#I think I am already grieving her in a way

[peppermintmochafem]

.

[hsslilly-blog]

hollywood u never specified what addison’s mother is sick with, or if it’s terminal; just that she’s really sick, right? rather, that she has been really sick (for a while). personally, i’ve always read it as if it were terminal. lmao not surprising. anyway you know what that means *hits her with dead parent beam*

[harknessxo]

I’ve Missed You

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought. (This is also based on the one clip of Rio pinning Agatha to the wall.)

Warnings; kidnapping, magical manipulation, manipulation, metal abuse, fingering, strap on use (r receiving), mommy kink.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: All these Agatha All Along trailers and teaser have motivated me to write after four months. I am so ecstatic for it to come out already! I have waited two years for this! 😭

You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. You told her everything about Agatha’s sick plan and Wanda then was able to trick Agatha and put her under spell, trapping her in Westview. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. She even casted runes around the house.

A couple months after those events you found out about Wanda’s death. You grieved her death little, she was the closest thing you had to a friend ever since Agatha stripped you from your friends and family, but most of all you felt fear. Fear that Agatha would come out of the spell and go looking for you especially because Wanda’s runes had disappeared.

You were paranoid for months until you had confirmation that she was still in Westview under the spell. You spent the next three years in hiding. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought.

It was around mid day when you found yourself in the kitchen making some coffee. You were just wearing a robe and your hair was laying wild over your shoulders. As you were pouring the milk into your coffee, you heard a noise outside. You frowned and walked over to the window and saw nothing. As you were about to get back to your coffee, you heard it again. You grabbed a knife and walked over to the front door. Before you could even open it, the door burst over and someone pinned you against the wall, making you drop the knife.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” That voice…you hadn’t heard it in so long, it made your skin crawl.

“A-agatha?” your voice trembled as you said her name. You looked into her eyes, she looked the same, she hadn’t aged a day yet she looked older in a way. Maybe it was the dark circles that laid under her eyes. She gave you a sinister smile moving her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“You look as beautiful as the day you left me.”

“How did you free yourself? And how did you find me-”

“I had some help,” she simply said, moving her hand to your neck and squeezing lightly, “I didn’t appreciate you betraying me and running away. Did you really think you could get away from me?” she pouted mockingly.

“Agatha please-” you wrapped your hand around her wrist.

“Say that again, you know how much I love to hear you beg.”

“P-please don’t hurt m-me…” your voice cracked. You were terrified of this woman’s power, of what she could do. Agatha dismissed your pleas and started kissing down your neck, surprisingly gentle.

“God, I missed you so much,” her hand sneaked underneath your robe to grip onto your waist, “Wanda did quite the number on me but now she’s not here to save you,” she whispered harshly into your ear and a tear silently ran down your cheek.

“Shh, baby, there's no need to cry,” she wiped the tear away, “I promise to take my time with you.” She started dragging you to your bedroom and you just let her, you knew better than to fight back. She pushed you on your bed and started undressing. Even if she was manipulative she was still very attractive. Something you would never admit. When she was done, she crawled on top of you, still leaving your robe on.

“Look at me,” she said when you looked everywhere but her. You just wanted this to be over with. “I said look at me,” she demanded, cupping your face, making you look at her. Usually when you looked into her eyes, all you saw was lust and possessiveness but this time, there was something different.

“Tell me you missed me, Y/n. Tell me you missed my touch.” she pleaded. This was very out of character for her. She never showed vulnerability. Ever. Yet, here she was asking you if you missed her as if her life depended on it.

“I…” she started to kiss your neck again, nipping at it, “I missed you too,” you finally said. It wasn’t a complete lie, a small part of you did miss her. She did kidnap you but she still took care of you and gave you everything you had ever wanted.

“Good girl~” she finally started to untie your robe.

“Aggie-” you tried to protest, gripping into her wrist but she pinned your hand above your head with her magical binds.

“Shh, just relax,” she took off your robe, leaving you completely bare, “I’m going to take care of you.”

“All you do is h-hurt me…”

“That’s because you disobeyed me. I had to discipline you,” she said, manipulating you into thinking it was your fault, “If only you just did as you were told, I wouldn't have had to hurt you bunny…” she softly ran her nails down your waist and hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You remained quiet, not saying a word as her fingers moved closer to your core.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself again,” she finally dipped her fingers into your wetness, chuckling at the fact that you were absolutely soaked for her. She started to slowly circle your clit, her breath hot against your ear.

“You were always so ready for me, baby. Your body still remembers me.” You whimpered when the pleasure caught up to you. You hadn’t touched yourself for so long. Your thoughts undoubtedly went to Agatha every time you tried so you gave up trying to find relief.

She chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by your whimpers. She started to move her fingers faster, applying more pressure to your clit.

“I bet you haven’t touched yourself since you left me. You were too afraid to think about me, weren’t you?”

“…yes.” You replied, biting your lip when she sped up her movements.

“That’s what I thought. You knew that no one could make you feel as good as I do. No one can satisfy you like I can,” she smiled and leaned down to suck on your neck, leaving a dark spot.

“N-no one can…” You said, your brain turning into mush as she slipped her fingers inside you.

“I’m the only one who knows you better than you know yourself. You can barely take care of yourself, baby. You need me.” Agatha was doing what she knew best, manipulating you. She could put you under her spell again but she wanted you to willingly submit to her. She could feel your body starting to tense up as she continued to work her fingers inside you. She moved her lips to your jaw, placing gentle kisses along the way.

“You’re so close, aren’t you baby? Do you remember the rules?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, tugging at the binds slightly.

“What do you say then?” she slowed down her movements, loving to see you so desperate for her touch.

“Can I cum please?”

“Beg me, baby. I want to hear you beg for me.”

“Please mommy? I promise to be a good girl!” And there it was. She finally had you exactly where she wanted you. She smirked at your words, her eyes darkened with lust.

“That’s my good girl. You always know how to please me. Cum for me, baby. Cum for mommy.” She freed your hands and you clung to her as you rode your high, moving your hips against her hand. She spoke sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you before finally pulling her fingers out and kissing your forehead. You thought it was over until you felt something poking your entrance again.

“Mommy?” You mumbled again, trying to clench your thighs together. She smiled and gently caressed your face.

“I’m not done with you yet, baby. You still have a lot to make up for~”

“No more-” you tried to push her away but she didn’t budge. She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t tell me no, darling. You’re going to be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Understood? Don’t you want mommy to feel good too?” She started rubbing the tip of her enchanted strap against your pussy lips. She’d fucked you with the strap many times and she could feel everything which is why it was her favorite toy to use on you.

“But I’m too sensitive.” You whined.

“You can handle it, baby,” she chuckled and slowly pushed the tip of the strap inside you, “You’ve done it before…” she started to move her hips, pushing the strap deeper inside you. The strap slipped right in, your juices making it quite easy.

“Fuck, baby. You still feel so fucking tight. You’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl~” Agatha groaned. Your pained whimpers soon turned into pleasurable moans and the knot in your stomach started to build up again. She continued to thrust into you, her movements becoming more erratic as she felt her own pleasure building up. She leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Keep making those pretty sounds for me. I want to hear you scream my name when you cum.”

“A-Aggie-“ You dug your nails onto her back. She let out a low growl, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Say it again, baby. Say my name again.”

“Agatha!” You came again, your pussy pulsing around her strap as your legs started to shake. Agatha let out a moan as she felt you cum around her strap, her own orgasm washing over her. She continued to thrust into you a few more times before pulling out and collapsing on top of you.

“That’s my good girl. You did so well, baby,” she started petting your hair as if you were a pet. She pulled you closer, holding you in her arms. She ran her fingers through your hair, her voice soft.

“You’re mine and no one else’s. You’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understand? You don’t want mommy to have to hurt for not listening, do you?” You frantically shook your head, burning your face in her neck. She gripped your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at her.

“I said, do you understand? You will do as I say. You will obey me. You are mine to control and use as I please. Don’t make me punish you, baby.”

“I u-understand…” your eyes watered a bit, now you were really trapped. She smiled and released your hair, her hand gently stroking your cheek.

“Good girl. I knew you would see things my way. You’re so much more compliant when your brain is turned into mush, isn’t that right? Maybe I’ll have to fuck you more often so you don’t fight me,” she kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to her, wrapping her arms around you possessively. Agatha held you tightly, enjoying the feeling of having you in her arms again. She ran her fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. She could see the gears turning in your head and spoke up again.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to love being mine again. And I’ll take good care of you, I promise. You won’t want anything as long as you’re with me…”

[deputyrook]

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now. 

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful. 

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back. 

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.” 

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed. 

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there. 

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. 

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear. 

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one. 

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation. 

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO. 

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body,  keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive. 

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair. 

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us. 

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free. 

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful. 

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room. 

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work. 

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway. 

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded. 

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable. 

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again. 

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

[lukesaprince]

Rich Part 21

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The truth is revealed and extenuating circumstances lead to y/n spilling the beans about her and Harry.

Warning: HELLA SMUT!! Daddy!kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk (degradation and praise ofc), spanking, spitting kink, creampie, mentions of death (specifically a child) and grieving, poor mental health.

Word count: 17k+

Author's note: I recommend reading Part 20 before this one as it's a direct continuation! Part 22 already has 7k words written so I PROMISE you won't have to wait a month to read more of my babies. Enjoy 😚😚

- Find Series Masterlist Here -

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Please… Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His mouth slotted with yours like the final puzzle piece. Smooth and effortless, melting into you while his hand moved from your neck to grab onto your hair. He was simultaneously protecting your head from the door and tugging right at the root of your pretty hair. 

The sting had you whimpering into his mouth, hands through his hair and over his chest and just everywhere while you reached up on your tippy toes to kiss back harder. You quite liked feeling smaller than him and Harry loved being bigger than you. Taller than you. Pressing his full body weight into you until all you could feel was him. 

“I don’t… I don’t have much time.” You murmured into his mouth, gasping as the kiss broke and he let his mouth skirt over your jaw. You always did have a sensitive neck. It was a sweet spot for you and Harry knew that. At this point he had memorised all your erogenous zones and the little things he did that turned you on and considered himself an expert in how to take advantage of it. 

He was always learning new things about you. Every day he found new details about you and fell deeper in love because of it. 

“You do.” His smirk curled against your jaw and focused one hand on your hair to tug your head back while the other squeezed over your waist. 

“I really don’t. My parents will see my car and wonder where I am. They’d be offended I saw you before them.” 

“I think they’d be a little more than offended if they knew what you were doing here. Wouldn’t they, darling?” 

Your gasp got caught in your throat, muffled by a moan when he bared his teeth against your neck. His mouth cushioned lower, tracing over what felt like every single inch of your bare skin. 

“Probably.” You just hummed in response, letting your eyes flutter closed while you relaxed into the feeling of his soft, wet tongue over your neck. 

“What would they say if they knew you called me Daddy, hm? Bet your mother would faint, wouldn’t she? Her darling little y/n.” Harry pulled away so you could watch the way his lips wrapped around each syllable. He pressed his hand over your throat again, keeping you pinned there as he undid the bow of your sweatpants. “Come on, baby. Tell me what she’d say.” 

You didn’t think he’d want a response to that when it sounded so rhetorical. More like a tease than something he wanted you to respond back to. 

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to-” the words got stuck in your throat when you felt his nimble fingers slide along the waistband of your sweatpants. He smirked at your reaction, scanning every inch of your face while languidly stroking your lower belly. “-to think about it. It's mortifying.” 

His eye contact was making you want to pass the fuck out and when his fingers found the band of your underwear you nearly did. You had missed this. The cat and mouse game. The teasing. Though it usually took a lot longer than the time you had. 

“It’s not mortifying when you’re doing it, though. Is it, baby?” He cocked his head, maintaining eye contact as he started to trace over your underwear down towards your clit. You shook your head quickly, grabbing onto his forearms. 

“Words.” He warned. 

“No. No it isn’t.”

“Feels quite… good. Doesn’t it?” He pressed right over your clit, rubbing purposed circles. The friction of your underwear was driving you crazy. But you wanted more and you were a little conscious of the time. 

“You know it does.”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I make you feel good. Don’t I?”

The questions were making your head spin. “Yes… yes.”

The friction suddenly disappeared from your clit, but just as you were about to make a noise of disdain, his hands were hoisting your legs up around his waist and he was carrying you through the house to his dining room. He set you down on the edge of the table, reaching in to kiss you deeply just long enough to have you gasping and tugging at his hair.

The kiss broke and his mouth trailed down your neck again. You made a pretty little whimpering sound that had Harry smirking against your skin while he worked on removing your pants properly. 

“I love when you do that…” he groaned, nimble fingers sliding along the waistband of your sweats, tucking into them and your underwear at the same time before very easily pulling them down under your ass until they fell to your ankles. The cool air hit your clit instantly, sending a chill down your spine and the tension of your legs that only increased when Harry continued to talk dirty to you. “When you whimper all pretty for me… ‘s my favourite thing in the world. Never takes long either. Could just kiss you and you’d moan for me. Isn’t that right?” 

His question hung heavy in the hair but all you could focus on was the sight of him dropping to his knees before you to help guide your feet out of the bottom half of your clothing. 

“Uhuh.” You agreed haphazardly, sweeping your hand through his hair at the first touch of his lips against your knee. He kissed down your calf until that ankle was out of your pants then switched sides to do the other, this time kissing up from your ankle to your knee to the sensitive skin of your thigh.

“Why don’t I give you something proper to moan about, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?” Harry let his lips brush against your skin while his hands ran up and down your legs, running his thumbs over your knees like he was about to pry your legs open and dive right in.

Every touch had you breathing heavier, already getting worked up just from a few little kisses. It didn’t help that you were already on edge from his earlier teasing and knowing that things would get a little rougher than usual only made you needier.

Sex always was a bit rougher when ‘daddy’ came into play. Harry took on the role in full force and took full control of the scene. He usually spanked you more, grabbed you more, fucked you harder. Fuck… you hoped he’d spit in your mouth too, maybe smack his ringed fingers over your clit. You could ask for it of course and he’d happily oblige (with a bit of teasing and degradation to accompany your request of course), but it was so much hotter when he just did it. When he owned you and treated you like a hole to use. 

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, tugging his hair a little harder. He smirked and nipped at your thigh, grabbing your calves to pull you forward until your legs widened to fit him between them. Grabbing your face suddenly, he squeezed your cheeks roughly until you whined in pain. 

“Where are your manners, huh? I thought I taught you better than that.” He tutted, maintaining eye contact while he spit suddenly on the fingers on his other hand before reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Harry didn’t want to stop looking at your pretty eyes for a single second. The moment he found your clit he tapped against it roughly, making your back arch at the repeated sting of his fingers. His saliva only made it hurt more and yet you found yourself loving every second of it. 

“Shit.” You cursed, clutching onto his shoulders. The sting had your toes curling, knees dug into either side of his hips in an attempt to curb the ache. “Shit.”

“If you’re a good girl, y/n, you’ll get treated nicely. Don’t you know what happens if you’re not, hm?” He smirked, pressing his palm to your clit while sliding two fingers down through your labia. You were soaked, already dripping for him to do something. Anything. He circled his fingers over your entrance, pressing just enough to make that delicious whimper echo around his kitchen before he dragged them back up to your clit. “Or has it been that long since I put your attitude in check?”

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Harry repeated the same movements, torturously dragging up and down… up and down from your clit to your entrance without doing anything remotely close to satisfying. 

“‘M sorry. I’m sorry Daddy. I got… fuck” you cursed when he nudged over your clit again. It was just a game now, a sadistic little game to see how wet he could get you without actually giving much pleasure. “Excited.”

“Excited? Or selfish?” He cocked his head, grinding his palm to your clit while squeezing your face a little harder. “Being needy doesn’t give you an excuse to be ill mannered.”

“You’re right. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” The words came out as a hushed whimper of strung together desperation. Harry was loving every second of it. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“Gonna let me do anything I want?”

“Anything. Anything.”

His cock stirred at the thought of being able to do anything to you. To have complete control over you. Of course, you truly had the power in the situation, but he loved that you chose to let him take the reigns. 

“Open your mouth.”

Harry slid his hand down to your jaw to give you space to move your mouth and as soon as you did, your lips parted just wide enough for him to spit right on your tongue. The sight was obscene. Your tongue sticking out to catch his saliva, his mark, his ownership. Your eyes were all glazed and pretty and you looked happy to take whatever he gave you. You were happy. 

He just couldn’t help himself, really. Couldn’t stop himself from getting a taste of your pretty mouth. It would’ve felt wrong not. You were his girl after all. His love. Kissing you was part of the job. 

Harry was quick to dart out and clasp his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth so he could rub his saliva over your tongue with his own. It was feral. Sloppy in the best way possible. He slid his tongue against yours, spreading his spit and the new saliva from your kiss everywhere.

You loved when he kissed you sloppy. When it was way too inappropriate for outside eyes. Something just for you. While his tongue told you exactly how he felt about you, he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward until you slid off the table, landing on your unsteady feet. 

“Take this off, yeah? Let me see how pretty you are.” He murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak while tugging upwards at the end of your t shirt.

You quickly obeyed and ripped your t shirt off, letting it land on the floor without care. You didn’t bother putting a bra on when you left Lucy’s, not when you were just going home and seeing Harry quickly - or at least you thought it would be quick - so you were left bare. Now you were grateful that you decided to do that, especially from the dark-eyed reaction you gained from your bare breasts being exposed to your lover.

“Fuck baby. Got the prettiest tits ever.” Harry cursed, palming over your exposed breasts while he connected your mouths again.

Your hands found home in his hair, reciprocating happily to his enthusiastic kissing. It was such a power imbalance being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. The anxious part of you hated it and felt so… small. Exposed. The bigger part of you, the one that got off on being submissive and degraded frothed over it. There was no feeling like his fully clothed body against your fully bare one, other than skin to skin contact of course.

That was your favourite.

“Driving me fucking crazy like this.” Harry murmured again, keeping one hand on your breast while the other trailed upwards to the little pearl necklace permanently fixtured on your neck. You only took it off to shower, otherwise it never left your body. You couldn’t bare to part from it because it was a constant reminder of Harry. Like he was always with you.

