#House-Deep-Cleaning-London

[rnmetals]

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[luveline]

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change. 

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen. 

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!” 

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what. 

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud. 

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know. 

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?” 

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself. 

“James, what’s everything?” 

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks. 

You look down at his long fingers. 

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.” 

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach. 

“James.” 

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?” 

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.” 

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his. 

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily. 

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.” 

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say. 

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek. 

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying. 

“Don’t frown,” he says softly. 

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.” 

“No, uh. No, not too long.” 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.” 

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.  

[bloodyknucklesforme]

No name (taking suggestions) for this yet but yeah @syoddeye got me into Nikolai so... here's this. It's way longer than I originally planned but here we are. There will be more at some point but my fingers were just itching to write this out rn so unedited as well...

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, cockwarming, body inspection, piv, Nikolai is evil but also kind i guess,

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must of seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in a car to a client's.

Marcus hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse with an automatic front door.

"Turn around," he ordered when the last of your clothes hit the floor. Checking for a wire or weapons you guessed. Knowing you were being watched like this made your skin crawl but it was better than being groped immediately on entry.

The front room was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box.

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. The door inside clicked. You went inside.

It was nice. Expensive but not tacky like other homes you've been too. The kind of furniture you'd seen in interior design magazines and auctions, solid wood things made by designers with names you could never properly pronounce. There were soviet era antiques scattered about as decor. The first floor was open with a kitchen and dining area to the side and the rest of the room being a living area. There were stairs to the side leading up to where you guessed was the bedroom.

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand.

"Good. You follow instructions. More than I can say for the last one Arno sent me." He motioned for you to spin around again, giving your ass a light spank and laughing when you yelped. "You fuck anyone else today?"

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ash tray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago.

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one. He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

A lie, most likely. Men always said that before fucking you, like they could believe you were there willingly, like they didn't pick you out of a catalogue of girls. You clenched your fists in your lap and willed the fear out of your bones.

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you all night. Make it worth it."

He leaned back, grabbing a remote and turning on the tv. A hockey game roared on the tv.

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?"

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair.

"Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. He was thick and uncut. Intimidating even half hard. He didn't push as you worked your throat open, slowly bobbing your head. Sometimes men would ply you with liquor, help you to relax a bit more. You wish he had. The mix of salts from precum and skin filled your senses. A hesitant hand moved to rest on his thigh for leverage. He didn't shake you off.

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine.

His bedroom was dark. Wine colored walls with thick, velvet blackout curtains covering the windows. The bed was large with silk sheets and a down comforter.

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scrapping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain.

"I told you to stop shaking. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed a hand across your ass. He sounded annoyed. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the silk. It smelled clean and floral.

The snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. "There we go, Kotenok."

He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your crevix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting roughly. Your face dragged against the sheets.

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name.

You forced out moans every time his hips smacked against your ass. Arching your back so he could think he was pleasuring you. There was a modicum of pleasure, chasing it was too much effort, especially with unreceptive partners.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out.

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned, shuddering hard. "Cum on my cock or shut up."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up. Your back rested against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling.

"Say my name," He barked.

"Kolya...please...Kolya. I..."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it."

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to hold you up any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles.

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the hilt, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth."

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected.

You woke up sore, dried cum and bite marks covering your body.

"You shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the door and locking it from the outside.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kind of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place.

There was towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table.

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of tea still steaming and full.

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls.

"Good girl." He pulled his hand and away and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll ask for you again."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much.

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off. For the first time more scared to leave than to stay.

[coolemmasulivan2]

Rewinding Us | 3

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word count: 3826

You can read more chapters here.

I slip and wonder who I'd be If I never found you and you never found me Well, I don't wanna see

The hospital waiting room was a clean expanse of white, the walls gleaming as if freshly painted. Mason sat on the edge of a blue chair, his leg bouncing nervously. A heavy silence pressed down on him, broken only by the soft voices of nurses and a few others just like him, waiting for their loved ones.

He was alone. The others were already on the plane, on their way home. Charlotte had promised to catch the next flight out as soon as she landed in London, but until then, he was alone and in fear.

His mind raced back to the villa. He ran after you, but you'd always been surprisingly fast, a burst of unexpected energy that often caught him off guard. He remembered the times when you would run away from him, with laughter echoing through the house, often triggered by a harmless joke or the sudden appearance of an unwelcome spider.

The car had appeared out of nowhere. It was as if the world had slowed down. He remembered the shock that froze him in place, the desperate shout that tore from his throat.

Now, alone in the white room, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He should have been faster. He should have protected you.

A voice cut through the room, bringing him back to the present. “Family of Miss Y/l/n?” The doctor, a man with tired eyes, stood in the doorway.

Mason jumped to his feet, his voice hoarse. “How is she? Is she okay?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Miss Y/l/n has sustained multiple injuries, primarily to her leg and arm. She’s currently in surgery to stabilize her condition.”

Relief washed over Mason. “Will she be okay?” His voice trembled slightly.

The doctor nodded. “We’re optimistic about her recovery. The injuries are serious, but she’s young and strong.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Ahm-- Not long ago, she was involved in a car accident. A drunk driver hit her car and she lost her memory. Can this…?"

"We’ve conducted tests, and thankfully, this accident hasn’t caused any further brain damage.” Mason's heart pounded in his chest. A wave of gratitude washed over Mason. The doctor continued: “We’ll keep you updated on her condition. Someone will inform you as soon as she’s out of surgery.”

Mason nodded and managed a weak smile. “Thank you!”

It was a sunny afternoon, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of jasmine. You and Mason were attending a friend's wedding, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

You never used to care about catching the bridal bouquet, but your friends teased you and something sparked inside you. With a burst of unexpected agility, you managed to catch the delicate bouquet of flowers. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but your eyes locked onto Mason's, his expression a mix of amusement as his friends made fun of him.

"Well, well, well!" His friend Toby teased him. "Looks like someone's future is looking bright."

Mason grinned, taking a sip of his champagne. You walked through him, the bouquet clutched triumphantly in your hands, a smirk playing on your lips.

"I think I need a ring on my finger, Mount!" You teased, leaning in to kiss his lips.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "About that…" he began, his voice trailing off as he reached into his pocket. Your heart pounded in anticipation. "I haven't picked out the perfect one yet." He pulled his hand and it was… empty. "But I promise, it's coming."

Relief washed over you, mixed with a touch of disappointment. You hit his chest playfully. "Don't tease me like that, you idiot!"

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "I couldn't resist." He said, his voice soft. "But seriously, I can't wait to make you my wife." He pecked. A blush crept up your cheeks. You'd talked about marriage before, but hearing him say it so openly, with such conviction, made your heart flutter. You leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"Don't say that to our moms," you teased, burying your face in his neck to hide your blush. "They'll probably start organizing the wedding the next day."

He chuckled, tightening his arm around you. "Who do you think is helping me find the ring?" He murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back to look at him, a playful glare in your eyes. "Stop it. You're trying to embarrass me."

"I'm always trying to embarrass you," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You playfully punched his arm, but couldn't hide the smile that spread across your face. "I can't wait to marry you."

Your eyes felt heavy, refusing to open against the bright light. Your body was a battlefield of pain, and every muscle hurt. A desperate need to call out, to reach for someone, filled you, but your throat was parched.

With a huge effort, you forced your eyelids open. The room was a blur of white, the silence broken only by the steady beep of a machine. Fear and cold ran through your consciousness. You wanted to sleep, to escape the pain and confusion, but a primal instinct to survive kept you tethered to the waking world.

Your eyelids grew heavy once more. With a resigned sigh, you surrendered to sleep, hoping to find peace in the silent depths of your unconsciousness.

"The guy wasn't being friendly with you. He wanted to get in your pants." Mason said, standing before you and Declan.

You were shaking, not from the cold but from anger. Declan sensed it and placed a comforting hand on your back.

"Mase, come on!" Declan said, giving him a warning look.

Mason ran a hand through his hair. "It's true. The guy had his hands practically inside her dress."

That was it. You stood up, your voice trembling. "And what does that matter to you? You're not my boyfriend, we're not even friends, so stop pretending and don't interfere in my life."

Declan gently pulled you away from his best friend. "We're just worried about you! The guy didn't look friendly and the bruise on your wrist confirms that."

You rolled your eyes. "I had everything under control until Mount decided to step in and ruin everything."

Mason let out a frustrated sigh. "I saved you!"

"I don't need you to save me." You retorted.

"Good!" Mason shouted, with his hands in the air. "I don't intend to do it again."

You slowly opened your eyes, and as your vision adjusted, you gazed through the window on your left, realizing it was dark outside. You could hear the soft murmur of voices from the hallway, however, what truly caught you off guard was the fact that you were no longer alone.

Mason was sound asleep in the cosy armchair beside your bed. His hand was propped against his head, holding it up, while his unkempt hair suggested that he had been running his hands through it too many times.

You took another sweeping glance around the room and spotted a plastic cup filled with water. Carefully, you reached out, stretching your arm to grasp it. As your fingers nearly touched the cup, it slipped and tumbled to the ground.

The noise woke Mason up from his nap, and his heart instantly started beating faster, afraid that something had happened. But when he saw that you were awake, he let out a sigh of relief. He stood up and approached your bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry for the words to come out. Mason realised and picked up the cup from the floor, throwing it in the trash. "I'll get you another cup. I'll be right back."

He quickly exited the room, only to return a few minutes later with a cup of water in his hand and a doctor right behind him.

"Miss Y/l/n, good to see you awake." The doctor began, his voice laced with professional concern. "How are you feeling? Any pain?” With your throat dry, still no words seemed to want to escape.

Mason stepped in to help when he saw your silent plea. “Here!” He said softly, pressing the cup into your hands. With weak hands, you brought it to your lips and took small sips of the cool water.

After a brief but intense check-up by the doctor, you were left alone with Mason.

Being alone with Mason felt weird. A depth of unspoken words and unanswered questions hung heavy in the air. If only you hadn't run from him, from that kiss, you wouldn't be in the hospital. But it had all been too much.

Mason pulled the armchair closer and sat down. His hand found yours, and a gentle squeeze was all the comfort you needed. "The others landed in London, but Charlotte's already on her way back!" He said, his voice low. You nodded, taking another sip of water. His eyes held worry. "Are you really okay? Do you need anything?"

You shook your head. “I’m fine." You whispered. The moment your gazes met, the weight of his worry seemed to lift. Your eyes drifted to your intertwined hands, his long fingers tracing gentle patterns on your palm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes held yours. No more words were needed. “How could I?” He began. "You had no memory of us! Saw me as nothing more than the guy you despised." His gaze fell to the floor. “I thought maybe you’d be better off without me, without the chaos of my life. You never complained, but I could see the stress it had on you. Dealing with the media, the fans—it’s a heavy burden. I wanted to give you a chance at a normal life.”

You looked up at the ceiling, your voice rising slightly. “That was not your choice to make!”

"I know." He whispered, his voice barely audible. "I just wanted to protect you."

A heavy silence settled between you. You squeezed his hand back. "I appreciate it. Believe me, I do." You said softly. "But If I didn't like the life we had I would have told you."

Mason emerged from the kitchen, a saviour with a pizza box in one hand and a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "Pizza break?" He offered, his voice filled with amusement.

"What about your diet?"

Mason shrugged. "I will put in more effort during the next training session." You collapsed onto the sofa, relief washing over you. As you devoured your slice, the cheesy goodness melting in your mouth, Mason leaned in, brushing a stray piece of cheese from your lip with his thumb.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this!" He said, his voice soft.. You looked up at him, your heart full. The house, once empty, was slowly transforming into a home.

"Me neither." You replied, your voice filled with happiness. "It feels surreal."

Mason smiled. "Surreal in a good way, right?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely!" You took another bite of pizza, savouring the moment. As you finished the last slice, Mason stretched out beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulder. "I can't wait to make more memories here." You said, your voice filled with joy.

Mason turned his head and looked at you, his eyes soft with affection. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. You closed your eyes as his lips met yours, a gentle and sweet kiss.

Charlotte entered the room, her eyes red and swollen. Mason followed close behind. You were lost in a drugged sleep, oblivious to the storm of emotions in your best friend.

She sank into the chair beside your bed, her hand immediately reaching out to caress your hair. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Oh my God, why does this always happen to her?" She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "First the drunk driver, and now this!"

Mason leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "It's been a rough year, that's for sure!" He muttered, his voice barely audible.

Charlotte's gaze snapped to him. Her eyes, filled with concern, held him captive. "Are you okay?"

He offered a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just worried about her."

She knew him too well. "Don't lie to me, Mason." She said softly. "I can see right through you."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's been a hell of…" He admitted, his voice raw. "What time is it, anyway?"

Charlotte stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's going to be okay, Mason. We'll wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her safe." A small smile tugged at her lips as she tried to lighten the mood.

Mason chuckled. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. "I guess we have no choice!"

.

You finally returned to London after spending four days in the hospital. You flew back with Mason and Charlotte, and because your parents were worried about you, you spent the weekend with them.

"Are you going to fly back, or will you catch a ride with Mason?" Your Mom asked you.

Thinking it through, everything was clear now. Living in Manchester, having a big house you couldn't afford with your salary, the lifestyle, the constant attention from people on the street - it was all Mason's.

"Um, Mason said I could go with him." You replied your voice barely a whisper.

Your mom's face lit up with a delighted and conspiratorial grin. Since you told her what happened at the villa, she'd been on an overdrive of matchmaking, talking about how happy she was and about what a good couple you used to be.

"That means you're re-" She began, her voice dripping with excitement.

You cut her off, burying your face in your Dad's shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything!" You protested. Your Dad slyly winked at your Mom across the sofa. "It's just easier and cheaper to go with him. so stop organising our wedding in that little head of yours."

Your Mom's lips curved into a knowing smile. "That's already planned!" She muttered under her breath.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Did you say something?"

She shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. "Me? No, not at all. Just focus on the show."

Monday morning had the sky in soft hues of pink and gold as Mason pulled up to your parents' house. The familiar sight of the old brick house brought him a wave of nostalgia. He stepped out of the car, a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of the morning.

Your mom was waiting for him at the door, her face lightened with a warm smile. "It's so good to see you, Mason!" She exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.

"It's great to see you too." He replied, returning the embrace. Their relationship had always been easy, even during the wild times of your on-and-off hating relationship. "It's good to be back."

Your mom led him inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of coffee. In the kitchen, your dad was holding his special mug, the one you had made him when you were a kid. "I see some things never change." Mason commented, a smile playing on his lips.

Your dad looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Mason!" He exclaimed, standing up to offer a hearty handshake. "Welcome back, boy."

"Did you have breakfast, Mason?" Your mom asked him.

"Yes, thanks!" He replied, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. It wasn't surprising when your mom told him that you were still in bed. You'd always been a non-moring person.

"Why don't you go wake her up?" Your mom suggested.

Mason's heart skipped a beat. "Me?" He stuttered, blushing. "I-I don't think that's a good idea."

Your mom chuckled. "Oh, come on! You've got to win her back, don't you?" She teased. With a gentle push, she directed him towards your room. "Go on, then. Start by waking her up."

"But that's a terrible first step!" He muttered.

Mason hesitated, his mind and heart racing. He knew the best way to wake you up was with soft kisses, but that seemed like a recipe for disaster at this early hour and he would surely get slapped.

The door was slightly open and the sunlight streamed through it. Mason's hand hovered over the handle, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he could knock, the door swung open, revealing you, already dressed and with the luggage in hand.

Surprise flickered across your face. "Mason? What are you doing here?"

He took a moment to drink in your appearance. He didn't know how, but every day you became more breathtaking. "Uh, your mom asked me to wake you up." He stammered, his voice catching in his throat. "But I see you're already awake."

You quickly shut the bedroom door, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, I had… a nightmare." You explained, clearing your throat. The way you averted your eyes told him the nightmare was about him, but he chose to stay silent, afraid it would cause an argument.

"Let me help you with your suitcase." He offered, trying to change the subject.

"I don't ne--" You hesitated, torn between your pride and being grateful for his help. Finally, you gave in. "Thanks!" You mumbled, handing him the suitcase.

After having breakfast, you and Mason left for a four-hour drive back to Manchester. With the open road stretching before you, the quiet was overwhelming. Your heart was racing. What were you supposed to do for four hours trapped in a car with Mason, alone?

The radio was on and its soft hum filled the car. Traffic was surprisingly light for a Monday. Your eyes wandered around the spacious interior of the car. It was very clean but there were two Starbucks cups, that he had brought. One for you and one for him. A business card from a car dealership, house keys, and a pair of earrings.

