full of vampires. He was with her every second before Marcel came over to interact with her, was watching them like a hawk (he was jealous as hell but he was also clearly worried about her safety) while they were dancing and kept his attention on her afterwards as she watched Marcel confront Thierry. You could also tell that he was slightly worried about her (not that it stopped him from later compelling her to give Marcel a chance, that fucker) when she commented about Marcel’s temper.

The Human Perspective:

Klaus later asked Marcel if he really liked Cami, and Marcel responded that he liked that she was not a part of their shenanigans and it was sometimes nice to see the world the way humans did. Those words clearly struck a chord with Klaus and gave him the language for why he himself was drawn to Cami.

Next: 1x04

[layraket]

Day 30 - Recovery

Character(s): Four and Twilight (LU)

Words: 750

Summary: They never thought that they will share the “I lost a special someone who was a shadow being” thing

Whump scale: 1 (see the full scale here)

Warning: Assumed character death, it's not explicitily established, but its there

Part 1 in Day 26

-

Twilight and Four have been hanging out together more lately, chatting and just spending time in the same place.

Since that night, the rancher found something on the smith that was surprisingly familiar; a sadness, longing for past times and things that would never be able to happen again.

It wasn’t the most positive thing to bond over, but that was what they got. Eh.

Four called him to talk alone, the rest deciding to not ask questions and let them be. They walked away from camp to have some privacy.

“Wha’ do ya need?” Twilight asked, stopping in front of the smaller hero with his arms crossed.

There was a nervous feeling surrounding him, like if this was a confession of something. “Well, I’m not sure if you exactly remember… that night…” His purple eyes looked down, like if admitting what happened that time made him embarrassed.

So Four knew that it was him, obviously. “Sure, wha’ happen with it?” If this was to ask him to stay silent—although, he had been already doing it— then he will respect his wish.

“I’ve been thinking, and… You once mentioned something about a mirror…” Twilight knew instantly what was he referring to.

He had a feeling why was he asking this, and he didn’t like how the reaction will be when he gets the answer.

“’t’s broken, there’ no way to fix it” He tried a long time ago, the only shard that he saved didn’t work at all, the magic left wasn’t enough to go through the barrier between the Twili realm and this one.

Maybe he was right about this answer shattering any hope from the smithy’s eyes, a soft “oh” being his only response.

“Thanks, I… I needed to be sure.” This seemed like the end of the conversation, but Twilight had his own questions.

“Why, tho?” He knew how curious was usually Four, but the fact that he needed privacy to ask this tells him something else.

After a minute without answer, Four sighed “A mirror with enough magic could be able to bring something back to life depending of the type of energy that is needed. What you mentioned is that the mirror used dark magic.”

So… If he’s understanding the clues, this was about a dark being. Cool, he didn’t though that they would get this as something in common.

“Yeah, it worked like tha’, but t’s shattered and I doubt only a shard could be enough” It remained at his home in Ordon, hidden in his basement to keep it as a memory or a symbol of false hope, so he wouldn’t be able to show it to Four until they arrived his era. “S’rry for askin’, but who was the one…”

“A friend, or I hope that we ended up in those terms. Last time I saw him he didn’t explain anything.” The smith reserved himself the complete history, Twilight knew this, but he will not try to push it.

“If ya miss him so much, I guess ye’re his friend.” Maybe this someone wasn’t a twili, maybe nothing closer to that, but something that he learned from them it was that if a shadow being called you their friend, they meant it.

“If you say so…” Purple eyes turned to look everywhere but Twilight, evading his gaze as much as he could.

“Ya know, it also used to hurt for me, like th’ kick of a goat” He wasn’t exaggerating. “Ya miss them, wishin’ to see them one more time, gettin’ trapped on that mindset, forgettin’ everyone else.”

He remembers how much he ignored Colin and the kids when he came back Ordon, Ilia doing her best to make him get out of his home, Rusl asking him to talk with him and tell him what’s wrong, Uli offering her food knowing well that he hadn’t eaten that day. All because he couldn’t let go of someone, and he still can’t.

“The thin’ ’m tryin’ to say,” He sighed “is that it will hurt, maybe makin’ life a hell to live. You can survive out of it, if there’ are people to keep goin’, why stop?”

Silence fell between them, a comfortable one that nobody wanted to break.

“Thank you” These words were filled with something else than just mere politeness, genuine gratitude surrounding them.

“Ye’re welcome”

They both shared something, and they both will heal from it. How long will it take? Doesn’t matter, as long as they had people.

[actuallyadhd]

Hello, I know you haven't posted in a while so I understand if you don't reply to this, but I could definitely use some advice.