And you happened to love how possessive he became when his eyes landed on the little string of pearls. How they darkened ever so slightly. When you were in public it turned into a kiss or his hand squeezing your hand or waist, like it triggered some obsessive reaction. You weren’t sure if he caught onto the fact that the necklace somehow pavloved physical touch, but you did.

Sometimes you liked to draw attention to it on purpose to tease him, not that he knew he was being teased. When you were talking you might brush your hair away from your neck or fiddle with the pearls to draw his eyes there. It was fun. A game you were winning even if he didn’t know he was participating.

“And this…” He hooked his finger into the necklace, tugging it gently while simultaneously tugging at your bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “You’ve got no idea how sexy you look with nothing on but this.”

“I never take it off…” You sighed.

“I know. I love you more for it.” He mused, nipping on your neck. “If that’s even possible.” Your head lulled back when he ran his hands down over your body again, landing on your hips where he quickly spun you around to face the table and pressed himself against you. “Love how soft you are too…” He complimented, pressing spongey kisses along your shoulder. 

You braced yourself against the table, letting yourself be pushed down flat against it by a gentle hand on the middle of your back.

“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”

His mouth replaced his hand, trailing down until he was crouched behind you. God the sight of you was driving him crazy. 

Running his hands over your ass, he pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he released before kissing over to your other cheek. Then he spread you wide, eliciting a gasp when he spanked you and groaned at the way your skin rippled then spread you open again. 

“My tongue…” 

And then you felt it. His hot tongue met your clit, swiping through your labia right to your tight ring of muscles where he decided to focus his attention. Harry was aware you two didn’t have all the time in the world, but he just couldn’t compromise on his favourite thing. Tasting you. 

Your flavour, your scent, how wet you got. Like silky honey dripping down his throat and coating his lips. He was obsessed with it. Which is why he let himself a few moments of flicking his tongue against your ass before he moved down to one of his favourite parts of you. That pretty little clit. 

Your moans were like music to his ears. An array of whimpers and whines, pleaded whispers of his name and his honorific. There was nothing like hearing the moan of his name, even moreso when he was being your ‘Daddy’. You were much more pliant, more responsive. He wasn’t sure if it was your submission kicking in more than usual or because your kink was being stroked the entire time. 

Either way, he was reaping the benefits. 

You were so hot and sweet and were wiggling like a fucking worm in his grip. He had to hold onto your hips harder to keep you still, but that didn’t stop your clenching and trembling when he sucked particularly hard on your clit or fucked his tongue inside you. 

So fucking responsive.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. My favourite meal in the world.” He praised, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking a little rougher than usual just so you’d cry out for him.

“Please. Please.” You begged, forehead pressed against the table.

“What?” Harry mused, sliding his tongue toward your entrance and pressing it there. You clenched on impact and he could feel it at the tip of his tongue. All he could think about now was getting inside you. God, he was so hard. So painfully hard. 

“Need you. Please, Daddy. Need your cock so bad.” You begged clearly this time, needing to be filled more than anything. 

“Yeah? Need it bad, do you?” Harry stood up, kissing your cheek on the way up before he was ridding himself of his clothing. He was already hot and worked up and he knew that the moment his cock touched you he’d be sweating all over. Besides… he wanted to feel you. He wanted to press his chest into your back and feel your thighs against his.

He craved the intimacy of skin to skin like nothing else.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes.” You sighed, nearly screaming in relief when you felt the tip of his cock bump against your clit. 

“I’ll give it to you baby…” He soothed, dragging his tip through your folds to collect your wetness over his cock. “I’ve got you…” His tip pressed against your entrance and you swore you could’ve cried when he slowly pushed in. “Shit.”

“Fuck.”

He stretched you slowly, torturously, like he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock. Every vein and ridge and the way he got slowly wider at the base. It wasn’t something you’d feel when he was fucking you roughly, but God it was all you could feel now. The stretch, the ache, the way your knees buckled when his hand pressed into your lower back to keep you still.

And then the slow, tortuous teasing ended and without any warning he drew his hips back and slammed back into you in a way that had your lungs losing all their breath. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers dug tightly so there was this constant ache that seemed to reach its way straight to your soul. 

And you fucking loved it. Every bruising thrust, every snapping sound, the way Harry moaned and cursed, telling you exactly how much he liked it. He never was shy from making sounds of pleasure and it was one of the things that made sex with him so hot. 

“You’re so tight. Shit, baby. Always so fucking tight around me.”

“Oh God. Harry!” 

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He reprimanded with a heavy spank on your ass, the snapping sound echoing throughout the room. “Say the right one. Say it.” 

“Daddy.” You moaned pathetically, earning another spank right on the other cheek. The sting was the most satisfying sort of burn, a pain that lingered and ached but only made everything so much better. It fuelled your pleasure, contributing to the orgasm you had been waiting for twice now. 

It didn’t take long to reach it. Not when he had already teased you with his mouth and fingers and now was fucking you so damn good you could barely breathe. Harry didn’t stop once you rode through your orgasm, no, he took it as an opportunity to give you barely ten seconds of rest and flip you around so you were lying flat on the table. He was nestled back in you before you knew it, in a single fluid thrust that had you crying out from sheer sensitivity. 

He didn’t seem to care, or he did but just liked to see the way the tears streamed down your face. And you were okay. He knew you were okay because he checked in with you in that ten seconds of rest, making sure you were green before he flipped you over to fuck you how he wanted. 

And fuck. This was how he wanted you. 

“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.

Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them. 

But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.

He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions. 

Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure. 

“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone. 

“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.” 

There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.

“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”

Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time. 

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”

You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder. 

“Spit in my mouth.”

Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat. 

“God, you’re fucking filthy today.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”

Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

It all happened so fast. The praise. The hammering of his hips against yours. The woozy pleasure feeling clouding your brain like a drug. All of it. And then it happened. Harry collected the saliva in his mouth and spat it all over your tongue, watching with sick satisfaction as your saliva slid down to the back of your throat. He groaned loudly and leaned in to kiss you fiercely, picking up the pace against your hips in a way that had tears trailing down your face. 

It was so good. So so fucking good. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Every square of your body was pressed against his and when he fucked you particularly hard, the dining table scraped across his gorgeous wooden flooring. Harry didn’t give two fucks about his scratched floors, if anything he liked the thought of always looking at a constant reminder that you were his. 

“Can’t believe what a little slut you’re being tonight.” He grinned, palming over your breast and pinching your nipple until you cried out and arched against him. “You fucking love my spit, don’t you? That’s why you asked for it. Because you love being my filthy little slut.”

Filthy little slut. God you loved when he was a little mean to you. A lot mean sometimes too. 

“Uhuh. Love it so much.” You nodded enthusiastically, well, as enthusiastically as you could after an orgasm and his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your throat. 

“Yeah? Take some more than. Since you want it so fucking bad.” He spat into your mouth again, using two fingers to roughly spread it over your tongue. He pushed them back, laughing when you suddenly gagged around his fingertips. “Aw, poor baby can’t even handle my fingers, hm? How do you manage my cock then if you can’t even take two fingers down your throat?” 

He grabbed your neck this time and pushed you back until you were lying down on the table before grabbing your ankles to hike them on your shoulder. 

Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot. 

“Harry.” You protested, covering your face with both hands. 

Your whole body was heating up from how mean he was being. Maybe even a little shy at how much you liked it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore that you liked it, not when you two had so much practice with it. Yet you still found yourself getting nervous when he looked at you a certain way or said a certain thing. You rather liked it like that. You never wanted to lose the butterflies. The romance. The big pile of mush you turned into when he degraded you and used you. 

“Don’t start being shy now, Angel. You know you like it.” He smirked, reaching forward to grab your hands from your face. He interlaced your fingers, drawing your hands down to rest on your belly so he could look at you. “Wanna look at you, baby. You’ve got the prettiest face. Look so gorgeous like this.”

Every word seemed to be egging you on, drawing you closer to the inevitable ecstasy that would flood through your core. The angle was so intense, so deep you knew that if he pressed on your belly, his cock would press through. 

“Oh god. I’m… shit. I’m so close.” You moaned, squeezing his hands and digging your heels into his shoulders. 

“Give it to me, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“My… my clit.���

Harry kept one hand intertwined with yours while the other moved down to your clit. He rubbed purposed circles over your bundle of nerves, delivering such perfect pressure it barely took a murmured ‘I love you’ for that wave of white hot pleasure to rush over you. His thrusts stilled at the feeling of you clenching around him and he was quick to widen your legs and fold over you so he could lazily slot your lips together. 

With a curse and a pretty whimper into your mouth that had your head spinning, Harry thrust once, twice, three final times until you felt his hot cum fill you up. His body was so heavy over yours, your sticky bodies pressed and joined together. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you. 

“God, that was so good.” He murmured, tucking his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Agreed. I’ve missed that” you whispered, panting slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Me too. Fuck.” He propped himself up over you, pushing your hair back from your face. “Are you okay?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh, tipping your head up so you could kiss him. “I’m more than okay. Two orgasms equals a happy girl.” 

“And what does three make you?” He grinned. 

“An even happier girl, possibly a tired girl.” You smiled, reaching your arms above your head to arch your back in a stretch. He shook his head and stood back straight, scanning his eyes over the light sheen of sweat on your pretty skin. 

“And you’re not tired now?” Harry raised his brow, looking down at your pussy to watch himself pull out. He did so slowly, careful not to hurt you and was completely mesmerised by the trail of cum that followed his cock. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, feeling an ache when he fully pulled out of you. “Of course I’m tired. A little sore too. I think I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Mh. Me too. Wish we could sleep together.” He replied, eyes glued to his cum slowly dripping out of you. “I don't think I’ll ever get over how hot it is to see you like this.”

“Mmh.” You agreed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at his cock covered in your cream. “I always thought creampies were overrated before you. Now… I love it.” Your eyes flickered back to Harry, who was already looking right at you with this dark look that made you want to climb all over him again. “I like feeling it later… even if it’s a little gross to sit in cold cum.”

Harry scrunched his nose up at that, “You could’ve made that so much sexier, y/n. Now when you go home I’ll be thinking of stale cum.”

“I didn’t call it stale! I said ‘cold’.” 

“Like that’s any better?” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll grab you some water and a towel, okay? Stay here.” 

“Like I’d go anywhere, I’ll drip stale cum all over your floor.” You shot back as he was already walking into his kitchen. You loved his ass. It was just so cute half the time you had this temptation to just whack it but you knew he’d hate it and probably retaliate ten times worse. 

There was something so sexy about him walking around stark naked without a care in the world. He had such confidence in his body and himself that he really didn’t care. You weren’t as confident as he was in that department but being with him had definitely made you more confident in your skin. 

“It’s already on my table, y/n. The floor won’t make much difference.”

You clenched up immediately at that comment, trying to stop more of his cum from dripping out of you. “Yeah… we’ve got to sanitise this. We eat here.” You scrunched your nose and sat up to look at the spot between your legs, finding his cum already dripped onto the table. 

“Baby I’d sanitise the entire house if it meant I got to fuck you anywhere and everywhere.” He smirked, coming back with a big glass of water and a damp tea towel. He had already cleaned himself up and was quick to crouch down before you to clean you up as well. You didn’t get very nervous about the cleanup anymore. Harry had wiped you clean and taken care of you dozens of times. 

“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the glass from where he had put it on the table beside you. “Your bed’s next. When we have more time.”

“I still can’t believe we haven’t christened my bed yet. It feels wrong.” He murmured, watching you 

shakily bring the glass to your lips while he grabbed your underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and dragged them up your legs.

“I know. I’ve missed your bed. It’s a lot comfier than mine, more space too.” You had this little mischievous grin playing on your lips, one that Harry found incredibly sexy. 

You were still breathing a little heavily and managed to finish half the glass by the time you lifted your hips and Harry adjusted your underwear back in place. You attempted to set the glass down on the table beside you but before you could, he stood up and stopped you with a finger pushing the cup up towards you.

“Ah. All of it.” He tutted, looking at you expectedly until you brought the cup up to your mouth again. He maintained eye contact with you, one hand rubbing over your bare thigh while he kept a single finger underneath your glass. It was firm enough to tell you to keep drinking, but not enough so you wouldn’t be able to move the glass on your own. “Good girl… that’s it, drink all of it. Atta girl.”

You loved being fucked rough and dirty and since you two decided not to use condoms, your favourite thing was being pumped full of his cum, even more so when he degraded you when it happened. Like he just did barely two minutes ago. But there was something even better about the aftercare. His sweet tone, his commanding and caring nature as he got you water and a snack. All of it. 

And the praise. Somehow it was so much sexier when you two were post-sex, even more so when it was casual. A nonchalant ‘good girl’ when you did something he asked or a loving ‘I’m so proud of you’ when you got a good grade or finished an assignment. His atta girl at finishing your water nearly made you drop to your shaky knees and get him nice and hard again with your mouth. 

He said the words like they were nothing then moved on, not really caring that you were like a frozen deer at the first sign of praise. “I happen to like your bed. It’s cosy.”

“Yeah…” you breathed, “cosy and next to a thin wall where even adjusting in my bed can be heard by next door.”

“You don’t think they’d like hearing you call me ‘Daddy’?” He grinned, putting his sweatpants on and grabbing your t shirt to help put that on you too. You’ll definitely have to shower the second you walk into your house. There’s just no way you don’t smell like a sex club. 

“No, I don’t think so.” You finished the very last sip of your water, making sure there wasn’t a single drop left in the glass. Once it was all gone, Harry grabbed it from you and placed it down on the table out of the way, tipping your head up with a gentle finger under your chin while his thumb rubbed over the leftover wetness around your mouth from your drink.

“Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his thumb.

Harry smiled softly and guided your mouth to his for a single, deep, core-clenching kiss. It felt like a kiss that was promising so much more and even though you just had your fill, literally, it didn’t make you any less insatiable for him. There was just something about Harry dominating… truly dominating that turned you into a horny little rabbit. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if Harry called you that one day. It felt like the less you saw each other, the more insatiable you became. With the last couple of weeks being so busy, each time you’ve seen each other had been takeaway or a quick dinner and quick - but good - sex. You didn’t have proper time together and while fucking until the morning sounded and felt like a good idea in the moment, when you both woke up and Harry had his long commute to work or you had a day full of classes it became a regret.

Well, not a regret per se. You’d never regret sleeping with him. Ever. But you both complained about being tired the entire day to each other. More you than him since you loved to complain about everything and now Harry was fortunate enough to be the one to hear it all. It was worth it, but it was hard.

You couldn’t take every weekend, or even every second weekend off work to spend time with Harry because you needed money and he couldn’t ‘work from home’ to spend time with you. Driving so much took it out of both of you too so it was always easier if he stayed the night. Things would change once your parents knew and you had a bit more freedom… but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be totally happy with you spending nights with him instead of them.

And next door to top it all off.

Your anxious feelings didn’t help the situation either, but even with that little hiccup, you had missed time. Time where you two could just explore each other's bodies and try new things, go multiple rounds without the stress of your responsibilities. You had that before you two started dating so you knew that the changes to your sex life were mostly your fault. Or because of your situation. 

If you lived closer things would be a lot easier. But that was also life and you two were figuring out what worked for you and now to manage it all. Ideally, once you were finished with university, maybe you two would move in with each other or at the very least you’d want to live much closer to him. 

It was still so early into your relationship and you didn’t want to jump too far… but being full of his cum made your brain a little dizzy and romantic. Suddenly you were ready to forget your birth control and let him fuck a baby in you so you could be at home with him all the time. As a fantasy of course. 

Which is why your post-sex horny brain took a few seconds longer to process the next words out of his mouth. 

“Hey, um. I need to tell you something.” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours. He slid his hand along your cheek to cup your face, letting his fingertips comb through your hair a little. 

“Hm?” you asked, brows furrowing when you read the nervous look in his eyes. Your stomach dropped suddenly and that anxious gut feeling felt more rampant than ever. “What is it?”

“I have to go back to London.” 

“Oh, okay.” You were a little taken aback. Harry hadn’t mentioned any trips or work events or anything recently. The timing of it right after the phone call too felt a bit unnerving. You just hoped everything was okay. “When?”

“Just over a month.” He murmured, feeling that steady beat of anxiety claw at his throat. Harry hated that he had to ruin such a good moment, such a pleasurable, romantic experience to talk about this. He wasn’t sure how you’d react and it scared the hell out of him. 

“Wow, that’s short notice.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, threading your fingers casually into his hair. “Is it… family? Or work or?”

“Family. I…” he swallowed thickly, hugging his arms around you. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“That’s great.” You smiled, relieved that it wasn’t something horrible. That he was okay. “That’ll be such a nice trip, Harry. Did you saw them last year when you went over?”

Harry didn’t speak about them a lot. He didn’t not speak about them and when they came up he always had something to say, but it also wasn’t a topic he brought up by himself. He spoke about his travels quite often, but even that topic hadn’t come up in a while. You were a little glad actually because you didn’t really want to think about him going away for so long. The thought of him in Italy looking all gorgeous and tanned without you made you violently ill. 

Harry shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my family.”

And there it was. 

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was had to be deeply personal and you knew that. 

After the very brief mention of his nephew passing, you two hadn’t spoken about it once. You wanted to ask but it never felt like the right time and after that phone call, the last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were pressuring him into talking. 

And now to learn there was more… 

“Well… you know how I told you about my nephew?” You nodded, “When he died… it was right around the time I was meant to move here. The timing was so fucked. My flight had been booked for months and it was scheduled for the week after the funeral. Everything was packed and ready to go and my job was due to start only a few days after I landed in Melbourne…”

“That must’ve been so hard, Harry. I can’t imagine having to leave everyone so close to his passing.”

“It gets worse, y/n.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “When Harry Jr died, it really fucked me up. I already wasn’t in the best mental state because of my ex, even if I thought I was fine, and I couldn’t handle it.” You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with it. It was clear he did something, but what? “Harry Jr was like my own kid. Him and Lola were everything to me but he was just… like my twin. Lola and I were close but it didn’t compare to the bond Harry and I had. Losing him was… the worst thing that has ever happened to me and as fucked as it was and still is, I couldn’t handle it.”

Harry was starting to get worked up. His words were becoming a little shaky and you could feel how tense he became. He was holding onto you so tight and yet he was avoiding looking at you. He was scared to hear how you were going to react and he was having a hard time finding the words to explain what he had done. 