Mason must have noticed your curious gaze. "You left those here last time you drove it." He explained.

"I drove this?" You asked him, astonishment filling your tone. The image of yourself behind the wheel of the gigantic car was absurd.

Mason chuckled. "A few times, actually." You stared at him, disbelief written all over my face. "Why so surprised?"

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "I don't imagine myself driving a car like this." You confessed.

"Well, you weren't exactly a natural." He teased. "But hey, we all start somewhere."

Your mouth opened, pretending you were offended. "I'm an amazing driver, Mount!" Mason laughed and you couldn't help but smile. "I just… I like my mini Cooper."

"I know, I know."

An unexpected calm settled over the car. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence. Lost in the calm of the road and the melody of the radio, you found yourself enjoying the ride.

But the desire to break the silence surprised you. Five years was a long time, and curiosity was killing you. I wanted to know what his life had been like, to understand what kind of relationship we had.

"How's Manchester United treating you?" You asked, breaking the silence.

Mason glanced at you, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. He'd clearly been lost in his own thoughts, and your question seemed to jolt him back to reality.

"Oh, yeah, it's been amazing." He replied, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "They've welcomed me with open arms. It feels like a family." His eyes held a warmth that was unfamiliar yet comforting. "It was a big change, but everything fell into place. I'm very happy."

You nodded, your heart pounding. It was now or never. "And… I went with you?"

He placed his hand on his leg, resisting the urge to place it on yours, a habit of his. "Yeah." He said, his voice low. "You asked for a transfer and moved with me. Didn't even hesitate."

"So the house where I've been living is ours?" You asked. Mason nodded, his expression serious. "And where have you been living?" A wave of questions formed in your mind, each one more pressing than the last.

"I rented a place." Mason replied. "Luke and Anouska have two houses for rent, and one was empty."

"Oh." You murmured, still processing the information. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize." he said quickly. "I chose not to tell you the truth, so it's my fault." A comfortable silence settled between you as Mason seemed to be waiting for you to continue. "We have a long drive ahead. Ask me whatever you want."

"Good, because I have a lot of questions." You admitted.

He chuckled. "Bring it on."

"How long have we been together?"

"Five years."

"Who made the first move?"

"You did!" His answer was quick.

You raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me, Mount! I remember the first kiss. The prank. I confronted you about it."

Mason burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Oh, shit, yeah!" He admitted between chuckles. "I forgot about that."

This felt right, natural. "Okay, so… how did you know you didn't hate me anymore?"

"I never hated you--" He began.

"You know what I mean."

Mason hesitated, his eyes darting away from you. "I think… I think I always had a crush on you." He finally managed to say. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process his words. "When we first met, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. But you were with that guy, and… I didn't know how to approach you, so I acted like a jerk." You swallowed hard, trying to comprehend the man sitting beside you. "The prank… when they made me kiss you, something clicked. It wasn't just a crush anymore." You hadn't realised, but he had pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. His hand found yours, and his gentle touch sent shivers down your spine. "After that, I knew I had to make you fall for me. I couldn't let you slip away. I couldn't waste any more time when I had the love of my life right in front of me."

His eyes held a vulnerability you'd never seen before. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. His gaze locked onto yours. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. As your lips moved together, a wave of emotions washed over you. Love, hope, and a sense of coming home all at once.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Living with John Shelby Headcanons

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny, sexism, suggestive language, John wants more babies.

Domestic Hcs

With this Shelby, you only start living with him after you’ve been married. He made it clear to you that he has four children at home and that they needed a mother more than he needed a bedmate. John can be brash and impulsive, but he takes his role as a father seriously… even if he isn’t always good at it. It was this dedication that drew you to him. You had always wanted children, why not start out with four?

John’s home is constantly busy, constantly noisy, and full of laughter. It’s not terribly glamorous, but there’s a lot of love in your new home. The kids were young when their mother Martha died, so they don’t fight you as much as you thought they would. 

John is pretty much hopeless when it comes to most household chores. He’s excellent at what he does as a Peaky Blinder, but he’s severely lacking in domestic skills. Can’t cook, can’t clean, and can’t fix much more than a leaky faucet. His kids were the first ones to warn you about all of that. But you ask him to help anyway, because you’ve seen how happy it makes him to accomplish these little missions. John wants to useful; he wants to succeed at fatherhood. So, you eat the burnt toast he serves and compliment his slowly improving handyman skills.

Seeing as how John burns water, cooking is primarily your thing. Expect John to invade the kitchen at every stage of cooking to steal a sip, a bite, a kiss, or a quick squeeze. To people outside the home, he’ll act like you being in the kitchen is nothing significant. You’re a woman, after all, doing women’s work. John’s just playing up his macho act. Food is a major thing for John, it represents love and safety for him. So, to see you in his kitchen, making him and kids a hearty meal just ruins him. 

He loves to take you and the children out to have a good time. Picnics mostly, because most indoor activities end with your little family being told to never come back. If you’re feeling like you need some time alone with John, he’s eager to fulfill your request. Just make sure to specify if this “alone time,” is an actual date rather than John dropping the kids off at Polly’s so he can ravish you in every room of the house. 

Relationship Hcs

John will deny it till the day he dies, but he only meant for you to be a one night stand the first time he met you. He wasn’t ready for love, and he had come to expect women to be just a bit deceitful. And then he got to talking to you, and you made a joke that had him shooting whiskey out his nose and suddenly one night turned into a week. One thing you learned about him is that deep down, he’s very tenderhearted. He loves deeply and grows attached to people faster than he wants to admit. 

Your man can be a tad uneven with how he responds to stress. Sometimes, he seems so easy going that it feels like he doesn’t take you seriously. Other times, it feels like he’s overreacting or being downright sensitive. The easiest way to insult him is to question his manhood. He loves to have fun and doesn’t always think things through, but he straightens up fast if you try to tell him he isn’t being the man you thought he was. John can get rather nasty at times about that. He is not above having a row with you about “who’s the one leading this fucking family.” John cools down slow and is extremely guilty afterwards… but he’ll never apologize directly to you. 

John cannot plan dates very well, at all. Tommy is the brother with plans, not him. So, naturally, he’s asked Tommy for advice in such matters. Your first real date with John was at a fancy restaurant in London. The two of you were still getting to know each other and he wanted to impress you, badly. You were both dressed smart as can be, the restaurant was lavish and romantic. John pulled out your chair for you, opens the menu, and freezes. Nothing on the menu was appetizing. At all. To try to save face, he asked the waiter to bring out their most popular dishes. The food comes, and you’re both picking at your plates with tight smiles. Finally, you say “Fuck this, let’s go to a chip shop.” If John had brought a ring, he would’ve proposed right then and there. 

It came as a bit of a surprise to you, but John is something of a dreamer. John loves to lay with you in bed and talk about all the things you two will do. He likes to tell you about the house in the country he’ll move you and the children out to. As you watch him list off all the things he’ll buy for the house, you can’t help but cuddle in closer. John gets such a big smile thinking about the good that is to come. It’s all very innocent. 

One would think a man would be content with four kids… well, John isn’t. He honestly got baby fever before you did. All it took was seeing you read his girls a bedtime story and he wanted another baby. Maybe two. Or three. 

[holdupjack]

Friends

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Friends AU

WARNING: None

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

New York City

Hermione hummed softly as she washed the dishes in the sink, she could hear Pansy talking on the phone to her father. Yelling was actually the better term since it would be a blessing if one of their neighbors didn't come to complain.

"For the last time Father, I don't want nor need, your money! Goodnight!" Pansy huffed angrily as she hung up the phone and put it back on the receiver. Hermione looked over her shoulder and watched as the raven-haired girl sat on the couch and folded her arms across her chest.

"That was either the lottery calling to tell you that you lost, or your fathers called again," Hermione says as Pansy groans and lies onto the fabric, burying her face into the cushion. Hermione just chuckled to herself as she shut off the sink and wiped her hands clean with the towel.

"I don't know why you keep answering, there's no harm in letting it go to the answering machine," she says as Pansy just groans again and turns her face towards the TV. She could see Hermione walk over to the couch and lean against the backrest from the reflection on the screen.

"I know, but what if it's an emergency? Like...his bank is on fire" Pansy grumbled as Hermione smiled and patted her head before walking towards the refrigerator.

One thing was for certain, Pansy missed having money.

"Trust me, if his bank was on fire, you'd sense it. It would be like how a mother knows her child is in danger" Hermione replied as she grabbed a can of Pepsi and shut the fridge.

She heard their front door open, and popped in was Y/n, one of their across-the-hall neighbors and good friend. She smiled and shut the door behind her as she stepped inside.

"Either Pansy is really against her tax return, or she was fighting off her accountant," Y/n says as Pansy pushes herself back up to a sitting position and looks over at Y/n with a glare.

"Or both" she continues as she takes a step back in fear of her. Hermione just smiled as she stepped into the conversation.

"Her father called again" she explains as Y/n nodded and walked over to the couch, taking a seat next to Pansy.

"What did he want this time?" She asked as Pansy leaned her elbows against her knees and huffed again in disbelief.

"He wants me to come home and take over the family firm. He even tried to bribe me with a luxury apartment in London!" Pansy sighed as she rubbed her temples, seemingly utterly annoyed. Y/n and Hermione's eyes catch.

"That guy just grinds my gears," Y/n says sarcastically, earning a soft smack to the back of her head from Hermione once she was close enough. Pansy stood up and took a deep breath, placing her hands at her sides as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack above the fridge.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Anyways, where's the other three?" She asks as she digs around in one of the drawers for the corkscrew. Hermione looked down at Y/n and raised an eyebrow.

"Harry is downtown for an astronomy conference and Luna is protesting the fishing boats by the docks. As for Draco...where is Cheech, Chong?" She asks as Y/n rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, looking at at her with offense.

"Just because we live together, doesn't mean I know where he is 24/7" Y/n replied as Hermione sat on the top of the backrest, and cracked open her pop.

"Didn't you two hold hands during that haunted house last Halloween, and proceeded to do 'marco pollo' when you got separated?" Pansy asked with a small smirk as she turned the screw into the cork and watched as Y/n gave a glare back toward her.

"You saw those paper spiders! Terrifying," she replied as Pansy popped open the wine bottle and poured some out for herself. Hermione sipped on her Pepsi as Y/n looked up at her with an unimpressed expression.

"Very scary, I'm surprised you survived the encounter" Hermione chuckled as she handed her the soda and ran a hand through Y/n's hair as she stood up from the couch.

Pansy hid a smirk behind her wine glass as she watched Y/n hide her face from any prying eyes, but it was obvious that the simple gesture made her flush. It was cute that she still got nervous around Hermione after all this time of knowing one another, but then again, Hermione didn't help with her unknowing flirtation.

Or maybe she did know?

Pansy still hadn't gotten a clear-cut answer from her when they would stay up and talk about their relationship problems or lack thereof a relationship. Yet, she seemed to hold back when talking about her interests in one person.

She always said a 'certain someone'.

It had to be Y/n, it was way too obvious with the stolen glances and touches they gave each other on a daily basis. So, Pansy has been very ingrained in their relationship.

But she would be lying if she, Draco, Luna, and Harry, weren't all rooting for them to get together. Like the friends they are, they try their best to put them in romantic situations.

Hermione had even begun to notice their involvement in her love life. Maybe her secret wasn't as hush-hush as she thought.

"So...what are you two up to tonight? Any plans? Maybe dates?" Pansy asks with a raised eyebrow as she watches Hermione pour her own glass of wine. Y/n looked back at them with intrigue as she sipped on the last of the Pepsi, not noticing that a bit of Hermione's lipstick was smudging onto her lips.

"I was supposed to go out with this guy tonight, but he canceled. It had to do with something with a fish and his mother...I sort of clocked out of the phone call" Hermione explained with a shrug as Pansy chuckled, and then both women looked at Y/n with their own intrigued expression.

"What about you? Any lady friends that are swooning at the sound of your call?" Hermione hums with a smirk as Y/n rolls her eyes and waves her off. She crunched the empty can and stood up, walking over to the garbage bin.

"Oh, sure. Sharon Stone has been leaving me messages about our next date, and I don't think she's getting the hint" Y/n replied with a slight mumble as she tossed it into the bin. Pansy gently nudged Hermione, their eyes met, and a silent conversation began. Y/n was too busy trying to pick off lint from her shirt to notice.

Finally Pansy just shoved Hermione toward the other girl, earning herself a glare from the brunette. Hermione straightened her back and took a quiet breath before placing her hand on the middle of Y/n's back, capturing her attention.

"Do you want to do something with me tonight? I think we could find something to do on such short notice" Hermione asked with a small smile and Y/n nodded in agreement as she tried to keep her face from bursting into flames.

"Uh, sure! What do you have in mind?" Y/n asks as she absentmindedly pushes the wrinkles off her shirt and straightens her posture. Hermione sort of shrugged as she looked at the time on her watch, it read '7:37 P.M'.

"How about we grab a late dinner first? Somewhere around here, and we'll figure out the rest later" Hermione asks, and Y/n quickly to nodded. She stepped towards the door, before running into it. The girls chuckled as they watched their friend quickly open and shut the door behind her, before running over to the apartment across the way.

"So...what are you going to wear?" Pansy asked, which caused them both to look at each other. There was a beat of silence before Hermione darted towards the bathroom and Pansy placed down her wine and ran into the brunette's room to find something for her.

"Why did I say dinner?! I don't have time to get ready!" Hermione yelled as she stripped and jumped into the shower, as soon as the cold water hit her skin, she fought back the urge to run out.

"Why do you dress like a school teacher?!" Pansy yelled back as she desperately looked for something that didn't say 'what's 12 multiplied by 9?'. Hermione rolled her eyes as the water began to heat up, letting her quickly relax as she rang her shampoo through her locks.

Pansy finally found a shirt that was good enough and the pair of jeans that she knew fit her friend like a glove. As she emerged from the room, Hermione also left the bathroom with a towel around her head and body.

"God, what if she thinks this is just a friendly outing? I mean it's Y/n, I love her, but...it's her." Hermione sighed as she took the clothes and ran into her room, shutting the door behind her as Pansy walked over and leaned against the wall. Y/n was quick-witted, but her obliviousness to anything romantic, it made it hard for anyone who liked to play cat and mouse.

Y/n was a blind cat that walked past the mice.

"Well, you better be direct then. Maybe state that you want to be more than just friends?" Pansy asks as she listens to the clattering of makeup and the whirling of a hair dryer. Hermione sighed as she felt the hot air from the machine heat her scalp as she tried to quickly dry it before Y/n returned.

"What if she doesn't feel that same? This could ruin our friendship and the group" Hermione yelled over the loud humming, to which Pansy just snickered.

"Seriously? You two have been pining over each other for years, why wouldn't she feel that same?" Pansy yelled back as she heard the sound of the hair dryer turning off. Hermione shrugged, even though Pansy couldn't see it.

"I don't know, maybe I'm just anxious? What if all this fascination was all for nothing? What if she secretly collects dolls that look like her mother?" Hermione says as she shudders at the thought, Pansy walks into the room and rolls her eyes.

"I tell you about one of my nightmares exes, and now that's your biggest fear" she sighs as she crosses her arms, watching as Hermione changed into her clothes.

"I'm sorry Pans, but you know what I mean" Hermione explained as she sat back down in front of her vanity mirror. She didn't want to be disappointed, but a part of her didn't believe Y/n would.

"Everyone has their quirks...some worse than others, much, much worse." Pansy hummed as she walked over and sat on her friend's bed, crossing one leg over the other as she stared up at the ceiling.

The girls hoped this would go well.

——————

Y/n ran into her apartment and slammed the door behind her as she tried to figure out what she was going to wear. She goes to run to her room but then stops. Then she goes to run to the bathroom then stops again.

"Oh god, what do I do first?! This is a harder decision than when Draco tries to pick one ice cream flavor" she sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair. Thankfully, her roommate, Draco, walked through the door with a whistle.

"Draco! Thank god, I need your help" Y/n quickly says as she runs up to him, he raises an eyebrow and places a bag of Chinese food on the kitchen counter.

"Can it wait till after we eat? Because I'm starved" he says, but she quickly shakes her head and starts to explain. Her frazzled state actually spooked Draco, but he didn't want to say that out loud.

"I can't, I'm going out to dinner with Hermione...maybe it's even a date" she says with a bit of excitement as Draco walks past her to sit on the couch. He didn't really register what was said, instead just humming as he sat down.

"Cool, cool. Where are you guys going?" He asks nonchalantly as he places both servings of food on the coffee table. Draco was a secret food lover. He could eat until his stomach popped but always refrained due to his diet.