I haven't gotten round to getting tested for ADHD, but I have a lot of the symptoms. I really struggle to sit still, I often blurt things out and interrupt people, I can't seem to remember basically anything, I get way too emotional over small things, and more.

The thing is, these symptoms seem to be getting progressively worse. I will hear something and then completely forget what I heard minutes after, forget what I'm talking about mid conversation, haven't gone to sleep on time because I've been pacing in my room and throwing a bouncy ball and eventually scrolling on my phone in bed because I can't get to sleep, I'm late a lot more than usual (I have to go out tomorrow and I'm hoping I'll get up on time, alarms don't work).

But the biggest thing is this: I keep stopping and starting things. I have loads of sideblogs I haven't posted on for days because I started them with huge passion and then either got bored or forgot about them (or both.) I've been thinking about starting a new ask blog, but at the same time I know I won't come back to it.

Do you have any advice for how to manage this?

Sent August 1, 2024

It sounds like things are cascading, which can be super overwhelming.

I always start with what I call The Big Four: diet, exercise, sleep, and stress. If any one of these is out of whack, everything gets harder. This is true for non-ADHDers as well, but for us it’s more important because of how our brains work.

So, first, think about how you’ve been eating lately. Are you getting enough protein? Brains run on glucose, so carbs are also necessary, but aiming for whole grains and the like is better for long-term functioning. Are you eating *enough*? As in, do you forget to eat meals? Do you snack a lot, and if you do, are you going for quick sugar hits?

Next up is exercise. Regular movement is important. Taking active breaks when you get distracted can help to reset your brain so you can focus again when you come back. Exercise also adds endorphins, which boost your mood and can help increase energy and focus for longer. These effects build up over time, so you won’t see results right away, but if you can make it happen there will be benefits!

As for sleep, you’ve noted that you’re struggling to fall asleep. That’s a really common thing for ADHDers, and we have loads of suggestions here to help. Some of the best ideas I’ve seen include listening to podcasts or watching ASMR videos, white noise machines or a fan, reading a book (not an e-book unless your e-reader doesn’t use blue light), or doing some kind of a puzzle book in bed.

Stress can be really hard to manage, especially if anything else is off since that adds to your stress. The best way to handle this is to have a set time each day where you do something fun and relaxing.

You may find that this doesn’t quite hit the spot. So I have a couple more things to look into.

First, it’s pretty normal for us to run into problems when our responsibilities increase. More responsibility means more load on our executive functions, so things start falling apart a bit as we struggle to find a way to make everything happen. Change is hard!

Second, our age and hormones can have an impact on things. If you menstruate, estrogen levels have a huge impact on functioning. It is a very important part of the brain’s glucose delivery system, so when estrogen is low so is glucose. (There are other ways glucose gets to the brain, estrogen is just the most efficient.)

As for age, when you hit certain ages (early childhood and puberty are best known) your brain makes a ton of new connections, and that can make a lot of things harder that weren’t before. This is because your brain is dedicating itself to other things, and often those “lost” skills return once it’s done with the stage.

So think about all of these things and consider whether one or more might be affecting you. Once you know what’s going on, it will be easier to figure out how to deal with it.

Followers, do you have any ideas for managing these issues? Please share!

-J

[misspelledwordswizard]

Chapter 6 - I don't know how I ended up here, but I'm not complaining.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

We decided that food was our priority, so I had the idea of buying some things at the general store and using the cooking pot next to it, which I knew was possible thanks to the games, but I had to play dumb and ask someone where we could get something to eat.

Of course, I’m not as skilled as Wild, but I could manage, and I wasn’t willing to bet on the culinary skills of the man next to me. When we arrived at High Spirits Produce, we were greeted by the owner, Mrs. Trissa, who helped us choose food, the options were much larger than in the games, definitely.

With what we found there, we decided that the best option would be to make a vegetable risotto, so we bought some carrots, butter and Hylian rice, at least Four already had the rock salt so that the food wouldn’t be tasteless. We went outside the store to use the cooking pot, the hero insisted on helping me, because it wouldn’t be fair for me to do all the work.

The man might be skilled with swords, but I will definitely never leave a kitchen knife in his hands again. The task that shouldn’t have lasted more than half na hour ended up taking almost na hour. Even though he was so focused, the little guy seemed nervous when trying to help with the food and ended up getting all mixed up. But we managed to complete our mission without any serious injuries in the process.

Finally, with the food ready, we sat on the floor with our plates of risotto, laughing at how the presentation of the food wasn’t the best. When we put a spoonful in our mouths, we were surprised; it was very good. I think Four was even more incredulous about this. We both knew we had thought the same thing, so for a moment we stared at each other in silence before bursting out laughing.

— You really do work miracles to fix food that I put my hands on, but I still don’t think you’re capable of fixing one from Hyrule! – The blond spoke as a challenge.

— What, is it that bad? – I said in surprise, what could Rulie do to make a meal so indigestible?

— Be thankful that he hasn’t offered to help with the cooking since you joined us.

We continued to eat in silence, too hungry to hold a conversation, but it was a comfortable silence. The food was gone quickly, and I soon regretted having eaten so quickly, but it seemed that Four had also finished his.

So, as agreed, we went for a walk around the village, which was great as it would help me digest everything before finally going to rest. It was quiet at first as we looked at the scenery and greeted the friendly villagers, but I was curious about what the hero wanted to tell me first.

— So... what’s all this about? – I broke the silence, calling his attention, who seemed lost in thought.

— Hm, I’d like to just talk first, okay? – I agreed to his request, waiting for him to start talking, having no idea what subjects he would be interested in. – Were you really living completely alone?

— Yes, at most I visit my parents once in a while, but in general I’ve always been fine alone.

— You don’t have a boyfriend? – This question made me look at him in surprise. – Don’t get me wrong! I just wanted to know if you were really alone, and not just living alone.

— Okay, well, I don’t have anyone anyway.

— I see. – Silence fell for a moment. – Are you very attached to your home? Would you feel bad if you were away for a long time? – I didn’t understand where he was going with these questions, but I just kept answering.

— I’m not attached to places. I really like traveling too. Seeing those I love at least sometimes makes me feel like I can live anywhere, basically.

This all seemed more like na interrogation than a conversation, but I feel like the idea wasn’t to exchange questions and answers, he probably wants to get somewhere with all this.

— Would you feel bad if something happened and you had to spend years away from them? — He himself didn’t seem very comfortable with that question.

— ... Maybe. I mean, I would definitely miss them a lot, but depending on the reason for being so far away, as long as they’re okay and I can go back to them in the end, I think it’ll be bearable. — The blond seemed surprised by this, but smiled in understanding.

— You know, I’ve been away from my grandfather for a long time now, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him. But you’re right, knowing that he’s okay and waiting for me gives me the strength to carry on. — He finally graced me with something that wasn’t a question about me. I felt sorry for him, I could see how much he missed his grandfather, but his persistence was admirable.

— So, am I going to find out the reason for all this or are you going to keep this suspense in the air?

His laugh was rewarding, he turned to me amusedly, and then I saw his gaze lost in thought again.

— You’re a nice girl, you have a quiet life and you’re not very demanding... that’s why I’m so sorry that we got you involved in our mess. – I tried to say that everything was fine, that it wasn’t their fault. – But unfortunately this happened, and we have no way of reversing it at the moment... whether you’re with us or not, now you’ll be in constant danger.

— What do you mean? – I knew he was referring to the shadow, but I didn’t understand where he was going with this.

— If we leave you here, to start your quiet life over again, I’m afraid you might not be safe, I believe that shadow will follow you even if you no longer have anything to do with us... and – he paused contemplatively – And you wouldn’t have any way of defending yourself, and no one to help you.

— Well...

— That’s why I was thinking, maybe the best option would be to bring you with us!

— What?! – ok, now that surprised me.

— I know it sounds crazy! I haven’t even talked to the others about this yet, I thought I should talk to you first. But if you were with us we could guarantee your safety against the Shadow! – He started presenting his points quickly, as if he was afraid I would deny it before he could explain himself. – Well, I know it still won’t be easy, it would be something new and there would be many battles along the way, and still, I believe you would be safer with us, just for that I think you can already imagine the danger you would be in if we left you, right?

— I understand, and I’m touched that you are so worried about me, but I don’t think that’s the best idea, because I care about you too. – He seemed confused by my statement. – If I went, I would just be getting in your way, I would have to be protected, I would be another mouth to feed and I wouldn’t be able to help as much as I would like, since I have no experience in adventures.

He laughed, as if I had said the most absurd thing in the world, and looked at me as if I were a puppy trying to learn to bark – okay, maybe that’s a little too specific.

— Sorry, it’s just that of all the reasons I could imagine that could make you be against this, that one didn’t even cross my mind. — I don’t think my reasons are that absurd. — If that’s the only reason you have to be against it, then I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you to come with us. If you feel so bad, you can consider our protection as payment for your burned books. — I felt like he was messing with me now, but I was going to let that one go.

— You’re really insistent, huh? But don’t claim victory, as you said, you didn’t talk about it with the others, maybe they don’t think the same way as you.

— Okay, then I think it’s best if we leave this for later. After all, since we’re here, why don’t we go after the great fairy’s fountain? Wild told me it was nearby! — Maybe he was just trying to distract me from the subject, but the proposal was tempting. I quickly nodded in agreement.

We walked side by side as we climbed that dirt hill, which was quite steep to climb, but nothing compared to the walk to Hateno’s laboratory. I picked up the apples that were on the apple tree along the way, one for me and one for Link. At this point I already knew very well that he was the hero of the four swords, his name and clothes made it very clear. I wonder if he is still capable of dividing himself. He accepted the apple gratefully, his smile was very beautiful when he was like that, so relaxed. It’s interesting how he maintains a calm and centered appearance, but his emotions fluctuated quickly in situations of tension or nervousness. This probably had to do with the colors, perhaps having his emotions divided into personas made him susceptible to sudden changes between them. It was good to have someone to spend quality time with like this, even though we had just met, perhaps due to the recent dangerous situations we had faced together, I felt a greater connection with all the boys, it was as if my subconscious had finally realized that all of this was real, too real.

I shook my head to get rid of these thoughts, if I continued along these lines I would end up crying desperately in na emotional breakdown. I will keep all of my emotions deep in my heart and pretend that everything is fine for as long as I can – and I will probably regret it.

We finally arrived at the Shrines there, which I had no idea what they were called. I only paid attention to the names of the Shrines when I was stuck on them due to my stupidity and had to look up how to get past them. Embarrassing, I admit.

I don’t think Four had been here before, but he didn’t seem lost, although with the least amount of instructions it was possible to find the fountain, the path was so obvious. As we walked towards the large flower in the middle of the trees I could notice the striking presence of silent princess flowers, they were beautiful, and it wasn’t very common to find them in the place where I lived. The fairies there were also a special charm, it was beautiful, I had seen fairies very few times in my life, but seeing so many in one place was totally different.

— Well, according to Wild, it must be here. But I wonder if the great fairy will appear— Four was cut off with an almost sinful feminine sound echoing through the air, while the image of a beautiful woman appeared in the middle of the water of the great flower. The games would never be able to portray the beauty of a great fairy, she was almost divine, but her tone of speech and suggestive vocabulary made me blush. Perhaps it was not very appropriate to come accompanied by a single other person.

— Oh, what beautiful young people who came to visit me. A hero from another era and... a very wise lady, isn’t she? But how beautiful you look together. — Cotera said in her seductive voice, which I feel that, no matter what she said, everything would sound like a double meaning.

 — Ah, Great Fairy Cotera! It is good to see you, you are as splendid as they say! We just came to meet you, Wild- Link, told us about you! – See, I said it without thinking very well, I got nervous with all the provocation I think, I don’t know how to deal with it.

Four looked at me suspiciously, before turning his attention to the fairy and confirming what had been said. Cotera was happy to receive visitors, and we were graced with a while – a long while – of idle chatter with her, and gossip, from people I didn’t even know.

We finally decided it was time to say goodbye, it was almost noon and we were both in need of a rest, having been awake since dawn. I couldn’t wait to sprawl out on the comfortable bed at the inn and sleep for hours in complete peace. On the way back, the hero seemed interested in asking me a few questions.

— Wow, I was surprised you knew her name.

— Oh, yes, the fountain fairies are very famous, especially after they were awakened, lately everyone knows them.

— I see. – I don’t know if I was convincing, but he didn’t bring up the subject again. — How did you know Wild’s real name? – His question surprised me, he seemed serious, maybe he was suspicious of me, I don’t judge him for that.

— And how would I not know? He’s the hero who saved Hyrule a year ago, everyone knows who he is. I don’t know why he introduced himself with that nickname, but I don’t mind using it, it’s not like I’ve met him personally before. I just told Cotera his name so there would be no chance she wouldn’t recognize him. – It was partly true, if I didn’t have my past memories I would still know all of this, precisely because this information is no longer a secret to anyone.

— ... I see. Cotera is right, you are wise. – His voice softened with that, I felt relieved.

◇

When I got back to my room at the inn, I threw myself on the bed and passed out. I didn’t dream about anything, and if I did, I don’t remember. All I know is that I woke up drooling, not even knowing where I was, my hair looking like a bird’s nest, while someone knocked on my door.

Not really aware of my state, I went to answer the door, still groggy from sleep, only to find Warriors.

— Geez, what happened to you? You look like you came out of a hurricane. – He held back a laugh as he analyzed me, trying to wipe my drool and rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

— I was sleeping... what happened?

— It seems that Time wanted to tell us something, a small meeting, and for some reason it is essential that you be there, so I came to escort you, princess. – I couldn’t tell if he was trying to flirt or tease me with the last part, but I just nodded and tidied up my appearance before leaving the room completely.

Warriors led me downstairs, where everyone was waiting in a more communal area of the inn that resembled a living room in a house. There were really a lot of things that the games didn’t show.

— Finally, I was starting to get tired of waiting here so much! — I heard Legend complain loudly, but I just ignored it, which didn’t make him very happy, and sat down next to Wind on a small sofa.

— The reason for all this is that Four presented me with na important point about our guest’s situation, so to speak. — Time started the conversation, at that moment he already knew what it was about. — Leaving her alone would only put her in danger knowing our enemy, and we have no idea when we’ll be able to end this once and for all. Therefore, it would be wise if we could always be around to ensure her safety, but since that’s not possible, the best option would be for her to join our group permanently.

Everyone exchanged glances among themselves, while analyzing the situation, no one seemed to want to say anything about it.

— So, is everyone in agreement? – Four asked as he waited for someone to say something. Nothing. No one had anything to object to.

— Wow, really? I expected that at least Legend wouldn’t like the idea. – I found myself saying it due to the surprise that no one was bothered by my presence on their adventure. I mean, I figured they wouldn’t like having to protect someone who just gets in the way all the time.

— Hey, come on, I’m not that bad! I may not be like some people who become a sunshine with the first person who appears, but I won’t ignore a person who needs help, no matter who it is. – He seemed offended, but nothing too serious, but I felt bad for judging him as someone somewhat “selfish”, if that was the right term.

— I don’t see how this could be a bad situation, we could protect you while having more time to spend with you! It seems like a Win-Win situation to me! – Wind seemed excited about the idea, which made me a little more comfortable with it. I gave him a quick hug as a thank you, at least having him with me I wouldn’t miss home so much.

Everyone looked at me as if that was a unanimous thought, I sighed, in relief and because my still not quite awake brain was struggling to understand what was happening.

— Well, then I guess from now on I’ll be na adventurer, huh? – I finally said, wanting to end the subject quickly. – Can I please go back to sleep now?

Everyone reacted positively, with small laughs or cheers for me having “joined the team”, and Sky seemed drawn to the word “sleep”, getting even more excited.

 — Well, then I believe the subject is closed. We will stay in Kakariko for a few more days, until our addition can get new items for the journey and everyone is properly rested. You are free to go. — I heard some tired celebrations as everyone mobilized. Some returned to their rooms ready for another round of naps, others left the inn in search of food. I was obviously on the team that was going straight to the room. My bed awaits me.

I entered the room, closed the door, and threw myself on the bed. But I couldn’t sleep. Worry crept into my mind. What if I did something stupid that put one of their lives in danger? Or what if I got so attached to them that I would give more than I could at the time of saying goodbye?

Gosh, I’ve already gotten so attached to some of them in less than a week, let alone months of living together. It scared me, but having people in my life after so long, I missed it. Well, I’m just going to keep it all deep down, when it’s time for everything to explode in exaggerated emotions it will happen, now I need to sleep!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting healthy communication?

🎨💫 <- so I can find it

For context this is about one of my exes from 2022. It was an online relationship. At the time of this story I was 19 and they (🦜) were 18. This also involves their friend (🪐) who was also 18 at the time.

When me and 🦜 met, I was 17 and they were 16. I had just gotten out of a toxic relationship with someone who had been cheating on me with 🦜. Me and 🦜 bonded over the toxicity of that person, which is how we ended up getting closer. Trauma bonding isn’t healthy, I know.

Me and 🦜 started dating in January of 2022. I was in college at the time but I ended up dropping out and moving to another state. During this time, I asked 🦜 to communicate with me if I ever did or said anything wrong, as I’m autistic and often can’t tell. I thought that 🦜 also being autistic meant they would understand, but oh how wrong I was.

Our relationship lasted from January to October of 2022. In that time, me and 🦜 only ever had one conversation about something we were upset about. I’d often ask them if they were okay, if I was doing anything wrong, if there was anything I could improve on. Every time they answered saying they were fine.

Fast forward to October 2022. I woke up to a long DM from 🦜 telling me I had been abusing them and that they were blocking me. I didn’t know what they were talking about since I had no memory of ever doing anything they were claiming I did. Their friend 🪐 had also DMed me with pretty much the same thing as 🦜. I was left completely unaware and confused about what happened until October 2023, when 🦜 and 🪐 sent out a long document about me. In it were things I never remembered doing, things that aren’t even bad at all, and things I honest to God never even did. There were some screenshots but most of it was word-of-mouth “just trust me bro”. They had even included a message from me where I had said neither of them ever communicated anything with me other than the singular time.

I made my own document, including how I had several times asked to be communicated with, and how some of the things I was being accused of were in fact things that 🦜 had done to me and were now placing onto me. Of course this got thrown around as “victim blaming”. This all took place on bird app, so of course fork found in kitchen.

If it helps at all, I suffer from dissociative amnesia, which means I often lose or “forget” chunks of time ranging from a couple minutes to whole months and years. I lost my memory of most of 2022 which makes 🦜’s accusations a lot harder for me to believe and honestly, it feels like they’re gaslighting me. I’ve been told I’m lying about things I never lied about. They were extremely toxic to me, I admit I was toxic to them as well. My trauma has been looked over in favor of banishing me from the internet.

I hope this explained this well enough. I’m a little scared 🦜 will find this if I give any more details of the situation but I’ll try to answer any questions as best I can.

Thank you for listening. I’ll 100% accept if I’m the asshole here. I just need to know for my own sanity and so I can work on myself moving forward if I am actually the asshole.

What are these acronyms?

[lightwing-s]

alfred meeting food blogger reader for the first time during weekly visit when he off to new york visiting jason (which he gives Alfie reader's home address since reader wants to meat his grandpa) but encounter them in the farmer market when he and the reader both reach for a fresh batch of apple at same time in the same stall, also, jason and alfred both pretend not to know each other when reader introduce her new friend to her boyfriend as jason hugs himself around reader🍎❤🍎

It was a nice saturday morning, the early sun rays warming his face and contrasting with the still cold air hanging around. Jason had lost you sometime ago, but he didn’t worry. There was no need for it, in fact.

Y/n was always excited to go to the farmer’s market. And by excited he meant very, eager, exhilarated, psyched. You loved it. All kinds of fresh delicious food. All kinds of unique and different products. Everything a food lover, kind-of-a-chef, and content creator would love.

So he didn’t worry when he suddenly missed your hands in his, and your constant chattering about any and every product you found mildly interesting. He knew you were safe and that you would come back. And that’s a feeling being in Gotham never really granted him.

“Jason! Babe!” he heard you calling, quickly turning around in the direction your voice was coming from. “I found the most beautiful strawberries I’ve ever seen” you told him once he arrived beside you, eyes sparkling at your excitement.

They were truly beautiful. Big, bright red and without a flaw in sight. “My new friend, Alfred, and I were just chatting about how difficult it’s been to find such good strawberries these days, isn’t it?”

Turning to face your new friend, Jason followed your movements to land eyes in one of his most beloved and well recognized features. Alfred, now clad in a jacket and something else other than a suit, but still as posh, smiled at his foster son, extending his hands for Jason to shake. “Nice to finally see you again, Master Jason.”

The look on your face, of complete shock and surprise, must have been entertaining, because your boyfriend blurted out laughing at you, while you remained not understanding a thing. And then it clicked.

“He’s your Alfred?” you questioned, looking frantically between the two men. “Oh my gosh, you are his Alfrend, aren’t you? I’m so excited to finally meet you!” you embraced the older man, a bit surprised he let you do so without knowing you that much.

“And I’m happy to finally meet you too. Master Jason has talked a lot about you, miss.” Alfred threw a knowing glance at Jason, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks turned pink.

“And he has told me a lot about you too. In fact, you’re the only family member mister grumpy tells me about.”

While the two engaged in a long conversation, going from you excitedly asking Alfred to tell you about Jason’s childhood, to different kinds of food and recipes and cooking tips you could remember, Jason smiled happily at you two. Two of the most important people in his life getting along so well and so quickly.

He felt a strange sensation on his chest. A good sensation. One that made the small box hidden in his drawer seem ideal.

“Hey, Alfie” he interrupted, laying his arms around both yours and Alfred’s shoulders. “How about we get some breakfast back at our place?”

[hopetown-blues]

Journal Through God’s Ways #03: On silly atheism

💖 My dad is like a stereotypical hardcore atheist, in the sense that he gets genuinely aggravated by faith as a concept and is proudly dismissive of it, constantly sharing these edgy Facebook Posts about depressed people who need imaginary friends to sustain their mental well-being. Of course, I’ve been a born-again Christian since I was 16, but as my conversion happened with a degree of secrecy, as it involved talking to online strangers in the context of a crisis regarding my sexual orientation, well, it's not like he had many tools to figure out by himself what was happening (my own fault, of course). From his point of view, his son started to occasionally visit churches and talk about God from time to time, but since it’s always so easy to dismiss teenage activities as nothing but teenage activities, and I was so casually, strategically nonchalant about it (dropping small hints about the fact that I believe in Jesus Christ so my conscience wouldn’t accuse me of being ashamed of my Savior, but never being too explicit about it to prevent any type of anxiety-inducing confrontation) well, we hardly talked about it.

💖 When I turned 18, I left home to study in college, which made our already cold relationship a little bit colder. When I turned 24 (five years ago), it was my dad the one who left home (and the country!) to live with another woman, so our already colder relationship became… well, not bad per se, but there was no dimension to it other than some friendly phone calls every two or three weeks. I believe my dad must have either 01) forgotten about the "awkward Christian phase" of my teenage years, 02) assumed I had outgrown it, or 03) guessed I was probably still a believer, but highly casual and idiosyncratic about it. And to be honest, it always sucks when your close relatives don't know about your faith because it is so… shameful? Like, how am I supposed to preach the gospel to the nations if I can't even tell my dad that I think Jesus is-kind-of-important? When not even your father knows about your faith, it does become easier to doubt that you yourself have it, since anyone would assume that the Holy Spirit's workings in my life should be evident after 13 years. I actually started this Tumblr guided by that specific fear. I was like: okay, I can't become Paul the Apostle overnight, but I can at least do something?

💖 However, two weeks ago I had a conversation with my dad that was…quite unexpected. We were talking about the usual stuff, and then I said, "Thank God has allowed me to make some good friends," and he was like, "Wait, do you believe in God?" And let me tell you: it was quite shocking how shocked he seemed to be, especially because what triggered his question wasn't a bombastic declaration of faith or a longing for martyrdom, but the most chill, nonchalant and impersonal God name-drop in the middle of an unrelated topic. If that was enough to prompt such a question, then why didn’t it happen before? However, I went, "………………………yes?" and that's how the somewhat funny chaos started.

💖 First off, he asked (very condescendingly) if I was going to become a priest, and then I said, "WELP, I would actually be a pastor, since I am Protestant," and he was like, "What?" as if he wanted to yell, "You couldn't even choose the aesthetically pleasing religion?" (Catholicism is quite massive in Argentina). Then he said, "But you don't truly believe Jesus existed, right?" and I was like, "I don't just believe He existed, I also believe He resurrected." And wow, that’s when he started to get more agitated, claiming that believing Jesus could have existed was one thing, but believing in miracles was a completely different thing, to which I responded, "I also believe the Earth was created in seven days." At this point, I almost lost it because… I was having fun? Don't get me wrong: I wasn't being sarcastic, I was being dead serious and honest, but the tone was deliberately provocative in its straightforwardness, as if I was theologically trolling his shock by doubling down instead of trying to explain myself from a place of shame or anxiety.

💖 And then the conversation became a little more serious: once again, very condescendingly, he said that God and every other expression of faith are just man-made concepts created by people who are unable to cope with the deeper, more existential questions of life, or by people who can't deal with their own problems without the self-assurance that there is a God watching over them. I said to him, "Being a Christian does improve my mental health; it does make me feel better about myself despite some extremely hard challenges, but I don't believe in Christianity for what it makes me feel, I do it because I believe the Gospel to be the truth: what I feel is beside the point." By that time, the conversation was approaching its natural end, so he simply told me to say "hi" to my imaginary friend and left.

💖 And I can’t lie, I feel quite happy about this, not only because my dad is finally aware of my stance on faith, but also because, since the dawn of time, I have struggled with two different sides of my personality, both equally complicated and troublesome: my wishy-washiness, always fearful of how I might be perceived by others, scared of small tasks like adding one cross emoji to my bio; but also my bad temper when I suddenly get mad and start screaming or swearing to the point where no one can take my side seriously, even if I am objectively right, because the way I am behaving comes across as too hysterical, unhinged, or butthurt. And that’s why I’m happy: I was able to showcase my faith in Christ in a way that felt confident and secure, but I was also able to keep my cool when dealing with his mockery, keeping it kind, respectful, and even acting slightly playful about it. And the fact that I ended the phone call without feeling anger or mental exhaustion? It feels like a massive victory despite the overall smallness of the situation because it’s something 16-year-old me would not have been able to do, and I believe that the longer we cling to these problems, the harder it becomes to be free from them.

💖 However, I feel obliged to clarify that I do love my dad a lot and that I am aware of the fact that he loves me a lot as well. He taught me (through actions instead of words) how to remain perseverant in the face of extraordinary challenges, but I am also happy to discover I am finally growing into my own person, and I no longer feel so intimidated by his never-ending condescension.

💖 And as I previously said, his questions were triggered by such a casual comment of mine that I have a hard time understanding why it took him such a long time to show himself visibly shocked at the possibility I might be a Christian. To be fair, I like to think that God saw I made a Tumblr with the purpose of stopping being so wishy-washy about my faith, and told me (in a loving-kindness manner): "Ready to take it one step further?" I really want this year to be different from the others, and while it has been a rocky start, I want to believe things will be different.

[creepedverse]

Give us Arthur info dump

Personal Journal (tw for animal death!)

Entry 003, XX/XX/2008

Haaaaaah. Farnbury… What a place! I expected to be shell shocked when I got here, honestly! But, underneath the starry sky… I feel at home. I guess I’m home when I’m in the trees, no matter which direction I find myself! ^^ But, there are some differences compared to New York. For starters, it’s not as cold! I love the cold weather, so I never complained at home, but now in February, I feel overdressed! I also… I made friends!! Two of them!! Can you believe it!? Of course I can believe it, me! They’re both so… just wow!

I was just setting up my camp for the night when I met him! My first ever friend!! (Better late than never!) He seemed startled to see me out there, but I think he relaxed once he realized I wasn’t like a bear or something! (Even though being a bear would be super cool!) He was very quiet, and I started to fill the space by talking! I… I usually find it hard to start conversations, but talking to him came so easy! He just listened, and that was nice. I guess that’s what friends do! Anyways, that’s how we first met! Ever since then, I’ve been running into him here and there! He actually works at the diner I go to for breakfast! He’s probably used to my order by now, since I always get the same thing! (Pancakes, short stack, and coffee) His name is Tommie! And I think that name suits him marvelously! He is very much a Tommie! ^^

I made my second friend just recently! Here I am, braving the wilderness in hopes of solving the mystery surrounding the farnbury entity, but… well… this is taking longer than I thought it would! When I found that cursed picture online, it only took me two weeks to contain the entity! Bam! Done! No more silly dog! But… this entity seems… different. It’s… stronger than most. I have some theories about it, but I’ll detail them in my proper investigation journal. Anyways! Where was I? Right! It’s taking a long time to get to the bottom of this thing! So, I soon found myself almost out of money. And so, that means I needed a job! The only problem is that… well… no one wants to hire a guy living out of a tent! Except for one person! Bonnibel… Bonnie! My beautiful Bonnie! She saved me from total, utter despair!! Heh… okay that’s dramatic! But! She hired me to work at her antique shop! And I’m so proud to say we get along swimmingly! She’s so gentle and kind and doesn’t yell at me if I miscalculate change! Actually, now that I think about it… this is my first proper job! Huh! How epic!!!

Bonnie has a truly beautiful ability. She can see ghosts! What are the odds of her befriending me!? She’s surrounded by the paranormal, and I hope she’ll let me help if anything troublesome bothers her. I have a whole section in my notes dedicated to banishing spirits! I hope she can rely on me… She actually… She told me a ghost follows me. A small hare… hopping wherever I go. I… um…

Well I guess if I’m telling this journal everything, I’ll tell it everything. When I first encountered the farnbury entity, I lost control of myself for a second. The entity seemed to try and get in my head. It completely mixed my thoughts around, I couldn’t make out up or down, left or right. I started freaking out, in the woods, all alone. My tics started going haywire! I couldn’t control my body anymore and I just… spazzed. (I guess my high school peers were spot on with that nickname.) I ended up falling down a steeper-than-average hill. I must’ve hit my head because when I woke up, it was daylight. I was fine again. However… on my way down the hill, I… crushed… a rabbit. I felt so awful! The poor little thing! I started to panic! Luckily, my brother had taught me well, and I managed to calm my breathing (and my tears!) and took care of the rabbit by giving it a small burial. I didn’t really have any tools on hand, so I used what I could to make a little grave. I must’ve looked like I was going to faint when Bonnie told me she saw a hare with me! But, how I’ll choose to interpret it is that the rabbit is looking after me. After all, I think he knows it was an accident (I hope he knows!) Maybe he’s hopping around after me to keep me out of trouble! I’ll choose to look on the bright side!

In all my years, I’ve endured countless jabs and bullying and that one fight before I left high school. I can’t help but admit that I was losing hope I’d ever make actual friends… But… Here in Farnbury, things are different. I made friends. I have friends. And I will do anything to protect them, and any other future friends I might make. I will figure this entity out, nullify it, and invite Tommie and Bonnie to travel the whole country with me when I’m done!!!