Practicing with Max did nothing to help. He had told people before and been faced with his actions for years so it wasn’t a new discussion to have. But telling you, the love of his life, how he betrayed and destroyed his family only to keep himself distanced because he was a coward was the hardest it had ever been.  

“Everyone grieves differently, Harry. It would’ve been hard for everyone.” You tried to soothe, combing through his hair. 

“I changed my flight to the day of the funeral.” He just went and said it, immediately feeling your fingers stop in his hair and how you seemed to pull your body back from his. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were a little shocked. “I spent days breaking down and feeling the most depressed I had ever been. The idea of going to that funeral and seeing the small coffin… I couldn’t do it.” He stepped back from you, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking, his throat aching with how hard he was willing away the tears. His eyes were stinging and he didn’t want to face you as he explained the rest of the story, even when you slipped off the table and whispered his name, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I skipped the funeral without telling anyone and I flew here to start my new life.” He paused, swallowing thickly, “I left her, y/n. I left my only sister on the worst day of her life because I couldn’t handle it. She lost her son and I left. I left!” The words came out in an angry spit and his shoulders seemed to widen and slump forward like he was holding back immense rage. At himself. “We fought and she said she’d never forgive me again, fuck I can’t forgive myself. I don’t even want to.”

You were a little thrown off balance, to be honest. You never expected him to say any of that and to hide it from you for so long. But you couldn’t be upset either. He made a terrible mistake and you could see how badly it was eating him up. Harry was a proud person and very rarely doubted himself or his actions, yet you knew he was so ashamed in himself for what he did. It was hard to see. 

“Harry…” You tried to get him to turn around with a little squeeze of his shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“My mum hated me, Gemma hated me, Andy hated me. Everyone hated me and I deserved it. I’ve skipped every Christmas since because I couldn’t face it and because I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I’ve sent letters and texts and tried to call her and I’ve never been able to see her face to face because I’m scared. I’ve never been able to push myself to that next step because I keep thinking it’s too late. That she’ll never forgive me.” 

You could see how devastated he was about it and how angry he was at himself. And you understood it. He had spent nearly five years away from his family, beating himself up because of a huge mistake he made. And it was huge. You weren’t going to dispel that. You weren’t even sure that if you were in Gemma’s place, you’d ever get over something like that. 

But Harry has also changed a lot. You imagined Harry Jr’s death changed him for the worse. Since the moment you met him, he always was a selfish, narcissistic person. It was never a secret that he lived his life for himself and cared about money and his job over anything else and maybe Harry Jr’s death had something to do with that. But since knowing him he’s made so many improvements to himself. He’s completely turned around to try and be an honest and good person.

The things he did for you and put himself through to protect you wouldn’t be done by just anyone. He had so much love in him and had proved that time and time again. He was attentive and caring and so generous. You were starting to think that he always was that person but was torturing himself for so long because of the mistakes he had made that it was easier to keep people at an arm's length.

After knowing him deeper though, you knew that his family meant a lot to him. He spoke to his mum at least twice a week and looked after her financially too. She was a young mum and had already been retired for nearly 10 years because of the way Harry invested his money and the success he had in all his different ventures. Being able to retire a parent when you’re barely 30 and live your own life in such an extravagant way is a massive achievement. 

Which is why you were just so shocked he hadn’t visited Gemma in person yet to try and mend things. How did it take so long for him to finally make the decision to go back to the UK and mend things with her, at least you assumed that’s why he wanted to go to her birthday. You assumed the phone call with his mum had something to do with it too. 

You weren’t really sure what to make of it or what to say. You loved him and were always going to love him and it hurt to know that he had been in a mental place so low and so far gone that he hurt his only sibling this badly. He was suffering with his own grief and unable to cope that badly that his sister, the mother of his nephew had to mourn the loss of her son and her brother all at the same time.

It was awful all around. 

“Harry. Turn around, please.” You coaxed gently, giving his shoulder another little squeeze. He inhaled a shaky breath and slowly turned around, showing you his reddened eyes and puffy nose. “Come here.” You guided, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the couch so you two could sit and talk about it properly. He remained silent while you took his hands in yours, trying to find the right words to support him. 

“What you did was wrong…” His expression seemed to fall even further, complete despair in his eyes. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” You softened your expression, reaching up to cup his face in both hands. “You’ve been torturing yourself because of this for years and I get it. I can’t put myself in your shoes or even Gemma’s shoes because I don’t have siblings and I don’t have nieces or nephews but I understand loss and I understand family. Everyone grieves differently but the one constant in our lives is our family. I don’t think it’s too late to make up for it.”

“You don’t mean that.” He whispered, scanning your face. “Why don’t you hate me? I fucked up.” 

“You did and I won’t excuse what you did. But you were in a horrible part of your life and yeah, the right thing to do was go to the funeral, but you made your choice and you’ve lived with the consequences already. You have changed and grown so much since we started dating, Harry, and I can see the difference it’s making in your life. All you can do now is try and show Gemma you’ve changed. That you’re better.” 

Harry said nothing for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’ve tried to go home to her for years and every time I get close, I see how happy they are without me and it stops me. There was one Summer I even made it to the front gate and saw Gemma and Lola through the window. They looked so happy. Lola was so big and Gemma looked at peace. I didn’t want to destroy that.”

“Don’t you think she’d be happier knowing she had her brother back?” You asked softly, dropping your hands from his face to grab his hands instead.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “My mum has been trying to get me to go back for a long time, always trying to convince me that everyone missed me. That Gemma missed me. I never went because I was thinking about myself instead of her. It was easier for me to stay away than confront what I did. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person.” 

He sounded so determined and he was. He always appreciated your honesty and you kept him accountable time and time again but you did it in a way that still supported him. You listened to him fully and offered support and advice. You didn’t act like he was a monster. He hoped that you felt like that on the inside too.

“Is that what the phone call was about? Her birthday?” 

Harry nodded. “My mum has been hounding me about it for months. When the call happened I wasn’t ready to tell you because I was scared I’d lose you. Really fucking scared. I know it upset you, baby, and I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to. I hope I haven’t lost you because I was ashamed.”

“You haven’t.” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “You haven't. I was upset at the time, but I didn’t want to press you because you’re allowed to have things that are just yours... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” You reached up to cup his cheek, watching the way he nuzzled into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the comfort he felt. “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Harry. I think Gemma would appreciate the work you’ve put into yourself to become a better person.”

“You think so?” He whispered, scanning your face with his eyes. 

You nodded. “I think it’ll take time. I honestly don’t know how things will work out because I don’t know her, but I know you and I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things with her. You’re her brother, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck to draw you in for a kiss. This wasn’t the end of this conversation by any means. You had questions and you hoped that he’d be a lot more open about his family now. This was such an intense, deep-rooted issue. If he wanted to talk about it more, which you hoped he did, it wouldn’t happen in one night. 

The kiss deepened ever so slightly, ending with a little run of his tongue against your bottom lip while he rested his forehead against yours. “Will you come with me?” 

“What? Where? To London?” You blinked, a little surprised at his sudden request. 

He nodded, tightening his hand in your hair just a little. It wasn’t to hurt you, just to feel you. “I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I want you there.”

“Harry-” you tried to interrupt, but it was like he felt your hesitation before you even said anything. 

“I can show you my hometown, my house. You can meet my mum, maybe even Gemma. I just… I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come with me.”  

This felt like something he needed to do by himself. It happened before he even knew you and was such an important step in his life. Family is family and it would almost feel like an intrusion to be there when he’d be sorting through so much history. 

“Harry…” you sighed, leaning back. “I want nothing more than to support you but I have school. I don’t know if I can take time off and I’ve still got this trip planned at the end of the year with my friends. Money wise too… it’s a lot and it’s so soon.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing, y/n. I’d never let you do that.” His voice turned lower just a touch like he was almost reprimanding you for even suggesting he’d let you pay for a single thing. “And I think it might even align with your semester break, at least some of it anyway. Even if you flew in later and met me there? We could travel. I could take you to my house in Italy.” He was trying so hard to convince you but by the look on your face, it wasn’t working. 

“It’s not just that, Harry.” You chuckled at his attempts to convince you, which actually were quite appealing. “I love you and the idea of Italy and seeing where you grew up is so… amazing but I think this is something you need to do by yourself. There is so much history there and so much you need to work through. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go.” 

“I want you to come.” He coaxed, pecking you quickly. God when he had that almost pouty look on his face and murmured so sweetly… you’d agree to anything. “You can do your own thing. You’ve always wanted to go to London. There’s so much to do and you can do whatever you want. As long as I get to see you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Have you in my bed every night.” Now the thought of that was extremely appealing. “Just think about it. Please.” 

“I’ll think about it.” You compromised, smiling softly. 

“Thank you.” He kissed you again before wrapping his arms around you to draw you into his chest. Both of you knew you had to head home, but it wasn’t the right time for you to leave. You couldn’t. 

You spent the next hour or so just wrapped in his arms, then him wrapped in yours. He opened up a little more about Gemma and his extended family and he already seemed so much more open to speak about them. You could tell this was something that weighed heavy on him for a long time. 

Archie made his way from outside at some point too, bringing in a trail of dust and leaves that broke the tension in the room and let you and Harry distract yourselves by bathing him. He had been running a muck outside the entire time, obsessively playing with a new toy Harry bought him. He was so engrossed in it, that he didn’t even know you came over. 

That was probably a good idea since you and Harry spent a lot of your time together naked. You swear Archie had PTSD from Harry’s instruction to go to his bed.

It was late by the time you peeled yourself from Harry, not wanting to leave but knowing you had to. He didn’t want you to leave either but you promised to come over before you left in the morning. He was tempted to come home with you and you had a feeling he might drive back in his own car so he could spend the night with you, or even the day before driving back in the night. 

It was times like these where you hated that your parents didn’t know about him. After learning everything, maybe it was time. 

“Hey, baby.” Your mum greeted, hugging you the moment you walked into your kitchen. 

“Hi.” You smiled, hugging her back. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” He hugged you next, kissing your forehead before returning to the pot he was stirring on the stove. 

“Sorry I took forever, I was catching up with Harry then Archie ended up dragging dirt through the house so I stayed to help him clean up.” You explained, hoping she bought the excuse. There was this expression on her face that just told you she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything about it so you decided to leave it and not say too much. Otherwise, she’d really know something was up if you started waffling. 

“It’s nice you two have stayed so close.” There was something about the way she focused on the word ‘close’, but she had a glass of wine in hand and always liked to read into things when she got a bit tipsy. You hoped you were just being a little paranoid. “You think he’ll give you your job back over your semester break?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I might just plan my shifts at the cafe so I can be here for a couple of days then at mine for a couple of days. I don’t want to cut my shifts at the cafe completely.”

“Mh.” She agreed, “think about it. You know I like having you around.”

“I know. I like being here too.” You smiled, “I’m going to shower and get changed quickly. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright. Don’t be too long.” She called after you. 

“I won’t!”

The night continued as it always did. Dinner, a glass of wine, an update on your week of uni and your night out with your friends (sans Harry, of course). Then Dad went to his office to do some quotes and your mum and you wound up on the couch watching The Real Housewives. Another couple glasses of wine was involved, but it was a Saturday night and you had nowhere to be tomorrow except home. 

Perfect.

Until your mum paused the show while you got up to get a snack and when you returned, she had no plans of playing it again. She had this look on her face, like she was getting ready to announce something really big or ask you an invasive question. 

It was the latter.

“Are you okay?” You asked, landing on the couch with a heavy seat. The wine slowly infused in your body, making you feel like a heavy lump of bones. You were getting to the point where one more sip of wine would knock you out and your pillow was calling your name.

“I need to ask you something.” She shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged while facing you. She still had her glass of wine in hand, eyeing it like she had a nervous tick.

“Okay…” you looked at her a little funny, taking a sip of wine. 

“Are you sleeping with Harry?” At her words, your eyes widened and the wine suddenly travelled down the wrong hole. You coughed repeatedly and Mum was quick to lean forward to tap your back until your coughing subsided. “Our neighbour, Harry.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Mum, but I only know one Harry.” You coughed, rubbing the sore spot over your chest. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer the question. Is it true?”

Shit. What were you even meant to do? You didn’t want to lie about it because the truth would always come out, but you also weren’t ready to talk about it. You had this whole speech planned and all these things you wanted to say when you brought it up to her and now that she was the one asking you about it, there was nothing in your head.  

You felt bombarded by it. But maybe it was better to tell her first before your dad found out. At least this way you could explain everything and diffuse any worries so when he found out, your mum would be on your side. And you knew she would be. Or hopeful at best. Maybe not at first, but all she wanted was your happiness and if Harry made you happy, she’d support you with it.  

Your parents had always told you that they didn’t care what you did with your life as long as you were happy, healthy and safe. They’d support you if it truly was what you wanted. When they said that they were talking about work, not dating your neighbour, but it still applied. 

It would be a shock to them and you knew that, but no one was getting hurt and you were happier than you had ever been. You knew they’d understand. Eventually anyway. 

“Um…” you trailed off, looking away briefly. “Yes? But we’re not sleeping together, we’re… we’re dating.” Even though you could tell she wasn’t surprised, the look of pure disappointment on her face expressed exactly how she felt. She didn’t want you to say yes. “I was going to tell you.” You jumped in again before she replied, wanting to get as much out as possible before she gave her opinion. “I swear. I wanted to tell you and Dad both at the same time so you two wouldn’t get all weird with each other if one of you knew first.”

“Oh god, y/n!” Mum pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a heavy sip of wine before continuing like it would somehow make the news easier to bear. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. I prayed that you weren’t and yet here we are.”

“You knew? How?”

“I didn’t know, but I kind of worked it out. You've been a little giddier than usual. Always looking at your phone and you’re always going over there when you come to visit. He's been different too. Less broody and secretive and he's been getting a dogsitter for Archie for a lot more overnights than usual. Mother’s know these things, y/n. So… explain. How did it start?”

Was it seriously that obvious? When she put it like that, it kind of was obvious that you were seeing someone. She wasn't particularly upset by it, but her tone wasn't overly jovial either. She was calm. Calm was good.

Though it could've been the wine making her more relaxed.

“I guess we kind of got closer as I dogsat Archie. We’d always talk for ages and we had that weekly dinner, which you knew about. Then one day… I don’t know. Things changed.” You averted eye contact, feeling a blush graze your cheeks at the memory of the first time you two slept together. 

“You were sleeping together?” You nodded silently, knowing that she’d be able to tell if you were lying. “When?”

“What?”

“When was the first time?”

“Mum.” You protested, “you don’t need to know that.”

“I do, actually because now that I know it happened, I need to know when it started.”

“Yes but-”

“So when was the first time, y/n?”

You clearly weren't getting out of this one.

“...A few weeks before his birthday, I guess.”

“A few weeks before his birthday.” She repeated to herself, “so you were dogsitting for him and having dinner with him for weeks and what? You two were just sleeping together each time just like that? All those times you came home ‘late’, you were sleeping with him? Right next door? Have you slept with him here?”

“Mum, stop!” You whined, hating how she seemed to be spiralling about the fact you had sex. 

Her questions were practically spitfire and if you didn't stop her now, she'd continue and her questions would get way more invasive. She always was like that when she drank. Nosy and more brazen than usual. Dad always said it was because she was pretty that she got away with the way she ran her mouth when she drank.

Mum was harmless, but God if there was even a smidge of a secret hanging around she'd find out and talk about it to anyone and everyone.

She knew you weren’t a virgin and while you didn’t share every detail of your sex life, she knew you had slept with a couple of guys. You were always open and honest with her to an extent because you valued her advice, especially when your heart got involved and you ended up getting hurt. But right now you didn’t want to hear her fears or her spiralling bout the fact you had sex next door when you knew she and Dad had sex only two rooms away from you. If it were up to her, she’d know every detail about every aspect of your life.

You understood it to an extent and you practically did share everything with her. But seriously. Boundaries. 

“I love you but it’s none of your business. I don’t ask when you and dad have sex because that’s disgusting so don’t ask me!” 

“Fine. Fine. You’re right.” She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, “Just tell me you’re still on birth control and we can move on.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Good because I swear to God, y/n, if you come home pregnant...”

“Mum!”

“I had to say it, okay? It’s my job as a mother. Now continue.”

“It wasn’t serious at first and neither-” you paused to give her a warning glance when it looked like she was going to make another comment about your sex life. She only rolled her eyes and sipped her wine again, attentively listening to you talk, “neither of us wanted a relationship and I always said to you too that it didn’t interest me but he somehow managed to change my mind about it all. He didn't mean to and he was further away from commitment than I was... but the longer it went on, the more we realised that it was more than just casual." You let out a sigh, "I didn’t want to like him mum, I didn’t. There were problems and he had problems and I knew it was stupid to fall for someone who lived his whole life single and selfish but things changed and kept changing. He changed.”

The whole time you spoke, she actively listened. She didn’t try to interrupt or even make any weird noises of indignation that your dad definitely would. She just listened and processed it. You appreciated that. 

“It wasn’t an easy beginning to our relationship because we had a lot of differences and he… he hurt me really bad. I almost told you back then too because he broke my heart. Really bad.” Your voice broke slightly, feeling that same break in your heart that you did at the very beginning.

“Y/n.” She soothed, placing her hand on yours over your knee. “You could’ve told me back then, y’know. I would’ve been there for you. I'm a little hurt you didn't trust me enough to come talk to me about this.”

“It's not about trust, mum. You know I trust you. Everything was just so complicated and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really think we’d get back together, anyway, so I didn’t want to start something and have you storm to his house to tell him off for no reason when I thought it was over.”

“I would’ve done that. I can still do that for you, if you want?” She smiled, sipping her wine again.

“No, don't," You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We worked things out and… well we never looked back. Before we ended our casual relationship so badly, Harry was really complicated and secretive and God sometimes I wanted to strangle him. But when we got back together… he changed everything for me, mum. He worked on himself and is still working on himself and honestly, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. He treats me so so well and he spoils me and loves me everyday and-”

“He loves you?” She interrupted, “as in you loves you.”

You nodded.

“And you love him back?”

You took an extra moment to respond to her, not really sure where she was going with her comments. “I do. I know I do.”

“y/n…” She sighed. You could feel the change in the air. How her active listening turned to disappointment and a hope that your relationship would end before it properly started. “I honestly thought that you were just dating and having fun and he was buying you nice things, but love? I have no doubt you feel that way towards him but isn’t it too soon?”