Yet, when Y/n couldn't eat her portion of dinner? Draco always gave the 'well I can't let it go to waste' excuse, as he stuffed his face in the process.

Y/n stared at him with furrowed brows, she understood that her roommate was a bit of a 'selective hearing' kind of person, but seriously? She turned and looked at herself in the reflection on the stove door.

It took a moment of silence before Draco finally registered what was said. His head snaps up as his eyes widen in surprise, he fumbles with the container in his hands, making sure not to drop it.

"Wait. You're going on a date? With Hermione? The girl you've been in love with since you met her? And she does know about this date, correct? It's not a delusional idea that will get you on the eleven o'clock news?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, which got him an eye roll in return as he watched Y/n walk over to the couch. She thought for a moment.

"No...no. She asked me out" Y/n states as she makes sure that her memory actually was correct. Draco wrapped an arm around Y/n's neck and grinned happily while patting her shoulder.

"Alright! That's what I'm talking about! So, when do you have to get ready?" He asks and that caused a pause in their conversation. They stared at one another before Y/n quickly ran to her room, tripping over the coffee table in the process. She immediately got up and began looking for clothes as Draco just shrugged and went back to eating his two meals.

——————

8:03 P.M.

Simultaneously, both of the women stepped into the hallway and were taken by surprise to see the other. Their eyes roamed each other's bodies for a moment before Y/n finally said something.

"You look...wow," she says as their gazes lock and Hermione turns bashful. Her head lowers to look at herself. Did she look nice? Was the 'wow' a good 'wow' or a bad 'wow'? Now she was anxious.

"In a good way?" she asks and Y/n nods in confusion. Acting as if Hermione had uttered something blasphemous. It was almost comical.

"Good, very good! You just...wow. You take my breath away" Y/n mutters, which had Hermione taking a small breath to steady her heart rate. These moments were few and far between. Where they were the only ones, where Y/n didn't joke every five seconds, and Hermione gave a jab in return.

"You're going to make the sprinkles go off if you keep making my cheeks burn like this" Hermione chuckled as she looked back at Y/n, giving her a view of her flushed face. It wasn't hard to make Hermione blush, but Y/n had never seen it when she was the reason it surfaced.

"Good idea, I never did learn how to use a fire extinguisher" she replied with a small laugh as they both began to walk towards the stairs, their shoes echoing in different pitches.

"So, where are we going?" Y/n asks as they slowly walk down the steps. Hermione blinked, realizing she had forgotten to think of a place to actually eat.

"Uh, I honestly had forgotten about dinner," she says with an embarrassed chuckle, but Y/n just waved it off and slid slowly down the railing. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle softly as she felt her gaze soften.

"That's alright. How about we grab a few beers and hotdogs, and sit at Central Park?" Y/n asks as she lands on the first floor. Hermione loved that idea. It was a perfect place where it wouldn't make it an obvious date, but it wasn't just a place spent with a friend either. It was also kinda cheesy, but it fit Y/n's personality.

"That sounds perfect," she says breathlessly as Y/n opens the door out into the humid summer air. It felt like stepping into a different world, one that Hermione didn't feel familiar with. She felt a gentle hand land on the space of her back. Her eyes zipped to her left to find Y/n smiling softly at her.

The neons of the Central Perk's sign shined down on them like a heavenly glow. For once Y/n heard the city go silent, just for them. This was new for both of them. They were crossing a line, and both knew it.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?" Hermione whispers as they stare at one another, and Y/n sort of just tilts her head as she feels the brunette take her arm in hers and navigate her slowly down the street.

"Mine? Well, uh...I'm not sure" Y/n stammered as she felt Hermione's hand glide down her forearm and intertwine with hers. As they walked further Y/n became more aware of the city again, hearing the honking from cars and the rumble of the subway beneath their feet.

"Well, they are. They hold a lot of...gutsy" Hermione hummed softly as she followed the barrier between Y/n's iris and and pupil. There was always something that caught her eye when she looked at them.

"Gutsy? Did you learn that from your Word Of The Day Calendar?" Y/n asked with a chuckle as they waited for the walk signal so they could cross. Hermione rolled her eyes but the smile never faltered from her lips.

"Maybe, but that's not the point. You know what I mean, don't you?” Hermione asks as they quickly make their way to the other side of the street. Y/n thought about it but decided to be honest.

“No, but hopefully you'll tell me?” she replied as they walked past a closed antique shop. Hermione took a second to go through exactly how she wanted to word her description. Her eyes took in the window display of computers from the 80’s and dolls that looked too haunted for her taste.

“Your eyes are…brave. Determined. Honest.” Hermione replied before looking back at her, Y/n couldn't help but laugh quietly.

“Brave? I called you over to kill a spider in my shower last week,” she states as she watches Hermione roll her eyes and gently squeeze her hand.

“That may be so, but bravery doesn't just mean facing your fears” the brunette argued as they crossed another street. The streetlights illuminated the road like an airstrip runway, it was quite beautiful.

“It doesn't? That's news to me” Y/n teases as they walk into a 24-hour bodega. They heard a soft meow from a calico cat that was lounging behind a shelf of barbeque chips. Hermione leaned down and smiled at the kitty, reaching out and running her fingers across the underside of its chin.

“It also means being brave enough to embrace who you are, and I do not know anyone more themselves, than you” she added back as she watched Y/n grab a six-pack of beer from the cooler nearby. Hermione stood back up straight, giving a soft ‘bye’ to the cat as she followed her date to the checkout area.

“I think you're confusing my comedian-like…je ne sais quoi, for bravery, when in reality it's just a defense mechanism,” Y/n says as she pulls out her wallet, Hermiome rolls her eyes as she pays with her card before the other woman got the chance.

“You little…anyways, as long as you laugh, I'll take your compliment,” Y/n sighs with a small smile as Hermione playfully rolls her eyes, and loops their arms again, leaving Y/n to carry the beer. The cat meows one last time before stepping back out into the night air.

——————

Their conversation was light and a bit intimate as they walked towards Central Park. The subject of the conversations wasn't all that important, it was as simple as Hermione’s pitiful excuse for a boss, or Y/n’s annoying coworker. Their heads were lowered towards each other, hushed whispers and small chuckles escaping them.

“Hey, there is a cart still out” Y/n points out to a hotdog stand sitting at one of the corners just before the park, Hermione felt her stomach rumble. God, she didn't realize how hungry she actually was.

“Four please,” Y/n says once they were close enough, this time quickly enough to pull out some cash before Hermione could, and she heard a soft ‘huff’ from the brunette because of it.

“It's hotdogs, it's not like I'm paying your car insurance” Y/n chuckled as they split the meal between them, adding their desired condiments to the hotdogs as a nearby bar blasted ‘Jessies Girl’.

“That is not the point” Hermione chuckled as they walked across the street to the park, it was almost 9:30 now, but there were still a lot of people in the area.

“Then what is the point?” Y/n asked with a small smirk as they sat down on a bench in a well-lit area. Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again before sighing.

“Shut up” she mumbled as she took a bite of her very late dinner. Y/n snickered softly and popped off the tops of their beer, handing her one in the process. Hermione took hold of the drink and gulped down a bit before she bravely brought up her next topic.

She was definitely nervous about it. She couldn't stop thinking about how this could destroy their friend group if it didn't go as she planned. A part of her wanted to grab Y/n’s shoulders and yell that she didn't understand how oblivious she could be.

“So… I need to talk to you about something,” Hermione says after she is sure she has no food or beer left in her mouth. Y/n nodded as she turned to her with her full attention. Even as the dim glow of the path lights along the park, she thought that Hermione had never looked more beautiful.

“Alright, but it better not be over that time I changed the channel while you were in the bathroom. I told you that I didn't know you were watching Grey's Anatomy!” Y/n says with a nervous laugh, but Hermione waves her off as she takes another breath to calm her nerves.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” she replied as her eyes darted around the area surrounding them. Why was this so hard for her to admit? She never had trouble before when she would flirt with other people. Maybe it was because those people weren’t Y/n.

“Listen, do you see this putting as more than…friends?” Hermione asks sheepishly, her gaze flickering from the asphalt under her feet and up to Y/n’s face.

“Well, I…yeah, yeah I do,” Y/n says with a shaky breath. She felt like a kid, stuttering like a skipping record as the girl you like gives you a small smile in the hallway. Hermione body relaxes as she smiles and takes another bite of her hotdog.

“Good, because you’re taking me somewhere nice next weekend” Hermione states with a sly smirk as Y/n stuttered even more. Even though she was only teasing, it was a way to get a proper date out of her longest love interest.

“N-Next weekend? Sure, how’s Saturday night or Friday? I could do Friday, but I can also do Saturday or Sunday!…I just realized how sad my weekends are” Y/n coughed out as she shut her rambling down, and felt her face get hot. It probably wasn’t red, but it just felt like someone belted her face with a hairdryer.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as she grasped Y/n’s forearm with a comforting hand, but it soon interlocked back with the other woman’s. There was a beat of silence before Hermione just chuckled again.

“How about we just focus on now? We can talk more tomorrow” she stated as Y/n took another deep breath and smiled.

They spent most of the night like that. Awkward, but gentle. They didn’t know how to move forward, but they now had each other. This was saying a lot considering how long they’d been alone in this aspect of this relationship.

It was nice, to be wanted.

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

an incomplete list: things alex (and us readers) love about hrh prince henry of wales

something that I love dearly and find super cool about the list that alex makes for henry about what he loves about him is that we've actually experienced most of these things about henry with alex throughout the narrative of the book so it feels super organic and touching because yes we've come to love these things about henry too

so in honor of henry's birthday and because i was feeling sappy, here's all the moments throughout the book described in the list under the cut

1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off.

Chapter 2, end of alex's london trip

“No booty calls,” Alex tells him, and Henry chokes on a laugh.

Chapter 4, great turkey calamity

“…you’re not a totally boring asshole.” “Wow,” Henry says with a laugh. “I’m honored.”

Chapter 10, morning after alex storms kensington

“Hi,” Alex says carefully, squinting over his coffee. “You seem … less pissy.” Henry huffs a laugh. “You’re one to talk. …’”

2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?).

Chapter 7, post-karaoke

Henry smells like expensive cologne and champagne and a distinctly Henry smell that never goes away, clean and grassy…

Chapter 9, lake house

…then Alex has him, inhaling the clean smell of him, laughing into the crook of his neck.

Chapter 15, election night

The second he steps backstage, there’s a hand on his back, the achingly familiar gravity of someone else’s body reentering his space before it even touches his, a clean, familiar scent light in the air between.

3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

Chapter 6, post-red room

“Hang on,” Henry says, and Alex is already groaning in protest, but Henry pulls back and rests his fingertips on Alex’s lips to shush him. “I want—” His voice starts and stops, and he’s looking like he’s resolving not to cringe at himself again. He gathers himself, stroking a finger up to Alex’s cheek before jutting his chin out defiantly. “I want you on the bed.”

Chapter 7, phone conversation

“It’s fine,” Henry says, steadiness rising in his voice as if he’s stuck out his chin in that stubborn way he does sometimes. Alex wishes he could see it.

Chapter 13, confrontation with mary

And [Henry] does the thing Alex loves so much: He sticks his chin out, steeling himself up. “I’m not a coward,” he says. “And I don’t want to fix it.”

4. How your hands look when you play piano.

Chapter 6, post-red room

Alex tries not to be in awe of the simple agility of his hands, tries not to think about classical piano or how swift and smooth years of polo have trained Henry to be.

Chapter 8, in Henry's apartments following wimbledon

His hands are fast, almost effortless, even as he goes off into a tangent about the War of the Romantics and how Liszt’s daughter left her husband for Wagner, quel scandale.

5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you.

Chapter 6

He’s starting to understand what swelled in his chest the first time he read about Stonewall, why he ached over the SCOTUS decision in 2015. … It’s weird that the thing with Henry could make him understand this huge part of himself, but it does. When he sinks into thoughts of Henry’s hands, square knuckles and elegant fingers, he wonders how he never realized it before. When he sees Henry next at a gala in Berlin, and he feels that gravitational pull, chases it down in the back of a limo, and binds Henry’s wrists to a hotel bedpost with his own necktie, he knows himself better.

6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after.

Chapter 2, in the medical supply closet

Then, unprompted, Henry says into the stretching stillness, “Return of the Jedi.” A beat. “What?” “To answer your question,” Henry says. “Yes, I do like Star Wars, and my favorite is Return of the Jedi.” ���Oh,” Alex says. “Wow, you’re wrong.” “…isn’t there something to be valued in a happy ending as well?” “Spoken like a true Prince Charming.” “I’m only saying, I like the resolution of Jedi. It ties everything up nicely. And the overall theme you’re intended to take away from the films is hope and love and … er, you know, all that. Which is what Jedi leaves you with a sense of most of all.”

Henry's passion and ability to recite things he's interested in 7. Your ability to recite Keats. 8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

Chapter 7

It’s another thing Henry does—whipping out these analyses of what he reads or watches or listens to…

Chapter 10, in the v&a

“James was completely besotted [with George Villiers]. Everyone knew. This French poet, de Viau, wrote a poem about it.” [Henry] clears his throat and starts to recite: “‘One man fucks Monsieur le Grand, another fucks the Comte de Tonnerre, and it is well known that the King of England, fucks the Duke of Buckingham.’”

Henry, who has tried, does try, and keeps trying 9. How hard you try. 10. How hard you’ve always tried. 11. How determined you are to keep trying.

Chapter 6, red room

Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants.

Chapter 7, conversation with June and the J-14 magazine

“It pisses me off sometimes, thinking about everything he’s been through. He’s a good person. He really cares, and he tries. He never deserved any of it.”

Chapter 10, when alex storms kensington

Alex swallows hard. “You’re not even gonna try to be happy?” “For Christ’s sake,” Henry says, “I’ve been trying to be happy my entire idiot life. My birthright is a country, not happiness.”

Chapter 10, morning after alex storms kensington

“I’m saying,” Henry begins, and the knit of his brow is nervous but his mouth keeps speaking, “I’m terrified, and my whole life is completely mad, but trying to give you up this week nearly killed me. And when I woke up this morning and looked at you … there’s no trying to get by for me anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be allowed to tell the world, but I … I want to. One day. If there’s any legacy for me on this bloody earth, I want it to be true. So I can offer you all of me, in whatever way you’ll have me, and I can offer you the chance of a life. If you can wait, I want you to help me try.”

Chapter 13, in london following the email leak

Henry who has been through the worst thing and now the next worst thing and is still alive. [Alex] reaches out a hand and touches the ridge of Henry’s shoulder blade, the skin where the sheet has slid off him, where his lungs stubbornly refuse to stop pulling air.

Honorable mention: When Alex used to think Henry didn't try Chapter 1, the lead up to cakegate

“I’m just saying,” Alex says, resting an overly friendly elbow on Henry’s shoulder… “You could try to act like you’re having fun. Occasionally.”

12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters.

Chapter 5, in Alex's room after the state dinner

Henry’s hands are huge on his back, his jaw sharp and rough with a long day’s stubble, his shoulders broad enough to eclipse Alex when he rolls them over and pins Alex to the mattress. None of it feels anything like anything he’s felt before, but it’s just as good, maybe better.

Chapter 7, post-karaoke

Henry rolls Alex onto his side and burrows behind him until he’s covering him completely, his shoulders a brace for Alex’s shoulders, one of his thighs pressed on top of Alex’s thighs, his arms over Alex’s arms and his hands over Alex’s hands, nowhere left untouched. It’s the best Alex has slept in years.

13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it).

Chapter 7, paris

In the morning, room service brings up crusty baguettes and sticky tarts filled with fat apricots and a copy of Le Monde that Alex makes Henry translate out loud.

Chapter 10, morning after alex storms kensington

And beside him, there’s a copy of Le Monde on the nightstand… He recognizes the date: Paris. The first time they woke up next to each other.

14. The way you look when you first wake up.

Surprisingly, no direct descriptions of this but we can extrapolate from Chapter 15, presidential election victory celebration

And for a fraction of a second, a whole crystallized life flashes into view, a next term and no elections left to win, a schedule packed with classes and Henry smiling from the pillow next to him in the gray light of a Brooklyn morning.

15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio.

Chapter 5, alex sexuality crisis musings while on a run with june

He thinks about Henry’s voice low in his ear over the phone at three in the morning, and suddenly he has a name for what ignites in the pit of his stomach. Henry’s hands on him, …Henry’s mouth, … Henry’s broad shoulders and long legs and narrow waist…

16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart.

Chapter 9, last night at the lake house

What if [Alex] got so wrapped up in everything Henry is—the words he writes, the earnest heartsickness of him—he forgot to take into account that it’s just how he is, all the time, with everyone?