“I just know, mum. I had no control over it and I never meant for it to happen but it did and… and I’m happy. I’m so happy with him and even with the distance and everything else, we’re making it work.”

“But how? He’s not too much younger than your dad and I and he’s got no kids, has never been married? Everyone knows he’s had his fun and sleeps with whoever he wants, what’s to say he doesn’t still want that? And then there’s the opposite. What if he’s finally done with being a bachelor and wants to settle and have kids before he gets too old? Is that what you want? Because I know it’s not.” She gave you this look and crossed her arms over her chest, like she already knew what your answer would be.

She seemed to know all your answers tonight.

“Of course I don’t want that. Not now anyway. But he doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to sleep around either.” 

“So you two haven’t spoken about settling down?” She fired back, already knowing that you had. Your mum was the best reader of people and relationships, probably because she stuck her nose in everyone's business and knew all the ways they failed.

“I mean we have but not for now. Like… just so we both know that this isn’t a short term kind of thing.”

“Y/n, baby. You are so young. So young and gorgeous and smart.” She soothed, leaning forward to cup your face and run her hands over your hair. “You have your whole life in front of you and the whole world at your fingertips. Why are you settling down with someone who’s already experienced everything? Would you not rather explore the world with someone who hasn’t seen it over and over again?”

“Mum, I can still do everything I want to do when I’m with him." You exasperated, brushing her hands off you. "I can travel and work overseas if I want and I still see my friends and do everything normal. Being in a relationship doesn’t stop that and if anything, Harry’s position makes it easier. He’s stable financially and is happy to slow down and do what I want. It’s not that he doesn’t get a say, but he’s got the freedom and wants to experience everything with me. It may not seem like it, but he’s got a lot of firsts too, mum. Trust me, I’ve thought about it all.”

“Look, I don’t know him very well.” She sighed, settling back against the couch. “He’s been living next door for nearly five years and I couldn’t even tell you what footy team he supports, but he’s always been polite and charming. All I can do is go off that and what you tell me and if you’re telling me you’re happy then… I guess I’m happy too. I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. By anyone.”

“I know. I don’t want that either but I promise you’ll love him like I do. You’ll see why he means so much to me. You and dad.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I hope so.” She smiled back, squeezing your hand in return. “So tell me more. Tell me everything.”

The next few hours were spent practically debriefing your entire relationship. You kept the bigger problems private as she simply wouldn’t understand the Ethan situation, but you told her everything else you two had been through. If it had something to do with Ethan, you twisted the story a little but for the most part, it was an amazing chat.

You loved your mum more than anything and to actually sit there and talk about Harry so freely and honestly and have her engage properly was the best feeling ever. She freely gave advice (even when you didn’t want it) but you were happy with that. You didn’t have a lot of boy problems so actually having someone to talk about with her was everything to you. It made you hopeful for the future of your relationship with Harry and took so much weight off your shoulders.

It was liberating.

“Oh god…” mum wheezed, her laughter coming to a stop as she finished off her final glass of wine for the evening. “I’m too drunk right now but in the morning we’ll brainstorm how to get back at chatty Cathy across the road. She can never ever keep her mouth shut. That woman.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Your brows furrowed and that happy, calm energy you had somehow dissipated into thin air. 

“Tracey? The only reason I asked you if you were seeing Harry was because Tracey’s been hinting at it for weeks. I thought I told you.”

“No… you didn’t.”

Your mind was suddenly twisting and turning. After everything you had been through with her and Ethan and even just the shit between you and Harry, she still wouldn’t leave you alone. You had done nothing to her and left her alone since you moved out for school and yet she still had to run her mouth off about you? You just didn’t get it. 

Harry had recordings over her admitting to lying to you and you had photos of her cheating and she knew that and still decided to try and get some attention her way? Nope. Not on your fucking watch. 

You were over it. You were over being the target of people who you had nothing to do with. Who only wanted to use you to get money or for some other stupid fucking reason that meant nothing in real life. You were done. So if she was going to run her big fat mouth about you, then you were going to do it right back and you were going to hit her where it hurt the most. Her family.

//

It was only a couple of days later when the truth came out. You weren’t trying to hide it from Harry but it also wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. He got called into work for some client emergency on Sunday which ruined his plan to come spend the day and/or night with you. Then neither of you could see the other until Tuesday as he planned to work from home on Wednesday. 

You were glad that his quiet days seemed to align with yours because it meant you could spend more time together. Even if you were both busy working or doing uni work, just being in his presence was enough to make you happy. And now that your mum knew about you two… it was only a matter of time before you could start spending nights at his house too.

“Baby?” You heard Harry’s voice echo through your apartment, easily being heard in the shower due to your thin walls. 

“In here.” You yelled back, scrubbing your nails through your scalp to rinse out the remaining conditioner. Harry accidentally went home with your keypass after going on his morning run the last time he stayed over. He kept it in his shorts pocket so he wouldn’t wake you and it wound up in his bags somehow, hence his ability to enter your place without you needing to go downstairs and get him. He wasn’t really meant to have them, but it was only for a couple of days and Maeve had your spares so you could still get in and out easily.

“Can I come in?” He asked a moment later, knocking on the bathroom door. 

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened the door and let himself in, scanning your naked body from head to toe. You were facing the wall with your eyes closed, head tilted back so the water was streaming down your hair. Gorgeous. He had been craving you all day. It was just one of those days where it was shit after shit and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and just be wrapped in your arms. 

“Can I join you?” Harry asked softly, itching to jump in the hot water with you. He was already loosening his tie. Before entering your bathroom he took off his jacket and shoes so he was ready to let the rest of his clothes fall to the ground without care. You always had showers extremely hot and now that the weather was cooling down, Harry quite liked the sauna it left behind in the bathroom. He didn’t particularly enjoy it when it was 30° outside but he never let that stop him from getting in a shower with you.

“Of course, you can.” You smiled, still facing away from him. You always felt a little vulnerable being in a shower with him. Even though he had seen your body plenty of times, there was still something so sacred and personal about getting clean. You were glad you had already washed yourself before he came in because the last thing you needed him to see was you plucking out one of your long hairs from your underarms or ass. 

“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” You hummed, feeling the slide of his cold bare hands along your hips as he joined you in the shower.

“Yeah, I had to work late. ‘M sorry to keep you waiting.” He murmured, kissing your shoulder while wrapping his arms fully around you. You sighed into the touch, tilting your head back to welcome the feeling of his body around yours. He snuggled against you, proper bear-hugging you while digging his forehead into the crook of your neck. 

“It’s okay. Maeve dragged me to a late Pilates class so I had to wash my hair. I swear I sweat like two litres every time.” You laughed softly, “I would’ve waited for you. I like being at the door to greet you.”

“I like having you greet me too.” He kissed your neck softly, “did you have fun at Pilates? I haven’t been for a while.”

“I liked it. It was a beginner class so no handstands or anything like you do but I’m sore already. ” You teased, turning around slowly to face him. He kept your body close, immediately kissing you once your faces were in line. “We should go together sometime. I’ve been trying to get Jay to go but he keeps blowing me off.” You offered, immediately sensing that something was off with him. 

“I’d like that.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours again. Harry was craving your comfort. He didn’t want to start anything or get too riled up, he just loved the warmth that spread through his chest when his mouth melted into yours. It could be a peck, a pash, a full snogging session. It didn’t matter. 

You combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “How was your day?”

“Shit. Just one of those days, y’know.” Harry replied, pressing your foreheads together before kissing you again. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. Do you want to talk about it?” You slowly eased your bodies around so he was facing the water instead of you. He shook his head and let his eyes flutter closed as the hot water streamed over his head. You pushed his hair back from his face, kissing his chest. “Okay.” When Harry wanted to talk he’d willingly do so, so you weren’t going to push him. Sometimes work was just shit and you got that. He’d probably talk about it later once he decompressed and relaxed. “You want me to wash your hair?”  

A smile grew on his face at your offer and he tipped his head down to look at you. Harry loved having his hair played with and his scalp scratched. He was like a cat. Sometimes he’d just lay there with his head on your lap for hours while you played with his hair. You first found it out during sex because he liked the pain, especially when his head was between your thighs so it only made sense he’d like it out of the bedroom too. 

“You sure?”

You nodded and reached up on your tippy toes to kiss him. “Turn around.” 

He pecked your mouth gently as a thank you then turned around to face the water. Wordlessly, you grabbed your shampoo and squeezed some onto your hands, rubbing them together to emulsify before you brought them to his scalp. 

Harry moaned as you massaged his scalp, using your nails to scratch as you went. “That feels good.” 

“Good.” You hummed, happy to look at the expanse of his back. His back muscles were incredible. 

It sometimes amazed you how fit he was, but with his daily runs and intense personal training sessions he somehow managed to squeeze into his routine, it really was no wonder that he looked the way he did. He worked his ass off to be as fit as he was and to stay that way and it all paid off because his physique was better than any boy your age.

You joined him in a personal training session once and you had no doubt any of the boys you had been with in the past would fail halfway through. Would you say you participated in said session? No. You were lugged over his shoulders so he could use your weight to do squats though. 

“Are we okay?” Harry asked suddenly, voice soft. 

“Of course we are.” You replied instantly. “Why wouldn’t we be?” You continued rubbing circles on his scalp, massaging him to make it more pleasurable and relaxing. Your arms were already starting to ache a little, but it was worth it. 

“I’m just making sure.” 

“I love you, Harry. Nothing will change that.” You murmured, running your hands down from his scalp to massage his neck and over his shoulder. He echoed the sentiment, voice just audible over the water as your lips created the trail for your hands to follow; over his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, down to the middle of his back and as low as you could go without bending. 

The tension was slowly leaving his body. Tense muscles melting and relaxing, his tense shoulders slumping until he was heavy on his feet. He was completely pliant to your touch and you couldn’t wait to wrap your arms around him and cuddle in bed. Part of you even wanted to skip dinner and head straight to bed.

“Rinse it, H.” You whispered, kissing a little freckle on his back before pulling back to give him space to turn around. He started scrubbing the shampoo out while you prepared his conditioner, rubbing it through your hands so it covered all your fingers. 

“Y’know something interesting did happen today. It was quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood.” Harry mused, already feeling better just by your touch and loving words. He stayed facing towards you to catch your reaction, which was as easy to read as ever. 

“What?” You froze for a split second while reaching to thread the conditioner through his hair, already knowing exactly what he was talking about. 

“Tracey was kicked out. Unfortunately I was already on my way to work but she was crying so loud everyone on the street was watching. Apparently, he found out she was cheating on him. You know anything about that?” He had this look of knowing on his face and it was like he knew that you had something to do with it. 

Shit. 

“About that…” you smiled sheepishly, putting your hands down to let the conditioner sit in his hair. 

“I knew it!” He accused, laughing while squeezing your hips. “What did you do?”

“Okay, but you can’t be mad.” You laughed, poking his chest. “I was going to tell you tonight, okay?” 

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” His brows knitted together, “I’m sure whatever you did had good reasoning behind it.”

“Well, yeah she’s a cunt but it’s not that.” Harry laughed loudly at your comment and you could feel his mood being lifted like steam dissipating in the air. You had such a fucking mouth on you sometimes. He loved it. “When I got home after we had that talk, everything was normal until my mum and I were watching TV after dinner. She said she had to talk about something and then just flat-out asked me if you and I were sleeping together! Like it was nothing.” 

“Shit.” His eyes widened, “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the… truth.” You were a little nervous to tell him. A lot nervous actually. You knew he was ready to tell your parents whenever you were, but it felt wrong to have that conversation without him. But you couldn’t exactly call him or go over to his house after he just told you about his nephew. That would’ve been all sorts of fucked. Your mum knowing about you two dating meant nothing compared to what he was going through. 

“You did?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry.” You rushed out. “I wanted you to know when I was going to do it but I couldn’t lie to her when she was straight out asking me the question.”

“And you thought I’d be mad?” He scoffed, laughing softly while tucking your hair behind your ear. “Baby, the only way I’d be mad is if you were pressured into doing something you weren’t ready for. Were you okay having that conversation with her? I know… I know you weren’t ready to tell your parents yet.”

“Harry she asked me because Tracey was talking shit. After everything, everything we went through and all the fucked up shit she did and she still can’t leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to her.”

That manipulative cunt. 

Harry didn’t like to use that word very often. Other than the obvious use when he was trying to degrade you. But there was simply no other word in the English language that summed up who Tracey was. Desperate? Yes. Annoying? Just the sound of her breathing had Harry gritting his teeth. But the only word that truly encompassed everything about her was cunt.

He had no idea that her being kicked out was because she was causing problems again. He assumed it had something to do with you because you were cheeky and sneaky at times, but he didn’t expect this. After everything that happened, he thought you guys were done with her. 

“What the fuck? Fucking hell, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was getting a little frustrated at you now and you could see it in his expression. You just grabbed his hair and tilted his hair back, forcing his hair back under the water to rinse the conditioner out. Even though he was annoyed you didn’t tell him, he was still pliant to your touch and it took very minimal effort to maneuver his head. 

“Because we just spoke about your family and my drama literally doesn’t matter compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t want to bother you and then I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Of course it matters.” He scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit by yourself. I thought she was dealt with, but clearly not. How long have you known?”

“I found out when my mum asked me about us. I had no idea anything was happening before that.”

“So… what? Tracey’s been running her mouth?”

“Basically.” You sighed, still running your fingers through his hair to get rid of the last bits of conditioner. “She hasn’t said anything directly, but she’s been making comments and saying random things that makes people think that we’re sleeping together. At least that’s what my mum said.”

“I don’t get why she’s doing this.” He sighed, “You’ve moved out and we’ve left her alone after everything that happened. She’s got no reason to come after us again.”

“Like I said, she’s a cunt.” Your words came out matter-of-factly, eliciting a roll of Harry’s eyes. “She’s probably bored and thinks that it’s easy to use me to have her fun because I’m not there to defend myself.”

“Bullshit. I’m there to defend you. Why isn’t she scared of me?” Harry scoffed, eliciting a laugh in response.

“Harry she’s obsessed with you and even if you blackmailed her and stomped all over her old wrinkly heart, she still wants you.”

“I didn’t stomp over anything. And I’m taking your old wrinkly statement as an insult.”

“Yeah right. You love being the ripe age of 39. ‘I get sexier with age, y/n’.” You quoted, attempting to mimic his low raspy accent. He raised a brow and immediately went for your sensitive spots, squeezing your waist with light twinkling fingers in an attempt to tickle you. “Stop!” You squealed, hitting his hands away. “Stop it Harry!”

“Admit I get sexier as I age. Admit it.” He threw back, wrapping one arm around your waist while using the other to tickle you. 

“I hate you!” You tried to push his hand off, laughing and wiggling and squealing all at the same time. It didn’t help that you two were still very much naked. “Whatever. You’re sexier as you age.”

The tickling stopped instantly and Harry had this smug grin on his face, happy that he beat you. “Thank you.”

“You’re a child.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come on. Finish the story.” He laughed softly, looping his arms around your waist. 

“I don’t even know what I was up to before your ego got bruised.”

He chose to ignore that statement. “You were explaining how obsessed Tracey is with me.”

“Oh, right. She’s obsessed with you so obviously she won’t be scared and she’s not threatened by me. She really didn’t think that I’d retaliate in any way even if I told her I would and now look at her. I think I handled it pretty fucking perfectly.” You announced proudly. 

It felt a little evil to be so happy over someone elses pain. You had ruined Tracey’s life and yet you were satisfied. It felt justified. In the beginning you never wanted to use your threats against her. You just wanted to be left alone, even if that meant sitting on evidence that she was having an affair. Now though… you felt worse about keeping it a secret than using it to get back at her.

“I’d say so.” Harry laughed. “How did it all happen?”

“She goes to pilates on Sundays so I waited until she was gone and went over to speak with Oscar. All I did was tell the truth and show him one of the photos of her and Ethan. I felt really bad for him, actually. He believed me even before I showed him a photo but he still wanted to see it, probably for proof so he doesn’t have to pay her out.” 

“Well shit.” Harry laughed, quickly turning you both around so you got some of the hot water. “He clearly didn’t take it well.”

You shook your head. “No. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I feel like I should’ve told him earlier.” You looked away for a moment, “it feels wrong to use one persons tragedy to get back at someone else. Like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him and I used it to get back at her. He doesn’t deserve that. Neither do his kids.”

“I know. The truth had to come out some way, though. It always does. Don’t blame yourself too much for it just because you benefited from it in some way. ” He grabbed your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him. “How did your mum react when you told her about us, anyway?” 

You were glad he was switching back to your mum because you really didn’t want to dwell to much on Tracey of all people. Or the shittiness you felt. 

“She already knew before Tracey started talking about us. She had this look on her face like she was waiting for me to outright say it.” 

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah… she said it was mother’s intuition or whatever. I’m surprised she waited this long to say something about it, to be honest. She usually can’t keep her mouth shut and she already had a glass of wine when we spoke about it.”

Harry smiled at your comment, smoothing his hands over your back. “Was she upset about it? What did she say?”

“We spoke about it for a long time. She wasn’t upset but not thrilled either. I told her how happy I am and a little bit about our relationship so far and she seemed happy that it’s going well, but she’s still worried. I think she’s worried about the age gap and… well, your reputation. She doesn’t want me to get hurt.” 

You didn’t really want to go through the entire conversation with him. Nothing bad happened but it also felt like something that just you and your mum needed to know about. She gave you a lot of advice that made you feel lucky to have someone like her in your life. She was concerned but she actually listened to you, even when the conversation went a little wild, she listened to you and shared her own opinion as well. It went as well as you could’ve hoped. 

“My reputation as in…”

“Your one night stands. Obviously, I assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it. She thinks you’re charming but I think that also scares her. You’re the first real relationship I’ve had and it’s not exactly conventional and… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking away for a moment, “She said that she hoped my first love would be someone my age, that I’d date more before feeling so strongly about someone.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. So far, your mum’s concerns were valid ones and ones he expected. He never thought it would be easy or something your parents would understand right away and he prepared himself for that. They weren’t much older than him so navigating his relationship with them and you would take time. 

But he didn’t like the way those words came out of your mouth. That your mum hoped your first love was someone else and that you had more experience with other people before settling down. You two weren’t exactly planning for a baby or anything, it had barely been four months, and neither of you put any expectations on your relationship. You were young and he never imagined himself as the marrying type so you both just wanted to date and love each other and see how things evolved.

But you were still in it for the long haul with each other. This wasn’t a short term arrangement or something casual. You two loved each other. 

For Harry, he had already experienced heartbreak in all forms and he had grown from that. The Harry that survived his very first love was a completely different person to now. It wasn’t the only thing that shaped him to be the man he was today, but it contributed a lot to his life. He was at a point in his life now where meeting you and falling in love with you had completely changed how he thought his life would go.

He wanted to settle down with you. He couldn’t picture a future without you in it and you made it very clear that you loved him more than anything and you wanted to have that future with him. 

But you didn’t have what Harry had. You didn’t have years of making mistakes and meeting people and exploring yourself. Of figuring out who you are and what you want in life. You can do that with a partner and Harry knew he could show you the world and provide experiences you might not have if you were by yourself, but if you took the romance and his undying love for you out of the equation, would he encourage you to give your all to him? 

If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to keep their options open and grab any opportunities given to them. Was he holding you back from that?

“Do you wish you did? Have more relationships before me?” He solemnly asked, brows knitted together while he waited your reaction. 

That was a hard question to answer. But you had no regrets in dating Harry and that’s all that mattered. “In some ways, yes. I wish I had more experience in how to navigate even being in a relationship. But mostly no. There’s no one else I’d want to share my firsts with. In a lot of ways, you’re my first everything and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” You cupped his face, running your thumbs under his cheeks. “Loving you is the happiest I’ve ever been and hopefully now, the people we love will be part of that too.”

Harry’s gaze softened and time seemed to still around you two. Having this conversation in such a vulnerable place like a shower only added to the intimacy of it all. You had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs. It happened with a look or a sigh, your gorgeous smile. And it definitely happened when you said things like this. 

“I want to give you the world, y/n. I want to give you everything you want. You tell me and it’s yours.” He murmured, gazing deep in your eyes.

“I just want you.” You whispered, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against yours. His wet hair dripped down your cheek, running down your jaw and neck, all the way until it joined the water at your feet. “I just want you too. Always.” 

You smiled and pulled his mouth down towards you, pressing your body against his to get impossibly closer to him. He wrapped his arms fully around you, squeezing you against him so every inch of your pretty soft skin melted into his. Your mouths blended into one, lips brushing together in a slow languid kiss. 

His tongue slid across your bottom lip and you freely gave him access to your mouth so he could slip in and run his tongue against yours. God, everything about it was so sexy. The steam clouding over you both, how good your wet bodies felt pressed together… the way his cock started to harden against your thigh, unable to spring up in that way you loved due to how close you two were. 

“I think…” You gasped, breaking free to run your mouth over his jaw. “You should finish your shower…” You pressed kisses in a path towards his ear, kissing his lobe once you got there before playfully tugging at it between your teeth. Harry whimpered in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your ass in both hands. “...and join me in bed.”

With that, you kissed his neck then unwrapped yourself from his arms, smirking as you slid past him to grab your towel. His hand snapped out suddenly, clasping around your wrist. “Don’t go.”

Harry looked like a starved man. His chest was heaving, cock heavy and hard between his legs and his lips all red and puffy from your kisses. You would’ve fucked him right there if shower sex didn’t scare the hell out of you. 

“I’ll get you a towel.” You blew him a little kiss, ignoring the crazed look in his eyes and walking away. Oh did you love a tease. 

It wasn’t long before Harry had you pinned to your bed, grinding his hips in slow deliberate strokes. Your entire love making was just that, making love. It was slow and deep, full of so many kisses you could barely breathe. His body was pressed heavy on top of you and he made sure you felt every inch of him that you could. Every inch of his cock, every inch of his heavy muscle and soft sweaty skin.

The window above your bed was still open, a clear view of the moon above your heads. It was a view you two decided was worth putting your pillows down by your feet when you were finished so you could lay the opposite direction and look outside. You had a nice view of the water, though it was particularly dark outside and the moon was so bright it took your entire process. 

“I still can’t believe she knows.” Harry murmured, looking up from where his head rested on your chest.

“Who?” You whispered, missing the context of his comment, “My mum?” 

“Mmh.” he nodded, looking down to where your hands were joined and resting on your stomach. “It feels… good. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like we’re moving onto the next step.”

“I feel the same. I feel better knowing she’s supportive. I had a feeling she would be, but it’s nice knowing I’ve got her on my side when we tell my dad.”

“Mmh.” He hummed in agreement, looking at the string of pearls around your neck. You put them back on after the shower and he found himself mesmerised by the way they twinkled under the moon light. “y’know I told my mum I was seeing someone. After our weekend away.”

“You did?” you frowned slightly.

“I didn’t say anything too personal or anything because we were keeping it quiet.” He assured, sensing the slight panic in your voice. “But I wanted her to know I have someone in my life who makes me happy.” 

You smiled, that slight beat of worry completely gone. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. Just your name and that you’re studying. I didn’t want to show her any photos without asking you. She gets a bit excited and I knew if I sent her something she’d tell everyone about it.” He rolled his eyes, but you could tell by his tone that he loved that quality about her. Pausing, he looked from the moon to you. “I think you’d like her.”

“She sounds like my type of gal.” You grinned, “I’m excited to meet her.” 

“I think she’d cry if you said that. Happy tears of course.” 

You laughed softly, swiping your fingers through his hair. It had dried down after the shower and your activities and became all fluffy and dishevelled. You loved it in its natural state.

“Would you like to meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice soft so only you could hear it. There was no one in your apartment but you yet the moment was so intimate and quiet, he didn’t want to ruin it. “We could facetime?” He looked up at you, expression hopeful for your response. 

“Harry I’d love that.” 

“Really?” His eyes widened ever so slightly, like he was surprised you’d agree. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” You assured, smiling while dancing your fingers across his jaw. “Set it up. Whenever suits her.” 

“Okay.” He grinned, reaching up to kiss you quickly before settling back down on your chest to look out at the moon, “I will.”

It felt so right and natural to take this next step. There were nerves about it, of course, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared that Anne wouldn’t like you or that you’d make a fool out of yourself. But you knew a decent amount about her and even if you didn’t, you knew you’d love her simply based off the fact you loved Harry. That was enough. 

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

Tag List: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @gurugirl @hsonlyangelxo @kkr102 @falloutby

@caynonmoondreams @theskyyabove @sykostyles @harryslittlefreakk @avaaas-world

@littlenatilda @grabiolla @forgetdelaney @hislcstyles @yourdatcrazyweirdo

@elidoho @esnyhoney @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @lillefroe @harrysrockstarsgf

@hrrypinks @justlemmeadoreyou @swagg13r @whatamievendoingonhere @delicatepointofharry

@onlyangellucifer @youcan-nolonger-run @gotdrxnkonu @cheappackofcigerattes @idrawshapesonpeople07

@straightontilmornin @mellamolayla @stilesissaved @ribbonknives @scndsofsummer

@floral-recs @styles.sturniolo @maryjahps @babyfratelli7 @voniikg

@complikyfreak @tswiftsgf @triski73 @michellekstyles @freedomfireflies @tiredinwinter @butdaddyilovehim-hs

*please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged ❤️*

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! 🤍

Patreon

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny runs for Mayor P.2

kgned3Part 1

Some more snippets of the Gotham Mayor Danny AU!

...

Danny would absolutely try to hire some of the Rouges as his Mayoral Cabinet, I can just imagine Waylon Jones, the Killer Croc, in a Suit and Slacks sitting in a the Mayors Office while awkwardly holding his resume.

Danny: So, Mr. Jones, why do you think we should hire you? Waylon: Well sir, I have something of a reputation and I feel like I would be an amazing Bodyguard. Danny: OK, one question though. What is your opinion on Clowns? Waylon: I don’t like them. Danny: Hired!

...

Danny: Now, Mr Nygma, what do you think you would bring to my office? Edward: Well sir, I am fairly well known for my expert planning and timing skills. Also I can give you fun riddles whenever you want! Danny: Hmmm, that’s definitely a good point. One question, if needed, will you attack a clown on sight? Edward: Yes? Danny: Hired!

...

Danny: Now, I can see that you used to have a very reputable resume Mr. Dent. Harvey: Thank you sir. Danny: I can’t see any reason to refuse your application, but I do have one question. Do you like Clowns? Harvey: Uhm...yes? Danny: I am sorry dir, but I am going to have to reject your application for a job in the Mayors office. Mr Jones, please escort this man out 

...

Danny would absolutely do an amazing job in decreasing the crime rate, just by virtue of the fact that his very presence is destabilizing the Curses put on the City.

But at the same time, his policies are also very efficient, based on Gen Z Humor/Ideas

Danny: As my new Law states, every year the most rich person in the City will be forced to give up 70% of their assets to Charity. You can avoid this by donating as much as possible in the weeks leading up to the Sacrifice Day, whoever donates the most is exempt from the choosing even if they are the Richest, we will then move on to the second Richest, and so on Reporter: Sir, isn’t this just the “Winner Of Capitalisms” Prompt from Tumblr? Danny: Yes.

...

Batman: Why did you just pass a Law that states that all Vigilantes are given the right to kill? Danny: Because I accidentally hired every villain in Gotham, so now there is nobody to try and bribe me. And if nobody tries to bribe me, then nobody realizes that I will only accept bribes if the Joker is dead, like I said in my Campaign. I know that you guys have a no-kill rule, but I know at least one of you who would jump at the chance  Batman: *realizes that Dick has already killed the Joker once, Jason is actively attempting to every day, Tim is chaos incarnate and would do it to feel included, and Damian just really wants to let loose* Well played...

...

Danny: Vlad, I am serious. Leave me alone or I will put you in Soup Jail for 3 months! Vlad: FINE! I’ll just go possess another Billionaire to force them to give me their company again Batman, listening from outside the window: What the f-

...

Danny in every conversation with the Batfamily: I re-respect your decision to not tak-take a life...but I must insist you kill the Joker...for the good of the peephol-People! He is not a good inf-influence on this city and he must be des...troyed. Batman: *Wondering why he sounds like he is reading from a script* Um, I don’t think thats a good idea? Lady Gotham: *Standing behind Batman with some Cue Cards, trying to communicate with her Knights through Danny* *Thumbs Up* Danny: Also I wanted to say that you need to- oh um, ok- to get over the deaths of your parents and grieve in a healthy way instead of adopting every child you see. You are doing a great job kid, parentheses, do not read this par- Oh-Oops. Batman: Hm. I’m not even going to question that anymore.

...

Tag List:

@skulld3mort-1fan @kgne-k @deatlive @alcorbearson @we-ezer @auralykos @dakkapel @alinmenttreasure @lord-of-0blivion @countessdragon @naluforever3 @fylylowo @shadow-otaku20 @dannyphantomphan @heirxofxtime @ourrechte-blog @fantasticbluebirdfan @imnotgrimmjustagrumpyreader @mssagoberattare @elvesandlanterns @space-dreams-world @lizz-blizt @stargirl1331 @totallysmores-blog @screamingtofillthevoid @malice-of-the-sunrise @olivethetreebitch @addie-lover-of-stories @thatonegaybitch68 @asphyxia778 @top7879 @biance-hooks123 @runfromthemedic @dionysuss-big-naturals @the-legal-shipper @icepopstar5105us @

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

[cosmerelists]

Ranking Cosmere Families Based Whether I'd Want to Attend Their Thanksgiving Dinner

If they, you know, actually celebrated Thanksgiving or if I existed in their universe and could attend. But anyway.

[Last Thanksgiving special: How They'd Cook a Turkey]

1. Kholin Family Dinner: No Thank You

Let the various eras of the Kholin family spread out before you: is there ANY iteration of that family whose Thanksgiving Dinner you'd want to attend? We have the Blackthorn Era, where Dalinar is getting drunk and trying not to make eyes at his brother's wife and also Sadeas is probably there. We have Way of Kings era where Dalinar thinks he might be going crazy and is always in a lowkey fight with Adolin. We have post-Oathbringer where you sit at that table knowing that Dalinar killed his kids' mother. Is there any moment when a Kholin family dinner wouldn't be awkward for a guest? Even Shallan being there isn't enough to win me over. I'm staying home.

2. Kelsier's Crew: Sure!

I think a holiday dinner with Kelsier's crew would actually be delightful. I think that whatever else they had going on at the time, they'd make an effort to put that aside and have a good time.

3. Kiin's Family Dinner: Hell yeah

Kiin (Sarene's uncle in Elantris) is canonically an amazing cook. Like, I'd LOVE to be at their family dinner. Plus, Sarene seems to have a nice time hanging out with them. Sure their kids squabble a bit, but nothing major.

4. Stormblessed Family Dinner: M-Maybe?

I feel like this is strongly era-dependent. Join them when Kaladin and Tien are kids? Yeah, I think that would be all right. There might be tension between Lirin and Kaladin, but Hesina and Tien are there to defuse it. After the two kids are taken to war? I-I'm leaving that couple alone to grieve, I think. Post-Kaladin-Radiant time? That's REALLY book-dependent. Got weird between Kaladin & Lirin for a while there. I don't want to be there for their yearly argument about whether it's ever okay to kill someone. Maybe I'll just help Hesina in the kitchen.

5. Tress Family Dinner: Definitely!

Yeah! Tress is a great cook, her parents are AWESOME, and if Charlie is there too, all the better. Like, this one is a no-brainer yes please.

6. Bridge 4 Dinner: Yeah!

Especially if it's post-Radiants, so that (a) we're not all enslaved in Sadeas' war camp and (b) there are women too. I bet Rock's Thanksgiving stew would be delicious. Kaladin would be late, but you know what, it's okay. He's very busy.

7. Court of the Gods Thanksgiving Dinner: Maybe If I Were Younger...

Listen, I'm sure it's a raucous good time. There's lots of food, it's really good, everyone looks hot, and everyone is very drunk. Not REALLY my scene, though. I might go if I were invited, but if Tress's family had already offered, I mean...

8. Idrian Royal Family Dinner: I'll Pass

For one thing, I feel like the food would not be very good since my impression of Idris is that everything is...gray. But even beyond that, the family dynamics do not sound fun. I mean, their dad sold his least favorite daughter into what he thought was deadly sex slavery. Their mom doesn't even have a name. It just feels so awkward.

9. Noodle Shop Thanksgiving Dinner: Yeah!

Going out to eat is a great way to not have to cook for Thanksgiving dinner. And Design's Noodle shop--or even later under the new owners--feels like a great place to get some food. Depending on why I'm there, I might even get some free sympathy noodles if I have nowhere else to go! Y-Yay!

10. Lopen Family Dinner: Yes!

I definitely would say yes if invited to eat with Lopen and his many cousins. Remember when Elhokar was there for a minute, and Lopen's mother kept making him eat more? I am going to be SO STUFFED and it is going to be SO worth it.

11. Ladrian Family Dinner: Totally

I'd love to have dinner with Wax and Steris and presumably Wayne and Marasi and possibly MeLaan! I bet the place settings will be fancy and that I'll have to bone up on my etiquette rules--but then, Wayne will be there so surely my using the wrong fork will go largely unnoticed. Anyway, these people seem pretty fun to hang out with, and I bet the food and whiskey are both good.

12. Montane Family Dinner: S-Sorry, Can't Make It...

As much as I love Threnody as a concept, I don't want to hang out in a small circle of silver-ringed "safety" while knowing that murderous ghosts await any mistake outside. I just don't feel like it would be a relaxing time. Plus, you know, Silence's grandmother is literally a ghost in a locked room like right over there. That's a family dynamic I don't care to experience.

[pzychojinx]

so, jinx in act one of season two. see, for three years i expected a full on descent into chaos and madness beyond any repair. i'd made peace with that, too. so i'm surprised - pleasantly, joyfully surprised.

very long analysis ahead on where they're taking her and how it speaks to me.

we first meet her again during silco's eulogy sequence - a beautiful sequence, halfway between dreamlike and real. "just like when vander shoved off", she says about his death. except it's not. after vander's death, after vi's perceived abandonment, everything jinx could feel was self-centered. she would say "she's not my sister anymore". she would devalue these people entirely. in fact, every single reaction to any action done by her loved ones would be self-centered and extreme. that is very much how her mental process works, how her trauma caused her to work. and more so: when silco would ask of her any work, any mission, she'd do the job purely for his sake, his affection, his approval, never caring about the cause.

in short, she was never able to get out of her own head for as much as a single minute. now, she starts the funeral off with "chembarons warring for control of the lanes. wannabe street thugs squabbling over scraps. just like when vander shoved off." and it's not about her abandonment anymore. it's not about being left alone. it's not about her. she's talking to silco about his city, his legacy, his world, his chembarons, his lanes. she's out of her own head, and it's the first time we ever see it.