Chapter 11, hometown stuff email

You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate.

Chapter 12, bad metaphors about maps email

…the truth of you. the weird, perfect shape of your heart. the one on the outside of your chest. give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there’s so much of you.

Chapter 12, in london following the email leak

Six feet of boy curled around kicked-in ribs and a recalcitrant heart.

17. Your equally huge dick.

Chapter 10, in the V&A

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says. “The top list of reasons to love you goes brain, then dick, then imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon.”

18. The face you just made when you read that last one.

Chapter 4, new years eve party

[Alex] was having fun watching everything he did play out on Henry’s face.

19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it).

See #14

20. The fact that you loved me all along.

Chapter 10, morning after alex storms kensington

“What about you?” “What about me?” Henry says. “Christ, Alex. The whole bloody time.” “The whole time?” “Since the Olympics.” “The Olympics?” Alex yanks Henry’s pillow out from under him. “But that’s, that’s like—” “Yes, Alex, the day we met, nothing gets past you, does it?” Henry says, reaching to steal the pillow back. “‘What about you,' he says, as if he doesn’t know—”

Chapter 11, re hometown stuff email

But the first time I saw you. Rio. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn’t fit in any rooms. You were talking with Nora and June, happy and animated and fully alive, a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access, and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You weren’t even a president’s son yet, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire. And then I was a careless fool, and I fell in love with you anyway. When you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you.

[shotmrmiller]

i love reading your all works and absolutely love the pornstar! au. i’ve never sent an ask before but reading all the previous drabbles and asks i could help but think about that fated time when reader and ghost have to film a scene again.

theres really not any plot for the video they are supposed to film. the studio just wants another viral scene with the two of them. so they fly them out to a nice location, rent out a gorgeous house with plans to have the two of them fuck on every surface they can.

everything seems to be going well since the last time actually spoke to one another. ghost trys to playfully apologize for picking up the phone while he was having sex (wether he meant to or not) and the reader just accepts it with a smile. he thinks everything is going great until they actually start filming and the moment he slips into her, he knows some is off.

shes making noises, moaning and whining like she usually does but the pitch is off. she isn’t clenching around him in the way that he remembers, in fact she isn’t clenching at all, even though she looks like shes enjoying it. he’s balls deep in her when it hits him like a ton of bricks, shes faking it.

his brain is tryna keep up with everything thats happening around him. the lights, cameras, and (the lack of) sensations all around him, almost become too much to handle in that moment. that would probably be the first time in a long time that he had to push himself to finish.

sorry if this has to many grammatical errors or anything like that, im on my phone rn. but yeah that was in my mind lmao. again love your work 😘

heheheheh ur evil!!!

i love it!!!

and maybe he asks for a cut, he can't do this.

"what's wrong, Ghost?"

how does he bring up the fact that you're dry? he knows what you feel like in the throes of your pleasure, and this isn't that.

"you're not aroused, love. maybe i can use my mouth?"

your laugh is forced. it makes his skin crawl.

"no, that's alright. maybe some lube?"

it's a blow to his ego. what, is his tongue not good enough anymore? his fingers not doing the trick?

is he getting old?

"nothing personal, yeah?"

no. it's everything personal and he tells you so.

"mmmm, no, no i don't think it is. This is work, see. A job. So take your viagra or whatever, get the warm lube and let's get this done. You can lie back and think of london."

he does. he lets you do all the work, hates that your pussy isn't drooling on him like it usually does, your moans and cries so high-pitched and fake, they grate his ears.

he digs his fingers into the meat if you arse as you bounce on his cock and when he comes, it's with your face behind his eyelids, from the first time he took you.

you also pull out as he comes, painting only his tightened stomach with his spend, warm on his skin.

your coquettish smile sets his teeth on edge.

fake fake fake

so fucking fake.

when the director calls it, youre shooting up off the bed, leaving him to clean himself up.

"i'm gonna order some food, you want some?"

as if he could eat with the nausea that rolls through him.

"no? allllrighty."

when he gets a text of his main squeeze, it clicks.

he can't get his cake and eat it too.

[graciegoeskrazy]

i'll give you one more time

part 2 to she's begging you to stay stay

Matty Healy + preteen!lost!daughter!OFC!r

warnings: idek yall, language i think, dead mom, slightly shitty dad, this isn't even my usual angst this shit is just SAD, r is twelve

a/n: long awaited part 2! enjoy!

The ride home was a heavy, suffocating silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. Every ounce of your willpower was spent keeping the tears from spilling over, your eyes stinging as you stared blankly out the window. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend why you’d acted the way you did. Yes, times were tough, and you were teetering on the edge mentally, but surely there were other ways—better ways—you could’ve handled things. Yet, none of that mattered now. The only thing consuming your thoughts was how Matty would react when the two of you finally walked through that door.

The day had dragged on, filled with more emotion and exhaustion than either of you could have anticipated. Matty knew that a conversation was inevitable, that you both needed to talk—really talk—but as he glanced at you, he realized now wasn’t the right time. 

You were a mess, physically and emotionally. Your hair was tangled, matted with dirt from your adventure on the London streets, and your clothes were no better, stained and disheveled from the day’s events. It was clear that you were drained, the weight of everything you’d been through etched into your weary features.

Matty sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for what you’d endured, but also a deep sense of protectiveness. He wanted to fix everything, to make it all better, but he knew that right now, the best thing he could do was to give you a chance to breathe, to decompress. The conversation could wait—tonight, what mattered was getting you cleaned up and comfortable.

The silence between you became too much to bear. Matty gently placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you before you could head inside. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I’m not mad, okay?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, your eyes clouded with guilt and confusion. “I ran away, Matty. I scared the shit out of you—”

“Yeah, well, you’re safe now. That’s all I care about, okay?” he interrupted, his tone firm but laced with concern.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “You should be angry.”

“I’m not—”

“You should be yelling at me, kicking me out of your house, something!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, along with the tears in your eyes, the rawness of your emotions catching both of you off guard.

Matty’s expression softened, a mix of sadness and disbelief crossing his face. “What makes you think I would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you tried to hold back tears. “I just… I don’t know.”

Matty sighed, stepping closer and gently tilting your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Tilly. I’m not going to kick you out, and I’m not going to yell at you. I’m just glad you’re here, that you’re safe. We’ll talk about everything, but not right now. Right now, I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Go take a shower,” Matty said softly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out later.”

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you, but finally, you nodded. The fight had drained out of you, replaced by a deep exhaustion that made it hard to argue anymore.

 You looked up at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and nodded without argument. There was no energy left to resist, no fight left in you for tonight. The promise of a hot shower and a bed was all you needed.

Matty watched as you trudged upstairs, each step slower than the last, and he felt a knot of worry tighten in his chest. He wanted to say something, to offer comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he silently vowed to be there for you when you were ready to talk, whenever that might be. As you disappeared down the hallway, Matty lingered for a moment, running a hand through his hair. The house was quiet now, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like it was waiting for something to happen. But for now, he decided, it was enough to let you find some peace, even if only for a little while. He made his way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a weary sigh. The day had taken its toll on him too, but his thoughts were with you. They always were. The sun was setting outside, casting long shadows through the windows, and Matty closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet of the house wash over him. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but tonight, all that mattered to him was that you were home and safe.

—-------

You’re asleep, lost in a dreamless world where the weight of reality has, for a moment, lifted. As your father started the trek back to his room, he noticed the light peaking through the crack beneath your door, to him, indicating you were awake. He let out a soft sigh and took a detourour to your room. He knocked, “Matilda.” You don’t stir. Your name, the one your mother gave you, is still new on his tongue even after all this time, as if he’s trying to make sense of it, to make it his own. There’s a slight pause, and then he speaks again, his voice lower, softer. “Matilda George. It’s late, you should go to bed.”

There’s no response, only the sound of your steady breathing as you lie curled under the covers, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the room. Matty hesitates at the door, the silence stretching out between you. Finally, with a sigh, he pushes the door open wider. “I’m coming in.”

The door creaks open, and a soft, golden light spills into your room, touching the edges of your bed. His footsteps are careful, almost hesitant, as he crosses the threshold into your room. He stands there for a moment, just watching you sleep, his expression unreadable in the dim light. You’re completely unaware, lost in the depths of slumber, oblivious to the fact that he’s here, that he’s looking at you with something akin to longing.

And then his gaze shifts, catching on something beside you—your diary, lying open on the bed. He hadn’t meant to look, but the way the pages fall open, revealing your handwriting, draws his eyes. Curiosity tugs at him, and before he can think better of it, he reaches down, picking it up.

His eyes scan the words you’ve written, the pages filled with all the things you’ve been too scared or unsure to say out loud. The confusion, the loneliness, the raw ache of trying to understand who he is to you and who you’re supposed to be now. He reads on, the lines blurring together, each word a glimpse into the parts of you that you’ve kept hidden away.

I used to keep track of how many days it had been since I last saw my mother. In the very beginning, I would count down to the exact hour—sometimes even the minute. I’m not sure why I did it. Maybe it was a way to cope with my anxiety. I think I was just measuring the time until I thought my world would blow up again.

I never stop thinking about my mom. I could be laughing and having a nice conversation, and then, all of a sudden, a dark gray cloud comes and blocks my happiness. A part of me doesn’t want it to stop, though, because I’m scared I’ll forget her. In my mind, the day I go a whole 24 hours without thinking of my mom is the day I will have moved on. And I don’t want to move on. Miss Julia asked me the other day, “If you could reverse the cancer and see your mom again, would you?” I replied, “Obviously.” Then she said, “Even though you wouldn’t have Matty?” I didn’t answer.

Overall, I think that’s a harsh question for a twelve-year-old, but whatever. I know she’s right, though. Maybe I wouldn’t reverse it.

My mom was in unspeakable pain—pain that I can’t even begin to understand, pain that I hope I will never experience. I’m not sure where she is now, but I like to think it’s somewhere nice, somewhere she’s at peace. One thing I do know for certain is that she isn’t in pain anymore. She’s free. If I were to reverse things, I would be taking that freedom away from her. I would be calling her back to her pain.

I have a lot of realizations in that small office with Miss Julia. After that session, I realized that with all my thinking about how things could be or could have been, I have yet to fantasize about how life could have been if Matty had been there from the beginning. If he knew about me. If he had been my father from the start.

I don’t understand why my mother didn’t tell me about my father, or why she never told him about my existence. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because she wanted to ‘protect me’. He’s not that bad. He’s kind. He makes me laugh from time to time. I enjoy his music, but I would never outright admit that to him. If it wasn’t for him being my literal father, I’d say we could be twins. But still, she never said a word to him.

I know it’s not because she was ashamed and tried to keep me a secret, but that thought always crosses my mind whether I like it or not.

I know very well that I said I didn’t want to go home with him, and even after I agreed, I promised I would find somewhere else to stay. And he was fine with it. As long as he knew I was safe. The truth is, I can’t imagine growing up anywhere else. I don’t think I want to.

I want to be with my father. I want to call him ‘Dad’. I want him to know that I love and care for him, but I’m too terrified to. I’m also scared that if God forbid, something terrible happens, he will never know how much I love him. Because I don’t think I said that nearly enough to my mom.

I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to help him. I have six years left before I’m an adult. He would have to agree to raise me for six years. That could either go really bad or good. I don’t see an in-between.

I’ve played it out in my mind. I will either get exactly what I want or nothing at all. I’m too scared to ask, to tell him that I care, so I’ll just stay silent for now. Because truthfully, I have not a single clue how to do this.

Matty read every single word of your last entry, his eyes tracing each line as if they were the most precious secrets. What struck him the hardest was the realization that if someone could peek inside his brain, take out his thoughts, and lay them side by side with yours, they would be almost indistinguishably similar. That comment about being like twins? It wasn’t far off. And every day, he was noticing it more and more.

He knew it was wrong to be reading your diary, an invasion of privacy he had no excuse for. But he couldn’t stop. He was too caught up, too addicted to the patterns of your mind—patterns that were so familiar because they mirrored his own. The pull was irresistible, like seeing a reflection of himself in your words, understanding you in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

He was so engrossed in his re-reading that he didn’t notice you stir or open your eyes. When you finally took in the sight of him with your diary in hand, you froze, then rolled your eyes. “Reading my diary, are we?” you mumbled, your drowsy state adding a touch of comedy to the tension.

Matty jumped, startled by your voice, and hurriedly closed the book, pushing it aside. “I thought you were asleep!” he stammered, his guilt obvious.

“And I thought the cardinal rule of diaries was that no one else is supposed to read them?” you continued, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, trying to backpedal. “I didn’t read it—I swear.”

“Yeah, you did,” you shot back, the sly smile now full-blown.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted, not missing a beat, the look of defeat settling on his features. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down wearily, adjusting yourself as the weight of the moment settled in. Matty, still feeling the need to say something, continued, “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

“I’m not,” you replied simply.

Matty scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t see many twelve-year-olds putting out words like this.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment. “I’m not putting them ‘out.’ I’m putting them in a three-dollar notebook I got at the grocery store.”

He shrugged, not willing to let it go. “They’re good nonetheless.”

You offered him a weary, tight-lipped smile, the kind that said you were too tired to argue but appreciated the sentiment. Matty’s tone softened, almost a whisper. “Sit up for a second.”

Your eyes changed, a flicker of panic flashing as you realized he had actually read everything you wrote—all of it. You hesitated, your heart racing. “You said it was time for bed.”

“This will only take a second.” His voice was gentle but insistent. After a weary pause, you sat up, looking at him with guarded eyes. He took your hands in his, the gesture tender as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then looked at you, his expression serious. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Matilda.”

For a moment, the room was silent. You’d been waiting for this conversation for months, but you never expected it to happen now, like this. “Yes, I do,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Where?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

“Somewhere where I’m not in your way.” You slowly pulled your hands from his grasp, the distance between you growing in that small action.

“You’re not in my way, my love,” he said softly, trying to reassure you.

“I could be. I will be,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly.

“No, you won’t,” he said, a bit more firmly this time.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered, doubt creeping in.

“If you’re anything like me—and you are, whether you like it or not—we’ll have some challenges,” Matty admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’ve wasted so much time…and missed out on so many things over the last twelve years, Tilly. I’ll be damned if I miss one more.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

You looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all you saw was a sincerity that made your chest tighten. It was overwhelming, the idea that someone could care about you this much, could want you around despite everything.

His expression softened even more, a sadness flickering behind his eyes. “You’re not a burden, Matilda. You never were, and you never will be. I want you here, with me. I need you here.”  It was almost as if he was reading your mind.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But what if I mess up? What if I make things harder?”

Matty shook his head, squeezing your hands gently. “Then we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going to let anything get in the way now. Not even your doubts.” You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but for once, it wasn’t out of fear or sadness. It was a relief. Matty reached out and wiped the tear away, his touch gentle, like he was afraid you might break. “You’re stuck with me, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.” He said, lips pulling into a smile.

At that moment, something shifted between you, an unspoken understanding that you were no longer just two people navigating this confusing, painful world. You were a team—a family, bound together by something far stronger than blood or circumstance. It was love, pure and simple, and it was enough.

You leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe things could be okay, that maybe you could find a way to be happy, despite everything.

And as you sat there in the quiet, the weight of the world lifting just a little, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn’t have to face them alone. 

You had your dad, and he had you.

[mustachrryluvr]

omg imagine being in subspace and you’re just so incoherent and harry is just holding you and telling you how good you are for him and he notices how you’re trying to suck on his thumb and he just sticks it in your mouth and is like “is that what you wanted princess? you’re so good for me” like holy shit 🥺🥵#Concept

I saw some other accounts get this request, but, since I got it too, here’s my take on it!! 

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut, female subspace 

Harry comes home unexpectedly and is insatiable.

— — — — 

It usually took a lot for you to get into subspace, but Harry got you there so fast tonight that you’re not exactly sure how or when it happened. 

Harry has been on tour lately, but you had some responsibilities to tend to back home that kept you from traveling with him for the beginning of the last leg of Love on Tour. You had just flown into London today as Harry had a show coming up in a couple of days in Coventry that you would be traveling to. You had hoped to be able to spend a travel day with him as he had planned to stop by London before the show, but he had gotten stuck in Germany for an extra day and would have to go straight to Coventry the day of the show. 

It was only about a two hour drive from London to Coventry, but you hated travelling alone. It would just be you and the driver Harry had hired for you, which technically meant you wouldn’t be alone, but you preferred it be Harry with you. But you decided you would worry about that when the time came and just spend your evening catching up on some shows you were behind on.

You had stayed in Harry’s London home many times, but this was the first time you stayed there alone. The two of you had been dating for 2 years, so it wasn’t weird that he let you be in his space alone, but it still just felt weird to be there without him. So, you made sure you had things around you that made you think of him. 

The first thing you did when you got to his house was ravage his closet for a sweatshirt that smelled like him. Then, you took a blanket and pillow from his bed and brought them down to the couch to cuddle up with while you ordered Chinese takeout from the takeaway shop the two of you always order from. 

As long as you felt his presence around you in some form, you were okay. 

While cleaning up the kitchen and putting your leftovers in the fridge, you swore you heard a door close. You paused for a minute, but didn’t hear anything else so you assumed the noise just came from the tv playing in the living room. 

However, when you back to the living room, there he was. 

“Harry?!” you said, jumping back a little, not expecting to see anyone standing in the room. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you continued as you walked up to him. 

Before you even made it halfway to him, he raced forward, grabbing you, and pressed his lips to yours. 

As he’s pushing you backwards towards the couch, you try to mumble against his lips to ask him what he’s doing here but it's no use. “Harr-mmmmmm”, is all you get out as he pushed his mouth deeper into you. You feel the backs of your legs hit the edge of the couch and have no choice but to sit as he lowers you down. He continues to push into you until you are laying with him on top of you with him still devouring you. 

Harry gets comfortable laying on top of you between your legs as you accept his deep kisses and wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him push his hips roughly into yours as he slightly lifts his lips off of yours. One hand is placed on your waist while he moves the other up to hold your jaw. You look at him in awe as he finally says his first words of the night.

“I missed you so much, pretty girl,” he rubs his nose against yours as he continues with his hips still rutting into you. “You’re gonna do whatever I tell you to tonight, okay? Be a prefect, good girl for me. Can’t go another minute without you.” 

You’re completely immersed in the moment at this rate, and you subconsciously decide to ask him why he’s here later. Because right now all that matters is him. 

You give him a small smile and nod at his words. “Mmmmm, already wet and excited for me, aren’t you lovie?” he asks, pleased with your reaction to his words. 

“Always for you,” you get out before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours. 

You’re not sure what has made him so insatiable in this moment. Yes, it’s been a while since the two of you have been intimate since it's been a while since you’ve seen each other, but this feverish desire to have you right now isn’t something you’ve seen from him before. Not that you’re complaining. 

Harry and you were no strangers to playing around with dom/sub dynamics, and it is obvious that Harry wants to delve deep into that world tonight as he is rutting his hips into you so aggressively at this rate that you are already being stimulated enough that you could come if he kept it up. It was only when he was in his dominant headspace that he acted rough with you. You both enjoyed it a lot, but you also were very aware of your intimate moments and didn’t want them all to be rough and dominated by one person, so you often played with different types of dynamics all the time. 

But, to be honest, “Dom Harry” was your favorite version. So, if he wanted you to be his “perfect, good girl” tonight, you best bet that’s exactly what he is going to get. 

Being what Harry needed in that moment was all that mattered to you. 

He had come on so strong and dominant right away that it pushed you into your subby headspace quickly. You weren’t near subspace yet, but you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended the night there as your need to please Harry and Harry only was already so strong. 

Without another word, Harry quickly stripped you of your sweats and underwear before doing the same to himself. 

His cock sprung up to his lower stomach, the tip an angry, fiery red as he growled at the relief he must’ve felt. You mewled and brought your eyebrows together in concern at the sight as all you wanted to do was help him rid himself of the pain he was probably feeling. 

He could read your thoughts all over your face. “Aw, don’t worry about me baby. This sweet, little cunt is gonna make me feel so much better, isn’t it?” he says while stroking himself with his attention on your soaked core. 

You moaned at his words. His filthy language always making your chest feel full in the best, most erotic way possible. “Please Harry, use me. I just want you to feel good…please, H,” you whine out to him in the most delicious way that almost has him losing all his composure right then and there. 

Without another word, Harry leans forward over you, wraps your legs around his waist, lines himself up with you, and slams himself as deep as he possibly can into you. You both let out near pornographic moans. You at the painfully, pleasurable intrusion, and him at the sudden warmth and tightness that surrounded him. 

He could’ve come right then and there, but he fought the urge by immediately pulling out and slamming right back into you.

You could barely even get any moans out as he kept his quick pace. You could only emit tiny whimpers before he was already pushing another one out of you. You had no control over your body in this moment and just decided to give it all up to him. 

“Pretty girl just gonna let me use her like a rag doll, huh? Taking me so good that you can’t even control yourself,” he pauses to groan as you involuntarily clench around him in response to his words. “God-Fuck, baby. Cunt made just for me, I swear. I don’t know if I can ever go without.” 

It was right then when he decided to switch his pace from fast and rough to slow and deep that you could feel it. You could feel yourself falling under, falling into your subspace. All you could feel was him. All you could hear was him. All you could see was him. You were absolutely consumed by him. 

It usually took a lot for you to fall into subspace, but this time you fell quick, and hard. 

You gasped airly and looked at him with big eyes and furrowed brows when he thrusted into you especially deep, hitting all your spots. 

“Yeah, baby? Right there, huh? Gah..so good for me…” he sighed out that last part as he leaned further into you, enclosing his whole body around yours. Isolating you from being able to look at anything but his face. 

“Harr…” you gasped out as you reached your arms around his back and clawed at his back, roughly grabbing at his shirt he was still wearing. 

He felt you tighten around him as he watched your jaw drop and eyes clench shut all while he felt your fingers cling to him as if he would disappear. He knew then that you were about to come (which was for the best because he really couldn’t hold out much longer). 

“Such a good girl for me, come on baby, let go. Be my good girl and let go.. y-yes that's it, pretty,” he moaned out as you let go, your mouth open in a silent moan as your whole body seized and convulsed under him in immense pleasure. 

Harry followed and released into you soon after as your release completely sent him over the edge. 

As each of you came down from your equally strong highs, you relaxed into the couch as Harry placed all his weight on you with his face resting in the crook of your neck. It made you feel safe when he did that. 

After a minute of catching your breaths, Harry was the first to speak out. “Did so well for me, pretty girl.” 

He paused for a moment, expecting to get a response from you, at least a blissed out hum. However, when he got nothing in response, he immediately was worried. 

“Lovie?” Harry lifted his head and brought one hand up to gently smooth over your jaw. He finds you looking at him in completely awe and adoration. Eyes slightly glossy as you look deep into his eyes. 

“Oh, princess. You’re deep, aren’t you?” He shifts his body weight onto his free hand placed next to his head so he can pull his weight off of you, but you immediately freak out that he’s gonna leave you. With a sad and worried look on your face, you flatten your hands on his back and hurriedly speak out, “No, no, stay. Please.” 

“Sweetheart, shhhhh,” he quietly responds as he lowers himself back down on to you. It’s now that he realizes just how deep you are. Absolutely beyond floaty. He wraps himself back around you, but still keeps one and on your jaw as his thumb slightly caresses your cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, okay? Harry’s staying right here with you.” You sigh out at his words, closing your eyes again as you revel in the feeling of his body on yours and nuzzle your head into his hand that rests on your face. 

Harry hadn’t even noticed you getting floaty and hadn’t expected it since it usually takes a lot to get you there. He wasn’t complaining though, because he felt so much happiness knowing that you trusted him so much to allow yourself to get into this headspace with him. He knew that being in subspace was a vulnerable thing and doesn’t just happen with any partner, so he was elated to know that he felt safe with him. 

He just laid there for a moment, looking at you with adoration. Letting himself feel the pride coursing through him. Proud of you and your willingness to be vulnerable with him. “You did so good for me today, princess. Thank you for trusting me.” 

After he spoke, he took a moment and realized he was slightly worried about you, though, as you were quieter than you usually were when you were in subspace, but just tossed it up to the fact that you got very deep very quickly and your system wasn’t used to that. 

As he admired you for a moment, he noticed you nuzzle deeper into the hand he had been caressing your cheek with. For a moment you seemed to get frustrated and let out a small whine as he moved his hand along with your movements. 

“What is it baby? Hmm, what do you need from me? I’ll give you anything,” he says as he moves his thumb that had been on your cheek to your bottom lip. 

When he placed his thumb on your lip, you immediately opened your mouth with a gasp, your eyes going wide almost begging him with your eyes. 

“Oh, lovie,” Harry chuckled, catching on to what you wanted, and allowed his thumb to slip behind your lips as you hummed and gently began to suck on his finger.  “Is that what you wanted princess? You’re so good to me.” 

Harry laid with you for a while as you continued to suck on his thumb. If that was what was going to bring you comfort in this moment, then he would let you do it forever. You had never needed this type of comfort before, but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. Aftercare was very important to the both of you, and this is just what it looked like for you today. 

You must’ve dozed off a bit, because the next thing you knew, Harry was gently taking you into the bathroom where he already had a bath ready for you. 

“Hi, lovie,” he softly said to you when he saw your eyes open up. They were brighter and less glossy now, telling him that you had come back to him. 

“Hi,” you softly replied with a small, content smile on your face. 

Neither of you spoke again as he undressed you and himself before placing you in the warm bath. He got in right behind you and pulled you into his chest where you immediately relaxed. 

“You’re back with me now, right, baby?” he asked has his hands rubbed up and down your arms trying to keep you grounded with his touch after coming down from your floaty state. 

“Yeah, Harr. Felt so safe with you, had to let go,” you responded quietly as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his touch. 

“That’s okay. I always want you to feel that safe with me.” 

You sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry picked up your loofa and some soap to begin cleaning you up. As he started, you spoke up, “Why are you home anyway? I thought I was meeting you in Coventry?” You turned a little to look at him, confusion written on your features. 

He chuckled as he continued to clean you off, “Was supposed to stay in Munich an extra day for a meeting, but it was cancelled. Thought I’d just come home and surprise you.” 

“Surprise me and fucking devour me is what you did goddamn. Bout gave me whiplash with how quickly you came at me” 

Harry loudly chuckled at that, “Oh, shut it. I know you absolutely bloody loved it.” 

You giggled before you responded, “Mmmm, yeah, I definitely did. Love you, bub.” 

“Love you, baby.” 

You two sat in silence throughout the rest of your bath before you retired to bed. It wasn’t long before you were tangled together, sleeping the night away. 

— — — — 

That was something… lol haven’t written smut in a HOT minute so I'm so sorry if it’s eh…also didn’t proofread so there are probs grammatical errors but whateverrrrr 

Thank you for this request!! Feel free to send others! Please check my masterlist to see who I write for and my other works!

[alexusonfire]

Between Her Pages

Jane Murdstone x maid!Reader

Smutember Prompt: Library

A/n: Week three of Smutember with @daydream-cement!! I think this is one of the longer challenges I've been part of and actually stuck to lol. Fluff, smut, cunnilingus, Jane receiving.

You'd been working for the Murdstones for nearly a year now, having transferred in from London last October. The previous Lady you attended had sent you off with a glowing recommendation, one that set you up nicely as you ventured more towards small-town living. The city had become just a bit too much for you, and you were ready to settle into an easier way of life.

The Lady of the house, Miss Jane Murdstone, seemed to have taken a liking to you immediately; though you had only been hired as a cleaning woman originally, within weeks Jane had named you her personal maid. Attending her every need was now your top priority: dressing her, tidying her rooms, making sure her meals were prepared to her liking. Her requests were common at first, if not some days slightly mundane and repetitive. It was everything you'd heard that was required of a lady's maid, and you were content to fill your time with her.

Around June is when things started to take a more... intimate turn. One evening, after a rather long and tedious day of preparations for the arrival of Mr. Murdstone's new fianceè, Jane asked that you draw her a bath so she could soak her aching body. You added a few salts and soaps, hoping to aid in her recovery, and called for her once it was ready. You pat the stool in front of the vanity when she entered, readying to brush out her hair and twist it up for her so it wouldn't grow damp, but she shook her head and stood rooted to the spot.

"I'm afraid today has taken it's toll on me. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me wash my hair?"

It took a moment for your brain to process what she was asking of you; sure, you'd dressed and undressed her more times than you could count, and had always averted your gaze out of respect, no matter how much you wanted to linger, to appreciate. But this was... different. You'd no choice but to linger. You'd need to touch her, even if it was just her scalp, for longer than it took to slip a nightdress on her.

"It was too forward a question, I apologize." she murmured, moving to the stool your hand was still stretched towards.

"N-no! No milady it wasn't. I would... I would like to help you. If you still wish it."

You could have melted into yourself when her lips quirked up into a small smile.

"I do."

She was softer with you after that night; something about your hands gently scratching at her scalp while you told her stories of your youth had endeared her evermore, and it wasn't two fortnights later that she quietly confessed her growing affections for you.

Now, with the leaves turning their autumn colors and decorating the ground, you were head over heels for eachother, your dalliance having turned into a full blown love affair. Yearning glances and seemingly accidental touches exchanged in the presence of others were nothing compared to the deep, unsatiable need that was quenched in the dark hours of the night, soft candlelight dancing off of your skin as you made a home between Jane's thighs.

Those same leaves fluttered past the Murdstone's library window as you watched from your place on Jane's lap, head pressed to her chest while she read one of her favourites out loud. Mr. Murdstone and his new bride had left that morning, not to return until the following Sunday, and that left you with the rare but cherished opportunity to indulge yourself in your lover outside of her bedroom. She'd managed to get through a few chapters before you began to fidget with her collar, causing her to chuckle as she set the book down on the end table beside her.

"Is something troubling you sweeting?"

Your heart always fluttered when she called you pet names, and you couldn't help but beam up at her. Your gaze fell to her lips and you leaned forward to capture them with your own, kissing and kissing and kissing until you'd both run out of breath. Caught up in the moment, you gently nipped below Jane's earlobe, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a small moan. Jane playfully swat at your arm as you continued to kiss and nip your way down the column of her neck, and she chuckled at your disgruntled whine.

"Careful my darling... we are not fully alone in the house, remember."

You huffed, thinking for a moment before sliding off of Jane and onto your knees in front of her, her widening eyes spurring you on as you brought your hands beneath her dress to cup at her calves. True, there were still some servants and maids littered about the house, but the library was restricted to only a select few; hidden behind the tall oak shelves and stacks of thick paperbacks, you felt a permeating sense of safety.

"We'll just have to be quiet then, won't we?" you said with a mischevious grin, and you were pleased to see Jane's eyes darken as you pushed her skirts up.

"Darling..."

You shushed her with a kiss to the inside of her knee, her dress bunched in your hands.

"No stockings today, my lady? How improper." you teased. Jane swat at your arm again with a smirk and simply spread her legs wider, allowing you access to her cloth-covered core; it only took a few chaste kisses and flicks of your tongue to have her squirming in her seat.

"We don't have much time sweeting, please..." came Jane's strained voice. Her fingers hooked into her underwear, hastily pulling them off in one swift motion. Once tossed behind you, you finally dove into Jane's sweet cunt, lapping and licking and sucking to your heart's desire, your own core growing wet at the way Jane tried to muffle her sounds. Blindly you reached above you, and you felt Jane grasp your hand with her own as her hips began to grind against your face. You pulled one of her legs to rest on your shoulder, opening her further to you, and Jane let out an unabashed moan as you sucked her clit between your lips. You thought for a moment to remind her of your current whereabouts, but when her free hand came to clench at your hair, you simply lost yourself in her taste and scent, determined to bring her to her peak.

She remembered to cover her mouth when she came, her trembling thighs snapping shut around your head as she rode out the aftershocks. You lapped at her as she eased back into the divan, her breathing beginning to even out once more. After smoothing her dress back over her legs you crawled back up to pull her to you and place soft kisses along her cheeks and hairline, cooing sweet nothings in her ear to settle her.

"I love you." Jane murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder as she clutched at you.

"I love you too, darling," you hummed happily in response, silently hoping that you'd get more opportunities like this one to prove it.

--

@weemssapphic @h-doodles @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @renravens @ness029 @saturnnnnl @aemilia19 @milciak

[harrysmimi]

Italy

Synopsis: YN and Harry's weekend trip to Italy

Series Masterlist | More of my work

Friday night was spent at Harry's villa in Tuscany and the next day he was going to drive them to Florence to this museum, Sunday was going to be spent around the neighborhood of his house.

It was YN's first time at Harry's villa or in Italy really. She's been getting a lot of opportunities to go to new cities and countries since she's met him, that made her that much more guilty. He let her walk around the house until he figured the plan for their dinner out, but promised to give a personal house tour himself. He resorted to order a take out from one of his favourite places.

It was a good place YN figured, very private. No wonder why Harry talked about spending time there before he grew to love going back to the flat which is now their home. There was a huge pool in the backyard, which was clean surprisingly given the fact that Harry hasn't been here in a long time. Maybe he had someone come and clean up the pool. Maybe he's planning to use it. There were fairy lights all around the backyard, it was so Harry in all ways. All sorts of blooming flowers scattered around the garden, little weird statues splayed around the space as decore, some used as planters. The villa was very big, but it had the same safe and zen feel to it as their home back in London.

"Do you like it here?" Harry's voice right in her ear from behind spooked her.

"Oh my god, you scared me!" She smacked his chest making him laugh, "and yeah, it's very cosy in here." She shared. "Now I get it why you'd come here to stay often."

"Yeah? Do you wanna move here someday?" He wrapped his arms around her middle from behind.

"When we're retired? Yes!" She joked to which he actually laughed. "It's very pretty out here, can't wait to see this in the morning when the sun is up."

"It's even more prettier in the morning, I will tell you that." He agreed, "do you want to go swimming tomorrow?"

"Hah! I can't swin to save my life." She scoffed.

"I'll teach you, don't you worry about that baby girl." He smeared his lips onto her shoulder with a smooching sound. "I ordered us some food from my favourite restaurant, it'll be delivered in a few minutes."

"Thank you." She smiled. "We won't have enough time though.'

"We'll come in next week." He shared, "and the next. Or we can vacation here next year when you can take your yearly off."

"Mhmm, I want to try all the food here." She suggested and that made him really happy.

"Yeah?" He teased, waddling around with her in his arms, "we'll try everything you want, baby. And by everything, I mean everything." He whispered the last word in her ear making her giggle.

"Stop being cheeky!" She whined feeling him tickle her sides.

"Food's gonna take a long time, I think I wanna have my dessert first." His voice was a deep whisper as if he was keeping it a secret from the plants and shrubs around in his backyard, nose skimming against warm skin of her neck. "You wanna go in?"

"Mhmm." She sounded in agreement, but squealed when he scooped her up with his hands supporting her back and begin her knees as he made his way inside, "Harry!"

"I'm not gonna drop you baby!" He cooed, walked upstairs to the master bedroom. He placed her on the bed carefully. Just when he was about to kiss the door bell went off, making YN burst into laugh. "I swear it said 45 minutes on the application, for fucks sake!"

"Oh you poor thing!" She teased.

"You're gonna pay for this, being all bratty recently."

She just mocked him sticking her tongue out as he made his way out. She tailed closely behind him back downstairs, it was really their food. They sat down to eat their dinner.

......................................................................

"Okay..." YN sighed seeing a huge statue of a naked man in the museum. "I wasn't expecting this to be here."

Harry laughed, "that's quite... I don't how to say this... Big, innit?"

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed laughing as she walked ahead of him and he tailed behind her, laughing and teasing her all day long, making his usual sexual jokes around her.

It was middle of summer. They had their icecream walking around the city more. Harry took many, many pictures of her, some sneaky and for some Askin her to pose. She looked just that pretty to him, like a twinkling star on a summer afternoon dressed in a plain white cotton dress with a tiered skirt, hemmed to her knees, a pair of black kicks and a baby blue bucket hat.

They got back to Villa just before the sun set. It was getting pretty hot, especially for Harry to handle the weather outside and he almost passed out.

"You good now?" She gave him a glass of water.

"Yeah!" He sighs but laughed it off as he was actually feeling well.

"You sure?"

"Mhmm, I am sure baby." He reassured her, "thank you for looking out for me." pulling her to stand in between his legs, he wrapped his arms around her thighs tightly in a hug.

"Don't thank me for that." She cooed, pulling him closer as his head rested on her chest. "Do you want rest whilst I go make something for your eat?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine." He affirmed. "Now come on out with me." He carefully pulled her away from him as he stood up holding her hand. "Let's go walk out in the backyard."

"You almost passed out, Harry, I think you should rest." She scolded him but had to follow him as he was holding tight onto her hand, "lemme go make some lemonade for you and something to eat-"

"Shush!" He interrupted her. "Just walk in peace!'

"I'm not going to carry you inside, you're too heavy for me." She rolled her eyes.

"I promise, I won't make you." He smiled cheekily at her, "I'll be the one carrying you inside later."

After a few laps around the backyard taking in the perfect scenery of the sun setting, Harry replaced her hand into his other to drape an arm over her shoulder. Tucking in closer to her, placing a kiss on her head.

"You know?" He started.

"Hmm?"

"After what happened that at your work, I thought you would wanna end things." Harry admitted with a heavy heart making her halt on her place, "lemme finish please." He rushed as she opened her mouth to say something, "I know you didn't. I was just scared you know. Because we talked about having a baby and about getting a new home soon. Just got a bit paranoid. Just want to thank you for choosing to stay with me, love. I promise, I would change everything and make everyone like you because, honestly there nothing to not like about you."

YN just wrapped her arms around his middle, propping her chin up on his chest so she could look at him as he spoke his sweet little things to her. He chuckled and hugged her back before he continued...

"You truly make me so happy. And I've said this many times, but it's not enough to me because I can't fathom that I could have things and love I have with you. I felt so unworthy of that."

"But you are so worthy of all the love, Harry." She butted in.

"Yeah! Especially if it's from you." He agreed to her, "and when I said that, I wanna have a family with you, even get as many cats as you want - unless they don't eat my McFish -" she laughed at his added warning, "I want to you to have things you didn't had growing up, want to be a part of that as well. You deserve all of that more." His hand reached upto tuck her fringes falling on her pretty face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. YN's eyes got teary behind her glasses hearing him say those things to her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he reached for the back pocket of his jeans. "And you're my bestest friend, I love you and I don't see why I shouldn't ask you this for any other reason. Would you please give me the honour to be your husband? Will you marry me, please?"

And there it was, her tummy did ten back flips and two front flips as he finally asked her as he went on his knee, holding onto her hand in a gentle grip.

"You don't have to say please!" She cooed realising she crying, "of course I want to marry you." She got down to his height not being able to bring herself stand on her legs which felt like jelly.

"Gimme your hand, baby." He took her hand and slid the ring on the right finger.

"I want to hug you!" She whined when he was taking too long, but alas tackled him with a bear hug tucking her face against his throat. The reassuring weight of his hand on the back of her head had her crying more.

"I love you so much, YN." He whispered against her hair with his eyes closed.

"I love you more!"

"Don't cry, you're gonna make me cry, sweet girl." He chuckled, his vision would be watery if he dared to open them. It felt like those awfully realistic dreams to him, until she pulled away to look at him for a brief moment before finding her home in his neck. They sat there for what felt like ages but had been no more than a minute, before Harry pulled away to get a kiss. Dipping his head down he buttoned his mouth on hers, hand still cradling her head at the back.

YN let out a breath of a laugh watching his eyes teared up, nothing but in pure admiration. She brought her hands up to cup his fave in her hands and swipe away his tears, before she placed another kiss on his mouth. "You don't know how happy I am right now, this- you made this so special!"

"Only the best for my love." He smirked. "I have another surprise for you." He gestured at the back door of the villa.

There stood everyone who matter to both of them, Anne, Gemma, Sarah, Mitch and their baby, surprisingly YN's older brother and his wife, Jeff and Glenn, Alec and his Fiancé, who was also on photo duties as a photographer.

Harry helped her up as they greeted by their excited family and friends. Alec's Fiancé, Sophia hugged YN the first thing because as a Photographer she was on photo duties.

"Finally three of us are engaged now!" Alec announced, showing her the face time call with Brielle, who couldn't go as she's too pregnant to travel. She was sat there on her sofa with a bowl of popcorn propped on her baby bump.

"Give her a hug from me too!" She yelled through the call making everyone laugh.

They all shared their congratulations with the newly engaged couple, before YN's brother spoke up.

"So, you said you wanted to marry my sister." Asher started, "but not before we follow our traditions as well." Harry looked at him confusedly. YN couldn't believe he actually asked for her family's blessings. She was so grateful her brother actually showed up, but it broke her heart as her parents weren't there.

"Yes, we need to do the ring exchange ceremony, it's an engagement after all!" Jasmine, Asher's wife explained further. She had a little tray in her hands, with two rings on it.

YN adored Jasmine. For everything. For putting up with her in-laws, especially her husband. It warmed her heart as to how she really helped prepare for them to hold a tiny ceremony for her.

"I didn't know about this." Harry shared, "you didn't had to get the rings, would have told me."

"That's the part of the tradition." Brielle spoke, she's still on the face time call.

"Mhmm." YN hummed. "We just exchange the rings."

"Yup!" Jasmine chirped, "we don't do that on wedding day, so there is a separate engagement ceremony for it. In our culture the engagement rings are worn on right right, and the moved to the left hand on the wedding day. Both of you have to wear the rings. That's why these are often confused for wedding bands."

"I mean they do look like wedding bands." Alec pointed out.

"That's why you move them on your left hand later one."

"I understand." Harry listened to Jasmine carefully.

"YN." Asher gave her the ring. It was simple gold band, it a rectangular diamond placed on top. Her brother did an amazing job picking it. She look at her man, holding her hand out for him to put his own in hers. He did.

"Is it going to fit?" Alec started. Harry was confused all along as every teased him, interrupting YN everytime she tried to slide the ring on his finger; he was unaware that it was common tradition.

"Doesn't look like it is going to fit." Gemma commented, she's in on this too.

"Don't listen to them." YN rolled her eyes and she slid the ring on his finger. He wasn't wearing any other of his rings just the one YN got him for his birthday, he never takes that off but it was other hand. Everyone cheered and clapped.

"Yay!" Gemma chirped.

"Now it's Harry's turn." Jasmine gave Harry the other ring.

Harry really liked the gold band. It was delicate, just like his girl. YN laughed at something Jasmine said and gasped at something her brother did. He recieved a punch straight to his chest.

"Gimme your hand, love." He requested.

"Mhmmmm!" Brielle's voice chirped from the other side of the phone call. Yes, she's still there on face time, she ain't missing her friend's engagement ceremony! "Love!"

"Oh shut up!" Harry scoffed sheepishly, his girl found it funny. At least it made her laugh. Without giving a chance to anyone else, he slide the second ring YN's hand.

No one cheered for him. Well, it was part of their teasing so everyone had a great laugh and finally cheered for him as well.

Asher excused YN to a side to talk, mean while Jasmine explained Harry they weren't being mean to him. That it is a part of the ceremony in case that made him upset. He'd just got sister and mum to his side, but they chose to be on YN's side with teasing him. He didn't mind, he'd be on her side too. Deadass! And about the rings too, so he felt a little less bad about it.

Asher on the other hand, hugged his little sister. "I can't believe you're all grown up now!" She just chuckled, emotional. "I know you think, I don't care about you like everyone else, YN, but I do. A lot. You're always going to be my baby. I just don't know how to show you that, but I'm trying. And you know, I'll try. I'm so happy for you!"

It wasn't like Asher was trying to be discreet talking to his sister, he doubts anyone would understand him conversing with his sister in language they grew up learning first.

"Why didn't Mumma and Papa come with you?" She asked, looking at her brother with teary sad puppy eyes, a crease between her brow never loosened.

"Just don't ruin your day because of them. You know how they can be some times. Well, most of the time. Just don't think about them, hmm?"

"Hmm." She nodded.

Harry didn't wanted to over hear the conversation (not that he could understand a word), it was evident YN's upset about her parents not being there. Doesn't matter how much she despised her parents, it wasn't a secret shr still expect that they come back around. She didn't even tried to make it a secret, sometimes. It broke his heart there.

"So, where does Mr. and soon-to-be Mrs. Styles want to go for dinner?" Asher asked, his arm draped on his sister's shoulder. She looked as if she was trying her best to hold his weight, but moved making him trip.

Harry was adoring their banter.

"Harry before you protest; this ceremony is usually held at bride's parents house and everything is arranged and managed by them." Asher explained, "but we aren't back in London, so we're going to modify this part for the sake of current settings."

"Yes, yes, yes!" YN smiled a cheeky grin. At the end of Asher insisting, YN and Harry picked a restaurant to go to.

They had a load of fun when back from dinner. Dancing on to the bollywood music, no booze was included which Alec found to be a bummer. They watched the movie YN had made him watch like ten times, and every single time she never hold back to fangirl over the actor.

Come on, it's ShahRukh Khan. He doesn't blame her either!

YN squealed in excitement seeing Harry walk back in the bedroom with bottles of water, she wrapped his arms around his middle.

"Careful, careful!" He laughed holding her close, but she pulled away reluctantly stepping up on the bed she started jumping up and down.

"We're engaged! We're engaged!" She made up her own little jingle. Harry joined her as well, singing along with her. Grabbing onto her hands he jumped along with with her, buthe tripped and fell straight on his ass.

"You alright?" YN tried to hold back her laughed but failed miserably earning a whine from him. He pulled yanked her down with him as well, she fell with an umph! leaving her mouth. Both of them ended up in fit of laughs until they could get their breathing back to steady.

"Hi," he cooed, tugging gently on her hand.

"Hi!" She beamed at him, kneeing her way to him on their bed. He grabbed her hand urging her to sit on his thighs astride, so she did. Who is she to deny to him anyway. "What?"

"Nothing, can't I admire my Fiancé now?" He smirked, a dimple denting deep in his cheek, "got a nice ring to it, innit?"

"It does actually!" She agreed.

"Yeah?" He cooed, "did you like the ring, baby? Took me very long to pick it, or would have proposed the day after we talked about getting married."

YN had glanced at the ring he proposed with a few times, but it was inevitable to take her eyes off him sitting right by his side the whole night. But she noticed it was gold too. A sweet and simple design with just a diamond placed in the plain frame of the ring. It definitely looked like an engagement ring, not too shabby or in-your-face. She could see herself wearing it everyday.

"I love it!"

"I had to keep in mind to get something which you might wanna wear regularly, you really don't have to, I know how uncomfortable they can get at one point, but hopefully won't get in between your work. And definitely not get stuck in any clothes." He went on about why he picked that particular design, "mum and Brielle really helped me alot with this. I can see this is just so you."

"You put so much thought into this!" She gasped, "this is really pretty, Haz thank you."

"Don't have to thank me, baby."

"Should I wear this on this hand, or this hand?" She asked, confused as to what to do with basically two engagement rings.

"Doesn't matter, darling, just piece of jewelry. Wear on whatever hand you want. I am just happy I get to make vows to you very soon and love you without having people talk shit about us." His fingers resting on her hips reached up to grab her wrist, moving their hands until he was able to lace his fingers through her. "You know for me, you're already my wife."

"Stop, you're making me blush!" She whined dropping her head to his shoulder, blood rushed into her cheeks marking a rosie hue on the highs on her cheeks which he got to see once he pulled her away softly.

"That's true!"

"I know, but, it, it really just mean so much to me, Harry." She started, "you know, I grew up where this is the most celebrated thing, like getting married and stuff. So, ehm, it does matter to me. Really. I don't know, I'm so happy you really respect and really made an effort to make this so special for me, for us even though you have different view on this than me."

YN's gotten quite comfortable with him to be vulnerable enough. All it took was to realise he doesn't judge her, but respects her so much so that there is literally no room for judgement. And most importantly, he's got patience to put with her and listen to every and every syllable which is processed in her brain to the tip of her tongue. She doesn't find it hard enough to open upto him and he's probably one of the only person she feels safe to talk to openly after her therapist.

"Of course, I had to make it special!" Harry couldn't stop beaming at her. "It makes me truly seeing you happy. Wouldn't want anything else but that, my love. Of course, I made an effort because I care for you and I love you."

"And I love you too!" She leaned down to get a kiss but he pulled back a beat. His plushy lips were just a hair away from hers, but he wouldn't let her close that gap too. The more she moved forward the more he moved back. Her gaze moved back and forth between his lips to his forest green eyes all dilated. Dopamine and Oxytocin clouded his brain seeing her so desperately wanting to kiss him. Carefully, he moved their joint hands down, until they're folded on her back and he had both her wrists fitting into his one hand, still pulling back ather every chance until his back was rested on the head board of their shared bed. That had her making a puppy face.

"Don't go around putting that face on," he teased her, "just want to admire my Fiancé for a while."

"Just lemme kiss you." Her pout grew tighter, "you haven't kissed me in so long."

"Yeah?" He taunted, "You wanted me to kiss you in front of your brother and his wife like you don't go preaching around how you don't like people seeing such an intimate exchange, that now inappropriate it is? Tsk tsk tsk!" The clicks of his tongue was doing more than taunting her there.

"Yes, but we're alone now, aren't we?" She smiled cheekily.

"Touché." He left her hands, "I'm just teasing baby, come here and kiss me." Smiling, she held his face in her hand delicately and placed her mouth on his. Then proceeding to press kisses on each of his dimples.

"I love you so much!" She exclaimed and hugged him close, arms snaked around his middle, head rested on his shoulder.

He chuckled, "I love you so much, too my darling. Already can't wait to spend the rest of my days with you!" He recieved a ticklish kiss on his neck making him giggle, "I'm sorry your parents didn't come. But I went last month to talk to your dad and ask for his blessings. He is a tough person to talk to, but you know..." He paused for a beat as she lifted her head back up to look at him in utter surprise, "you know, he gave us his blessings and me permission to marry you."

"You went to ask my dad?" Her voice was so low he almost couldn't hear it as her eyes teared up all over again.

"Mhmm, I did." He nodded, "honestly I did thought he'd show up, at least your mum. But Asher promised he'd show up. For you especially. I don't know when he planned all of that, but that was really sweet of him."

"I, I did too." She admitted, "but that's okay, I think they will come around. At least I hope they do. You know he's been like that since I moved away and refused to move back. But I really appreciate you really going upto his place and talk to him, I don't know when you did that. But I just... I just really love you Harry!"

"I know baby. Remember last month I said I was going out with my mum and came home after you were asleep, yeah, we went together." He shared.

"What? I thought you were getting drunk your ass off with your friends after you hung out with your mum!" She gasped making him laugh out loud. Because he's done that before, once. But that confession alone made her fall in love with him all over again. He really listens to her, how she talks about little things like these and remembers them. "You monkey, stop making me cry!"

"No, because you call me monkey. Cry!" He rolled his eyes, but reached up to wipe her cheeks with his thumbs. He pulled her down to kiss her.

Both of them stayed up all cuddled and just talked instead of their nightly love making.

Sharing many kisses.

......................................................................

Tag list:

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[anthonyhopeswife]

i would love if u wrote about anthony falling for a fem!reader who’s sweeney’s assistant? she doesn’t do much except write and convince his victims to attend the barbershop, but he was whipped for her the moment they met. please and thank you!!

❛ favor me with your glance. ❜ ♡

⊹ ˖ pairing. anthony hope ♡ reader ⊹ ˖ rating. safe for work ⊹ ˖ contents. fem reader, fluff, meet-cute, technical hand holding, dark comedy, mutual crushes ⊹ ˖ word count. 2k+ ⊹ ˖ ao3. link.

It was another overcast morning in Fleet Street. Grey skies, smog in the air. Nothing short of the usual doom and gloom of London that you had grown accustomed to during all your years spent here. You were alone in Mrs Lovett’s shop, and it was eerily silent save for the distant chatter of people walking the streets outside. You presumed that she and Toby were yet to rise for the day, as they typically preferred to sleep in. You and Mister Todd, however, were always early to wake and perform the morning routine that you had fallen into. 

As your proprietor readied his parlor for the workday, you did the same downstairs. Albeit it was rather minute tasks you would perform, such as straightening up the kitchen or dusting off the utensils or going down to the bakehouse to make sure that ‘supplies’ were well enough stocked for Mrs Lovett to bake into a days’ worth of her renowned pies. It didn’t take very long, so you often used the remainder of the morning hours to fetch yourself some breakfast or just take some time alone. Today, you had decided on the latter, and had leaned against the countertop, lost deep within your own head.

Your work was relatively easy. You ran errands for Mister Todd if needed. You helped to set up shop. Once everything had fallen into place, you took to the streets, lingering around the street corner and trying to convince passersby to stop in for a shave. On occasion, you were summoned to clean up the aftermath of a client — wiping blood from the floors or the window as swiftly as possible. You didn’t care much for that aspect of the job.

It was a decent workload, but it wasn’t all that bad, especially not in exchange for housing and fair pay. It was certainly better than what most people your age had to do to get by. You’d take this over the harsh conditions of a factory, or having to resort to selling — well, worse things. You didn’t like to dwell on those possibilities.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft jingle of a bell. The door had opened — rather suddenly, you might add — and in the entrance stood a young man. He looked familiar, but you didn’t believe you’d ever properly met him, nor even spoken to him. He was tall and thin, perhaps a bit lanky, with wavy blond hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. Certainly not a face you would forget.

His blue eyes, wide with surprise upon being faced with a stranger, seemed to study you for a few moments. “Oh! I’m sorry, excuse me, Miss. I hadn’t meant to intrude.”

“It’s alright,” you murmured, subconsciously straightening your posture and crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re here for a pie, I’m afraid we aren’t open until half-past ten.”

“Yes, that’s right…” He mumbled, perhaps more to himself than to you. His voice was soft. Pretty, even. “I know it’s early — and I do apologize — I’m just here to see Mister Todd. Is he in?”

“He’s upstairs. I’ll go and speak to him.” You walked around the counter, starting towards the door that led outside.

“Thank you,” said the stranger, a gentle smile on his face. As you reached the exit, he scrambled to hold it open for you. “Ah — here you are.” A gentle smile.

It was polite of him. You weren’t used to gestures like that, and certainly not from boys you’d never met before. He must not have been from around here. You fought a smile of your own that threatened to tug at the corner of your lips as you brushed past him.

Making haste, you jogged up the stairs and knocked on the door to Mister Todd’s parlor. You knew that he had a particular distaste for people barging in without permission.

“Come,” his gruff voice commanded from inside, and you were quick to oblige. Your employer stood, a cup of tea in hand as he gazed out of the window. Surprisingly, he did you the favor of turning around to face you as you spoke to him.

You offered the older man a quick, respectful bow before you stated your business. “Morning, sir. There’s a boy downstairs asking to see you.”

“A customer?” Sweeney grumbled, as if displeased by the prospect of dealing with someone this early.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. It’s a young man, um, about my age. He asked to see you personally.”

His eyes widened ever-so-slightly in recognition. “Anthony.”

“Ah…” you rocked awkwardly on your feet. It was undeniable that your employer made you nervous. Perhaps that was for the better, given what knowledge you held about him and Mrs Lovett. You always did your very best to walk on eggshells around him. You played an expendable role in this establishment, and one could never quite be sure when he might snap and it would be your throat he was slashing. “You know him, sir?” “He’s a…” His cold gaze faltered. The word ‘friend’ seemed to die in his throat. “An acquaintance of mine.” 

You nodded stiffly in understanding. “Shall I send him up, then?” “No.” He turned away, his focus shifting back to the window. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly.” ��Right away.” With that, you spun on your heel and exited the barber shop, your heart racing a bit faster than you cared to admit. In your defense, you never claimed to be brave. You made quick work of the staircase, listening to it creak beneath each step and hoping the old, rickety thing wouldn’t cave beneath your weight.

As you stepped back into the pie shop, you were met with the sight of Anthony sitting at an empty table, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He looked up at you as you entered, the kind smile still on his face. 

“He says he’ll be down to see you in a minute,” you informed him, unsure of what to do with yourself. Should you leave? Return to your place behind the counter? Make conversation? You weren’t suited for this in the slightest. You did just fine with luring in Sweeney’s clients, but not with talking to handsome, friendly strangers.

He replies, “Alright, then. Thank you for checking.”

It caught you off-guard all over again. You weren’t used to people thanking you simply for doing your job. Actually, come to think of it, you weren’t used to people thanking you at all. “You’re welcome,” you say, blinking away the surprise.

As if he somehow read your mind, Anthony spoke up again. “Would you like to come and sit? I’m sure you could use the rest.”

An array of excuses immediately sprung to your mind. But then it occurred to you that you had nothing better to do, and that you would actually quite like to sit and chat with him. After all, he was the most polite person you think has ever graced Fleet Street with his presence. And, well… He also happened to look like a beautiful prince straight out of the stories you were told as a child. But you were no princess, just a lowly barber’s assistant. You were sure that a boy like him would certainly want nothing to do with you. But that didn’t matter — you could at least stop and have a conversation with him. 

“I’d like that,” you replied, brushing nonexistent dust off of your coat before walking over to sit across from him. Something about him was making you all… fidgety. “So…” you began, hoping some of this sudden nervousness would fade in time. “I was told your name is Anthony?”

“Yes. Anthony Hope. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.” He extended a hand across the table for you to shake. “What’s your name?”

Reaching out to oblige him, you told him your name. His hand was warm, the fingerless knit glove soft against your palm. Even after you’d shaken it, he seemed almost reluctant to let go.

“That’s a very pretty name.”

“Um, thank you.” You thought for a second that you could feel your face burning. “Your surname is… it’s very pretty as well.”

His eyes fixed on yours. They were pretty. They reminded you of the ocean. “Do you work for Mister Todd?”

“Yes. I was hired earlier this year. I’m his…” The word ‘accomplice’ springs to mind. “His assistant. And you? What’s your occupation? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I’m a sailor,” he answered, his face lighting up with excitement. “I work on a merchant ship called The Bountiful. Transporting goods and things of the sort.”

You couldn’t help but grin at that. He reminded you a bit of a puppy. “That sounds like a nice job to have. I’d love to travel around and see the world.” You mused. You had never left London before. You quite liked the thought of seeing what life was like outside of the dark, dreary place you called home.

“I’m quite fond of it,” he confessed almost shyly. And then, seemingly before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “Perhaps I could show you aboard sometime? If you’d be interested.”

Your lips parted, eyes widening in surprise. That was quite the offer to make to someone he hardly knew, but admittedly… the thought of it made your heart flutter. 

His eyebrows furrow, afraid he’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry. Was that too forward? My apologies, Miss, really, I just—”

You shake your head. “No, no, it’s not that! I think I would, actually. I’d quite like to see.”

“Ah, yes, that’s good to hear, then…” Anthony looked down, appearing a bit bashful after making such a proposal. Admittedly, you felt the same.

Hoping to break the ice, you reached toward the teapot in the center of the table. You’d used it to make Sweeney a cup this morning, but hadn’t used the rest of the water just yet. Perhaps it would be rude not to offer some to your guest. “Would you like — oops!—” You cut yourself off as your hand accidentally brushed against Anthony’s.

Before you could yank it away at breakneck speed, both of his hands took yours, cradling it gently. “Your hands are freezing!” He exclaimed, concern seeping into his voice. In truth, he was exactly right. It was rather drafty in the shop, particularly at this time of morning, and you didn’t have any gloves to keep your hands warm. Much to your astonishment, Anthony had begun removing his own, and then slipped them onto your hand, the soft black fabric warming your skin almost as much as his touch did. “Here. You can have these. You need them more than I do.”

You began to stammer, your face heating up. “Oh! No, y-you don’t have to do that! I can find some gloves of my own, I—”

“Not to worry. I have many more pairs. You can keep this one.” He flashed a reassuring smile. Reluctantly, you offered your other hand, and he guided the glove on. “There you are. Do you feel any warmer?”

“Yes… That’s… much better. Thank you, Anthony.” As he replied that you were welcome, you had half a mind to grab his hand and hold onto it. He was so warm, so inviting, and something in you wanted nothing more than to cling onto him.

Startling the both of you, the bell on the door jingled again, and Sweeney stepped in, his expression grave as always. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed that your time with the sailor boy was being cut short. 

“I should hope to see you again sometime soon,” Anthony told you as you slid out of the booth.

This time, you didn’t bother suppressing the smile that crept onto your face. “I hope so too.”

With a wave goodbye, which he was eager to return, you decided to give the two of them some privacy, slipping out to head to the living quarters. You couldn’t help but notice Anthony’s eyes on you even as you disappeared from sight and Mister Todd took your place, your heart still beating rapidly in your chest. One thing was for sure, you’d be counting the hours until you could see him again.

[octuscle]

The spirit of the previous owner

By the time he was in the cab, Connor had calmed down to some extent. He and his friend had had a terrible fight in their impressive apartment on Marylebone High Street. Not only had a Wedgewood plate or two been broken in the process, but his friend had almost pushed him down the stairs. Connor had loved this man more than anything. He had been his protector. And his stallion. He had felt safe in his presence. And had been fucked like he had never been fucked before. They had had good times. But now times were bad. All they did was argue, his friend made fun of Connor publicly, calling him a pussy and a faggot in front of friends. Yet it was Connor who had brought the money into the relationship. Through the successful sale of two startups he had founded, Connor had more money than he could ever use. His friend had only brought an imposing appearance and a huge cock into the relationship.

Connor had put up with it all, but now he was afraid his friend was going to seriously hurt him. He had been crying, locked in the guest bathroom of his own apartment on the phone with his best friend. And she'd been simultaneously Googling a realtor for a refuge for Connor. Even for people of Connor's budget, immediately available properties in London weren't exactly common. But his best friend had called him back after a short while to tell him that she had found something at least for the transition.

Connor hadn't packed. He'd just grabbed his coat, pocketed his wallet and keys, and walked out of the apartment. The "Yeah, fuck off you miserable faggot" that his friend yelled into the stairwell after him had certainly been heard by all the neighbors. He could no longer return to his old home.

He had never been to Brixton in his life, Connor thought to himself. And when the cab turned into the destination street, he had to swallow. Unadorned row houses, everything a bit run down. But the house the cab stopped in front of was actually the prettiest of the row. Freshly renovated, a bit disturbing was the large modern garage that had concreted over the entire front yard. But on top of the garage, as far as he could tell, was a large roof terrace.

The realtor was waiting for him in front of the house. An unpleasant fellow, nervously smoking a cigarette. Connor hated smokers. But all right now. They shook hands, the realtor opened the door and Connor entered. The first impression was good. Bright, tidy. The furnishings were new, but unimaginative from IKEA or something similar. But that could be changed. No art on the walls, but posters, some not even framed. The motifs are already good, Connor thought with a grin. Predominantly announcements of boxing fights. Pictures of crisp men. He had little love for the working class, but horny fella's they were.

The realtor began to explain when the house was from. That it would be sold fully furnished. Directly ready to move in. That there were plenty of other interested parties. That the price was a bargain. A voice inside Connor told him that was exactly what he needed right now. Connor said he agreed, if it was okay, he'd stay right here. The realtor's mouth dropped open.

Connor had emailed his financial advisor to handle everything financial with the realtor. He had taken the key and pushed the realtor out the door. This was his house now. He had never had a house to himself before. This was his castle. He took a deep breath and felt secure.

The realtor couldn't believe his luck. The house had been unsold for over a year. The previous owner had been shot in his living room. Some gangland war or something. It had taken weeks to clean up the mess. Still, all the prospective buyers had felt uncomfortable as soon as they opened the door. He himself, too. And now this slim young man with an almost feminine appearance came and bought the house. Without batting an eye. Without trading.

Connor walked through the house. It was quite spacious. There was a living-dining room with an open kitchen downstairs and a terrace with a small garden. Upstairs were two rooms and two bathrooms. One had obviously been used as a bedroom, one as a study. A man had lived here. On the walls posters with box motifs, of motorcycles. Almost no books. And the man had been sporty. In the closet were tracksuits, sports clothes made of shiny synthetic fibers, like those worn by the men on the posters. A few pairs of jeans, a couple of jackets. My God, the morning coats took up more space in his closet than his previous owner's entire wardrobe did here. But it was perfect that he had something to change into here at all.

Lastly, Connor went to the garage. It was impressive. More like a fully equipped repair garage. With three high-horsepower looking motorcycles. And with a long wall of cabinets that held motorcycle suits, leather jackets and pants, as well as mechanic overalls. Okay, so in terms of the amount of clothing, maybe there was parity after all….

While everything else in the house looked as if its previous owner had just been out exercising, on a motorcycle ride, or at the pub, the kitchen was empty. There were no pots or anything like that. Just protein powder and bars. A few bottles of water. And a few cans of beer. He was about to grab a bottle of water when a voice told him that maybe a beer was more appropriate for the occasion. He opened a can, poured himself a glass and sat down in the TV chair. After a few sips, he fell asleep.

It was already dark outside when he woke up. My God, had he had a wild dream. He had gotten into a boxing ring. And his opponent was his friend. And he had knocked him out with one punch. He couldn't get the other crap together. He took the glass of beer and drank it down in one go. Shit, it was warm and stale. And he was hungry. If he remembered correctly, there had been a kebab joint not far away at all. That was better than nothing now. He wanted to reach for his coat, but something told him that black oxfords and a brown camel hair coat didn't go with kebabs. Even though his shoes and jacket were too big, he grabbed a bomber jacket from wardrobe, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and headed out.

At first, Connor had considered eating the kebab at home. But he was really hungry and ate it right in the snack bar, standing up. And drank a beer from a can to go with it. If his sophisticated friend could see him like that. The asshole deserved a punch in the face, he thought to himself. And cringed at the thought. Although he was right. Back home, he drank another beer. That would make him tired. He had to go to bed now.

Since he hadn't found any pajamas or anything like that in the closet, Connor had slept in his underwear. And obviously he had had a very wet dream tonight. Heck, how much had he jizzed out there? The realtor had said something about a basement, hopefully he'd find a washing machine there. But now he had to pee first. "Hey, hey, hey, mate!" That hadn't been a voice inside him now. He heard a voice. "In this house, a man sits only to shit. Pissing is standing up!" Connor was transfixed. "Trust me, mate, I only want what's best for you. Now piss, jerk off your morning wood, and then get a fucking haircut. You look like a girl." Connor was way too perplexed. Besides, the voice made him horny. Powerful, masculine, but companionable. With a heavy accent. That's how the boxers on the posters had to talk. Connor cummed. But didn't hit the toilet bowl but the toilet lid. He wanted to wipe it all away with some toilet paper, but that's when the voice spoke up again. "Nah, mate! This is your house, this is your cum. If it bothers anyone, tell them to clean it up."

The voice was right, after all. He finally had to live his life. And the voice was also right about the hairstyle. Connor wanted to change some things, the haircut was a start. But who had put his clothes on the bed for him? T-shirt, jockstrap, white socks, tracksuit. And there was a message on his cell phone. With an address. And a terse text, "Ask for Stevie." The barber wasn't far away. Because he found nothing else, Connor had eaten two protein bars for breakfast. He hadn't showered. He assumed the barber would wash his hair. He grabbed his sneakers and jacket from yesterday, got dressed, and left the house. Crazy, but he felt like the shoes fit like a glove today.

Stevie was more of a Steve. A colossus who was inked all over. He didn't ask for what Connor wanted. Stevie didn't wash his hair. Stevie only did a haircut. And it took five minutes. "Eight pounds, mate," Stevie grunted, "and tomorrow at 08:00 sharp, please." Connor left the store confused. Why tomorrow? He looked in the shop window next to the barber shop. He wasn't concerned with the offers for new cell phone contracts. He was concerned with the reflection. He looked like a chav. He looked like most men who were on the street at this hour.

On the way home, Connor had done some shopping. A few convenience foods, a few cans of beer. And a few motorcycle and martial arts magazines. Once home, he went in search of the washing machine. The entrance to the basement had been moved to the garage after the house was remodeled. And yes, there was a laundry room in the basement. Also, a storage room. But most importantly, there was the basement room under the garage. He had expected a lot of things. But not a darkroom. Fully equipped with sling and St. Andrew's cross. And most of all, with a jail cell.

There had been no net in the basement. When he got back upstairs, he had ten missed calls. His friend. He turned off the cell phone. Still, he heard a phone ring. The ringing came from the jacket he had just put on. There was a cell phone and an anonymous caller. He picked it up. And the voice told him that he could use this phone for now.

Connor took the phone, sat down in the living room, and inspected the phone thoroughly. A carelessly maintained address book. Stevie, after all, he already knew. Otherwise, mostly just abbreviated first names or cryptic ones like "Weed" or "Ink." And under Connor was his own number. Nothing surprised him anymore. Although it was actually maybe a little early, he grabbed a beer and flipped through the magazines. Fuck, they were already hot fella's. Both the lads in the leather suits and the mixed martial arts fighters. Connor jerked off more than once. It made him even more horny to cum on his torso and rub the jizz in. Hell, he had all the choices here, why didn't he put on some of the clothes here to jerk off. He tried on racing suits, boxers and mechanic overalls. Every outfit made him horny. In all of them he cummed. By now it was dark again. The house looked like a battlefield. Clothes were lying around everywhere. He himself was encrusted by the many cum. And still not showered. Then he got a WhatsApp message. From a Nick. With a location. And whether he would like to have a beer. The location was quite a distance away. But why not? He was about to call a cab when the voice came on. How many more motorcycles did he need? He was supposed to get around like a man. Hell, yes! Motorcycles were his world. So Connor put on a suit that went well with the bright red Ducati, grabbed his boots, gloves and helmet and took off.

It had been a great evening with the lads. But keeping Stevie waiting was unwise, Connor thought to himself. As he pissed, he wondered if he hadn't been circumcised. But the massive cock he held in his hands was not. He spread half of his piss on the toilet seat. Fuck, it was his piss. Even if the way to Stevie was short, he took his neon green Kawasaki Ninja for it. Today Stevie took more time and shaved bald in the sides and neck. It looked really good. Connor slipped Stevie 20 pounds, said goodbye to the lads and left the store. Shit, he didn't have any cigarettes with him. So he went to the next store, bought some cigarettes and a lighter and lit a cigarette on the next park bench. While doing so, he checked his cell phone. He still had a number of unread messages. But one was brand new: "Mate, workout at 10:00?" "Sure thing," Connor replied. He got on his bike and intuitively rode to his boxing center.

Sure Connor was a lightweight. But he worked out hard with his trainer. And technically, he wasn't bad at all. After two hours, the two were through. Connor went back to the weights for two more hours. His dream was to build mass. He never wanted to be pushed around by anyone ever again.

So slowly a new routine came into his life. Get up at 06:00, run for an hour, visit Stevie, work out. And in the evenings, roaming the pubs with the lads. Maybe with an occasional fuck in the loo. His body was developing very neatly. He'd persuaded one of the lads from the kebab shop to clean up his mess three times a week while he was out working out. Marylebone High Street was a long way away. Just as he was sitting at Stevie's one morning, he got a message. "Appointment today at 4:00 pm." The sender was Ink. He looked in the address book. Yes, there was an address listed. So he headed there after practice. Damn, why hadn't the idea come to him himself and much earlier. He was the only one of his mates without a tattoo. For a start, a full sleave was quite a good project. At least for the next few days he now had a few new appointments in his calendar.

When the inking of his arm was done, he stood in front of the mirror in the morning after taking a piss. He really liked what he saw. He saw a man who fit the house. And the house fit him. While sitting with Stevie, it occurred to him to check the voicemail on his old cell phone. His financial advisor had told him that everything was taken care of. The house was paid for and his friend's existing powers of attorney had been cancelled. Some messages were from his best friend. He wrote her a message telling her not to worry, he just needed some extended time off. And many messages were from his friend. First nasty abuse, then eventually begging and pleading. Sure, without Connor's money he was nothing. Connor sent a message with his new address "Tomorrow at 8:00 pm." He awaited his friend leaning against the window frame. The T-shirt showed off his new tattoos well. With his hands deep in the pockets of his workout pants, Connor massaged his cock. And down in his darkroom, a couple of his buddies were waiting with bulging bladders for the new piss pig to move into the cell.

[buzzyb33]

Quiet night in.

Prompt: After Josh has been away on a cheap v expensive video for 4 days, then having to stay for another 4 due to the flight delaying Y/n is feeling rather touched starved as not many of her close friends live in London, so when josh got back he found her to be rather clingy.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut,

“Ah shit- behz, I have stuff booked-“ Josh scoffs as he looks at Ethan.

“Mate- I can’t do anything about it, and it’s a bit hard finding a flight or flights from Poland to anywhere in the uk at all- so-“ he rambles on as josh rolls his eyes and looks at JJ and Tobi who both look pissed.

An hour later they have some news on their flights.

“Listen- I’m sorry lads but the best it seems like I can do is Tuesday night.” Ethan says, irritation present in his tone.

“Ah fuck off! Tuesday?” JJ shouts.

Josh runs his hands through his hair and sighs, picking up his phone to call Y/n. On the second ring she answers.

“Hey josh! I’m just finishing this recording, are you on your way back?” His girlfriends cheery tone fills his ears.

“Uh- no sorry n/n- I’m- my flights been delayed and I hate to say it but- it’s until Tuesday night.” He says.

“What? Uh- alright.. I hate when these things happen.. I- I’ll see you then, love you.” She says softly.

“Yeah- love you too..”

That night josh went to bed sour while Y/n went to bed disappointed.

The next couple of days she deep cleaned the house and took her mind off her fiancés absence.

When he finally got back to England he was in a better mood as he booked an Uber.

He arrived back at 3 in the morning and he expected Y/n to be fast asleep so when he silently got back into the house and left his bags by the door, he was surprised to see Shameless USA playing on the TV as she sat wrapped in a blanket, eating ice cream.

She still hadn’t noticed him when he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her waist to which she yelled.

“Ah! Josh! You’re back!” She says as she puts her ice cream down and turns to face him.

He smiles tiredly and she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly, her breasts pressing against his chest as she buries her nose into the nape of his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” She said in a squeaky, surprised tone as he placed his hands underneath her thighs and lifted her off the ground.

“I’ve missed you too.. why are you awake so late?” He says as he starts to carry her into the bedroom, turning the TV off and leaving the almost empty ice cream tub.

“I- couldn’t sleep.” She says gently as he settle her into bed.

She smiles up at him as he pulls his shirt off and leaves his shorts on.

She was wearing a extra large sidemen SpongeBob top as she smiled.

He smiled back as he climbed next to her, letting his cold hands go under her shirt and resting on her abdomen as she shivered and brought her back further into his chest.

“I’ve missed you josh..” she says as she turns to face him, tracing shapes on his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, n/n” he replies as he rests his chin on her head.

The next morning, he wakes up to his fiancés fingers tracing his bare chest in non rhythmic patterns with a small smile, her hollow dimples showing slightly.

He smiles and tightens his grip on her waist.

“Morning..” his rough morning voice almost whispered.

She looked up at him and kissed his lips gently, her other hand now in his cheek.

He tightened his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her head.

She nuzzles herself into his chest further as she inhales his scent.

They just held each other for around two hours before she sat up and kissed his lips, to which he reincorporated— which lead to a make out session which lead to love-filled sex.

Her eyes were now closed again as she lay her head on his bare chest, her face bright red.

“Do- you wanna order some food, n/n?” He asks as his hand runs through her hair.

“Yeah- I don’t mind what you get- I’m going to have a shower.” She smiles as she sits up and kissed his lips again.

After her shower, she changes into some Christmas pyjamas (November is Christmas time) and sits next to Josh on their bed, it was currently 1pm so she assumed her ordered sandwiches or something.

When the food got here- she was proven right when he handed me a New York deli.

That afternoon, we just leaned on each other and watched shows, Allen and laughed, her arm never leaving his, kisses on his cheeks and hands on his hair, she held onto him with such sincerity he was glad he had her.

That night, they spoke till early hours, holding each other tightly.

“Love you josh..” she said gently as they nuzzled each other.

“I love you too, n/n.” He says as he kisses her forehead.

They slept and held each other, the next morning also starting the same way as the previous one, it was clear how much she missed him.

A/n: I don’t know about this one, it doesn’t have as much as regularity!! (I need to work on POV changes bro 😭) hope you enjoyed!!

@ace-call-me-what-youd-like I’ll try get the James fic out soon! Sorry for the wait!

[zeldas-cigarrette]

Baroness/fem!reader, reader is her assistant, baroness falls and hurts her ankle, she's forced to drop the ice bitch act in private as the reader takes care of her. Even if the rest of the staff don't see it

— a/n * ˚ ✦: Huge apologies for the long wait of merely 10 months, I’m really really sorry I haven’t been in the right mind to write. I hope you can still enjoy it, even though it's been so long since you‘ve written this request. 🩵

— word count -`,✎; 1.2k

— pairing ༉‧₊˚✧ ; baroness von hellman x fem!reader

It was a really busy day in London, therefore also in the house of Hellman. Employees were scurrying around in the enormous fashion house, dressing mannequins, and restocking clothes. It was one of those days when the Baroness decided to show up in the store, making everyone a nervous mess. She wasn’t known for going easy on people, especially not when it concerned her fashion.

You were busily trying to set up her office, organising refreshers and snacks for her upcoming meetings, the Baroness expected nothing but perfectionism. As her assistant, it was your job to fulfil these needs. You clumsily tried to light the candles in the golden candleholder, the last thing for the ambience to look neat. A few deep breaths later you decided that your job was done, for now. When the Baroness arrives there would be greater tasks than her office, and for that you would have to prepare yourself now.

——⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

An hour later, a black, almost carriage-looking, car stopped in front of the store. You hurried to the gates of the fashion house, greeting your boss. Her lips were painted a deep maroon red, whilst her pompous dress swayed with every step she took. The woman radiated power and wealth. You gulped as soon as her eyes landed on you, her mood wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. The baroness flicked her wrist at you, motioning for you to follow, and with her head held high, the fashion icon strode through the tall glass doors. You hurried to her side, trying to keep up her pace. “Good morning”, you quickly said and tried for a clumsy smile. The baroness shot you a quick glance, scoffed and took in the scene of her scurrying employees. “Only use ‘good’ if the morning actually is”, she advised snarly and pursed her lips. Her rather analysing look applied to a certain young woman who was white as a wall when she spotted her boss.

Every time you saw the baroness, your heart clenched slightly, not exactly knowing why since she never did more than make people feel small. But something in you tended to like her a little more than you should.

All the things she wanted to restock, a little leather handbag, and a pile of clothes, fell to the floor when the Baroness’ blue eyes pierced through the young girl. To say that the poor woman was petrified would’ve been an understatement. “What are you looking at? Pick those up!”, Baroness von Hellman barked and pointed to the scattered clothes on the floor, “And make sure they’re clean.” Her voice was sharp as a knife. Then she turned to you, eyeing your being for a moment, long enough to ask yourself if something was wrong with your appearance. “Is my office ready for my meeting at 2?”, she asked snidely and put her hands on her hips.

“Everything’s ready. Mr Kohl will bring new designs”, you replied curtly and nodded. The Baroness rolled her eyes. “So be it, I’ll be in my office”, she announced to you and turned to walk off. A breath of relief, that she was at least somewhat pleased, escaped your lungs. However, the next thing you heard was a loud ‘For heaven's sake!’, your eyes shot in that direction, only to see the baroness lying on the floor, hissing and visibly appalled. You ushered over kneeling next to her. It appeared, that the young employee forgot to pick up the black leather bag, over which the baroness tripped and fell.

“Are you alright?”, you asked and reached out your hand to help her get up. “Don’t touch me”, she hissed. You scowled in response and slowly retrieved your hand, and scooted backwards to give her a little more space. The baroness clumsily tried to get up herself but failed miserably. Your eyes scanned down to her ankle, seeing it was visibly swollen. “It’s turning blue, just let me help you get up?”, you repeatedly asked and your expression softened. It was visible on her face that she contemplated accepting your help. Then she reached out her hand for you to take it. However, getting her off the floor took a little more than just her hand. You gently held her by the waist, helping her get up and while doing so, your cheeks flushed slightly. “Make sure she gets fired”, Baroness von Hellman hissed and her grip around your waist tightened, steadying herself. “Now bring me to my office”, she caustically snarled nudging your body to move forward. Her warm hands clutching your hand on her waist, for reasons that weren’t clear to you. 

It might’ve looked somewhat ungraceful but the two of you managed to get into her office without any more incidents. After placing her on her office chair, you pulled a small stool underneath her injured ankle to prop it up. “I’ll get someone to bring ice”, you announced, already making your way out of the door again. “Can’t you do it?”, she asked snarkily. You turned around, eyes widened at her sharp request. “I meant, can’t you please do it?”, The Baroness corrected herself and sounded a tad bit softer. “Of course, I’ll see what I can do”, you replied and excused yourself.

And some time later you reappeared in her office with a pack of ice in your hands. The Baroness’ looked like she yearned for the coolness on her ankle. You gently placed the ice on her injured spot and took a step back. “That shall do it”, you mumbled and brushed some hair out of your forehead.

There were a few long moments of silence before Baroness von Hellman decided to speak up again. “Thank you”, she said, not looking up from her papers. “You’re welcome”, you replied curtly and turned to go, wanting to prepare the staff for the afternoon Rushhour. “I mean it, thank you”, she repeated with a little more force. It was unlike her to thank someone and even more to actually say it twice. “It’s fine, no worries”, you replied carefully, not knowing if this was a trap. Then the Baroness finally decided to look up at you she waved you over to her desk. “You were the only one to rush over and help me, I owe a ‘thank you’”, she remarked and held your gaze, “Everyone else was too afraid to even ask if I was alright.”

Everything she had said was true, her employees were far too scared to even look directly into her eyes not to mention go up and help her. The longer she looked at you the more you realised that her expression had grown softer. “I just wanted to know that you’re taken care of, I wouldn’t have liked to see you in pain when I was right next to you.” It looked like the baroness was taken aback from your sudden heartfelt words, a subtle smile tugged her lips. “Come back later”, she then said with no hint of mockery or disdain, “And fire that lady with the bag.”