"because someone put all those holes in you", she says then. and this is so interesting because there's obviously a dissociation here, as well as a very intense grief and sadness. we are obviously still dealing with someone who's deeply traumatized and unstable, but let's compare this with powder after the deaths of vander, mylo and claggor. powder had a full breakdown, both turned into a complete de-evaluation of vi as i was mentioning earlier and full desperation. "i only wanted to help, i only wanted to help, i only wanted to help".

this chaotic desperation is something jinx kept within herself throughout the entirety of s1 up until - the tea party. which i'm getting at, in a minute. point being, for now, that the jinx we see during silco's eulogy is grieving and lost and rootless and asking herself "what am i supposed to do with that?", but she lacks the chaotic full-on desperation that would lead her to acts of explosive destruction and/or self-destruction in s1. in fact, she's incredibly quieter. she's more grounded, more present in her movements, in the way she fights, in the way she talks.

in retrospect even her final action in s1, the infamous missile, already had the energy we're seeing now. it wasn't instinctive, driven by hallucinations or trauma or rage or an unrestrained trigger; it was silco's legacy and it was calculated. silco's death, i think now, left jinx as rootless as she's ever been, but it also left her with an acceptance of who she is. "don't cry, you're perfect". the tea party ends with her 'choosing' jinx and if you'd asked me before season two, i would have said with full certainty it meant she'd be going to be a loose cannon. entirely and with no possibility of ever being anything else. that's not what i think now.

i think she came to terms with who she is. i think now that the seat at the tea party wasn't a symbol of complete derailing, it was in a way a symbol of acceptance. "here's to the new us". she's fought her fight between powder and jinx and the tea party has permitted her to gain, in some way, a sense of closure. very importantly, having lost what she perceived as vi's acceptance, and having lost a father, she has also been able to shed the constant and desperate need to be in their favor.

during the 'sucker' sequence, we see her going through the lanes with a hood on her hair, very low-key. loose cannon jinx would have never, ever done that. loose cannon jinx would, quite simply, not have cared. she would have been extra, and explosive, and in everyone's faces. she's preserving herself not to be found, and that's new. again, i think she's still lost and rootless and grieving and really asking herself what she's supposed to do now that she's entirely autonomous and i also think there's definitely still a lot of bitterness and rage when it comes to vi which we obviously get to see during their fight and in no way is she magically ~healthy or anything like that - however.

she is still walking those streets in a way that indicates self-preservation. it would have been very, very easy for jinx to be captured by any of those goons and/or got herself killed. and for some reason, whether that be an apathetic, mourning state or mind, or whether that be some gained peace in who she is, or both - she didn't.

given all this, the new element that season two act one has introduced for her that truly moved me and made me feel... healed in a sort of way, is the introduction of human bonds for jinx that defy her historical, co-dependent mechanism of idolization and de-evaluation. ergo, sevika and isha. this is incredible for her and most of all, it's realistic. it's a chance at something, but it doesn't feel forced, nor fairytale-esque, nor does it resemble your usual ~redemption arc.

sevika and isha function as people who she's building some bond with, and since she's a little bit less in her own fucking head, and since she's not clinging to them as idealized protectors / saviours and neither is she refusing them as betrayers, and since she's not constantly fighting between what she perceives as her double identity anymore, she finally has the possibility to experience healthier bonds. sevika functions as somebody who still ties her to silco, possibly the closest thing she has right now to any root she might have left, and it works: reminiscing silco with her, gifting her the arm, doesn't leave her utterly alone but neither does it let her fall into the trap of clinging onto yet another figure from whom to fully depend.

and isha, very obviously, functions as the possibility of healing her inner child which is a goldmine for her storyline. her bond with isha could clearly have a narrative tie to jinx & silco, to jinx & vi, and most importantly to jinx and powder herself - this is all quite obvious but again, it's not executed in a way that feels like a forced 'redemption arc' or whatnot. the idea of this little street kid who just imprints on her like a lost little duckling, which is in no way jinx's decision, simply feels natural and heartwarming. does this mean i presume such healing of her inner child is going to come easy to her? no. but it's something. it's something very different from anything she's ever experienced before.

even through the loss, the rootlessness, the grief and confusion, the panic attack we see her experiencing through the lanes as a consequence of the moment she sees vi and caitlyn's enforcer squad, even through the brutality of the fight with vi, - and this is all to say, she's still a very traumatized individual, which is important because it would have just been senseless to have jinx somehow get fully stable like a switch had been flipped - we're seeing something new for jinx here. i've seen many posts related to "i'm glad it's you", and i might be unpopular here but while i do think jinx still has an element of suicidality, i also think she was at least half bluffing there. comparing her micro-expressions with the ones back on the bridge fight with ekko, i'm under the impression she was testing vi, at the very least partially. "poisoning us with gas?" is also an interesting line because even in her attack at her sister, she's less focused on her own trauma and more on something that we've hardly seen from her before - belonging to the lanes.

all of this to say, i'm loving the path they're taking for her. it's still very much jinx. it feels like jinx. but she's not just about to wreak senseless and desperate havoc in order to be seen by either her sister or her father, because there's no one to be seen by anymore. she's not fighting a desperate battle between her identities either, because she's accepted her place. she's not loud and erratic, she's quieter and coming to terms with herself. closure is truly the word that comes to mind, for me, in how i see her arc right now. closure, and unexpectedly, possibility.

[simpforrooster]

heard it all.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: reader vents to mav and penny about her feelings for a certain mustached fighter pilot. a/n: my take on a request from @kpopgirlbtssvt. i latched on to one part of the request and took off. i hope you still like it!

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the low voice of Maverick pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, continuing on without another thought.

"You've been wiping down that same spot of the bar for ten minutes."

Maverick and Penny, your boss, exchange a knowing glance. You look at the rag in the hand as if seeing it for the first time.

"I think it's plenty clean, y/n," Penny comments, winking at Mav.

Placing a hand on your hip, you stare the two of them down. "What are you two silently saying to one another?"

Penny shrugs a shoulder. "Oh nothing." You can see it in her eyes though. She knows exactly what has your brain all a-mush.

More like who.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

The hot Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

He captured your heart the first day you met him. Sure, his looks were what drew you to him initially. But he was so nice. Like green flags all around.

You shake your head at the two people who have become a pseudo family to you. Tossing the rag onto the counter, a sigh escapes your mouth.

"Y'all just give it up. We're just friends." Your voice breaks on the word friends, and your eyes squeeze shut to hide your embarrassment.

"Come on," Penny starts.

Holding up a hand, you stop her. "Penny, please. It already hurts enough. He's the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met."

Your chest heaves as you breath through your emotions.

"I have never met another man like him. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel beautiful."

Maverick makes a move like he is going to say something, but Penny lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"And as if the silly little age difference isn't enough, he only sees me like a sister." A tear falls along your cheek, surprising you. Of course, you've grieved the non-relationship before. It isn't out of the norm to sob into your wine glass with Phoenix.

It's the first time you've ever cried in front of Penny and Mav.

The sound of a clearing throat has your spinning around.

Rooster looks at you, his brows knit together. You can't read the look on his face, but it can't be good. It tells you everything you need to know.

He heard it all.

And he doesn't feel the same.

Reaching up to sloppily wipe your tears, you tried to step around him, mumbling something so incoherent you can't decipher the words.

Rooster's strong arms reach out and stop you in your tracks.

"I can promise you I do not see you as a sister," he says, his voice low.

Not that you try, but words refuse to come out your mouth. How could they? The way he's staring at you has your heart beating in overdrive.

"Did you really mean all that?" he asks. His eyes roam over your face, searching for something. It takes you a second to realize he looks a little scared.

Scared of being rejected.

Bradley doesn't like you back. There's no way. He's had plenty of opportunities to make a move and hasn't.

He takes one step closer to you, the soles of your shoes meeting.

"Of course, Bradley." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, but he heard it. His hand snakes around your neck and settles into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be madly in love with you?"

A delicious groan escapes from his mouth before he closes the space between you. His lips meet yours and suddenly the Earth moves beneath your feet as the planets snap into alignment.

Bradley's lips are finally on yours, and it feels every bit as right as you imagined.

He pulls back so his mouth is feather light against yours. "Sweetheart, I am wildly in love with you." The words fall on your ears in soft whispers. Your eyes fall closed to relish in the way all this feels.

Bradley brings his mouth back to yours, pulling you tight against him. Your height difference has never been more apparant that right this second.

"Okay, okay, get a room," Maverick calls, followed by a, "Oof," as Penny's arm comes into contact with his solid stomach.

masterlist.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this one! i've been struggling with a little bit of writer's block.

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

[dinogoofymutated]

Blue over you - 97' Wolverine/Gn! Reader

Wolverine's not even my guy, and I finished this in a day! Haven't finished anything in a while, so this was an accomplishment! This was mainly inspired by the song Blue over you by mason ramsey, and Too sweet by hozier!

Let me know if Logan is to OOC. I'm trying my best to learn how to write for him!

Tw! Alcohol consumption, Light angst. Open-ending.

You can’t sleep.

Maybe it was because of the excitement of the day, the stress from grieving the professor, or what you ate for dinner. Either way, it was nearly 1 am at this point, and your pursuit of rest was fruitless. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. You wonder if you could convince Jean to help you out, but you’re sure she’s asleep right now, and you don't want to wake her up. Especially not after she announced her… condition, at dinner.

It’s not that you weren’t excited. In fact, you were over the moon for your friends. Jean and Scott are important to you, more like siblings to you than they ever were just friends or classmates. Even so, after the cheers and congratulations and the celebration… The news left you with a melancholy you couldn’t quite shake. A baby. Jean and Scott, two people you basically grew up with, are having a baby- and here you are. Alone. You don’t have a partner, or a husband, or any romantic prospects, really. You’ve spent so long learning about yourself and how to protect others, you just never let yourself open up to someone like that. Sure, you’d met many people during your time as an X-man, but you had always been a hopeless romantic, and there had only ever been one man you had things for. But even so, you just… couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

After a long stretch, and another sigh, you get out of bed. Maybe a drink and some air would help. The path to the little china cabinet in your room is familiar and automatic. It was a gift from the professor when you mentioned that you missed collecting things like funny-shaped teapots and such, a habit you picked up from your grandmother. You wonder if he knew that you used the wooden bottom cabinets to store alcohol. You laugh a little when you think about if he kept the information to himself, letting you have at least one little secret. He most definitely knew, you decided. You grab a random bottle of amber liquid, unable to see the label in the dark. You shrug it off, figuring that you’ll find out what it is at some point.

The halls of the mansion are dark and quiet as you make your way over to the balcony, stepping outside and eagerly breathing in the cool air. Your eyes are starting to droop already as you turn to shut the door, but you've come this far and you figure you might as well get a drink in.

You're rubbing your eyes again as you turn back around, only to jump at the sight of a figure sitting on the railing.

“Fuckin’ Christ!” You wheeze. “Logan, you scared the shit out of me!” The mutant hums, the corner of his lips tilting just slightly before falling again. You walk over next to him, setting the bottle down at your feet as you lean against the railing.

“Can't sleep?” You ask. Logan shakes his head, and you frown at him. As gruff as the guy is, he’s normally more talkative. At least, with you he is. You can tell that something wrong, and it doesn't exactly take a telepath to understand what it is.

“...You were the one who found out, weren’t you?” You ask, almost state. Logan Huffs at your question, hopping off of the railing to pace on the balcony. He presses his palms into his eyesockets, growling just slightly in frustration.

“Her smell was off. S’been off. Didn’t think anything of it until I heard the heartbeat.” He rumbles, setting his arms down. “Don’t know if I want to strangle Scott or throw him off of the roof of the mansion.” Logan’s hands flex in a way you know he’s just dying to unsheath his claws. You’re not entirely sure what to say at first as he sighs, and sits up against the far wall. He rests his head in his hands, and it hurts to see him like this. You open your mouth, before closing it again. You glance down at your feet, picking up the bottle you had grabbed earlier.

Logan doesn't seem to mind as you sit next to him, brushing against his shoulder. You screw off the top of the liquor, taking a swig straight out of it before offering him the bottle. It burns deliciously on the way down, and you smile cheekily as he raises an eyebrow at you. Nevertheless, the takes the bottle from you, hand brushing your own.

“You’re not gonna like it, by the way.” You laugh. Logan rolls his eyes, less than a ghost of a smile on his face.

“ ‘still liquor, ain’t it?” He hums, taking a swig. His face screws up as he swallows, holding the bottle out afterward to try and read the label.

“What is this?” He asks, disgusted. You can’t help but laugh at him as he gives you a tired look.

“Butterscotch Schnapps.” You answer him. “I told you that you weren't gonna like it, it’s too sweet for you.” Logan shakes his head, almost trying to get rid of the taste as he hands the bottle back and playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Not my fault you drink shitty liquor.” He grins. You feel a flutter in your chest as you smile back at him, taking another swig to mask whatever he could possibly pick up from you- The problems of pining for a man with super senses, you think, laughing slightly at your own thought.

“Guess it’s all for me then-” you start to joke, right before Logan snatches the bottle back.

“Gimme the damn bottle.” You’re giggling a little at this point as the alcohol starts to settle in just slightly. Logan rolls his eyes, still smiling as he takes another swig despite the fact he very clearly hates it.

The two of you go back and forth like this for a while. Take turns until the bottle is run dry. Your giggles have settled down, and the infamous wolverine has relaxed as you lean against him. The two of you sit in silence for a minute or two, both simply breathing in the cool night air.

“It’s okay, you know.” You mumble at some point. Logan, able to hold his liquor a lot better than you, cocks an eyebrow. He’s not sure if you even know you're talking at this point. You look like you’re bout to fall asleep, nuzzling against his shoulder with a pout on your face. He hums questioningly in response.

“It’s okay to hurt knowing that Jean’s pregnant.” Logan had almost forgotten about that, having been caught up in this moment. His face falls immediately, and he looks away from you, staring into the trees that surround the mansion. You feel your chest squeeze painfully, but either due to the drink or due to your lack of self-awareness, you continue talking. He needs to hear it, you drunkenly decide.

“It’s hard to watch someone you love be with someone else. It’s even harder to watch them move on without you. I know it hurts to watch her move on to the next stage of life without you. But at this point, the best thing you can do for her is support her because you love her, not covet what you wish you could have.” You know you sound like you’re drunkenly rambling, and maybe you are, but really, all of this is something you wish you could have said years ago. You’re sure you sound like Nightcrawler, talking about coveting and love and righteousness, but you’re not as much of a good person as Kurt is. You know that you’re no better than Logan, Pining after him for so long as he continues to pine for someone else. To be perfectly honest, You’re jealous of Jean. You’re jealous of her relationship, her happiness. You’re jealous of the fact that if she would turn around and throw everything away to be with Logan, he would take her in without a second thought. But she’s your friend. Your sister. You love her, and you cherish her happiness much more than you could ever resent her for it. You let out a pitiful chuckle, eyeing the last minuscule drop in the liquor bottle.

“Believe me, I would know.” You mumble. Logan’s brow furrows, taken aback by that. You’ve always been such a standalone, unbothered, always positive. It didn’t make sense to him.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, but when he turns his head to look at you, you’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed with one hell of a hangover. You groan at the light that drifts through your blinds, rolling over. When you finally open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers. You’re confused at first, and then flooded with bashfulness and embarrassment when you realise who exactly had put them there. You roll onto your stomach, shoving your face into your pillow, unable to handle the embarrassment of knowing you said WAY too much last night. You can't help but smile a little though, knowing he must've cared enough to carry you back here and get you meds.

Maybe it wasn't all bad.

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 2

Great is truly an unusually unlikeable protagonist. The fact that Title is his closest friend speaks volumes, as does his mild reaction when Title bragged that he had locked up his girlfriend. Great really didn't care until the situation suddenly escalated to Title asking him to help murder someone, and even then he tried to just leave Dome to his death before the powers yanked him back.

Speaking of, it seems the 4 minutes reset is activated whenever Great makes a cowardly and shitty choice. The powers that be want him to be a better person.

I am also curious about why Dome has been watching Title. He already had that phone set up to record him and View, and he also made sure her friend knew to go looking for her. Does he like her?

I was very interested in the reveal that Korn has another arrangement going on with Fah, the daughter of the man he seems to go to for shady assistance when he fucks up, in this case by trying to expand the gambling operation too quickly and leaving them vulnerable to a hack. And in this relationship, Korn is the subordinate one. Gives new shading to the way he treats Tonkla, with him is where he gets his power back.

And speaking of Tonkla, that appears to be him in the hoodie at the start of the episode bashing someone's head with a rock--which implies he killed his own brother?! But then was also mourning him, and not just performatively because we saw him alone.

Between the spooky cat last week and the quick and disturbing cuts while he was grieving, I am getting the sense that Tonkla is mentally unwell. Perhaps he doesn't even remember he is the one who killed his brother??

They didn't show us that picture he was hugging for a reason. Who is Tonkla's brother!

Tyme's primping and flirting this episode was very funny. I also got a kick out of the cockblock nurse constantly catching him, and his stumbling to explain how he just happened to be there when Great got attacked (he doesn't have any friends, let alone one who could afford to live in Great's neighborhood).

And to tie him into the other plot, that was him at the end receiving the data from the lady hacker, right? Is it Great's family that he is in debt to?

Noting also that the suicidal woman's son is already dead, so won't be revealed to be anyone in the story.

I continue to be so impressed with the filming and editing of this story, it's gorgeous and there is so much going on in every frame that it's hard to keep track of it all. In this episode it's the image of the red umbrella going flying that is sticking with me.

We continue to see 11:00 constantly. I think others have theorized that this is the time of the cardiac arrest event Great is likely experiencing, and when the clock moved to 11:01, it was ominous as fuck. Is that an indicator that his time in this experience is running out? Does he only have until 11:04?

This show is taking over my brain, come tell me your theories.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Imagine: Your Sam and Dean’s sister and you get drunk for the first time behind their back.

Warnings: Underage drinking

Pairings: Sam and Dean x Sister!Reader

It was late and your brothers were out of the bunker trying to get a lead on the case. You stayed back, feeling really off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what was wrong because you were pretty sure everything was wrong. You were overwhelmed and feeling every single negative emotion at once. You started to think about everyone you’ve ever lost and started to grieve those lost connections. This is always how it went for you. You’d feel one singular sad emotion and then all of them would come crashing down on top of you. You had to get your mind off of it.

You glanced at the table and saw the whiskey your brothers would occasionally throw back. You had never drank before, but it was like something was pulling you in the direction of it. Sure you were underage and your brothers would be upset, but the pros were seeming to out way the cons as you opened the bottle.

You grabbed a glass and tilted the whiskey down as you watched the liquor flow out. You poured until nothing came out of it anymore. “Oops,” you mumbled now looking at the empty whiskey bottle. You had poured all of the remaining liquor into your class, but you didn’t care. You needed to get rid of these emotions and this was the only way to do it. You brought the glass up to your lips and took a swig. You gagged as it burned your mouth and stung your throat as you swallowed it. You looked back at the drink with disgust before putting it back to your lips and chugging it. You slammed the glass down onto the table and looked around. You decided to turn on some music and by the time you heard Kenny Rogers glorious voice you were hammered.

You were dancing around the room with the remote in your hand as you sang in a deep voice trying to match his pitch. As your brothers walked through the door you spun around to the face them, music still blasting through the bunker. Your eyes lit up and you pointed both fingers up at them continuing to sing,

“You’ve gotta know when to hold em,

Know when to fold em.”

You belted in a deep voice still pointing at them. Sam stood laughing at you and Dean joined in on singing with you for the next part.

“Know when to walk away,

And know when to run.”

You both sang and you went to fake run. As you did, you slipped and landed flat on the floor. You burst out laughing thinking it was the funniest thing ever. As Dean walked towards you, Sam’s eyes landed on the empty glass of whiskey that had no lid on it anymore. He squinted his eyes and looked back at you, “are you drunk?” He asked already knowing the answer. Dean snapped his eyes over to Sam and then snapped them back to you. You were still on the floor laughing and singing along to the song before Dean pulled you up. He held his grip firm on you as you answered, “Uhhh I don’t know I’ve never been drunk before so how am I supposed to know if I’m drunk if I’ve never actually been drunk like what does drunk even feel like and how are you supposed to know if you are if you’ve never actually felt it before?” You asked rambling on. “I can smell it all over her Sam, she’s drunk.” Dean sighed angrily looking over at what you drank. His heart sank. He knew how much liquor was left and he especially knew that you drank too much for your small body. He pulled you over to the empty glass and looked worried. “Did you take this neat?” Dean asked in disbelief, letting you go. “I don’t even know what that means,” you slurred, stumbling at the loss of stability Dean provided for you. “Wow, wow, hey,” Dean said reaching out to steady, “did you did you mix this with anything?” He asked looking concerned. You giggled, “No silly! I just poured a glass n drank it durrrr.” You said giving Dean a bitch face as you pushed away from him. “Well actually I chugged it because it burnedddddd!” You exclaimed matter of factly, making a gross face. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose while Dean was frozen in place. “You chug- you chugged whiskey?!??” Dean shouted. “Yeah but it’s okay because I feel so good now De, I was so sad before, but now I’m okay!” You said stumbling backwards away from Dean. Both of your brothers faces immediately softened. Sam reached out to steady you. “Hey bug, how long ago did you do this?” He asked softly knowing it was more important to take care of you than to yell at you at this point. “Likeeee 10 minutes before I saw a moose and squirrel walk through the front door!” You exclaimed, giggling. “That’s you if you didn’t know.” You said looking between both of your brothers. Sam and Dean glanced at each other feeling a little relived to know you hadn’t been like this long and there was a better chance of getting the contents of the alcohol out before it reached your blood stream. You were faltering the fine line between alcohol poisoning with how much you drank and both of your brothers knew that. “Watch this!” You exclaimed ready to climb on top of the table and jump off. “Uhhhh yeah no,” Sam said stopping you halfway and dragging you back down. You looked at him before stomping, “Mooses never wanna have fun!”You said. He picked you up and slugged you over his shoulder. “Oh we are goin on an adventure wahooooo,” You slurred feeling on top of the world. Sam started walking to the bathroom and Dean followed behind. “Wow De!” You squealed. “‘mm like taller than you.” You said straightening your body out on Sam’s shoulder trying to get even taller. He shook his head, sighing. Sam put you down and you took in your new surroundings. The bathroom! Okay you could find a way to have fun in here too.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sam speaking. “You’ve gotta throw up sweetheart,” he said sympathetically. “What n-no!” You slurred, trying to get your legs that felt like jello to move. Dean quickly stepped in front of you, leaving you to sluggishly ram into his chest. You looked up at him, “you drank way too much it’s either you throw up right now or we take you to the hospital.” He said. You whimpered looking away from him and looking to Sam. “I’m sorry bug, he’s right.” He said softly guiding you to the toilet. You were already feeling nauseous and biting back puking everywhere, but when you kneeled down to the toilet nothing came up. You sat there for a few minutes waiting for the feeling to come back, but you were starting to feel really out of it like you might black out at any second. Dean noticed you slightly swaying and grabbed you. “Alright kid alright,” he said as he rearranged himself to be behind you. You whimpered. “I know, I know hang in there.” He said as he shoved his two fingers down your throat. You immediately started throwing up. “Atta girl” He said patting your back as Sam held your hair away from your face. They both hated seeing you like this and were extremely worried for your physical and mental state. They knew there was a bigger picture to the scene in front of them and they barely scratched the top of the surface. This wasn’t like you to get drunk, hell this wasn’t like you to even drink. Sam transferred your hair to one hand as he reached for a wash cloth. He handed it to Dean and he wiped your mouth. Sam let go of your hair and left the bathroom to get you water. You were exhausted and leaned back into Dean. “You’re alright kiddo,” he sighed, holding her. “Are you disappointed in me, De?”You asked softly. He brushed your hair off your sweating forehead before replying, “why did you do it kiddo?” He asked. “Everyone’s dead,” you whimpered. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw before you bursted out into tears. “Everyone’s dead!” You sobbed. “Shhh shh I know, I know and I’m so sorry kiddo.” Dean said holding your weak body up. “I’m so sorry that you have to experience all of this grief and all of this loss.” He finished, feeling terrible and knowing you’ve already been through too much in your short life.

Sam came back into the bathroom telling Dean to take you to bed. He picked you up and took you to your room where Sam had Advil, water and a pedialyte waiting for you on your nightstand. “Hey bug, I need you to definitely drink the pedialyte before going to bed and there’s also some water if you need it. The Advil is for tomorrow because you’re definitely going to need it in the morning.” He said knowing the horrible hangover that he knew was awaiting you. You nodded and whispered thank you. “We will get you the help you need, love you kid,” Dean said as he gave your leg a pat. “Thank you, love you both.” You said as they walked out leaving a tiny lamp on and the door open so they could easily check on you through out the night.

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall Pairing(s): Stiles x fem!reader, Stiles x you (no use of y/n), Theo x fem!reader, Stiles x ofc Word Count: 7k (bbygurl got away from me oops) Tags: Hurt/a little, itty bit of comfort, angst is my lifeblood i fear, let's play a game of who can find all the noah kahan lyrics Warnings: Underage drinking/drug use (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), suggestive language, some light cheating, i think that's it?, sad girl summer :'(

Request: “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” for stiles please and thnk you!!!

Part II: after many requests, here’s the happy ending: part two A/N: i am well aware theo is way too nice, and me personally?? could never forgive him for hurting scott mccall, the light of my fucking life. but it's for the plot. the things we must do for the plot of it all. i might make a part two? but this was already long, and i liked the conclusion enough to stop. lemme know if that sounds interesting to y'all. ps: listen to strawberry wine and the view between villages for vibes.

That first night, you drove home—207 miles in less than 3 hours, sobbing the entire way. Didn’t matter that you were right in the middle of finals. Didn’t matter that you had Math 19 at 8:00 in the morning. Nothing mattered except for the ringing in your ears, the blistering echoes of, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ over and over and over again until you stumbled into the house you grew up in—the house he practically grew up in. He was all over every room, all over your entire goddamn hometown, all over you, and you had this desperate, crawling urge to scrub your skin raw. Strip everything away with turpentine until the shadows of his hands and mouth were gone, until you couldn’t smell cedar and 15 years of summer nights and Sunday mornings. 

That night you cried so hard it scared your sister. She spent most of the night with her back slumped against your bedroom door, fingertips poking through the little crack underneath, just like she did the first night your parents brought you home. She had to know that you were breathing, had to make sure that your little chest was rising and falling in your sweet bassinet—if you were inhaling in-between your fractured sobs. You eventually cried yourself to sleep—like a baby, like a broken heart—and thrashed around sweat-damp sheets and dreams of him kissing someone else on his couch. 

Months later, you finally realize it’s a bit self-involved to think that the universe cares enough about your short, temporal existence to conspire against you…but it certainly feels like it when you tie it all together with red string. After Stiles stopped wanting you, everything just…decayed, rotted, died—so quickly, too quickly for you to bury any of the remains. You’re still grieving Allison, constantly, and currently failing at least half your classes, and, oh yeah, battling literal demons at least three times a week—but mostly, you’re just tired. You’re just so goddamn tired of it all.   

To put it plainly, you’re drowning. 

That must be why the neat lines of text in your Math 20 textbook are swirling into indecipherable whirlpools. It’s just so…frustrating. You get math. Math is your thing. Derivatives shouldn’t ever send you into a bout of angry tears—but you are, you’re angry. Angry at the numbers for blurring into something unrecognizable, angry at yourself for not recognizing them, for becoming a person you don’t know or like. Your lashes clump together, and few mascara-tinted tears drop onto the glossy pages. At least, the cloudy text isn’t a hallucination now. 

 “Are you okay?”

The library is quiet, so quiet that you should’ve heard him coming, but you jump at the sound of Theo’s voice. You don’t know him that well; Theo isn’t really the kind of guy you’d talk to, at least not before everything you knew slipped through your fingers. It’s not like you ever disliked him; it’s just…he’s always been everything you’re not—focused, organized, completely in control. He’s confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant, ridiculously good-looking but just charismatic enough that you can’t really hate him for all the maiming and scheming he pulled last year. He’s been punished enough, you think, and sure—maybe a part of you feels that way simply because Stiles doesn’t.

You haven’t spoken to Theo much, not really. Scott does most of the talking when he shows up to the occasional pack meeting, and Lydia won’t let him within ten feet of you anyway. Frankly, you don’t realize that he knows your name until he says it. His voice is soft in a way that you know isn’t just because of library conduct. It’s his eyes, you think—they’re warm with a concern you aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve.

You nod and then blink at the fuzzy pages of your math book, eyes almost vacant, “I just…I don't understand.”

Theo sits down next to you and leans forward, scanning the text briefly, “Which part?”

You flush, “...all of it.”

He doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes like you thought he might. Instead, he pulls his chair closer to yours and reaches for a pencil. “Most people will tell you that derivatives are the ‘instantaneous rates of change.’ That’s what the book says, and it’s kind of true, but you’re right—that doesn’t actually make any sense. Things can’t actually change in a single instant, right? Obviously, change happens between two instances, so what they actually mean is a derivative's the rate of instantaneous change measured as precisely as possible.” Theo’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his finger across your textbook, connecting the vague definitions to numbers that actually compute through your teary haze.

You sit back and just watch for a minute, a little in awe, as he makes all the squiggles into numbers again—and you haven’t been found more than a few feet away from him ever since. You guess it’s because you’re hoping, against all odds, that he can do the same for your life. At least in some small way, maybe.

It’s definitely easier to show up to Lydia's party with his hand in yours. 

You’re all back in Beacon Hills for the summer, and it’s nice. It really is. During the school year, you’re spread all across the state for the most part—you, Theo, and Lydia at Stanford; Scott, Kira, and Malia at UC-Davis; Liam and Mason, the babies, about to start their senior year of high school (it makes you want to cry if you think about it too long); Derek in…wherever he ends up for a season (it was fun to visit while he was in New York, and you secretly hope he makes a return in the fall); and, of course, there’s Stiles. He’s all the way on the other side of the country for his Quantico internship, and you still can’t escape him. His hands are all over your scent, all over every important moment of your life since pre-school. Sometimes, you think that you’ll always be one breath away from choking on the memory of him. But it’s easier, you remind yourself; it’s easier to be a minute away from home with Theo standing next to you. 

The music is loud in Lydia’s front room, thumping through your chest and sharpening the anxiety crawling through your veins—gnawing at your corneas until a haze of vape and weed and flashing lights consume your vision: pink, blue, green, red, and then pink again.

Theo tightens his grip on your hand and gently pulls you into the kitchen. It’s still loud, but the air is clearer here, and the crowd is thin. There’s a couple you vaguely recognize from high school making out on the granite countertop, too enwrapped in each other’s tongues to notice the mixer-sticky surface, and a couple boys who were on the lacrosse team gather drinks for another round of beer pong behind them. 

“You’re psychic,” you hum, resting your chin against the little dip in Theo’s sternum so that you can grin up at him, “tell the truth.”

He laughs easily and wraps his arms around your waist. The solid weight releases some of the vague unease stubbornly clinging to your synapses. “I solemnly swear that my supernatural abilities end at claws and fangs. I just know you; that’s all.” 

You hum as he sways with you a little and shake your head, “It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve gotta have some help from the other side.”

Theo shrugs and lifts you onto the counter behind him—a non-sticky patch, thankfully—and brushes your hair out of your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been paying attention for a little longer than a few weeks.”

You tilt your head and purse your lips into a pout you hope is even half as cute as the wicked gleam in Theo’s eyes, “How long?”

He shrugs again and ducks down to murmur in your ear, “Maybe since the first grade.”

His breath is warm against your cheek, but you know that’s not the only reason your face feels hot. You push against his chest, pulling a little face, “Shut up.”

Theo laughs and grabs your wrists, kissing your knuckles, “I’m serious! You were so cute with your little pigtails and missing teeth.”

You whine a little, embarrassed as you are as pleased, and hide your face in his neck. It smells good, a little citrusy from his cologne and a little sweaty from the sheer amount of grinding bodies in the house—like a man, like he can and will take care of you. “Stop it. I hated those bangs.”

He pinches your sides a little, “And the way you’d always shoot your hand up first—with the right answer, of course—I was smitten.”

You pull away from his neck and arch your brow, “Was?”

“Am,” he concedes with a soft smile, cupping your cheek and thumbing along your lash line, “am completely smitten.” 

He dips in to kiss you, lips barely an eyelash-width away from yours, when a prim cough pulls him away from his spot in-between your legs. You peer around his shoulder and roll your eyes, albeit fondly, at the stern look on Lydia’s face. She’s always been protective of you, even more so after Allison and the whole Stiles debacle, but you’re a bit tired of the Theo Raeken witch hunt. 

You slip down from the counter and rock onto your tiptoes to kiss Theo’s cheek—mainly to see the pinch in Lydia’s perfectly tapered brows. “Can you put this in the coat room,” you hum against his skin, shrugging off your baggy leather jacket. He knows the real reason you’re sending him away—of course he does, sometimes it feels like he knows everything—but he goes with a smirk anyway because, despite Lydia and Stiles’s suspicions, he’s trying his absolute hardest to redeem himself. 

“You could be a little nicer, y’know,” you reach for a hard lemonade from the ice bucket dripping a puddle of water onto the tile floor. You uncap it on the lip of the massive island and fold your arms over your chest, “He’s been nothing but the perfect boyfriend so far.”

Lydia matches your stance, brows curving, “Boyfriend?”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears. You haven’t actually discussed labels or exclusivity—you think it’s too early; don’t want to scare him off, but Lydia doesn’t need to know that. “Boyfriend.”

Her curls trickle over her shoulder like the strawberry wine in her cup as she tips her chin and purses her lips into a flat line, “Stiles is here.” 

You try not to react—aren’t entirely sure why you do—and hide your complicated frown behind a sip of lemonade. It’s extra bitter going down. “Okay?”

Lydia shifts her weight from one Jimmy Choo to the other and sighs heavily, “He’s not going to like it.”

A flare of irritation sparks in your gut that you chase with a tip of your bottle. “Okay?” you mutter, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of your hand. A smear of nude lipstick is left behind, and you feel the sudden need to leave some on Theo’s neck for everyone to see. 

“I’m just warning you; it’s going to be a whole thing,” Lydia waves her hand in the air as she takes a dainty sip from her cup. Her pink manicure shines under the lights, and you wonder briefly how she can make every color look good with her red hair.

You hum and lean forward, grin a little sloppy as you sidle up to her side, “That you’ll be on my side for. Obviously.”

Lydia watches you carefully, eyes heavy, and tucks some of the hair falling in your face behind your ear. “Obviously,” she takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, and you feel a little less giggly and a lot more tender. 

You let her pull you into the crowded front room for a dance. It’s a good song, you think. Happy, lots of bass to jump to, and you’re shiny-faced and giddy by the time it’s over. 

Meandering towards the back patio for some fresh air, you pull your tank top away from your torso, gauzy material sticky with sweat and someone’s body glitter. You aren’t entirely sure where Theo ended up, but you take it as a good sign that he’s mingling with your friends—which, bless his crooked little heart, is all he’s ever wanted. 

The night breeze is so nice against your clammy skin that you feel a little lightheaded. You collapse on a padded deckchair and kick your feet up onto a keg, empty, most likely, based on its current state of abandonment. After a moment of hazy tranquility, a red solo cup filled to the brim with an unknown, potent liquid blocks your view of the winking gold embellishments on your boots. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Scott smiles at you from his slight bend over your head.

You take the cup from Scott eagerly and down about half of it to soothe the rawness in your throat—asthma is a bitch in hotboxes, makes you almost consider asking Scott for the bite. “I need about ten,” you hum, licking the little dribble of cherry-something from the corner of your mouth. It’s too sweet, but the ice is easing the beginnings of a headache forming in your temples. 

Scott sits down next to you, and you grumble a little as he nudges your side with his elbow until he has enough room to stretch his legs out too. “You look happy,” he grins at you, eyes crinkly and sweet. “Been a minute since I’ve seen that.”

“I feel happy,” you lean against his side and rest your cup against your cheek. The condensation gathered on the plastic is a godsend against your flushed face. “For the first time in…way too long.”

“Good,” Scott's voice is sincere, in the most genuinely empathic way that only Scott McCall can be, and he gently nudges your foot with his, “I’ve been worried.” He pauses and looks down at the contents of his cup, watches the ice slowly melt into whatever he poured for taste alone—you don’t like the pensive squint in his eyes. “You know I want to trust Theo, right? I really want to believe that he’s changed.”

You sigh a little, but because he only ever wants the best for everyone and, well, because it’s Scott, you say, “But?”

He gives his hands a small frown and taps his finger against the side of his drink, “Not a but, exactly. I do think he’s different now.” The mostly goes unsaid, and you watch him closely, waiting for him to finish. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to…rush into anything after, well,” Scott scratches the back of his neck a little and winces, “you know.”

“After Stiles dumped me because, ‘he needed space,’ and then started dating someone new two weeks later,” you finish for him flatly. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. His new girl was all over his Insta within the month—and she’s still fucking stunning in his flannels weeks later. Your stomach turns, but you swallow another mouthful of your dri—rum and Cherry Coke, you finally place the flavor, smiling a little at the memory of getting tipsy on the same drink at Senior prom with Scott, Kira, and…Stiles. It’s a good memory, you decide. You won’t let him take it from you.

“Yeah.” Scott sighs into his drink and then takes a long chug, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, you know? None of us do.”

“I know,” you smile at him fondly and kiss his cheek, “and it’s very sweet, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” 

Scott smiles, bright and puppy-like, and then his head cocks with his little sixth-sense tick—also puppy-like, you think with a smirk. Scott’s grin fades and he murmurs, “Three o’clock,” against the rim of his cup.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Scott laughs, but it’s strained, and then nods towards something across the pool, “To your right.”

You turn your head, expecting to see one of your friends doing something stupid, and freeze momentarily when you meet Stiles’s gaze. His eyes are a little unfocused, murky with whatever’s in his plastic cup, but they sharpen when he sees you. He backs down first, and you polish off your drink, craving the sweet burn in your throat. “I need another drink.”

“You need to talk to him,” Scott says, and he takes your empty cup away from you, like he’s worried you can magically refill it with the simple power of desire. “If you can’t do it for him, do it for me. His brooding is really getting out of control.”

You don’t bother bringing up that Stiles is the one who ended it or that he brought his new girlfriend home with him. “Maybe,” you shoot Scott a sly grin and try to snag his drink from his hands, but your clumsy fingers are no match for his werewolf reflexes, “I do love and cherish you very, very much.”

Scott laughs and ruffles your hair, approaching noogie territory. “Should’ve gone out with me.”

You can’t help but look for him through the fog rising above the heated pool. Stiles’s face is pale in the reflection of the lit water; the shadows ripple across his cheeks when he tugs his girlfriend into a sloppy kiss—Chelsea, you recall, proud that there’s only a little bitterness coating the thought. “Don’t I know it,” you finally say. It’s the churning reflection and the smell of chlorine, you reason; that’s why you feel a bit like throwing up your last couple drinks.

Scott frowns when you don’t swat at his side or make fun of him, like you’d usually do in the face of such ridiculous teasing, and follows your gaze. “But that was never going to happen, huh,” he says quietly. “Not with the…” he trails off, face scrunching as he searches for the right words, “throbbingly in love since birth thing.”

You laugh through the stabbing sensation in your chest. “Throbbingly?”

He waves his free hand as he takes another sip of his drink, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do,” you say, a small smile twitching on your face as Scott spills most of his red drink onto his white t-shirt.

He sighs and pulls the soaked material away from his chest, head darting around as he looks for something to mop up the mess. “You guys were just like…always ahead of everybody from the beginning, you know? Brains, love, all of it. I swear you guys were actually born like 30 years old, or maybe it's some kind of reincarnation, soulmate thing—okay, it probably has more to do with the…” 

“Early on-set trauma?” you fill-in for him, sparing him the unpleasantness of bringing up dead mothers and mental illness.

Scott nods and licks his bottom lip before continuing, “I remember this kid had a huge crush on you, like way back in elementary school, and even at nine years old I knew he didn’t have a shot. It was just obvious, you know? It was always going to be the two of you. It was just always gonna end up that way.”

You almost laugh at the sight: Scott dabbing at his shirt with a pink beach towel and oh-so casually confirming that your worst fears aren’t only valid but in fact a reality. Maybe, you really can’t love someone else, not the way you loved him. Maybe, you’re just kidding yourself when you talk about it in the past-tense. Maybe, it really is just the two of you, even if it’s all in your head now. 

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” you try to sound flippant, but your words are as shaky as the hand you're raking through your hair. It’s already a mess, but you can’t stop. Your hands need to do something. 

“Then you’re really not gonna like what’s coming next,” Scott says as he jerks his thumb towards something behind him.

You turn your head, and your eyes widen when you see Stiles trudging towards the two of you with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. The chair’s metal frame squeaks with Scott’s shifting weight. He clamors to his feet, mumbling something about cleaning his shirt, and you give him your most intimidating glower, “Scott, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll never—Hi.” Your tone is clipped, short and to the point, when Stiles stops in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles’s voice is dull, void of emotion, and so is his face. He stares at you, and you wish you knew what was really flickering behind that burnt umber and citrine honey. There was a time when you would’ve known—when you always knew. It’s so strange, you think, so strange how quickly someone can become a stranger.

You clear your throat and tuck your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the hem of your short skirt to maintain some semblance of modesty. His eyes still dart to your upper thigh, lingering on the strip of skin that’s bared when you sit upright. It’s only for a split second—but it’s enough. He’s seen it before, after all. Felt it with his long fingers and open palms. Dragged his lips across it, and left wet, open-mouth kisses along every inch—but he still looks like he wants to sink his teeth into the supple flesh one last time. 

You swallow, hard, and stand, “So…how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he replies flatly. “Obviously not as good as you.”

Your lips purse as your eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“First Theo Raeken, now Scott McCall: True Alpha, God among werewolves, Messiah of Beacon Hills. I’m genuinely impressed—bottom of my heart, babe. I mean, s’quite the body count if we’re talkin’ claws and body hair alone,” he spits. Despite the slight slur in his words, his consonants are barbed and serrated at the edges. They prick your skin and sting long after he finishes, and you know they’re going to follow you all the way home.

“Don’t be a dick,” you snap, wrapping your arms tightly around your biceps. The chill isn’t so pleasant anymore.  

“What? I’m just giving you the props you’ve so clearly earned. You’ve got the magic touch.” Stiles cants his head in a way that distinctly reminds you of someone else—a monster who stole the face of the boy you loved a lifetime ago. “I’d ask how good the sex is, but I already know. It’s that thing you do with your tongue, right? When you’re givin’ head? That’s how you get ‘em, huh. Suckers—” his drink spills on his shoes when he lets out a sharp chortle, “suckers. Didn’t even mean to do that.” 

You stare at him, eyes burning, and try to determine exactly how drunk he is. “Stop it.” You do your best to look more annoyed than devastated—the last thing you need is to start crying like you still care. He can't win; you won’t let him, not like this. “Just stop. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.”

Something complicated rolls over his face, and Stiles clenches his fists, “Whatever. Guess it’ll be too late to say told’ya so when he rips your heart out and broils it—or whatever the fuck psychopaths do for fun these days.” 

Your face crumples a little—not because you think Theo would ever actually hurt you but because Stiles sounds so ambivalent about the possibility. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but you’ve never stopped caring, not once. You never stop worrying about if he’ll make it out alive, if he'll survive with all his breakable bones and fragile skin intact. You find yourself staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, dwelling on all the horrific, life-or-death situations he’ll end up in when he graduates from the Academy years from now. Stiles was your best friend years before he was your boyfriend. Did all that really not matter now? Just because of something as stupid as a breakup? It’s just so…high school. You really thought it’d been…more. 

Everything. You used to think it was everything.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Stiles,” you shove past him, stumbling a bit over your boots’ chunky heel and a little too much rum. 

He doesn’t follow you, and you should be glad. You should be happy that he isn’t there to witness the black smears under your eyes or the snot you’re trying to hide with a few discreet sniffles. You should be grateful that he doesn’t see Theo pull you into his side and take you home, grateful that he can’t ruin the soft kisses Theo rains down on the crown of your head and the way he doesn’t push to come inside after you say your parents are gone.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it. 

You barely manage to wipe off what’s left of your makeup with a damp towel and throw on some clean clothes before you tumble into bed. You’re still sweaty, grimy with tears and a night of dancing, but the rum is hitting hard, and you just want to go to sleep and forget he ever existed.

You’re halfway between sleep and consciousness in the early hours of the morning when you hear a loud thud against your bedroom window. The thudding continues, and with a great sigh you slip out of your sheets, hissing when your bare feet land on the cold floor. You slowly shuffle towards the bay window, trying to forget it's where you had your first kiss, and kneel on the cushioned bench. You have to rub at your eyes a few times when you see Stiles trying to break into your house. You only unlock the latch after you convince yourself that you’re going to push him off of the roof into the rose bushes two stories below, and then, of course, you sit back on your heels so that he has room to crawl through the narrow opening. 

“When the fuck did you start locking your window?” Stiles stumbles into your room and catches himself against the floor with his palm, feet still dangling over the windowsill. You take great pleasure in shoving his legs off of the window seat and watching him fall face-first onto the carpeted rug. He grunts when he lands and rubs his jaw as he sits up, “Guess I deserved that.” 

His lips part when he gets a good look at you, backlit by the moon and all his worst mistakes. You’re in an old t-shirt from middle school, bleach stains all along the left shoulder, and a pair of baggy sweatpants with ratty holes around the hem from years of dragging against the ground. Your face is still tacky with tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

You shift uncomfortably, pull your knees to your chest, and shiver as the night air drifts through the open window, “Still drunk?” 

“Not so much,” he holds up a mostly steady hand.

“Still a fucking asshole?”

“Probably.” Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, “Definitely.”

You stare at him, sniffling quietly, hoping that he can’t hear how pathetic it sounds, “Stiles, what are you doing here?” 

He drums his fingers against his thighs and shrugs again. You want to smack him. And hold him. And maybe drink some more liver poison until the school year starts again. “Dunno, just started walkin’, n’ I ended up here.” Stiles closes his eyes, and his lashes are so strikingly dark against his pale skin. “I always end up here,” he whispers like a vow, like a prayer, like forever. 

You dig your toes into the bench and swallow a hiccup. “Don’t,” your protest is weak, and you blame it on your sore throat. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. He’s in need of a shave, you notice, or…maybe not. You kind of like the stubble the more you get used to it—your tipsy, sleep-deprived mind stupidly wonders what it’d feel like between your thighs. Stiles sighs, returning your attention to far more unpleasant thoughts, “But I just want to.” He leans onto his palms and tips his head back between his shoulders, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I just wanna say it all, all the things I thought while you were gone. Knew I would the second I saw you.”

“You’re—” your tongue is thick as you struggle for words over the conflicting emotions wrangling each other in your throat, “you’re so fuckin’—you can’t just come here and act like—” You rub aggressively at your eyes and push yourself to your feet, “You need to go, Stiles. I want you to go.”

Stiles stands with you and cards his fingers through his hair. It’s long, curling around his ears, and you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the wall and digging your fingers into your forearms to stop yourself from reaching for him. “Can we just…talk?” he whispers, whether it’s for his sake or yours, you’re not entirely sure. He looks small, scared, but you can’t tell if he’s afraid for you or of you. “Just for a little bit. I need…I just need another minute. That’s all, and then I’ll go. Promise.”

I need. I need. I need. It’s always what he needs on his time. You cross the floor with wild eyes and snap, “What do you want to talk about? Huh? How you left me for someone else, or how I’m such a fucking whore for moving on?”

He grits his teeth and grabs your wrists, long fingers overlapping around the delicate bones when you try to yank away from his firm grip. “You think this is what I want?” He doesn’t yell. Somehow, that’s worse. “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!”

You thrash in Stiles’s arms, and his pained expression is blurry through your wet glare, “You had me! I was yours! I was so fucking in love with you, and then you—you just ended it and moved on, like it was nothing.” Your chest heaves, a stark contrast to the gentle quiver in your bottom lip. Your voice drops to something almost inaudible; it's the only way you can get through this while you're crying, the only way you can force the words through your tender throat, “Like I was nothing.”

Your cries turn into sobs when Stiles pulls you into his arms, and they wrack through your entire body when he kisses your hair and whispers sweet nonsense in your ear. You struggle for a moment longer, and then there's nothing left. You've given him everything. You sag into him, legs sinking with your full weight until he wraps his arms around your waist and presses you tighter to his chest. “I got scared,” Stiles whispers against the crown of your head when your cries peter into hiccups, and your next whimper shudders through your shoulders. He rests his palms against the small of your back and inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead, “You were so far away, and so, so perfect, and I missed you all the fucking time.”

Stiles pauses, but it’s not for you. It’s a stall; you can feel his knee bounce and his fingers twitch. You wait, face buried in his collarbone, too busy trying to breathe to even think about speaking. After a moment, could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, he squeezes you—almost until it hurts, and it feels like he’s terrified that you’re just another one of the shadows on your bedroom walls. “I couldn’t ask you to transfer from Stanford to some fuckin’ state school in Virginia, so I fucked everything up ‘cause I guess...at least then it was my choice—and I know that just makes it worse. I know that. Because that means I chose to ruin it, I decided to hurt you…and I’m so fucking sorry. Just so unbelievably, life-ruiningly sorry.”

And there it is. The apology you’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, fantasizing about in every shower, in every cafe line, in every early morning class—and it’s just so…hollow. It sits between the two of you, heavy and horridly inadequate. “You found someone else,” you whimper into his shoulder, clasping at his t-shirt and wetting the white collar with your tears and runny nose—and you wish, more than anything, that this could be enough. “How could you find someone else that quickly?”

Stiles freezes, stops rubbing your back and rocking you from side-to-side, and it’s just jarring enough to remind yourself how dangerous it is to be in his arms. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself instead, and Stiles watches you with something hopeless all over his face. “I was just trying to prove that I didn’t make the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” he says, but he says it to his shoes. You wonder who he’s hiding from: himself or you. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

You just stare at him, arms limp by your sides, and shake your head a little. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” your voice is clotted with mucus and defeat, and it breaks halfway through along with your knees. You lean against the wall and close your lids so that you don’t have to see his eyes: so vast, so deep, so damn pretty—you’re suffocating in them. “What do you want from me?”

He’s relentless. Stiles steps forward, and there’s nowhere for you to go. “I want you.” And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s the rub. It’s always hunger, no sating. No happy ending. 

“Nothing’s changed.” You tilt your head and wring your fingers in the hem of your t-shirt, tugging every so often, “I’m still going back to Stanford, and you’re still going back east in the fall.” UPenn. Criminology, obviously. You never got the chance to congratulate him. 

“I know,” he’s right in front of you now, waiting for you to push him away. You don’t.

The back of your head hits the wall as you tip your chin up to look at him, “And I have Theo, and you have…her.”

“I know,” he braces his hands next to the sides of your head, watching your lips move without any shame, breath hot against your skin. 

“Stiles…” you plead with him through your lashes, asking for mercy, on hands and knees begging him to turn around and leave.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” Stiles rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me it’s over, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.” 

“You already know,” you close your eyes and shake your head, nose rubbing against his, “you know I’d be lying.”

“You love me.” It’s not a question. He knows. He’ll always know.

You shake your head again, and Stiles can taste the salt on your lips, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Too late,” your lips brush against his, feather-light, and catch on the chapped center of his mouth.

He kisses you, cups your jaw like you’re ineffably precious, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months. Stiles tilts his head a little, and his tongue is gentle in its prodding, almost sweet—but he grabs onto your hips like he wants to eat you alive. You just might let him, you think, when you feel his stubble scrape against your neck as he trails a balmy line of kisses towards your collarbone. 

You wind your fingers in his hair and tug to keep yourself on your feet. “We ca—ah,” he licks along your pulse, on purpose, and you shiver, “we can’t do this.”

Stiles hums against your cheek. “And yet, here I am, sliding my hands under your shirt, trying to cop a feel.” His fingers dip under your shirt. They’re cold on your bare stomach, and you flinch a little. Dizzyingly, you remember where you are, who you’re with, and who's going to text you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.

“We really can’t do this,” you whisper, slipping your hands from his hair to his arms. You pull them away gently and tip your head back from his persistent mouth, “I’m not going to hurt Theo the way you hurt me, and I’m not going to let you do this to someone else.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, gravelly and thick. He turns away from you, paces the length of your room a few times, and throws his hands around like he can change your mind if he gestures hard enough, “You know it’s not the same.” Stiles stops abruptly and shakes his head, seemingly at nothing—and then he’s back in front of you before you can catch your breath. He places his hands on your shoulders and then slides his palms to your biceps, just holding onto you. Not clutching, not squeezing, just a light touch that you can’t seem to break away from. 

“You’ve been my best friend for 15 years,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, and you watch him with wide eyes and a blitzing heart, “and I’ve loved you for well over half of ‘em—just plain wanted you even longer.” He slips his hand down your arm to your hand and tangles his fingers with yours, lifting them to rest over his skittering heartbeat, “You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it should be.”

You want to say it back, you do, but you just can’t. Not with all the unresolved details wriggling in your ear. “You brought her home, Stiles. You can’t just…just introduce her to your dad and cheat on her all in the same day.”

“Technically, cheat on and then dump,” he tries to smile, but it’s not convincing. Not with the guilt dimming his eyes.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, but the guilt is good. He wouldn’t be the man you know, the boy you grew up with, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about the whole thing.

“Dad’s out of town,” Stiles admits quietly, and for some reason, that means more to you than his apology, than his kisses, than his hand in yours. You didn’t realize how much the thought had been bothering you until now—destroying you one post at a time. “I only brought her because I knew you were going to be here with…him.” He shrugs a little, “Frankly, I think she knows. She aced behavioral science.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” he concedes and kisses the back of your hand, continuing along the row of your knuckles, “but I’m in love with you, and it’s become abundantly clear that I always will be.”

Your bottom lip trembles with the desire to give in to what you want, but your hand twists away from him with what you know is right—even though it feels so horrendously wrong. “I can’t do this to him, Stiles. He’s been through so much, and he’s been so good to me, and he’s trying so hard to—”

“But you don’t love him!” Stiles hisses. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, but you don’t flinch from the volume. It’s the truth of it all, the vile honestly you can’t hide from that makes you recoil.

You look at the ceiling through your lashes, an old trick to fight the tears welling in your tear ducts. Some girl in middle school told you about it in the bathroom, and you try to remember her name and what cloying body spray she was spritzing instead of thinking about how easy it would be to let Stiles crawl into your bed and make you forget about everyone and everything that isn’t him. “I should,” you finally murmur throatily, biting on your lip, “maybe I could…someday.”

Stiles whips his head towards your face and takes a little stumbling step backwards, “You don’t believe that.” You’re sure that he wishes he sounded more confident, but he gives himself away with the hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Say you don’t believe that.”

“You need to go, Stiles.” You clutch at your arm with your other hand and step back towards your bed, further away from him and the wet film over his eyes. “I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He opens his mouth and then scrubs his arm over his face, wiping away the incriminating wet gleam on his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel. “Okay,” his throat bobs with the strength of his swallow, “yeah, okay.”

You wait until he reaches your bedroom door to crawl onto your bed. You curl in on yourself, like a child, ad press your face into your legs, your knees to your chest, your back against the headboard—but Stiles pauses before you can really fall apart.

Stiles rests his hand against the doorframe and chews on his cheek, on his words, on the thought of you, and then he says, “I’m still breaking up with her. You don’t…you don’t owe me anything—that’s fucking putting it lightly, I know—but I’m still breaking up with her.” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, a little sad but so true, “There’s no one else for me. There’s never going to be anyone else…just thought you should know.”

He’s gone by the time you look up from your kneecaps. Good. You were this close to giving in. This close to throwing yourself over the edge for someone who’s dropped once before, and you’re still cleaning up the mess he left behind. You should be proud of yourself, happy that you weren’t weak enough to say yes, yes, a million, billion, trillion times yes.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously