#and I still don't know a lot of details about his life or anything. but sometimes I write little things and reread them

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[okaysonny]

the one where they lose yenna ╎ zack + johan

❤️ @always-lovingly — hope you like it!

ᯓ★ summary: eli bestows zack with the greatest honour: babysitting yenna. nothing will go wrong, right?

ᯓ★ details: fluff, no reader, spoilers for 517 onwards, canon dynamics. (aka zack and johan's relationship is platonic)

ᯓ★ wc: 3.4k - on the longer side...sorry

ᯓ★ A/N: I HATED MAKING THIS!!! comedy is really hard to write + i feel like i waffled too much... made a post about it, but this fic is drawn from s2, ep6 of friends (the one with the baby on the bus)

how did they get ben back with no paperwork/confirmation? idk but it makes my job easier #yes

divider: @thecutestgrotto

"what? you want me to look after zami tomorrow?"

"…her name is yenna" eli smiles at him sheepishly. "and yes. i have to unexpectedly work at the fruit stall. derek got a stomach bug and there's no one to cover for him. plus, the daycares closed on saturdays. would you mind?"

"…eli…i can't believe this…"

of course. eli should've expected this. what eighteen year old wants to spend their saturday babysitting?

"sorry zack. don't worry about it. i'll get someone else to— "

"i can't believe you're trusting me to babysit zam— i mean yenna!" a beam of light is practically shining on him.

eli blinks. he swears he can see zack's eyes well up.

"do you really trust me to? you really think i'm worthy?!"

well, he wasn't expecting that. eli laughs softly, shaking his head. "well…you visit her a lot and you're really great with her. i think you'd do a good job"

zack covers his mouth, trying not to cry in front of the beauty department's only guy. he does visit yenna a lot. how can he not? the fact that the baby he found happened to be eli's daughter…it felt like fate.

he coughs into his hand, composing himself, before looking at eli with determination - the determination of being the best babysitter in the world. "…it would be my honour"

eli smiles softly. he was hesitant in entrusting yenna with someone who misnames her half the time. but now, he doesn't regret it one bit.

"…thanks, zack"

"oh…you really came prepared, huh?"

zack has come prepared. he still owns that baby carrier from before. he also wears something without buttons this time. and he still uses gel, but not too much gel, because the spikes could stab her.

"of course!" he nods enthusiastically. "only the best for zam— yenna! mesh ventilation to ensure maximum comfort!"

eli can't help but chuckle. "that's…very nice of you"

with one hand, eli hands zack a list of instructions and a bag of supplies. his other hand is holding yenna, as adorable as she always is.

"…if anything happens, call me. i'll try make it back as soon as possible" he hesitantly hands yenna over, her little hands grabbing at zack's face.

"ba!" she squeals.

his eyes light up. "zam— yenna!" he cradles her head gently. "don't worry, eli ! she's safe with me!"

he nods, exhaling slowly. he reaches out to stroke her hair fondly. "you have a good time with uncle zack, okay? i'll be back before you know it" he whispers.

eli steps back, checking the time on his phone. "shoot, i need to go. you'll be fine, right?"

zack grins, using yenna's hand to give him a little wave. "yes, yes. go and chop fruit or whatever"

eli waves back and zack watches as his figure slowly gets smaller. he looks down at her, speaking with conviction.

"alright, zami. uncle zack will give you the best day of your life"

"what the hell, man? why'd you bring a baby here?"

okay, so saturday just happened to coincide with his study session. but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

zack hastily covers her ears. "don't swear in front of yenna! this is eli's daughter, y'know?! i'm an uncle on babysitting duty"

johan looks down at yenna with a mix of contempt and confusion, her big eyes staring back at him.

"ba?"

she's holding a baton with the top of a toy wand attached to it. his brows furrow, remembering his fight with eli.

Are you messing with me? What's with the toy?

whoops. in his defense, how was he meant to know?

johan sighs in exasperation and closes his book. "we're not getting anything done if she's here. by the way, don't expect me to help, alright? you're on your own"

"hmph. yenna doesn't want to hear your obscenities anyway" he pats her head protectively.

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, okay"

yenna suddenly starts smacking her baton-wand against the edge of the table, the smile never leaving her face.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

zack stares at the wand, already dented from her relentless attack on the furniture.

"alright yenna, that's enough of that" he says nervously, gently prying it out of her hand. she immediately starts to fuss, her big eyes tearing up.

johan glares at him. "nice job, genius. now she's going to cry"

"hush!" zack snaps. he waves the wand awkwardly in front of yenna’s face. "see, yenna? it's all better!"

yenna, unimpressed, lets out a wail that could rival a siren.

johan groans and presses his fingers to his temples. "you need to get something to keep her quiet. a softer toy maybe"

zack perks up at the suggestion. "hey, we should go to the city! we can grab something real quick!"

"we?"

"yes, we. you're not sitting on your ass while i do this alone" he grumbles.

johan stares at him in disbelief, but yenna’s cries grow louder, and he visibly gives in. “fine. but if she screams on the bus, i'm out”

zack grins, already packing up. he turns to yenna with a cheerful voice. "alright princess, let’s go find you the perfect toy!"

"...gross"

"you're gross" he mumbles, as they make their way to the bus stop.

zack awkwardly adjusts the baby carrier strapped to his chest, yenna wriggling furiously against him.

“why is she squirming so much?” johan asks, sitting in the seat across from him, his arms folded.

“she’s probably uncomfortable” zack shifts the straps again. yenna lets out an irritated whine, kicking her tiny feet against his stomach. “c’mon, work with me here…”

johan leans back. “maybe she can sense you have no idea what you’re doing”

“real helpful, johan. you wanna take over?” he glares at him while holding the carrier steady.

“pass”

“yeah, that’s what i thought” zack adjusts the carrier again, but yenna’s whining only gets louder. people start glancing over, their expressions ranging from amused to annoyed.

“okay, okay. hang on” he sighs in defeat, unbuckling the straps, gently lifting yenna out of the carrier and onto his lap.

“so now you’re happy, huh?” zack mutters. yenna’s only response is a delighted giggle as she smacks his knee with her baton-wand.

“you’re spoiling her” johan comments, deadpan.

“what do you know about babies, johan?”

he shrugs. "if you say so"

yenna, meanwhile, starts squirming again, clearly eager to explore her surroundings.

“you wanna stretch those tiny legs?” zack carefully sets her down on the floor of the bus. she stands unsteadily for a moment, then takes a few steps, laughing as she bangs her toy against the metal pole by their seats.

“...are you seriously letting her walk around here?”

“she needs some freedom!” zack defends himself, his eyes flicking between yenna and johan. "she's only a baby, it’s not like she’s gonna go far"

“...right”

“calm down. i'm watching her!” zack beams confidently, leaning back in his seat while keeping one eye on yenna.

for a moment, the two of them sit in silence, the bus rumbling along as she continues her wobbly exploration of the aisle.

“...y’know, you’re pretty calm for someone who's scared of babies”

johan shoots him a glare. “i’m not scared of babies”

“you totally are! the look on your face when she said ‘ba’ was priceless”

johan’s eyes narrow. “keep talking and i’ll make you ‘ba’ yourself”

they continue bickering, their voices overlapping as yenna toddles around the aisle, occasionally smacking the bus poles with her baton-wand.

the bus screeches to a halt at their stop. zack stands up, slinging the bag full of baby supplies over his shoulder. "alright, this is us"

johan follows closely behind as they get off, stepping onto the bustling city street. the sound of car horns and chatter fill the air, and zack immediately starts scanning the area.

“so” johan drawls, looking around. “what exactly are we looking for? a squeaky duck? a magic wand that doesn’t double as a weapon?”

“something soft, like you said” zack adjusts the straps of the carrier on his shoulder. "i never want to hear that banging noise again"

johan opens his mouth to speak, but pauses. his eyes flick down, then back up to zack, his face suddenly paling.

“...zack?” his voice is unusually tense.

“what?” zack asks distractedly, glancing around for a toy store.

johan's face is laced with panic.

“where’s the baby?”

“what are you talking about? she’s right—”

but she isn't. he glances down at the empty carrier on his shoulders, his voice catching in his throat.

we left her on the bus.

"johan, you rat!" zack snarls. "how could you forget about our child?"

"how the fuck is this my fault? you’re the one babysitting her!" johan snarls back. "and what do you mean our child?"

the argument attracts curious stares from passerby.

zack waves his hand dismissively, his movements frantic. "who cares?!" he yells, sprinting off. "we need to catch that fucking bus!"

zack hears johan groan, but his footsteps quickly follow after, the bus luckily still in sight as it makes a turn.

"it's fine!" zack pants. "we just need to alert the bus driver and it'll be fine!"

they turn around the corner, but stop in their tracks.

they're both flabbergasted as it's joined by two other identical buses on their route, the traffic blocking the vehicles out of sight regardless. something out of a 90's sitcom.

zack's lip begins to tremble. he's a dead man. will he die without knowing mira's touch?

he aggressively shakes his fist at the sky. "OH COMPASSIONATE BUDDHA!!! why have you forsaken me?"

"...what the fuck? relax. let's just..." johan pants, trying to catch his breath. "let's just think, okay? there's gotta be a way to fix this"

they both stand in contemplation.

they can fix this, right?

"thank you! please come again~" eli hands over the bag of fruit cheerfully, waving the customer goodbye.

his smile falters.

strange. he suddenly has a weird feeling.

he shakes his head, shrugging it off. it's probably nothing, he says to himself.

"the transit authority!" zack exclaims, an imaginary light bulb appearing on his head. "the bus drivers' hand all lost property to them. we just need to call and let them know we left a baby! she has to be with them! no idiot would leave a baby on the bus!"

johan nods, both of them blissfully unaware of the irony. "i was gonna say that"

zack scoffs. "sure you were. now, all we need to do is—"

zack's phone rings. he looks at the screen, his eyes widening in horror.

"i-it's eli" he stammers.

a smile tugs on johan's lips, slightly amused. he gestures to the phone. "answer it. it's gonna look suspicious if you don't"

zack glares at him, but doesn't argue. he breathes out slowly before accepting it.

"eli !" his voice is incredibly high pitched. "what's up? shouldn't you be chopping lemons or something?"

"i'm on my break" he laughs. "i just wanted to check in. is everything okay, zack?"

"everything's fine!" he chirps. "me and yenna are having a great time!"

"...that's good. would you mind putting her on the phone? i want to hear her voice" he says gently.

fuck.

johan smirks, not even trying to hide it anymore, watching zack in anticipation.

zack closes his eyes, pausing.

he does the only thing that comes to mind, shoving the phone near johan's mouth. the latter's face drops.

what the hell are you doing? he mouths.

zack covers the phone so eli can't hear.

"act like a baby" he hisses.

"over my dead body"

"just do it, you hobo! or i'll tell your mom you failed english again" he glares.

"...you wouldn't"

"wanna find out?"

"um...zack?" eli speaks up again. "what's going on? is she—"

"...goo goo?" johan squeaks, removing zack's hand from the speaker.

zack winces. he's heard better acting in porn.

radio silence.

"is she okay? she sounds a bit—"

"i think she needs a diaper change! bye eli !" he hangs up quickly.

johan stares daggers at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. "i'm gonna beat your ass"

zack shrugs, googling the number for the transit authority. "you can beat my ass after we find zami"

"...i thought her name was yenna?"

the human resources department is a picture of monotony, the ticking of the clock being the loudest sound in the room. the clerk behind the desk often jokes to himself that he lives in a time loop. every day was the same — forms to file, complaints to process, and the occasional awkward phone call. nothing ever changes, and he's stopped expecting it to.

until today.

the phone on his desk buzzes, cutting through the endless drone of routine.

“transit authority here” the caller begins briskly. “we’ve got a...situation. someone called claiming they left a baby on one of our buses”

the man blinks, the pen in his hand frozen mid-air. “a baby?”

“yeah. a little girl. we’ve got her safe now, but we’re bringing her over to your department, since...you know, you handle these things” the voice sounds exasperated, as if they can’t believe they're saying this either.

he swivels slightly in his chair, still trying to process the information. “so, wait. someone just...left their baby on the bus?”

“that’s what we’ve been told” the caller says with an audible sigh. “the guy on the phone sounded panicked. i told him to go to your building”

"...what kind of idiot leaves their baby on a bus?"

“i’m asking myself the same question”

hanging up the phone, the clerk leans back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.

this is new.

he glances at the clock, bracing himself for what kind of man would walk through the door.

or men, he should say.

the door to the department bursts open, startling the clerk so badly he nearly knocks over his coffee. his head snaps up, expecting one man, but instead, there were two.

they both look like they just sprinted a marathon. the first, a broad shouldered guy with a baby carrier strapped awkwardly across his chest, is hunched over, gasping for air. his face bore the genuine panic of someone who just lost something irreplaceable.

the second young man follows behind him, his sharp eyes darting around the room, like he’d rather be anywhere else.

the clerk stares at them, dumbfounded, as they both stand there panting. finally, he clears his throat, glancing at the baby carrier. “so… i’m guessing you’re here for the baby?”

"y-yes! the baby...we called about the baby! is she here?" zack heaves.

"...she's here"

zack and johan sigh in relief.

"is one of you the father?"

zack rubs his neck shyly. "ah...well no, but we know her very well. can we collect her?"

the older man crosses his arms. "if neither of you are, you'll need to call one of her parents, so we can confirm guardianship"

fuck.

zack looks at johan in wordless communication. it'll be awkward. it'll be difficult. but they both know what they have to do.

"w-what i meant to say was..." zack slowly wraps an arm around johan's shoulder, cursing his sudden high pitched voice. "we're actually both the fathers"

zack leans his head against johan's, trying to control his trembling lip as he smiles sweetly.

the clerk presses his own lips into a thin line, not looking convinced.

johan sighs and briefly scrunches his nose before laying his hand on top of zack's, leaning into his touch. his smile is incredibly fake and plastered. he's afraid he'll commit murder otherwise.

"mhm..." johan manages to croak out.

radio silence.

if the clerk doesn't believe them, it seems he doesn't care enough to press further. he shrugs, gesturing to the door at the back. "alright. right this way—"

that's all they need to hear before they bolt to the door, flinging it open.

yenna is sitting on a small cot, gripping her beloved baton-wand in one hand. she’s completely unbothered, her big eyes scanning the room with innocent curiosity. she gives the wand a few lazy taps against the cot, unaware of the trouble they had to go through.

the moment zack spots her, he rushes over, scooping her up without hesitation. “yenna! we’re so sorry! your uncles are so sorry” he says, his voice filled with guilt. he hugs her tightly, rocking her gently. “uncle zack won't let this happen again, okay? never, ever”

standing just behind him, johan watches silently. "...you’re so ridiculous" he mutters. but zack knows he doesn't mean it. he knows him too well to not spot the softness in his voice.

he doesn’t look back, too wrapped up in stroking yenna's back. "couldn't care less, mommy's boy"

as zack shifts yenna in his arms, her tiny hand stretches out behind him, her fingers reaching for johan. johan hesitates for a moment, glancing down at her outstretched hand, before gently taking her little fingers in his big ones. the room is quiet, the world around them seeming to pause.

johan’s lips curve into a small, genuine smile, one he doesn’t realise he’s wearing. he gently plays with her fingers, a silent exchange passing between them.

zack glances over his shoulder and freezes when he spots it.

a slow grin spreads across his face. “i knew it!” he blurts out, triumphant. “i knew you secretly felt the same way!”

johan's ears turn faintly pink but he doesn't let go of yenna’s hand. “...shut up”

zack snickers. “you don’t fool me anymore! everyone knows you’re actually a big softie”

johan grits his teeth, his grip not leaving her fingers. "whatever, man"

they don't see the clerk silently watching them through the door, his hand hovering over its knob.

he did think they were lying. they were way too jittery to be convincing.

but the sight of the scene made him stop. the broader one, cradling the baby so protectively and murmuring apologies with a guilt-stricken face.

the other, quieter one, gently holding the baby’s hand with a softness that doesn’t match his standoffish appearance.

it’s a moment so tender, so raw, that the clerk pauses, his hand lowering from the door knob. maybe he was being too narrow-minded.

he shakes his head with a bemused smile and turns away, leaving them to their privacy. as he walks back to his desk, he mutters to himself.

"what a progressive world we live in"

after parting ways with johan, who pats yenna's head for a little too long, he sits on a bench, waiting for eli's return.

"okay zami. you had a good time with uncle zack and uncle johan, alright? nothing crazy happened"

"ba!" she chirps back, as if she understands.

zack nods solemnly. "good"

"zack! hey!"

he sees eli walk over, sally with him.

zack spots eli's jaw tense a little less as he sees yenna safe and sound. she instantly reaches out, squealing at the sight of him.

"there you are..." eli beams, gently carrying her. "did you have a good time with uncle zack?" he says softly.

yenna aggresively shakes the wand in response.

he laughs and then looks up at zack. "so, how was it? did she give you much trouble?"

he waves a hand dismissively. "of course not! cool as a breeze. no problems at all"

"wow" sally grins. "eli, you should have him babysit more often!"

eli smiles, his gaze shifting back to yenna. "yeah...thanks a lot zack. i was worried because you hung up suddenly...i guess i was just being paranoid"

i'm off the hook! zack tries not to appear too excited.

he sighs, looking pleased with himself. "psh. don't worry. just had to focus all my attention on her. i'd never leave her out of my sight"

he nods, removing some lint from her clothes. "yeah, i get it. seriously, thanks a—"

he pauses, his smile suddenly dropping.

"hey zack?"

"...yes?" he looks up in anticipation.

is he gonna promote me as official babysitter?

eli turns yenna around, lifting her dress up slightly to reveal a big, bold PROPERTY OF HUMAN SERVICES stamp.

"what's this?" he asks, his voice a little too sweet.

zack's face drops. he can feel comical sweat beads appearing on his forehead.

"w-well that's uh..." he begins, but the words don't form.

eli silently hands yenna to sally, the grin now wiped clean from her face, being replaced with awkwardness instead.

eli smiles at him as he walks closer, pulling his sleeves up and cracking his knuckles.

"sally? please cover her eyes" he says quietly, his stare never leaving zack.

"wait eli !" he splutters. "let's just talk about this! it was—"

PUNCH

"owww! fuck! okay fine! just watch the hair—"

PUNCH

A/N: posted this on boxing day because zack is a BOXER 💜

[face-breaker]

somewhere out there is a demand that needs supplyin' — and once it comes across settrigh's desk, he's making sure it gets fulfilled.

the glaringly obvious centerpiece of the boss' portfolio is what we know as THE PIT — ionia's biggest, most well-known underground fighting ring. it's here that sett made his first step towards entrepreneurship, taking over the establishment at the age of 21, after fighting in the ring himself for 5 years. i won't go too far into detail about the pit ( and it's subsidiaries ) in this post, as i've already got a much more refined post saved in my drafts — but just know, that his revenue from the pit makes up a little over 50% of his annual profits. now, while VIOLENCE is settrigh's main business, he's got his hands in quite a few other ventures. another chunk of his purse is funded by textile production and sales. specifically high end fabrics native to ionia, such as SILK. less than 30% of his sales are domestic, the rest being sold all over runeterra, in places that can afford the delicacy — his main buyers being in piltover, demacia and shurima, but he's got accounts in just about every region. it's a relatively tame component of his assets, compared to some of the others. the whole process is fairly transparent, and surprisingly legal, as sett refuses to extort his own people in such a way. he pays his laborers well, and doesn't force egregious hours to meet quotas. this is due in part to his mother having been part of that particular workforce before. growing up, he's seen first hand how she was treated and what it did to her over time. this is one of settrigh's only business ventures that his mother is fully aware of and only makes up around 15% of his portfolio — it's still, however, equivalent to a multimillion-dollar book. a slightly heftier piece to the puzzle would be his hand in the shipping trade. ionia, being the land of unspoiled beauty and natural magic, it's people were never ones to cultivate it's harvest beyond their own needs in an attempt to protect it's resources. the land is also surrounded by treacherous seas few are willing to sail. between those two quandaries, selling and trading beyond the continent weren't really concerns of the people for quite some time — and the few who did, lost interest and faith after the first noxian invasion. with their lands ravished, a general sense of unease settled across ionia. total resources were demolished and, those that weren't, quickly depleted over the years. this remained an issue for years to come. for the first time in the land's history, they would need to rely heavily on external trading and importing of goods across the entire nation to survive. but they lacked the infrastructure for international trading — a gap settrigh would later fill. it not only helped in supporting the business for his textile and other smaller dealings, but enriched the first lands as a whole — finally allowing the people to buy, sell and trade across runeterra. as sett's dealings in shipping and trade stand today, over half of ionia's trade is shipped straight through him. and that number is so large because his business model is quite the gray area. while it started out as mostly dry goods and his own products, as word got around that ionia joined the major trading scene and the business began to boom, questionable offers began to roll in. the BLACK MARKET TRADES, the weapon shipments — the payout was too good to pass up. and, well, as the boss always said:

the only thing an honest livin' makes you is BROKE.

so he'd accept those too — typically covering it up with the more legal contracts as they moved through each region. the operation as a whole makes up another 30% of his profits. those are the main three business ventures sett's found himself tangled in. all three of course branch off into smaller, more local covenants and dealings, but seeing as this post is already longer than i originally intended it to be, i won't keep babbling about it here. but just know, he has a contact for just about anything you can want, need or think of under the sun. no, really — anything.

[cha1cedony]

I'm gonna ramble about fic writing (while taking a break from actually writing, but I'm making progress this time! I promise! woohoo. knock on wood). ANYWAY, one of my favorite things to consider as far as characterization goes is self-awareness. Because there's so many different ways and degrees to which a protagonist can be self-aware, and I just LOVE seeing how characters shift (not necessarily 'grow') over the timeline of a story. I love thinking about where a specific character would choose willful ignorance, where they would choose to come to terms with a harsh reality, where they would be entirely oblivious, where they're NOT oblivious but can't even verbalize it in their own internal monologue... chef's kiss. My favorite stuff to write

[tellafairy]

get anything you desire overnight; what is SATS? how do i use it? — a quick guide.

STATS is short for “state akin to sleep,” a phrase used by neville goddard several times.

for example, one of neville's most popular experiments utilizing SATS is called the "ladder experiment". this experiement demonstrates how useful sats is.

what was the experiment?

1. During one of his lectures, Neville instructed his students to visualize themselves climbing a ladder vividly. He asked them to repeatedly imagine this scenario in detail each night before going to bed. They were to feel themselves climbing the ladder, using all their senses to make it as real as possible.

2. on top of this, Neville told them to write down or say affirmations throughout the day such as, "I will not climb a ladder." This was meant to consciously contradict their nightly visualizations, creating a sense of disbelief in the process. The challenge was to see whether their repeated visualization of the ladder would override the conscious denial of the event.

3. Many of the participants reported that within a few days, despite their daily affirmation of "I will not climb a ladder," they ended up encountering situations in which they physically climbed a ladder. The experiment was intended to show that the subconscious mind, which was being impressed by the vivid visualization during the SATS state, was far more powerful than their conscious thoughts or affirmations.

essentially, Neville wanted to show that imagination, particularly when focused in the relaxed state akin to sleep, could create real-life outcomes, aka — attract your desires instantly.

so . . . how do i use SATS?

1. relax. sit or lie down, and relax your mind and body. this method does not need to be used at night. many people have used it during the day and have gone to sleep for only a few moments before waking up with their desire. This is basically just a form of meditation. A similar mental state occurs naturally in the morning right after awakening, and in the evening before bed, hence why some may prefer to do this method at night despite it not being mandatory.

2. embody the feeling. now while in this state, visualize your goal. Feel your desire completely. want someone to text you? imagine yourself opening your phone to that text message. want a new car? imagine yourself feeling the interior, smelling the new car freshener, testing out the radio. whatever it is, fully immerse yourself in the desire.

3. focus and persist. loop this desire on repeat as you fall asleep, it should be the only focus on your mind. quickly shift any other thoughts that may appear, back onto your desire. the more you do this, the more you'll feel the desire completely.

brief comments;

1. over time, it becomes more and more natural. it's very easy to get into the habit of using SATS to manifest whatever you desire. i often find myself using it without even intending to, just randomly deciding i want something and it becomes all i think about as i fall asleep. it's a very natural method that's easy to custom to.

2. yes, you can use this for shifting realities. there's a reason why so many people "randomly" shift when they stop using long complicated methods and just go to sleep with their DR in mind.

3. you don't need to take action. you don't necessarily need to do anything when manifesting. this doesn't just apply for SATS, but any other form of manifestation. you don't need to take action or do anything further to get your desires if you don't feel like it. remember; they're already yours. they can fall into your hands out of the blue. you don't need to put in effort.

i used several different articles and videos for this to explain it in the most simple way possible, since i know a lot of people tend to struggle with understanding this stuff to the maximum!! so i hope this is easy to read! ૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

4. does this mean affirmations don't work?

no, it does not. affirmations DO still work for LOA. you CAN achieve anything through affirmations, it was never stated that you couldn't or that SATS is the only way. this only states that according to neville goddards experiement, sats appears to be a more powerful method than affirmations and that's how he viewed it. more powerful doesn't equate to the other method being completely incorrect or impossible. i also personally find this method to work a lot quicker as well.. similar to the void state.

edit; i didn't realize i wrote stats in the title and not sats lol, my mistake it was autocorrect

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[daistea]

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[nemesyaaa]

favorite crime // psycho!stalker!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; sometimes being the obsession of someone can turn really bad. sometimes being friend to someone doesn't mean that you really know this person, and mostly, that your kindness will be returned.

warnings : dark content. stalking. manipulation. crimes : murder/kidnapping. smut. sick, poker face, and insane behavior. toxic attitude. innocence kink. violence. dubcon. fear/vulnerability enthousiast. jealousy. dark!mean!rafe. corruption. abuse of power. creepy behavior. minors dni. as always, be careful with the warnings please. don't joke with it.

author's note : i really love how all my concepts with rafe are so fucked up. it's around 2,6k words.

as a shy and innocent girl, too kind for your own good and too sweet to attract nice boys, you had always attracted rafe's attention. especially when you were the pretty employee at his favorite video game store. it was only for you that he spent hours in front of the cash register, trying to get to know you when in reality, he knew you by heart, every detail of your life. he was obsessed with you. he was already terribly sick, diving into your perfect kindness and purity.

you didn't understand why people were afraid of him or said bad things about him because you found him charming and lovely. that was the impression he forced himself to give you. he always had nicknames for you like pumpkin, doll, cupcake, sweet, pretty thing.

the first time he walked into the store, your store manager was yelling at you. and you felt so ashamed and small. there were customers and that made you nervous. you were already crying, impossible to contain your tears in the face of the excess anger you received from this man. it wasn't the first time he did this but maybe the last.

you quickly returned to work, still in tears facing the products on the shelves and the new customer came to you. with a box of donuts. strangely, you didn't know how he could know that you liked it and that it was your favorite. but the attention was touching, more important for you.

“i bought them especially for you. it would hurt my heart if you refused them.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you replied politely and smiled.

“i know but i wanted to do it. someone has to pay attention to you, and check on your messy health, pumpkin.”

"oh my manager is usually nice. i don't know what's going on."

"you're lying. you're lying because you're too kind to say bad things about people when they're fucking assholes. but don't worry, it won't happen again."

“how can you be sure?”

“enjoy your donuts, don’t think about anything else. let me ease you, pretty thing. ”

the next day, your manager had never been so nice to you. and the other days too. and he always disappeared in rafe's presence. it brought you a lot closer together, because now he came every day. you didn't know if rafe HAD time, or he FOUND it just for you. all you knew was that he made your days in the store so much better.

by coming here, he had become a loyal customer but also someone you could talk to, and he pretended not to know every moment of your private life while he spied on you as soon as he left the store.

he could stay in his car for hours until you finished work. he wasn't just watching you, no, he had also hacked into the cameras at your workplace to be able to record, listen and follow everything you did. nothing escaped him.

he was a jealous person and above all someone who didn't like having his ego attacked. that meant he definitely wasn't going to put up with you having this cute and perfect attitude with the other customers. well, especially men.

you were only doing your job for which you were poorly paid. to avoid getting bored and because you were trying to work on your shyness, you tried to come out of your shell by talking with customers.

but you made a mistake today. you didn't know it yet but you were going to regret it deeply and learn it hard.

"i think you're really pretty and you're so interesting..." the boy began, stammering a little, his elbows resting on the checkout counter. "i mean, it's rare to find girls like you... would you go out with me... i mean tonight haha! we could play a game ? "

it wasn't the first time you'd been flirted with, but certainly the first time you'd accepted. you had never dated anyone, you had never been in a relationship, you didn't even know what it felt like to truly be in love, to feel something for someone. and even if you were, you were too shy to admit it. but it was different, you wanted to try. you didn't have a plan tonight.

"you don't have to accept but here's my number..." he wrote on a post-it and you smiled back. you put it in the back pocket of your jeans.

you were so deep in thought that you couldn't have seen that the minute your new friend left the store, rafe got out of his car. he doesn't entered yet, he had something to sort out first.

but when he went to the store, you felt him different. there were bruises on his face, as if he had been in a fight. “what happened? do you want me to call an ambulance? "

“it's alright, pumpkin. it's just a little blood.”

“do you want me to take care of that?”

"it would be bad of me to abuse your time and your kindness. i have better things to offer, how about I walk you home tonight? i know your work is not close to where you live and i have my car right here...'

you had been surprised that he knew information like this. “no, don’t worry. besides, i’m busy this evening. ”

rafe's jaw tensed and contracted. he gave a tense and forced smile.

“ let me do this for you. you must be tired. ”

“you don’t need to do this for me, although I truly appreciate it.”

“you're wrong, i need to do this for you, sweetheart. just like everything you do for me. ”

“if you insist, it can’t kill me!”

if only you knew…

“ you're really so nice, pumpkin..."

“is that a bad thing?”

he scratched his chin with a light but somewhat dramatic smile before looking into your eyes. you were in ambiguous proximity since you were both leaning over the counter. he was taller than you, so you looked up.

"to be kind? no, not at all, sweetheart. it's just dangerous for you not to know who you're nice to. not all people are that sweet. sometimes they're really mean.”

“ what do…”

“ anyways, don't make me wait later. and you know you look really pretty today, you should dress up for me more often.”

you smiled. you couldn't ignore how nice it felt to receive a compliment, and especially from a pretty handsome boy. in one day, everything had gone by so quickly. you had a date, and rafe was taking you home. your evening promised to be perfect and unforgettable. you couldn’t wait.

at the end of the day. you had cleaned, tidied up all the shelves, turned off all the consoles, counted your cash register then closed shop in a breath of glory. you could finally relax.

as promised, rafe was waiting for you. he was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets.

he had opened your car door in a relatively clever way and then stood inside. he had closed the doors. and he had started. except he wasn't going the way to your house, he was going in the opposite direction.

“rafe, it’s not towards my house…”

“ i know, sweetheart, since we’re not going to your house.”

“but you said you were taking me home?”

“pumpkin, i lie a lot too.”

"rafe, i want to go home... seriously, this isn't fun. i have to meet someone tonight and he's going to wait for me ! "

“trust me, he’s not waiting for you.”

you were starting to panic because this really wasn't the person you knew. this time he didn't seem to be playing a character to please you. he was natural. you looked at him with big eyes. fear gripped your stomach, because you didn't know where you were going and he could go anywhere. you were on the verge of exploding, you needed to get out of that car but he was driving too fast.

“slow down, rafe. please, slow down.”

"oh no sweet thing, i make the rules here. you can't beg because i absolutely don't want to hear anything from you, you understand? i want you to stay nice and quiet like you've always been."

“rafe, fucking stop that car. "

he stopped suddenly, your head had hit the dashboard badly. he had gently lifted your face, putting your hair back in place while you cried into his hands from the emotion and shock.

“see? what happens when you swear like that? do you understand why you have to be polite now? it's a waste for a pretty girl like you to have such vocabulary. ”

you felt the tips of his lips on your nose, they were cold but comforting. there was something so bitter and disturbing in his tenderness as if there was nothing good even in his kindness. that all this affection was manipulation.

“i really want to go home.”

“i have a surprise for you. can you be patient?”

“ rafe, what is wrong…?”

“i’m taking care of you right now.”

"it's a kidnapping! i'm going to call the police."

he smiled wickedly as he resumed driving. “in your place, i wouldn’t make a single move. ”

“why? are you going to kill me?”

" oh i could, pumpkin. for now, i like you alive but if you still want to play silly with me, i might really want to. no, i will. so stay still and don’t make me be mean to you, i’d hate to have to hurt you.”

“if you don’t like hurting me, why are you doing this to me?” your tears were hot, rivers shining down your eyes. he was cruel and insensitive there. it didn't matter to him.

“ i really hate you..."

" oh such a pleasure actually pumpkin. tell me how much you hate me with those pretty annoying crybaby tears on your face. and don't forget to tell me when you're dry, i will gladly make you cry again. “

your throat felt tight and you were desperate. you had a knot in your stomach, fear that made you even more stupid and lost than you already were. because certainly, there was hatred but a lot of fear. he drove quietly, but he was mean to you. he no longer had the kind words he had for you when he came to see you at work. it was as if he was mad at you for something.

“what can i do to get you to take me home? "

“i could make you do a lot of things, but under no circumstances will i take you home.”

“you want sex? "

"oh i'm not sure that the virgin that you are would be able to make me cum but you can always prove me wrong."

“are you really going to kill me?”

“the more you ask me, the more i have the impression that this is what you would like.”

“i want to stay alive and go home.”

"you had to think about that before flirting with that idiot."

he had parked in an abandoned place, on a completely deserted road. when he opened the doors, you took your chance.

what a stupid mistake.

he was much bigger and faster than you. he had caught up with you without even running out of breath. he pulled you by the waist, pinning his arm against your bare stomach. he was clearly abusing all of his power. you had bitten him and he had released you. you fell heavily to the ground, and he positioned himself on top of you, crushing you against the grass with his fully beefy weight.

“it’s not time to play yet. try to escape from me again sweet thing, and i promise you that i will make sure that you have no more energy to run, but especially to escape. ” he had grabbed your jaw with one hand, gripping his fingers tightly against your skin. “and even if you are innocent, pumpkin. you and i know very well that you are aware of what i mean by that.”

your heart rate had increased so quickly. you were trapped and vulnerable. you wanted to spit in his face but you weren’t that suicidal.

he took your hand and placed it on his bulge which literally distorted his pants. “that's all that your heartbeat and your accelerated breathing make me feel right now. is it big? yes, and believe me i can make this bigger and very painful for you. so, no more playing, pumpkin.”

you nodded and he kissed your forehead. “you got it well, sweetheart. don’t let me be mean to you again because you’re really going to hate it.”

he stood up and extended his hand towards you. his tenderness was so unhealthy. he had taken you to the car and pulled a tied up boy out of the trunk.

the one you were supposed to see this evening. you let out a huge cry, taking several steps back but rafe took your hand, wrapping it too tightly against your little wrist.

“why did you do that? please leave me alone. i don’t want to see that!”

"oh oh, you're not the one who makes the rules here. i’m the only one who makes the fucking rules, i'm the only one who decides and not only do i decide what happens but also what role you're going to play. you wanted to flirt with this guy, go on a date with him? you had to be smarter and not do it in front of my eyes now look what you did this poor man is going to die because of you.”

"are you serious? you can't kill an innocent person! he didn't do anything."

"pumpkin, my sweet pumpkin, for every word you say, for every tear you shed, he will take a bullet. so please continue to defend him. i think we are already more than twenty"

you wanted to stop crying but you couldn't because the situation was surreal, horrible and so crazy. you refused to believe that rafe cameron could be a man like that.

“almost fifty. you're really going to kill him, sweetheart. you could be nicer. "

he was so sick and bad. he was taking advantage of the situation. it was completely sadistic. “i beg you to spare him.”

"now you beg for him? pumpkin, i’m the only one you can and should beg for."

he had fired more than fifty bullets into this poor guy's body. without the slightest shame, the slightest remorse and the slightest guilt. he didn't really feel anything. as you collapsed, completely devastated and ruined by what he had just done to you.

he had just killed a man in front of your eyes.

people always said that a guy who killed for you was romantic. but you didn't find it romantic. on the contrary, it had downright tortured you. you were afraid of him. you didn't even know how you managed not to piss on yourself because clearly, he was so creepy.

" i think he's dead." it was ironic, but coming from rafe, it wasn't funny or reassuring.

"what's wrong with you? and what are you doing with a gun? all those video games that made you sick or those horror movies?"

“watch your tone. you see how i killed him? it could be your turn too. ”

“no, don’t kill me!”

he moved closer to you, a laugh passing his lips. he knelt down to caress your tears with his thumb.

“you see what happens when you want to please others? how are you going to fix this now? ”

“i beg you to not kill me. ” you couldn't even see the ground, you were crying so much. it was a traumatic scene.

“now it's time to play. maybe i should have waited before killing him. i mean i wish he could watch you get destroyed by my cock. get in the car, and don't try to escape from me. i can be even more cruel to you. ”

he was hot and cold. all the time. you went to the car while you guessed that he must bury or hide the body somewhere. it had seemed like an eternity before he came back but on the one hand, there was something comforting about the fact that you weren't alone in the forest and that there was someone. even if it was cool.

he had gotten into the car. and patted his thighs to signal you to come on top. you didn't argue and came on his legs. you immediately felt his erection against the fabric of your underwear. it could hardly be ignored because the bulge had literally made you a few centimeters taller.

“are you still crying? he was a poor guy. he had a fucking girlfriend. do you want to date a guy who cheats on you? it's not worth it. you are better than that, you deserve better than that. ”

“by better, does that mean you? ”

“it’s different...but sure i would treat you better.”

“you killed someone in front of my eyes!”

“see? anything i can do for you.”

"you're sick and you ruined my life!"

"i’m tired of all this hysteria. i was going to kindly offer to prepare you with lube, but since you're offering me these pretty tears, we'll make do with it..."

“rafe…”

“oh no pumpkin. it’s not time to say my name yet.”

when he pushed himself inside you, the leaking tip slipped in your folds slick with a hard and brutal thrust. he made his way, watching his own cock stretching your cunt. you cried out from the pain, but you can't help but felt a little slight pleasure. “ if you're still crying for him, i swear i'm gonna fuck you until you're dry. ”

you started to bounce on him with your trembling legs, your ass slapping his thick thighs, your hair shaking on your shoulders, and your face ruined by your multiples and messy whining. you were tense as his girth splitted your sweet virgin cunt. he forced you to sped up the pace, smacking your butt every time you were too slow. his hands was big and strong, enough to feel the pain. especially, when the rings on his fingers left a mark on your poor skin. your tits were now on his hands, pressed firmly and your nipples on his mouth. he spat on them a couple of times. they were filled with spittles and marks, the succions noises in synchro with your rocking bodies. he was stuffed you with his hard dick. making you arched your back, and he placed his heavy hands on your waist, reaching your hips to help you go deeper, to fully take him, every inches.

“ it's like your pussy begging me to breed you…”

“ what…w-what is it ? ” you were too innocent to know those kinds of things.

you had the face and the attitude of an angel, too perfect, too pure, too delicate. “ maybe, it's better to show you, pumpkin. with that, you will be more able to learn the lesson and don't make me mad again. ”

“ what ? ” you gasped. you felt giddy but at the same time, curious.

“ m’ gonna make you so dirty, angel. tonight, you will lose your wings and purity for me. ”

“ please, don't hurt me ! ”

“ oh sweetheart, you're the only one to hurt me, the only one to make me do those kind of things..."

tysm @ahhnini for the idea of psycho!stalker!rafe <33

[endless-ineffabilities]

backhand stroke (18+)

tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader

Rivals on and off the court, things come to a head between the two when Aemond crosses the line and sabotages the reader's relationship.

themes : challengers inspired, Art Donaldson is featured <3, a lot of cussing, smut!!! (minors dn fckin i), the reader and Aemond hate each other (but if they hate each other why are they fcking), reader may or may not be a cheating bastard, Aemond has a glass eye + he calls the reader ace

a/n : initially I was about to write a fic where Aemond and the reader are actual rivals themselves, but quickly remembered how tennis works 💀 so in this one, Aemond is a coach and reader is a player 🎾

word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist

The Westeros Open is the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the country. 

Anyone who wants to be someone in the sport aims to qualify for it. 

For you, it is everything. You have devoted your entire life to tennis. It started as something that stemmed from your parents' neglect. Rich folks who signed their young daughter up for extensive tennis lessons just so they can be free of her and galivant off to wherever. 

You had sat there, staring at your shiny, brand-new white tennis shoes. Holding your unused top-of-the-line racket. Hair kept away from your face with a headband that still smelled like the store. 

Mostly left alone by your family, you gathered your strength, and dragged your weak eight-year-old legs across the tennis court day in and day out. 

Through the years, you found yourself. You found home, and you gave everything you had to make sure you would never lose it.

As luck would have it, you found romance along the way in Art Donaldson, who became your coach after your previous one decided to quit. He used to be a player, until he fell out of love with the game, and chose to coach up and coming players instead. 

You had been wary of getting involved with him, but eventually you couldn’t resist. He turned out to be the perfect boyfriend - caring, sweet, attentive to your every need. He became your partner in both tennis and in life. Truly, you couldn’t want for anything else.

You shouldn’t. 

So why does it feel like there is something missing?

And why is that void one that only Aemond Targaryen can fill?

The gigantic poster propped up in the inner courtyard of the country club lets everyone know that your next qualifying match in the Westeros Open is against none other than Helaena Targaryen. 

Your image looms up to around twenty feet, with Helaena’s lithe figure on the other side. The perfectionist in you can’t help but scrutinise the details in your expression and your form. Was that really what you looked like mid-serve? You laugh dryly, feeling silly at your misdirected concern.

You like Helaena, and she’s always been cordial to you outside of your matches. The issue lies with her more brash and calculating brother and coach. 

Something - or rather someone - shuffles behind you. Close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on attention. 

"I wish I could say that you look good up there, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Think of the devil and he shall appear. You don't have to turn around to know who it is. 

Aemond fucking Targaryen. Once at his prime, known for his freely expressing his passion and rage on the court, earning him the title 'the bad boy of tennis'. It was this drive, this relentlessness, that propelled his game. Unfortunately, it also served to be his downfall. After a few years as the sport's #1 male player, his career came to an end after an off-court altercation with an opponent that took his eye.

Now he is the coach of one of your top rivals and upcoming match opponent, his sister Helaena. 

Which is why it should come as no surprise to you that he has made it his mission to get under your skin, with all his unwarranted flirty remarks, constant staring, and how he tirelessly interacts with everything you post on social media. 

It used to be tame, by his standards anyway, with things like, ‘You need to work on that backhand’ or ‘I’m guessing Donaldson doesn’t train you well enough.’

But then the messages took a different turn. You once posted a picture of you in a fancy, revealing gown when you attended the annual gala, and he responded with, ‘It’s easy to see that all your training has paid off, ace.’

You chocked it all up to playful aggression. He’s just trying to get you to lower your guard, and distract you. You knew better than to look too much into the apparent interest he gives you. 

He is notorious for being a playboy, after all. Dirty blonde hair perfectly tousled, designer tracksuits he wears with such snobbishness, a presence that can command an entire room. You’ve grown to heavily dislike the seemingly permanent smug sneer on his lips, and how he sometimes treats others like they’re nothing but gum stuck on the soles of his fancy tennis shoes.

A handsome rogue who possesses a lot of talent and who is aware of his status as a hot commodity can be dangerous indeed. If he can say that Helaena Targaryen’s best opponent is nothing but another notch on his bedpost, then he will never let that live down. 

More importantly, you are already spoken for. Aemond knows this - not that he cares - but whatever he thinks about your relationship doesn’t matter. 

“Aemond.” You don’t turn to face him, continuing to scrutinise the gigantic poster. “Is that the best you got?”

He shrugs, positioning himself right in your line of sight, clearly demanding more attention. “You don’t just look good. You look good enough to fucking eat, ace. Too bad about the shitty attitude.”

Hot then cold, nice then nasty. Aemond will never change. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought I told you not to call me that. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else training your sister? She’s gonna need it.”

He steps closer, invading your space. You look him directly in the eye like you’re squaring up with an opponent. This has always been your dynamic. Neither one backing down, neither one ever really dealing a blow. 

Just constant dizzying electricity. 

Sooner or later, it will all come to a head. Whether it will be your fault or his, the jury is still out on that. 

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” he patronises, his deep blue almost violet eye sparkling. On the opposite was his glass eye, only adding to his intimidating nature. He hadn’t opted for one that resembled his real eye, but rather a hazy white apparatus, making him appear ghoulish, almost ghostlike. Nestled in his left eye socket, framed by a faded maroon gash, it made him look every bit like the charismatic rogue of tennis that he is known to be. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere receiving instruction from Donaldson? Not that you’ll get much out of it.”

“Art and I are on top of our training, not that it’s any of your damn business. You should concern yourself with your sister’s game.” 

“If only that were actually true, ace, but unfortunately I believe that your sweet Art wastes too much of his fucking time being on top of you.”

“Fuck off, Targaryen,” you respond, trying to push the allure of his scent out of your mind. Pungent cologne and cigarette smoke, a blend that you’ve come to associate only with him. “Stay out of my business, and quit messaging me.”

“You like how we talk.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

“Does Donaldson know?” Fully aware that Art has never had a liking for him, he knows that will hit a nerve. 

Your face falls, like you’ve been caught in the act. Even though you've done nothing wrong. Occasionally caving in and responding to Aemond’s messages surely isn’t crossing the line. What started out as a couple of offhand fuck offs from your end turned into actually sharing private jokes about the other matches and training and - heavens forbid - small talk about the goddamn weather. 

You’ve come to know that his favourite colour is green. Not the neon of a tennis ball, but a bluish-tinted pine. 

Not that it matters. 

Encounters such as this one also don’t mean anything. Never mind however much you find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? You have eyes, and you’re only human. Nothing more to it. 

Never mind how, some nights, in what can only be construed as momentary states of delirium, you have imagined him in Art’s place. 

Never mind just how much he gets under your skin, like no one else can, and how you can’t admit to yourself that you might actually like it.

Oh, you might actually be making yourself sick at all these thoughts. 

“There’s nothing for him to know.” You step to the side, indicating that you want to walk away. But he has you cornered and you both know it. 

He smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, ace. But you can’t deny - ” He steps close again. He suddenly tilts your face toward him with one hand, but you shake your head and his fingers lose their hold. “ - this. Us.”

Damn him. And damn the shiver that just ran up your spine. 

You stand still, entranced by the look he’s giving you. Trick or not, Aemond sure does have a way of looking at you as if he sees you for who you really are. Not the tennis prodigy. Not the public personality. You remain a shell of that broken kid that poured everything she had into this sport, much like he had, only to come out the other end still not whole, still searching for something inexplicably out of reach. And he sees just that - just you.

You feel like Art holds you up on a pedestal, not seeing the flaws that make you who you are. But you’ve always been happy to play the perfect girlfriend. 

Until Aemond. 

But he’s too much. Too forward, too brash, too intoxicating. You can never know what he’s going to do next. You can’t like him. You have to be certain that you don’t.

But then again… love and hate have always been two sides of the same coin.

He whispers, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you, “Match point, ace.”

Match point. You could have him. He could have you. He makes it evident that the next move is all yours. “Don’t go out of bounds, Targaryen,” you warn him lowly. 

“What if I want to?”

You have him. He has you.

And you… have Art. 

Clearing your throat, and your head, you finally step back. His head snaps up to follow you, disappointment evident on his face. 

“See you around, Targaryen.” You spin on your heel, walking away, immediately feeling lighter. Emptier, feeling like your body begs to drift closer to him, two equal magnets. 

“Ace,” he calls to you, walking after you when you don’t turn around. “Wait a second,” he reappears right in front of you, effectively halting your stride.

You grumble hastily, “God, you really have a space issue, don’t you, Aemond?”

“Meet me in the courtyard gardens,” he says, a new intensity lacing his voice, “tonight. After dinner. Or whenever you can. Just - ”

“No.”

“Come on, ace.” His tone is insistent, with no trace of his usual bravado and cockiness. “I think… I need to tell you something.”

Part of you wants to cave in, and just agree to whatever it is that he’s proposing, but that nagging voice in the back of your mind is adamant that it would not be right. What would Art think? But what if Aemond truly just wants to tell you something?

“So tell me now.”

His jaw clenches hard, and you can’t help but admire the taut edges of his face. “No, I want to do this, just you and me. When we’ll be alone - ”

“Aemond - ” you start to shake your head, trying hard to come up with a refusal that he will actually register. 

“Donaldson doesn’t need to know,” he almost pleads. “This is between you and me, ace. You just have to hear me out.”

You take a deep breath, unable to understand just what it is he means. “If it’s something I have to hide from my boyfriend, then it’s not gonna happen. You have to see just how messed up that is, Targaryen.”

Either he can’t hear you, or he just does not want to accept your response. “I’ll wait for you. Right around midnight then, ace? Should give you plenty of time to sneak out.”

Before you can say no, again, he hastily plants a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, in surprise and perhaps pleasure at the softness of his lips, and when you open them once more, he is no longer flooding your space. 

You spy him entering a set of glass doors, leaving you there stunned.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Aemond kicks at another pebble, the sound momentarily breaking the silence in the gardens.

He’d checked his watch just seconds before, the face of it spitting on what remains of his eagerness. 

Twelve fucking fifteen. 

Either you just got held up by your whiney rat-faced boyfriend, or you’re a no-show.

Aemond doesn’t know which one is worse. He did not know what he was expecting in the first place. Did he actually think that you would do as he says? You never were good at following orders, much less those from someone whom you likely view as something of a nuisance.

Is that really what you see him as? Isn’t there something more at play here?

Something that keeps Aemond up at night, when he can no longer deny that it is not because he dislikes you that you plague his thoughts, but because he admires you. He does admire you, he sees no shame in admitting that. 

As a tennis player. As a competitor. Anyone who feigns ignorance at your insane potential would just be lying to themselves. 

As a woman? A… partner? No. It has to be no, doesn’t it? You hate him, you make it clear now and again. You disagree with him, challenge his views, point out his flaws. Surely, he can’t be attracted to you in a way that commands his heart. You are beautiful, he doesn’t deny this, but so were the dozens of other girls he had run through. 

Each time he watches you perform your signature backhand stroke, with that sensual growl escaping your lips and the lewd grace with which your body bends, Aemond feels his sanity slipping away.

You drive him crazy, but he can't be crazy about you. 

The only reason he asked you to meet him, is because he wants to propose that he replace Art as your coach. Helaena has expressed that she wants to retire, and focus on some other creative pursuits. Something insignificant to Aemond, that he can’t remember what it was exactly. A pottery business? A fucking flower shop? He doesn’t care to know. 

It’s perfect, he thinks, because your game is superior anyway. It’s what first got his attention, and now he can take part in your process. He can direct you, shape you. He can do so much better than Art Donaldson, and he’s sure you know this too. 

Maybe then you might actually open up to him the way you opened up to Art. With your absence tonight, it dawns on him that he might actually have to resort to other measures. Did he seriously think he would be able to simply reason with you about this? 

He sits for another half-hour on a bench nestled among the rose bushes. Surrounded by flowers of deep scarlet, a maroon he distinctly remembers as being your favourite colour. He fools himself into believing that he’s using the time to craft a plan for what’s to come, and not that he’s wasting it on the hope that you might emerge from the tall hedges, out of breath and eyes glinting eager to find him. 

Well, you played your hand. Now he knows what he has to do.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You wake up groggy the following morning, having tossed and turned the entire night, thinking about Aemond.

Had he been out there, waiting for you? Your mind came up with the different possibilities of what he has to say. Or if he had nothing to say at all, and it was all just another ruse. 

You told yourself that you didn’t want to meet up with him, but you had an alibi prepared. One of your old tennis club mates agreed to cover for you and say that you were having drinks together, just in case Art ever checks up. 

But as you were about to deliver the excuse, Art had said something about you and him not getting to spend as much quality time anymore. The past few weeks have been occupied with nothing but tennis, and though it’s a shared activity that you both value, he wanted to stay in for the night with you. He ordered room service, downloaded two films that were on your watchlist, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually gave up on meeting Aemond. 

It can wait, whatever it is. 

Besides, isn’t this the right thing to do? Did you seriously consider having a midnight rendezvous with the guy who you claim to dislike the most? Someone who encourages you to keep secrets from your boyfriend? What good could possibly come out of that?

With a heaving sigh, you push all thoughts of last night from your mind. There are bigger things at hand. The biggest tennis tournament of the year, for one. 

You make your way to the dining hall of your hotel. Art had woken up before you, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek and explaining how he had to discuss some matters with your physical team. He wore the skin of a tennis coach as perfectly as that of a boyfriend. 

And here you are, regretting that you were unable to meet up with another man the previous night.

The art deco layout of the lobby extends into the spacious dining hall, the interior of the hotel filled with geometric patterns and rich jewel tones. You once bid Aemond guess what your favourite interior design was, and he got it in two tries, complete with a spiel of how it reflects your personality. Art, on the other hand, had been adamant that your favourite was minimalist. That was the first time you realised that his perspective of you was different from Aemond’s. 

You hadn’t yet reconciled with who is more accurate, lest it shine a light on something deeper. 

The hostess is cheerful and full of pep as she leads you to your table. You know it’s coming - she’ll ask you for a picture in just a moment, and you’re proven right when she reaches in her pocket and her phone materialises inch by inch. She seems shy to ask, ready to turn on her heel with a stiff smile if you refuse, so you do your best to be encouraging.

When the photo is taken and she finally lowers her phone, you spy someone out in the distance and you make it out to be none other than your boyfriend. Leaning by the outdoor terrace, appearing to be speaking to another person you can’t yet make out, their face obscured by the decorative shrubbery scattered across the area. 

You walk to the side to get a better view of who it is. That tall figure, clad in a black tracksuit… a familiar head of blonde hair… and the unmistakable cut of his jawline. Realisation sets in. Art is speaking to Aemond. 

Your stomach sinks, the thought of breakfast no longer enticing. Frozen in the middle of the dining hall, you begin to attract the attention of others. 

Aemond turns his head, perfectly timed for his gaze to meet yours. Like something out of a grim movie, your anxiety spikes as his smug smirk materialises in slow motion. 

If there ever were a match at hand between you two, that smirk makes it clear that he has won it. 

Art follows his gaze, also meeting yours, but without any trace of satisfaction. He looks at you accusingly. You shake your head at him, but you already know. 

This is not going to end well. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Is it true?”

You had wordlessly followed Art back to your hotel suite, the air around you thick with dread and anticipation.

“What did Aemond say?” You stand in front of him as he calmly sits by the window, as if you’re on the trial stand. You just might be.

“Guess,” Art spits mockingly. “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know him quite well.” You bristle at his tone. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

“Whatever he told you, it’s not what it looks like, okay? You know Aemond. He likes to mess around with people, especially us.”

Art shakes his head in disbelief, “He even showed me some of your messages. Some of them you must have sent - what, at 3 or 4 in the fucking morning? When you’re lying next to me in bed? Not getting a lot of sleep apparently. It must be why you’re not on top of your game.”

He’s not playing fair, and you deserve this. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say through gritted teeth, making the statement sound as firm as possible, because it’s not just Art you’re attempting to convince. You want to believe it too. 

“He’s said some things about me.”

“And I defended you.”

“Not well enough,” he shakes his head. “It sounded almost normal for you. Spewing bullshit to each other.”

“It’s just… it’s all just banter.” God, you sound so terrible. “Riling each other up to get into the mindset before matches.”

“All that… all that, I can kind of understand. It’s the other things. The intimate things that get on my nerves.”

“What - ” You can’t form the proper response to that. 

“I missed talking to you, he once said. To which you replied that you do too.”

“That’s nothing.”

“You said that he inspired you.”

“That’s… that… he’s a great talent,” you stammer, as the statements he throws worsen. “He always has been. Even you can’t deny that.”

The argument goes on for an uncomfortable length of time, with Art reminding you of things that you and Aemond had apparently messaged each other, and you trying to play them off as insignificant. 

Gradually, you convince Art that Aemond is just a thorn in your side. That Aemond was just overplaying the messages to get under his skin. That letting this break your relationship would be giving Aemond what he wants. 

But everything he said - the messages he brought back to the surface, the encounters that were brought up - made you realise the depth of your involvement with Aemond. 

You are fooling yourself, just as much as you are fooling Art.

He finally stands, heading towards the door. “I’ve spoken to our physical team. Meet us at the gym in 15.”

“Art.”

He halts, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You’re worried about what you’ll see in his face if he does.

“Are we okay?” you ask.

He turns to the side, and you catch a glimpse of the man you love, his once blithe demeanour reduced to a brief, forced smile. He nods once, and you sag in relief. When he is finally out the door, you collapse onto the bed and press your knuckles to your eyes. 

You feel it all at once. 

Anger. Frustration. That fear of inevitability coming to fruition. This was bound to happen and a part of you knew it was coming.

Aemond screwed you over, and it’s high time you put an end to everything.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The gardens. Midnight. 

The message had been sent. The last one you will ever send to Aemond Targaryen if things go as planned. 

You have it rehearsed and perfected in your mind - how you will give him a piece of your mind, how you will tell him off and tell him to fuck off for good. 

As long as you think of Art…  As long as you don’t lose yourself, then…

“You’re lucky I’m not standing you up, Ace. Not like what you did to me.” The bastard has appeared directly behind you, as per his custom, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. 

You immediately turn to face him, and he stands calmly in his signature black tracksuit, his lips curled in their usual manner. “I never agreed to meet you that night.”

His smile is derisive, the sight of it sharp and cruel under the moonlight. “I thought we had sort of a code of honour, you and I. That we’d never lie to each other. Never let the other person down.”

“Honour?” you say mockingly. “I call bullshit. Trying to ruin my relationship… is that part of it?”

He looks away, shaking his head at your accusation. “I only did what you don’t have the fucking guts to do. Your relationship with Donaldson was ruined the moment we…” He trails off, brows furrowing. His gaze meets yours, revealing the truth that sits underneath his mask of arrogance. One that only you are allowed to see. He appears to take on a different smile this time, softer and less pronounced. The curses you want to hurl get caught in your throat when he looks to your lips and hums faintly to himself, almost as if he’s forgotten that you are in the middle of an argument. 

You take a step back, and it shakes him out of his reverie. It shakes the both of you out of it. 

“Well? Let’s fucking hear it then.” You raise your arms in a gesture, egging him on. 

“Hear what?” he says, having the gall to be confused.

“What did you want to tell me that night? Tell me now, because you’ll never get the chance again.”

He straightens, getting his thoughts in order. He completely forgot about that issue, and talking is increasingly becoming the last thing he wants to do right now. He wants to put his lips to better use. Something more worthwhile. “Helaena’s retiring,” he finally decides on saying, “and I think I should be your coach.”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment, his proposition whirring in your head. It makes sense, it does. He just gets you. But then again… 

“That’s rich,” you reply. “Do you think I would ever give up Art? He’s always been my coach and he’s damn good at it.”

“You’re not compatible,” he counters, “in the court and out of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He doesn’t see you,” he affirms. He would never lie to you, and he isn’t about to start now. He repeats, “He doesn’t see you, but I do.”

His words strike true, and it feels as if he’s just pulled the rug from underneath you, and you’re falling, falling… 

Right into his arms. And the impact is jarring, because it’s real. 

“We can’t.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, a reflection of your weakening restraint.

“Yes we can, ace.” He takes a step closer, and he lifts his hand as if on instinct, reaching for your face. But he’s frozen, unsure of how far he can toe the line that already lies fragile between you. “It should be you and me.”

Your eyes follow his movements, because you know you want him to give in and hold you. To touch your face. To kiss you.

And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. 

“I have to go.” Your voice carries no emotion. You avert your gaze at the last second and catch the defeat that flashes across his face. It should come as a surprise that it pains you to see him like this, but then again, you see him as he sees you. You always have. Which renders your next words among the most painful to come out of your mouth. “We can’t do this anymore. Art already doesn’t trust me, and if this goes on, it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t talk to you - ” 

“No.” 

“- and I won’t be responding to anything- ”

“Stop fucking talking.” His anger is fledgling, rising to the surface. There is no way he will calmly accept these terms. “I said no, ace.”

“It’s… it’s the right thing to do,” you murmur, still unable to look at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. We run in the same circles. But we can’t be… us.”

“Forget it,” he seethes, trying to catch your eyes, and growling low when you don’t relent. “Forget him, ace. Or do whatever the fuck you want. But not this, I’m not having this.”

You exhale, having gotten the worst of it out of your chest. It’s over now. But it’s not a relief that you feel. It’s remorse. 

“Goodbye, Aemond.” With that, you finally take him in once more, and one glance is enough to shatter your resolve. His heightened ill temper shines clearly across his distinguished features. Under the midnight moon, he resembles a fallen angel, long dark blonde lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His shadowy, glass eye strangely adding to the appeal. 

Beautiful. And just not yours. 

One last, lingering look - then you walk away. The silence is deafening, and you feel numb all over. Your knuckles are taut at your sides, fingernails digging in your palms to keep those pesky, errant tears at bay. You’ve suffered defeat before, but this is much worse, because it’s coming solely from your own hand. How easily you give him up, someone who was never yours, and how badly it stings. 

“No,” you hear him say again, and you pray he shuts up so you can keep walking. 

He doesn’t. He repeats the word - no - over and over like some mantra under his breath. One second you feel nothing. Nothing at all. But then the wind whooshes around you and you’re being spun around to face him. 

And then, his lips claim yours, and you feel everything. 

Sounds come rushing back to you. His ragged panting against your lips, the pads of his fingertips kneading the back of your head, the wet smacking of his mouth on your own. The empty pit in your stomach is filled with those clichéd butterflies. More so when one of his hands travels down to grasp your waist and press your body against his. 

“Aem - ” Your mind catches up to you, and you try to say his name to get him to pause, but he slides his tongue past your teeth. 

“Shut up and kiss me, ace.” He breaks free for but a second, then hungrily kisses you again. You let him. You give in completely.

“Mmm, Aemond.” Your hands reach up to cradle his face and he takes that as an opportunity to pull back and openly admire you.

“You’re my ace,” he professes, connecting his forehead to yours. “And I’m not fucking losing you.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You rush through the lobby of the hotel, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as you duck your heads so as not to get recognised by the night concierge. 

With reckless abandon, your entwined bodies stumble into his suite, which just happens to be on the floor below yours. You once thought you would have to be inebriated beyond belief to surrender to a sin like this, and in a way you are. You’re high off of him - Aemond in his entirety, six feet of lean muscle, notorious foul-mouthed one-eyed libertine. 

“Fuck, ace.” He has his arms wrapped around you from behind, and he nips at your exposed neck. His touch roams and finds the mounds of your breasts, kneading mindlessly over your shirt. The sound that reverberates from his throat is carnal, and you feel it echo through your whole body. It drives you to press your ass against him, taking full notice of his hardness straining from his sweatpants. 

Feeling mischievous, you do it again, gripping his arms to anchor yourself while grinding against his cock. 

“Foul play,” he whispers against your neck, “you fucking minx.”

“There are no rules now.” You face him, running a finger along his jawline as you walk backward and he follows suit. Stopping at the edge of his bed, you strip out of your shirt, careful to keep your eyes locked on his the whole time. 

The movement is too slow for Aemond, and he desperately needs more. He pushes you onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He slides your sweatpants off your legs, then lets his hand drag from your ankle to your inner thigh. He promptly undresses, graceless and in a rush, until all his clothes are left in a heap on the carpet. 

His cock stands on attention, taut and goddamn long. You feel an ache below that compels you to rub your legs together, but he beats you to it and slides your underwear right off. “I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he croons. “Bet you taste so sweet.”

You take your bra off and you’re finally left completely bare. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between. He uses one hand to squeeze your breast and the other to keep your legs propped wide open. 

His eye meets yours, before he settles in, lowering his head until he’s breathing cool air onto your pussy. “Match point, ace.” 

You have him. He has you. 

When Aemond’s tongue plunges deep into your throbbing core, swirling inside like he wants to consume you whole, you have to bite your tongue to hold back a scream.

He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, and he’s so fucking good.

“Yes - yes - keep going, baby, fuck -  ” you moan, words breathy and irregular. 

He sticks two fingers into your wetness, using it to spread you wider, leveraging his tongue ever deeper. In and out they go, faster than the fuck, fuck, fucks coming out of your mouth in blissful sputters. 

He suddenly stops, a guttural hmm echoing from his lips, and you look down to see his lips coated in a mixture of his spit and your pre cum. “Not so fast, ace,” he taunts. “You’ll come when I say.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, still widespread and exposed to him. “What, are you coaching me through it?” 

He hums in affirmative and leans in to kiss you, juices still dripping from his chin. 

“You gonna follow my orders, ace?” he asks, and your mind spirals at how utterly lewd it sounds. 

“Wouldn’t you like that, Targaryen?” You let out another moan, biting your lip when he hungrily sucks on your breast. “Let’s see what you got first.”

He smiles at your playful instigation. It’s always come natural, this riffing back and forth. But this midnight dalliance - he wants it to be honest. He needs you to realise how much he wants you. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He gets on his knees, a hand braced on each of your thighs, his hardened cock at the ready. 

“Ma’am?” you breathe, a laugh dying in your throat when you his tip prods at your entrance.

“I can be agreeable under the right circumstances, ace.” He torments you by pushing his cock in but an inch. 

“Fuck me, Aemond,” you cuss in frustration, then, literally, “Fuck me. Please.”

His eyes take you in, one darkened blue and one ghostly pale glass. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says. “You good for it, ace?” He nods once, referring to whether a condom is needed and you take the hint right away.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Perks of having a top-of-the-line physio team. They hook you up on other things too.” Your cocky-athlete way of stating that you are on the pill. 

The lights are dim in the room, but you clearly see the resolve settle on Aemond’s face. He parts his lips like he wants to say something more, and you tilt your head questioningly. 

He feels the need to make some sort of declaration. Something true. It doesn’t seem right to say those damned three words at this moment, no matter how much he means them. You could think he’s trying to trick you in order to get what he wants. A good lay and nothing else. So he doesn’t say anything and lets the silence speak for itself. If you know him as you claim to, then you’ll see. 

You’ll see just how much this means to him.

You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea. 

He thrusts his cock into you with such force, stretching your walls with a sudden and blinding ache, until he is buried to the hilt. He reaches and cradles your face with one hand, the other keeping your ankle propped by his shoulder. 

“Move, Aem.” You buck your hips against him, his cock squelching in and out again.

“Yeah, baby?” He complies with his hips in response. “That feel good?”

“Yes. God yes.”

A switch flicks inside of him, and he almost snarls through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, ace. Your pussy takin’ me so well…” His hips buck faster, in abrupt snapping motions, burying his cock each damn time. He connects your legs together and turns you to your side, altering the position slightly. 

You look behind your shoulder and see that feral look etched on his face. His grip is tight on the flesh of your hips and the curve of your ass, having it raised slightly for his convenience. He smacks your behind with an open palm, and it elicits a lusty moan out of you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “So beautiful like this, dripping around my fucking cock, huh? My good girl.”

The noises you release as a result are unintelligible. You press your face against the pillow in sheer pleasure, muffling your sounds. 

“I wanna hear you, baby,” Aemond protests. With practised ease, he repositions you so your ass is propped high before him, your body bent forward as you have to lean on your forearms to keep from planting your face on the sheets. 

He doesn’t ease up on his relentless thrusting, and you’re left squirming and cock-drunk. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you’re blissed-out on what only Aemond can give you.

“Does he fuck you as good?” he spits in obvious distaste. “I don’t think so, baby. Can’t fuck this pussy like I do.” 

“N-no,” you whimper, without any trace of guilt. “Only you, Aem.”

“Hmm,” he simpers. “Come for me, ace. Be a good girl now. Come around my cock, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you pant, growing weaker and weaker at his statements, your walls tensing for that release you crave.

“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”

Your whimper comes out sudden and unrestrained as you let go, and feel your warm juices leaking down your thighs. The sounds of his cock growing noisy and sloppier. He releases not long after, with a few sharp spasms, decorating your insides with his cum. 

Marking someone who is not supposed to be his. 

But nothing else matters as he crumples against you and pulls you into his arms. If something is to be reconciled with, it won’t be for tonight.

With these things, regret always comes along with the sunrise.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“40 - 30.”

The crowd cheers at the umpire’s announcement. You can barely make out the faces morphing together into one homogeneous mob, but you’ve observed enough to know that Aemond isn’t among them. Rivulets of sweat drip down your face and you walk to the side as another break starts. 

Helaena nods at you from the opposite side of the court, and you respond with a terse smile.

She resembles him so much - the one you’ve been avoiding for the past three days. With that same distinct shade of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, but possessing an aura of tenderness about her. If Aemond wasn’t lying about her plan to retire, then it makes perfect sense. She seems too good for the sport, too pure, whereas you fit right into its cruel constraints.

What sort of person would have done what you did, some nights ago, and be able to walk with their head held high? You want to believe that you regret sleeping with Aemond, that you would reverse your actions, given the chance. But the pain that eats at you is that you might have fucked things up for good, abruptly leaving before he woke up that morning. 

It’s ironic - you may just get what you said you wanted. To end things. Never to be the same with him again. 

You slump in your seat, wiping at your face with a towel, pushing all thought of Aemond from your mind. 

From your periphery, you catch Helaena gesturing to you. She smiles, and you think that your emotions must show so clearly on your face that she feels bad for you. 

She nods, and tilts her head to the side, so that you follow her gaze. Standing courtside, partially hidden in the corner just behind the barriers, you see Aemond closely watching you. 

He came after all. You turn back to Helaena, unable to hide your surprise, and she sends another smile your way. She knows. Of course she does. 

With renewed excitement, the match continues. It only takes one more point, one final ace, and you emerge triumphant. The court fills with cheers and sounds of celebration. It is declared that you are advancing to the next round of the tournament. You meet Helaena in the middle and she firmly shakes your hand, exhibiting no sign of disappointment. 

“Congratulations! Very well played.” She drops her racket and grasps your hand with both of hers. She leans closer, and adds, “You know, I also consider it a win for myself, because my last ever match is against the girl my brother is in love with.”

You forget where you are, the revelation rendering everything else moot. The cheering crowds disappear, and it’s just you and Helaena as she dips her head comfortingly, assuring you that you heard her words true.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she lets go finally, with a cheerful, “go celebrate!”

You feel yourself being whisked away, cameras flashing from all sides. Art appears in front of you and he pulls you into an embrace. Several onlookers gush at the sight. You barely take notice of them, your eyes already drifting to where Aemond was standing. 

There he remains, casually leaning against the barriers. Some audience members realise that the great Aemond Targaryen stands among them, and one by one a small crowd forms around him, asking for pictures and autographs.

He continues to hold your gaze, his usual smirk making an appearance, ignoring a guy waving a camera at his face. You shake your head at the scene, a genuine laugh bubbling from your lips.

You nod to each other, as if acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and leave it at that. There’s a lot more to be said, for another time. Art wraps his arm around your waist, and Aemond takes it as his cue to look away, relenting to the eager fans surrounding him.

You direct your gaze to your boyfriend, immediately seeing the recognition in Art’s eyes. He’s seen everything. 

He doesn’t need to be as acutely perceptive as Helaena to realise the truth. That of the one-eyed rogue and his ace. You’ve been drifting from him for so long, that it was only a matter of time. 

He was your friend first, and he always will be. You’ve watched each other grow, through endless mistakes and challenges, and there’s a fire in you he cannot match. 

But Aemond can. He knows this now. 

He extends a hand out to you, one which you accept with poorly masked caution. He understands how woeful it must be, to tear yourself apart from being in love with someone else. The shame and uncertainty that must entail. 

For both your sakes, he decides that he has to be the bigger person and do the right thing. 

“What do you say?” Art offers to you. “Post match treat?” he asks, referring to your tradition of sharing a large strawberry sundae after games. 

“Okay.” Your smile is sweet and unguarded, and it reminds him of when you first met, nearly six years ago. That day, he knew he had made a lifelong friend. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you here, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Aemond swivels toward the sound of your voice, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips. 

“Vile habit, Targaryen.” You wrinkle your nose, and he just shakes his head and crushes the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.

“Yeah, well.” He merely shrugs. He was dead set on quitting, but something came up the past couple of days, causing his anxiety to reach new heights. When you ignored him after the night you shared, he can’t fault himself for reaching for depraved solace in nicotine. But no substance would ever be enough to erase the precious memory of watching you come undone. 

“Not happy to see me, ace?” he refers back to your greeting, not bothering to hide the hurt he feels. 

You walk closer to him, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I lied. But it’s not like I haven’t lied before.” You stop when you’re right in front of him, the remnants of his smoke making you feel woozy. “I also lied when I said that we can’t keep being us anymore. When I said goodbye.”

“Hmm,” his lips curl at your confession. “Judging by how wildly you fucked me after you said that, I could already tell.”

You roll your eyes, but you already feel so much better, like things are falling right back into place. All it took was some teasing from the apparently callous, sharp-tongued, ambitious-to-a-fault boy standing before you. 

A boy who revealed the true depths of his compassion only to you. He let you thaw out his cold heart from its confines and declared it yours. 

“Something more to say, ace?” he asks.

“You first.”

“Are you kidding? Why don’t you play this game with your boyfriend?”

You share a lingering look, effectively answering his question. The unabashed shit-eating smile that breaks out on his face is enough to tell you just how he feels. 

“Don’t gloat,” you warn him, but he’s already pulled you flush against him with both arms. “I also need a new coach.”

“Mhmm,” he nods, not really in response to your statement. “Save that for later, ace. Please shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He can’t help but smile through kisses, his lips chasing yours when you make an effort to pull away and say something more. 

“Aemond, will you - ”

“Fuckin’ - ” a cuss slips from him when you manage to break apart, depriving him of your lips. He answers impatiently, “Yes of course, I’ll be your coach, ace. Of course. Happy? I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

Before he leans in once more, you say, “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Targaryen.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

You lean back in mild surprise.

He laughs, “I mean - ace - or my love. Either one applies, really.”

"I... I prefer ace," you say weakly.

"Now, now, my love. I thought we promised not to lie to each other?"

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[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[slashercult]

pick an image to find out how your future spouse is with you

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

this person is obsessed w you, like they are in LOVE love. & i dont mean in like a creepy "they are never going to leave you alone" type of obsessed, more like you are their favorite person ever and they love hanging out w you all the time. some drake lyrics were coming thru while doing this reading: "everybody has an addiction, mine happens to be you." i feel like very rarely will this person ever not get excited to just be in your presence during your whole marriage. like i can still picture them looking at you the same way they did on your wedding day even when you're both old n grey. they also happen to be a huge romantic so it makes a lot of sense. whenever they have good news they rush to tell you bc they want you to be the first person to share their happiness with. they're overall very sweet, i don't see them being the jealous type - i think they trust you enough to be scared of you going off with some other person. and you'll never even think about anyone else when you're with them because they treat you so well.

pile two

this person's love language is deff physical touch and it'll show when you're around them. they love hugging you and being intimate and doing all that sort of stuff. they honestly do not care where you both are because nothing is going to stop them from giving you forehead kisses or hugs. they love the way that you smell, it reminds them of walks in nature and pieces from their childhood. they love teasing you as well, they're very affectionate w you. they're incredibly supportive and also humble. i see you both being on a ton of trips, particularly road trips, but normal traveling is also coming through. i feel this person may not be as outspoken ab how much they love you, like they won't outright say "i think you're the most beautiful person i know" to you but don't worry bc they definitely think that you are. they have a very unique way of showing their love and i feel that you are someone who tends to pay more attention to details than others which makes you perfect for this person because while others may overlook or misinterpret them, you see them for who they are.

pile three

this person is super fun to be around, like they have the best energy ever. & i dont mean in a "they're always the life of the party" way, more like they make even the smallest moments feel special. i feel like whenever you're having a bad day, this person knows exactly how to cheer you up without even trying. they're the kind of person who surprises you with little thingamabobs and trinkets all the time just to see you smile. like they'll randomly bring you food that you like without you even asking them. they also happen to have a great sense of humor (that's kind of subtle but you like it) so you'll always be laughing a lot together. they’re overall very supportive of you, i don’t see them being the type to criticize your dreams. you'll always feel appreciated bc they will never take you for granted. though his laid-back and relaxed personality are behaviors you see often, you know your future spouse better than anyone. they're very inspiring and honestly i feel like you both will work on a project together bc you share similar dreams (i'm seeing some sort of art form, probably like writing or smth along those lines)

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.

[wasyago]

Please more Trail's gone cold au I'm begging you I need it just pour out every thought in your brain I want to hear it

hgdhhfbd i mean, sure why not

everything plot related is in the main post, there's nothing else really to tell. but i could share random details that didn't really fit into the lore drop. again tho, it's a small au and mostly an exploration of the concept, so there's not a lot.

❄️ gem and etho are siblings, i don't think it was mentioned anywhere? blood related and all that, they both have black hair, gem just dyes hers.

❄️ behind the scenes reasons for the order of deaths. generally i picked these three to be the main cast because i suddenly realized pet crew were just dungeon master and his two winners, and that was too crazy of a concept to not do anything with? so, tango as the main guy and actual master of the dungeon had to die first, seeing how he's the cave's favorite. pearl as the main explorer and as the one to unlock all the secrets had to die second, because she had to return to the dungeon / the cave to find out the truth, and she conquered it but never actually got out. and etho had to survive, because he's the "proper" winner and the one who actually escaped the dungeon with treasures.

❄️ lore reasons for the order of infection. tango you already know, but pearl and etho went in at the same time so in theory they had to start experiencing the effects together. but because etho was wearing a mask it did lessen the amount of sculk he inhaled, slowing down the process. wear masks kids!

and, well, you did say you wanted to hear every thought so. i really like the plot point of them leaving tango to die, so im gonna ramble a little about it. even just, the difference in their views on the situation is so satisfying to me. because tango had no idea something scary was happening to him! and for pearl and etho it was a life or death situation. and just-- they were talking about leaving tango and tango obviously, obviously, protested, because what the actual hell??? yes okay he's ill and a burden, but don't leave an ill guy to freeze to death in a cave, what is wrong with them????? or, okay, what is wrong with etho, pearl was against the idea. but, straight up tango did not plan for it to end this way, he had his whole life ahead of him and so many things ha still wanted to do! of course he cried when they left, what else was he supposed to do? thank etho for his awesome decision? be all cool and stoic and sacrifice himself? hell no, he didn't want to die, he never asked for this.

he did die tho, so. whomp whomp 🎺... i imagine he passed before pearl and etho even reached the stairs, so at least he didn't suffer for long. if he had a breakdown about being left alone he probably hyperventilated and inhaled like a ton more sculk, so that killed him even faster. must've sucked tho...

and then pearl, god, pearl.... she didn't encounter any dangers on the way back, since she wasn't trying to escape and the cave had no reason to be hostile towards her. but seeing how she was at the last stage before turning... she probably didn't get to tango before collapsing... not dying just yet, but too feverish and too weak to walk. but if tango was already back, he could very much go and find her. can you imagine the pure horror of drowning in your regrets as you slowly die and then having your supposedly already dead friend appear in front of you all cheery and oh so wrong. i dont know how much of tango is left in that thing, but the image of him sitting by pearl and holding her until she dies is so-- its haunting but it's sweet. and then there's still enough time to catch up with etho.

actually, gahhhh, all three pet povs are their own unique horror story and it's so good.

the horror of having to go through this terrifying experience, and then being the only survivor, knowing full well that the only reason you lived is because you left your friends to die, and there's no way of fixing it now.

the horror of everything falling apart around you because of miscommunication, and then the one time you decide to do it right you end up regretting every single decision and witnessing the direct result of your mistakes come for you.

the horror of being stupid... the horror of losing all control over your life and being betrayed in the moment of your most vulnerability, dying fully and utterly helpless.

this au is so sad but i love it so much...

okay wow that's enough for one post, ask more if you want tho!

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right? Pt 2

Masterpost

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's voice echoes in Tim's ears as he fiddles with his mask. "Like, when they started posting, I was kinda meh about it? I mean the first few videos they posted were just like. Basic shitty, scrambled audio, and the first clues were just like, real simple. Basic word replacement stuff; mostly vigenères, right? But now it's- they're using everything! The current drop is. It's layers, man. And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG."

"No I mean, like yeah obviously the clues are intentional, but like. The way the difficulty curve is just increasing. When this started it was so easy, but I don't think it was because they like, didn't know what they were doing or anything. Which, cool yeah that makes sense, you want people to buy in before it gets super hard or whatever, but there are, like all these threads that never went anywhere. And everybody kind of wrote them off as red herrings because they didn't seem to fit into the narrative that we had so far, but I can't stop thinking about them, you know?"

"I mean, they could still be red herrings, couldn't they?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but like. Why? It's one thing to have a dead end that maybe calls back to a previous clue or, like, reaffirms some detail from before but having something completely unconnected seems like a weird choice. Especially when the creator keeps telling us to dig deeper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tim asks with a laugh.

"No that's the thing!" Bernard's voice goes intense, and Tim momentarily stops putting his mask back together. "Literally every fucking drop those exact words are hidden somewhere in the mess of encryptions, and as things get more complicated, it's showing up more not less. And that together with all the fucking loose details that don't seem to fit in anywhere? I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, bc I think we're missing a lot." Tim kind of forgets, sometimes, how similar he and Bernard are, but the in his boyfriend's voice is one he's intimately familiar with. That combination of obsession and frustration - and obviously it's not really serious because like, it's an internet game, but it doesn't matter what the stakes are, being stuck on a puzzle fucking sucks, and he can't exactly patrol what with his broken ankle, so maybe a fun, no-stakes challenge would be good for him.

"We were planning on hanging out on Friday, so what if you walked me through it from the start, and maybe together we can come up with some answers?"

"Seriously? Dude that would be so awesome! I will teach you everything I know about code breaking!"

"I mean, I do know some things, you know. You think I didn't have a spy phase as a teenager?" Tim smiles at Bernard's responding laughter. It'll be nice, he thinks, to mess with a puzzle where nobody's life is at stake.

[lukesaprince]

Rich Part 22

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. Y/n meets Anne, her Dad finds out the truth and an unexpected encounter has devastating results.

Warning: Smut, bj (the beginning of one anyway), penetration, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk. Mentions of revenge p*rn, Ethan, bad mental health. There is also a detailed account of a panic attack and negative thinking so please be mindful of this. PLEASE lmk if I've missed anything ❤️

Word count: 21k+

Author's note: Look I'll always say I'm an angst writer not an angst reader so I hope you guys enjoy reading a bit of it... At this point Rich won't be finishing up at Part 25 as expected because I just don't think I'll fit everything I want to within three more chapters so you're welcome I guess. ANYWAY happy reading muah

- Find Series Masterlist Here -

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Okay… y’ready?” Harry asked, bopping his knee anxiously. 

“I’m ready.” You confirmed, smiling. 

You totally weren’t ready. 

This was the first meet-the-parents thing you had ever done in your life and you were fucking terrified. You didn’t want to come across as too immature or young but you also wanted to be yourself. Compared to Harry you were young and even if you had things in common, you were as Gen Z as they came and the last thing you wanted was Anne thinking you were some kid. 

From what Harry told you, Anne wasn’t a judgmental person. She was a sweetheart and seemed so gentle and kind. Like your mum but without the hint of crazy. He did say Anne liked a good glass of wine, which both you and your mum enjoyed as well so that was one thing you had in common. 

You were definitely overthinking it way too hard but Harry being nervous made you nervous. You just wanted her to like you. It was a lot harder meeting her for the first time via Facetime too because there wasn’t really a lot of external stimuli to chat about if things got quiet. You weren’t sharing a meal or doing an activity where the conversation could drift naturally. This all felt so formal.

Harry assured you that he’d jump in at any point it got quiet but that he didn’t think he’d need to because Anne loved to talk about anything and everything. That made you feel a bit better but you still felt like your inside matched how Harry looked on the outside. Anxious.

You didn’t really want to make it worse by talking about your own nerves, especially since Harry had been talking about it all damn day. He kept bringing it up through text and called you double what he usually did while he was at work. He was trying to appear calm and in every conversation he was making sure you were still okay with meeting his mum. 

You knew that it was because he was nervous about it. Harry was practically losing sleep over it and he didn’t really understand why. He didn’t expect to be so nervous about it, especially since he wasn’t phased by your parents knowing about you two. 

He just loved you so much, so fucking much, and you were one of the most important people in his life. The most important. His mum was one of the other important people and maybe that’s why he was all in knots about it. 

His mum’s opinion on you mattered a great deal to him and even if it wouldn’t change how he felt about you, or whether he continued seeing you, it still mattered. She is the closest family member he has and he wants you two to get along more than anything else. 

Deep down, all along all Harry ever wanted was a family. Maybe not the kids and nuclear family model, but family. He could play it off and think that meaningless hookups and money could satisfy him for the rest of his life and for a while it did. It truly did. But meeting you changed everything and now all he wanted was his family together. 

He wanted a life with friends that he loved, a partner he adored who adored him back and he wanted his family back together again. Harry had two out of three of those things and now his family was the last thing he needed to tackle. 

Harry knew Anne would love you because he loved you, but he was still riddled with anxiety. The cause was more than just this initial FaceTime of course, but this was one of the many things he was having a hard time dealing with. He felt blessed that he had you to support him through everything. 

You placed a gentle hand on his knee, applying a little pressure so it would stop shaking. “Are you ready?” 

Harry nodded, grabbing your chin affectionately, “yeah, m’love. Just haven’t introduced many partners to her before. Not that any of them were nearly as important as you.”

Not that any of them were as important as you. 

Oh did you fucking love this man. 

“I hope she likes me” you whispered, puckering your lips against his thumb when he brushed it against your mouth.  

“She will.” He assured you while smiling fondly. “What’s not to like, baby?” 

“thank you…” you whispered, pecking him quickly. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He murmured, wanting to say so much more only to be interrupted by the ringing sound of his laptop. It was far easier to do FaceTime with both of you on the bigger screen and this way you wouldn’t be as squished up. 

You quickly adjusted your hair over your shoulders so it laid nicely, trying not to bite away the lipgloss you applied specifically for this call. You wanted to look nice to meet Anne for the first time, even if it was via FaceTime. 

The screen lit up with Anne’s gorgeous face and smile when Harry answered the call. His hand fell to your thigh immediately, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers together. 

“Hi mum.” Harry greeted with a bright smile. His entire demeanor lit up when he saw her and you could visibly feel his body relax a little. You had never seen Harry interact with any family before so it was just so… nice to watch. You felt warm inside even after two words. 

“Harry! Oh my gosh, your beard. It’s so lush. You look wonderful.” Anne beamed, her face bright and so warm. You had seen photos of her before, even stalked her Instagram a little to see what vibe she gave off and she was even lovelier than usual. 

“Thanks,” Harry sheepishly responded, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He didn’t grow it out very often, at least not to the length it had gone now. It was only when he was on holiday usually. But you liked his moustache and the feeling of his facial hair between your thighs so he was more than happy to give you what you wanted. Harry liked the look too, he just preferred being cleanly shaved for work. 

You were obviously more important than his job. 

“And you must be y/n! Oh, you’re gorgeous.” She cooed, looking right at you, “She’s gorgeous, H.” Her eyes flicked to Harry. 

“I know. Absolutely breathtaking” Harry brought your intertwined fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before setting it back down on your knee. 

“Thank you.” You blushed, “it’s so nice to meet you, Anne. Harry’s told me so much about you.” You squeezed Harry’s hand, feeling like you were in some sort of job interview. You were lost for words and so nervous. You couldn’t relax even if you wanted to. 

“Oh, I’m sure he has, darling.” She laughed. It was so warm and homely, much like Harry’s. “He’s such a storyteller, aren’t you, H? Always has been y’know, even as a kid. He used to dress up and perform plays for Gem and me. Oh, he was so cute!”

“Mum.” Harry scolded. Of course, it barely took a minute before she spoke about his childhood. He knew if you were all in her kitchen she’d have the photo albums out before you even arrived. 

“Oh shush, you. Don’t pretend you didn’t love it. He was such a little actor. A good singer too.” Anne replied, happy to be sharing stories about her son with an actual girlfriend of his. 

“Yeah he is,” you agreed, “He always leads our singing in the car.” You finished off with a giggle.

“I do not.” Harry defended.

“You so do! He always leads, Anne. Always.” You laughed, earning

“That’s not true, I sing plenty thank you very much.” Harry defended, knowing you were just riling him up when in fact your car singalongs were some of his favourite moments and a regular occurrence when you were out and about.

“Mhmm. Sure.” You teased, earning a pinch on your thigh in reprimand.  

“We’ve got one of those little karaoke machines here, y/n, and every Christmas Harry used to do a singalong with all the kids. He said it was because they loved it but we all knew it was because he did.” Anne smiled fondly at the memory, but you could feel the sudden shift in the air at the mention of Christmas. Something Harry hadn’t been to for years. “Anyway, that was a while ago…” she brushed off, but you could feel the way Harry was tensed against you. “Harry tells me you’re studying? Marketing, right?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, giving Harry’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

He wrapped his arm around your waist to hold onto you and intertwined your fingers with his other hand. It immediately made him calm down again. He wasn’t usually so sensitive but with so much going on and the possibility of him actually being at his family’s Christmas this year, it hit him a little harder than usual. It wasn’t Anne’s intention at all and Harry knew that, but it was hard to think about the years he missed. 

“I’m doing a double bachelor's degree in marketing and arts. It’s my final year so I’ve only got one semester left and then I’m free. Finally.” You finished with a nervous laugh. 

“Oh wow, that’s amazing  You must be so proud of your achievements,” She gushed like she was proud of you and it was the first time she had ever met you. Her energy was so kind and warm, exactly how Harry described. “I remember from Harry how hard it can be to be in university. All that study and stress. You’re working as well, aren’t you?” 

“Um thank you,” You tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling a little shy at her sudden praise. “And I am, yeah. I’m working at a cafe on campus a couple days a week, sometimes more depending on my workload. It can be a lot sometimes but I’m trying to make the most out of it. I’ve made really good friends and we all live close by or have classes together so I want to have as much fun as I can before it’s all over. It’s crazy how fast it’s gone already.”

“Well from what Harry’s told me, you’re smart and very capable. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She replied earnestly, “do you have plans for after graduation?”

“I’m not 100% sure yet, actually. I always had this idea of going straight into work and if I find something I’m interested in I’ll definitely go for it but I don't know… I don’t think I’m in a rush to get there. I’d like to travel for a bit, maybe take some time to figure out what I want to do. I’d like to do my masters eventually as well so I’m not sure if I want to do that before going into full-time work or work a bit then do it. I’ll see how I go, really.” you smiled sheepishly, looking at Harry briefly. His entire focus was on you and he was squeezing your waist and hand encourgagingly. “For now I just want to get good results.”

“She’s incredibly smart and talented,” Harry complimented, kissing your temple lovingly. You blushed at the show of affection, especially in front of his mum. You loved it, you really did, it was just so unfamiliar to be so open in front of family. You two hadn’t even seen your mum together yet. “Whatever she does, she’ll be amazing at.”

“I’m sure you will be, y/n.” Anne echoed, feeling her own heart burst with how affectionate Harry was being with you. She had never seen him like this with anyone before. Not since he was a young boy anyway. 

“Thank you…” You whispered, smiling up at him. His gaze was so loving and so sincere. It was like you were his entire universe. You were getting way too flustered and at this point, you still hadn’t asked Anne any questions. You wanted the attention off yourself already. “And what about you, Anne? Harry told me you write children’s novels?”

“And illustrate.” She proudly added, “Oh it’s my passion…”

The phone call lasted a good hour. It was just a natural back-and-forth conversation between you all that felt so comfortable and so homely. After you finally relaxed and Harry did as well, it was easy to enjoy talking to her. Anne was so lovely and so sweet and funny, you already loved her. Archie of course got some limelight and you were able to show pictures of your family and friends and share so many details about your life.

It was only the first meeting and you felt like you were connecting well with her already. Even though Harry said he’d jump in if it got quiet, it just never did. You two were as chatty as anything and Harry barely got to speak unless he was directly addressed. It was wonderful. Anne never made your age seem like it was an issue, though you could tell she was surprised when you told her exactly how old you were. 

Harry told her more about you after you agreed to meet her and showed her photos of you and all that, but at that point, you realised that he never specified how old you were. You thought he would’ve been completely honest about your age gap and for the most part, he must’ve been, but it was a little surprising to see that look on her face.

It was only fleeting and if you didn’t see her surprised reaction, you would’ve never known because her attitude didn’t change. She seemed genuine in every way, but you hoped that she didn’t have any ill feelings towards you because of your age. It would’ve been understandable of course, especially considering your mum’s reaction to Harry, but you really liked her already and you wanted her to like you back.

“Alright mum, I’ll talk to you soon.” Harry bid his goodbye.

“Bye, darling. It was so nice meeting you too, y/n. Hopefully, it isn’t too long before I get to see you in person.” Anne waved into the camera, blowing you two a kiss through the screen.

“Hopefully not.” You smiled while waving back to her “Bye, Anne.”

The screen turned black once the call ended, leaving you two (and Archie) alone again. “So… how do you think it went?” You asked after a moment of silence. 

He grinned and cupped your face with both hands to look at you, “how do I think it went? Baby, you two didn’t stop talking the entire hour. I think it went perfectly.”

“Really?” You whispered, pecking his mouth before pulling back just enough so your noses were brushing together. “You think she liked me? She seemed so surprised when I told her how old I am.” 

Harry nodded, “I think she loved you. I told you she would.”

“I hope so because I loved her. She was so sweet.”

“She’ll love you saying that.” Harry grinned, humming before kissing you once more. He closed his eyes while pulling away, “mmh. I love you for saying that. I love you anyway, but even more now that you love my mum.” 

“And here I thought you couldn’t get more obsessed with me. All it took was impressing your mother and you’re kissing me and-”

Funny enough, it was a kiss paired with a firm hand around your throat that interrupted your words. The kiss changed from a smooth brush of your lips to something that had you whimpering and gasping for air in a matter of seconds. “I am obsessed with you.” He murmured, pulling away just enough to say the words before he kissed you again. You smiled into it and gripped his hair in a firm tug. 

“Can I… can I say something that might make you more obsessed with me?” You offered, panting a little while letting your hand fall to his thigh to give it a firm squeeze.  

“Impossible but I’m listening?” He grinned, leaning back against the couch. He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you towards him, hooking his hand under your knee to drag you across his lap so you were straddling him. It wasn’t meant to be sexual necessarily, just because he wanted you as close as possible. 

His arms wrapped around you as soon as you were settled and he was happy to slide them under your-well his nice knit jumper you stole for the call. It didn’t seem necessary to put a bra on when you two were just spending time at home today and only your shoulders up would be shown in the call. He was able to feel the entire expanse of your bare back and how soft your skin was. It was driving him mad. 

“I’ve been thinking… about London.” You swallowed thickly, a little nervous about the conversation you were about to have, “About Italy…” 

It was hard to communicate properly when his hands were rubbing all over your back and sides, his fingers even grazing the sides of your breasts for a moment before returning backwards. You had been thinking about the trip intensely over the last couple of days since he first brought it up to you and all the pros and cons of going. 

Your main concern was his family, but it wasn’t just that. When you two spoke about it, it was before your mum knew and there was so much uncertainty surrounding your parents. You knew you wouldn’t have been able to go on the trip without telling them about it and you couldn’t exactly do that without telling them the truth. Now that your mum knew and was happy for you… it kind of felt like that situation wasn’t a reason not to go on the trip anymore.

University was another concern but Harry was right in saying that the trip would barely overlap with your classes. Your semester ended just over a week before the trip, as did your assignments. You only had two exams and they were both luckily early on in the timetable, like even your university wanted you to go on this trip. They didn’t leave you much space for when Harry wanted to leave, barely a few days but you could manage. 

As for money… Harry already offered to cover everything… multiple times. You knew that if you did end up going it was non-negotiable for him to foot the bill as he simply wouldn’t have it any other way and while the thought kind of mortified you, you also knew he only offered because he genuinely wanted to do it. Besides, even if Harry offered to pay for it all, you still wanted to have your own money and realistically… you did. With how Harry paid you for months while you dog sat for him, you had really healthy savings and while most of it was reserved for actual living and your trip at the end of the year, you could afford to spend some of it. 

There were more reasons to go than not to go and you hoped that the concerns you did have could just be talked about. 

“Yeah? What about it?” Harry scratched your back lightly, making goosebumps rise all over your skin until you shivered against him. 

“Would you… would you still want me to go? If I could?” 

“You want to come? Seriously?” His eyes widened in glee and he perked up instantly. 

You laughed softly while playing with the curls at the back of his head, “I do and I can make it work with school it’s just… are you sure it’s not too soon? To… y’know, see your house and your childhood town and for us to spend an entire month together? We’ve only been together a couple of months. What if you get sick of me?”

“I’d never get sick of you.” He defended with a soft smile, hugging you close to him. “I want you to come more than anything, baby. Truly. It would make me so happy.”

“And what about your family? I want to support you and I’m happy to be there for you but I don’t want to overstep and I don’t want to… I don’t know, like, take away anything from your healing. I still think this is something you should do by yourself.”

“I understand what you’re saying, y/n and I get it.” His hands settled to your lower back in a loose hold while he maintained eye contact with you, “This is something I’ve been afraid of for years and I know I need to face it by myself but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you meeting anyone.” He flashed a soft smile, wrapping his arms properly around you. He hugged you against him, loving the feeling of having you close to him during a conversation like this. “Sure, Gem’s birthday might be off the table because who knows how that’s going to go, but I’d still love for you to meet my mum and… whoever else would be willing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back, but I’d like to think you’d be received with open arms.”

Truthfully, Harry didn’t know what to expect from his visit home. He kept in contact with some of his closest cousins and friends, but there were still those who never really forgave him for what he did to Gemma. He wasn’t sure if they’d come around after the effort he was about to put into trying to mend that relationship, but they were all loving and earnest people. Harry hoped they’d be willing to forgive him. 

He was trying not to get too hopeful though. 

“Even if I’m not… received with open arms, I’d understand it.” You replied softly. “I just don’t want to be one of the reasons your family doesn’t want to give you a chance, that’s all.”

If this situation was reversed and your family member was coming to visit to try and mend things, only to bring his very new and young girlfriend along with him, you’d be hesitant for sure. It was why you had no expectations to meet anyone or attend any family reunions. You were very prepared to be spending days alone and exploring the city while Harry reconnected with everyone. You had always wanted to solo travel so you actually hoped you’d be able to spend some days just walking around by yourself. 

“Y/n… my sweet, sweet girl, you won’t be.” He assured, bringing his hands from under your jumper to cup your face. “There may be a chance they’re not very receptive to me, but that’ll be with or without you there…” He smiled lovingly, running his thumbs over your cheeks. His touch was an instant calm and you found yourself leaning into it heavily. “Look, I understand if you may feel a little awkward so I won’t push you to do anything, but if things are going well I don't see why you couldn’t meet everyone. I know my mum would want to have you over for dinner. Not sure if you’ll be able to get out of that. ”

You laughed softly at his comment and leaned forward to kiss him. “I’d love to meet your mum.” You declared softly, kissing him again. “Okay…” You whispered while pulling away, “I’m in.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” You echoed, nodding before squealing when Harry suddenly scooped you up from the couch. 

“How ‘bout we celebrate then, hm?” He mused, kissing you between words as he very quickly made his way upstairs. You laughed a little but agreed nonetheless, kissing him as much as possible until you were lying down on his bed. 

Archie had followed you upstairs with a toy in his mouth, tail wagging like you were all about to play a game until Harry quickly uttered those three words that made Archie whine like a sad puppy dog. “Harry, he’s crying.” You pouted, looking around Harry’s legs to make eye contact with the sad little boy. 

“He’ll be fine.” Harry laughed, “go on, Arch, go downstairs.” 

After another huff, Archie trotted off with his toy in his mouth, allowing Harry to close the bedroom door and leave you two alone. He turned back to face you, eyes dark and full of promise of what he was about to do to you. You couldn’t have been more excited. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally christening your bed.” You teased, pushing your sweatpants down your legs until they got caught around your ankles. Harry was quick to help you and pulled them off the rest of the way.

“Mhmm. It’s been way too long, baby… Still want to get my box of toys out, though. I’ve got a paddle and pink rope with your name on it.” He smirked, dumping your sweatpants onto the floor before pulling off his hoodie and shirt in one go. 

“When I sleep over. Please, when I sleep over…” you murmured, sitting up so Harry could pull your-his knit jumper off to join the growing pile on the floor. He quickly shoved his pants off before settling between your thighs and joining your mouths in a messy heated kiss. 

You’d never get sick of kissing him, not when it felt like an explosion in your belly and a tingling all over your body. Just a single peck had you completely swooning and you’d happily make out with him for hours without doing anything else.

Though knowing you two… it always turned into something else. Something more. 

“Baby there’s so many things I need to do to you. Just need time and privacy so I can make you scream as loud as I fucking want.” His words were low and rumbly, partly disappearing into the seam of your mouth because he just couldn’t part from your lips long enough to get a full sentence out. The fact that he used ‘need’ instead of ‘want’ drove you up the fucking wall and you were suddenly more desperate than ever to touch him.

“I’d do anything for that… anything…” You gasped, digging your fingers into his shoulders. His body was so big and heavy over you and you could already feel how hard he was pressed against you. Long and thick and all yours. Sometimes you had to pinch yourself when you thought about being with someone like Harry. 

“Mmh, I know you would.” He hummed, beginning to kiss along your jaw down to your neck. “Bet you’d beg for it too, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…” You nodded breathlessly, pulling his mouth back to yours by cupping his jaw in both hands. With a little hook of your neck and a very clear ‘lay down’ mumbled into Harry’s mouth, he let you turn your bodies so he was against the bed and you were straddling him. 

“I love seeing you like this” Harry murmured, watching you adjust so you were kneeling between his legs instead of sitting on top of him. You smiled at the compliment and ran your hands over his chest, digging your nails into his skin ever so slightly so he groaned and squeezed your waist.

“I love seeing you like this” You replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love kissing you…” you continued, peppering kisses all over his chest and down to his abs, “...kissing your body, your tattoos…” 

Harry sighed above you, sliding his hand through your hair to sweep it across to one shoulder so it wasn’t covering your face. Every gentle touch of your lips against him had his entire body clenching with need. He knew you could feel it too. 

You took your time running your mouth and tongue over his body, tracing his tattoos and the contours of his muscles. There was just something so fucking sexy about having full access to him like this, of being able to touch and kiss wherever you liked. And you had time, you could take as much time in kissing him and touching him and making him cum in your mouth.

As far as your parents knew, you were out with Lucy for the night. You weren’t particularly sure if your mum believed your lie when you walked out the door after dropping your things off, but you didn’t really pay too much attention to it when your call with Anne was on your mind. There was a change in your schedule this week which allowed you to sleep at your childhood home midweek for once and you took it immediately. Being away from home was harder than ever now that you and Harry were seeing each other and you were getting a bit homesick. 

You loved living by yourself, but you missed the moments you used to have with your parents. Your nightly Netflix binges with your mum and cooking with your dad. It was why you loved to come home and why you tried to spend as much time here as possible. Now that Harry was in the picture… well your homesickness was for him as well as your family.

It always got bad towards the end of the semester too and you were feeling it extra hard this time. You were run down and tired and pushed to your absolute limit and all you wanted to do was go home and be a kid again. Nowadays all you wanted was to curl into Harry’s arms and forget all your responsibilities existed. 

Oh… and you absolutely wanted to do this…

“Especially love these ones…” you continued, kissing over his right fern tattoo before pressing your tongue flat against the leaves. “And biting here…” licking a trail up to his hip, you very happily bit down on the spot right above his waistband before starting to work on making a small hickey there. 

“Shit…” Harry breathed, clenching his jaw. His fingers tightened in your hair, trying to control every cell in his body that wanted to take control of the situation. Your teasing was torturous and his cock was so goddamn sore he didn’t think he’d even be able to last a full minute once you got your mouth on him. At least he hoped that’s where this was going. However, he really did not care as long as you were just touching him in some capacity.

“Wanna know what I really love, though?” You asked, looking directly up at him while tucking your fingers into the waistband of his tight briefs. His cock was pressing angrily against the soft material and all you wanted to do was get your mouth on it. 

“What’s that?”

“Tasting your cock…” you reached down and licked along his length through his underwear, loving the way his filthy moan echoed around the room. “Can I? Please…”

“Fuck… of course you can.” Harry swallowed thickly, almost trembling when you found his tip and sucked ever so gently on it. “Shit baby… take me out.”

Right as you were about to free his cock and finally taste him, the sound of Harry’s doorbell echoed outside his bedroom door. He had an intercom system upstairs and in his kitchen so the sound was always loudest in those two areas. Archie’s barking followed the ringing soon after and you could hear the distinct sound of him jumping around near the front door.

“Who the fuck would be here right now?” Harry cursed, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Just ignore it. We’re busy.” You shrugged, licking him through his briefs again. You were a big fan of ignoring the door and your phone when you didn’t want to speak with someone but if there was one thing you noticed about your parents and well… Harry’s generation was that they were incapable of putting their phone on silent. 

Harry shuddered and hissed at your hot tongue against his cock and soon the door was the last thing on his mind. “You’re right… you’re right. For the love of god, please continue baby.” He practically pleaded, almost coming at the dazed-doe expression you had on your face. It looked like you were almost enjoying this more than him. Almost. 

You got back to it and kissed along his skin as you pulled his boxers down, following the waistband with your mouth until your lips brushed against the very base of him. His fingers tightened in your hair the further down his length you got until you had licked a trail from his base right to his tip. 

But then the doorbell rang again, just as you were about to pull his underwear completely down his thighs. 

“Fuck. This better be fucking important” Harry cursed again, reluctantly letting go of your hair. You made a noise of indignation and pulled his boxers back up for him before making space so he could get up from the bed. You flopped onto your back, looking at him with straight annoyance at the fact he was taking his cock away from you. “I’ll be right back, y/n. Right back.” He promised, reaching down to peck your mouth. “I’m just going to see who it is, okay?” 

All Harry had to do was walk a little down his hallway where the intercom was and he could speak to whoever was at the gate. He could do it from his phone too but he left that downstairs and there was no way he was walking all the way down there with a sore cock just to turn away whoever was trying to sell him something. 

“Hurry upppp.” You complained, already impatient with him leaving you. 

“Just be patient, y/n.” Harry tutted, trying not to show how dizzy he was by how eager you were to suck him off. You could give him head every day or once a month and he’d be as eager and grateful for it every single time. There was just something about enthusiastic head that drove Harry up the fucking wall. 

Harry adjusted his cock in his boxers before pressing the video button to see who was at his gate and when the clear image popped up, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Uhh… y/n?”

“Yeah?” you called back, staring up at the ceiling while clenching and unclenching the duvet in your hands to try and distract yourself from how horny you were.

“It’s your mum.”

“What!?” You shot up from the bed immediately, looking at him wide-eyed. “What the hell is she doing here?” 

It was an immediate cause of panic for the two of you, like you were two teenagers being caught having sex after your parents came home too early. But neither of you were teenagers and you were in the privacy of your own home. Well, Harry’s home.

“I don’t know! What do I do?” Even Harry was panicking, mostly at the loss of his time with you but also because he had no idea what your mum wanted. As bad as it was, he hadn’t spoken to her properly since she found out about you two. He hadn’t seen her due to his work schedule and he didn’t really feel right going over for a cup of tea to talk about your relationship without you being present. 

“Just answer it, I don’t know!?”

“Okay… shit. Okay.” Harry cleared his throat before pressing the call button to speak to your mum, “Hi Jules, everything alright?”

“Is my daughter in there?” 

You pressed your hands to your face and groaned into them, already recognising the slight tinge of drunkenness in her voice. Even through the intercom, you could identify the one, potentially one and a half glasses of wine she had. 

“I know she’s there, Harry, so I suggest you let me in so we can all chat.” Jules continued.

Harry looked back at you and took his finger off the button, giving you a look that basically asked, ‘so what should I do?’. 

“Well we don’t exactly have a choice, do we? I can’t lie to her again.” 

“I’ll be right down, Jules.”

Barely two minutes later you were opening the front door and letting your mum into Harry’s house. It was possibly the weirdest situation you had ever been in and you didn’t have the slightest idea why she'd be here.

“Mum, what are you doing here? You can’t just show up like this!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms when her eyes landed on Harry’s knit sweater. Both of you were in a severe rush to get your clothes back on and you opted to greet her so he’d have a little more time to sort himself out. He was as hard as anything upstairs and there was no way he was coming back down without trying to get rid of it. 

“I can and I will. You lied to me, y/n. I thought telling me about you two was so you wouldn’t lie.”

“I couldn’t exactly openly say that I’m spending the afternoon with Harry, could I? You’re being so weird about us still and Dad doesn’t even know.”

“That’s why I’m here. I can’t keep it a secret anymore! You know how dad is, every time he flashes those puppy eyes or makes me dinner I’m ready to spill everything. He knows I’m hiding something. You two need to tell him and-” she stopped herself abruptly, “where even is Harry? This is for all of us to talk about not just you and me. He hasn’t even come to talk to me too, by the way. Just so you know.”

“I apologise for that,” Harry interjected, making himself known as he walked down the stairs to join you two. He seemed settled enough and far more nonchalant than you were. You still felt and probably looked all flushed and nervous. 

It wasn’t every day your mum interrupted you about to give your boyfriend a fucking blowjob. Hiding where you were was for that exact reason. Because she simply couldn’t deal with you two being alone in his house yet and you knew it. 

“I haven’t seen you since y/n told me you knew and I felt it was important for all of us to discuss it together. I wasn’t avoiding you by any means, Jules.” He flashed that smooth buttery smile as he stood beside you, resting his hand on your lower back. “Should I put the kettle on? Or would you rather have a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?”

You had never been more grateful for Harry’s effortless ability to charm women. In a second your mum went from alarmed and ready to tell Harry off to calm and pliant. Part of you fucking hated it, the other was glad she wasn’t giving you that panicked look anymore. 

Barely five minutes later all three of you were sitting on Harry’s dining table with wines in hand. The atmosphere felt like something you had to fight your way through just to breathe. It was awkward and a little tense, something you hoped it wouldn’t be after your mum gave her support to your relationship. But she was clearly upset that he hadn’t spoken to her. 

It was understandable to a degree but at the same time, if Harry was a boy your age she wouldn’t want to grill him so fucking hard. She’d probably call your relationship cute and sweet and ask questions about his family and any siblings. 

Instead, she was asking him the same questions she asked you already, trying to watch with her own eyes whether Harry was earnest and truthful about his affection for you. The wine she drank drove her questions, none thankfully which were about your sex life. She had no problems asking Harry if he worried about dying at 70 and leaving you young at 50 years old, though, which wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Mum. Seriously, what are these questions? If he was my age would you ask that?” You scolded, getting a headache. She had no ill intentions of course and she only wanted the best for you, but the way she was grilling Harry was killing you. 

“I want to know if he’s seriously thought about it, y/n. That’s all.” Mum defended. “Have you thought about it?”

Truthfully, until she asked the question the thought had never crossed your mind. Now, you were definitely going to think about it. 

“It’s okay, y/n. She’s just worried as any mother should be.” Harry tried to assure you, bringing your intertwined fingers to his mouth to kiss the back of your hand. He hid it well, but even Harry was taken aback by her questioning and it took a lot to surprise him. He flashed a calm smile before turning to your mum, “I think about our future every day, Jules, and I don’t take it lightly. I just want to make y/n happy. That’s all I want. If I give her 2 years, 5 years, 40 years of happiness I’ll be happy.” 

The thought of that made you giddy. Not the idea of your relationship being limited to two years, but knowing that this could be the rest of your life. 

“Hm.” Your mum responded, sipping her wine. “Okay, well I know where you live so any problems and I know where to find you.” 

“Yes, you do.” Harry chuckled, resting his arm on the back of your chair. His fingers found your hair and he fiddled with it in his fingers. It was hard for either of you to forget what was so rudely interrupted earlier. 

Your mum’s eyes drifted to his fingers playing with your hair and you could see the soften of fondness drift in her expression. All she wanted was to make sure you were okay and happy and while her grilling may have annoyed you, you knew it was because she loved you and nothing else. Harry wasn’t a twenty-something-year-old, he was 17 years older than you so your mum had every right to make sure he was treating you well. Especially since you were neighbours for years. 

“Well I’m happy,” Mum finished off her glass and stood up from the table, “now you two are coming for dinner. I’ll give you half an hour and you better make sure you look more put together than you do now.” 

“Mum-” you tried to interject, standing abruptly from the table as well. 

“No. You need to tell your dad. I can’t keep this a secret any longer and neither should you two.” She looked at Harry briefly, but you both knew that this whole situation fell on your shoulders. 

You looked down at Harry who was already looking up at you. He nodded gently, reading the question from your one look. Standing up, he squeezed your shoulder before letting his hand fall to your waist. 

“We’ll be there. It’ll be nice to finally have everything out in the open.” He squeezed your waist, trying to ease some of the anxiety clawing its way up your throat. You nodded and pressed your hand to his lower back, fisting his hoodie. 

“We’ll see you then, mum.” 

Neither you nor Harry could relax once she left. There was no going back to what was interrupted so all you could do was go back upstairs to clean up a little better, which really was just brushing your hair and Harry changing into something a little nicer. You were going to stay in his jumper and your sweats because it was the only clothes you had, but Harry wasn’t one to show up in a sweat set for dinner with your parents, especially when it was such a heavy evening. 

You just hoped that your dad wasn’t going to explode. That he’d have a reaction calm enough that you’d be able to discuss it all without anyone yelling. Your dad was kind and generous and he loved you more than anything, but he was also protective. Fiercely protective. The first time you were hurt by a boy as a young teen he almost went to that boy's house to confront him and it wasn’t to have a chat. 

Him and Harry were… friendly but not exceptionally close. You always found it a little odd that Harry never wanted to become friends with anyone in the neighbourhood, even when he had common interests with them. Both Harry and your dad liked golf and soccer and yet they never did more than a casual chat over the fence or at a barbecue Harry only attended once in a blue moon. 

Now… you were grateful for the distance Harry kept because it meant their relationship was pleasant but not close enough for there to be some sort of loyalty. There was no betrayal for dating someone a bit younger than your parents. No sides where your dad could feel offended for you dating a friend of his. 

Still, there was no prediction of what his reaction would be. 

“Mum, dad! We’re here!” You called through the house as you both walked towards the living area. Harry held your hand tightly, walking closely beside you until you entered kitchen. Once you were in view of your parents he let go of your hand as per what you two agreed. You wanted to settle into dinner before you said anything to your dad, so for now you had to act like you just went over to visit him and your mum extended the invitation for dinner. 

“Hey pumpkin,” Dad greeted immediately, leaving his pot on the stove unattended while he approached you immediately for a hug. “How are you? Missed you.” He squeezed. 

“‘M good. Tired. How was work?” You hugged him back, smiling at the feeling of him kissing the top of your head while he released you from the hug. 

“Same old, P.” He shrugged, squeezing your shoulder before moving onto Harry. “Harry, mate. How are you? ” Tim greeted with a wide grin, extending his hand for Harry to shake until they went into one of those quick bro hugs. “Glad you could join us!”

“‘Course, thank you so much for having me.” Harry smiled back.

Dad was as happy as anything with Harry being present, especially after Harry offered one of the more expensive wine bottles from his collection as a gift. They got into immediate conversation while Dad got back to cooking and Harry joined him. He offered his help and wound up pouring Mum and you a glass of that expensive wine each. Your mum definitely didn’t need it, but you sure as hell did.

It was such a nice domestic scene to watch. The way Harry so effortlessly conversed with your parents and made himself at home in your kitchen to help out was fucking sexy, that’s what it was. Your mum and you were able to just sit at the island bench and watch while your partners did all the work, which is exactly how it was when it was just you and Harry. Of course, only three of you in the room knew the truth, but even so, there was no akwardness or tension in the air.

You were sure that would change once your dad found out, but your mum was as happy as anything and she did know. It was like the conversation you had barely an hour ago settled all the nerves in her stomach. That or she was in her happy place watching dad cook so having Harry easily join into that arrangement made it easier for her to like him.

“Maybe I am a fan of Harry because not only do I get to look at one, but two very sexy men in the kitchen.” Mum whispered to you before exploding in a fit of drunk giggles. You gasped but joined her in her laughter, happy that she was able to joke and relax… even if it was a little weird for her to call your boyfriend sexy.

“What are you two giggling about?” Harry mused, sipping his wine through a smile while looking directly at you.

“It’s better if you don’t know, mate. My wife has a habit of objectifying men.” Dad joked, turning around with the pot of gnocchi to serve it into the bowls Harry got out for him. 

“I do not! That’s slander. Defamation.” Mum defended. 

“Well, I’m flattered.” Harry laughed while grabbing the bottle of wine to offer a refill, “Y/n, would you like some more?”

Truthfully it was hard for you to concentrate on anything being said because if there was one thing your mother did get right, it was that Harry was a sexy man. You had never felt the loss of your interruption more than now. His navy sweater was pushed up to his elbows and he had one hand pressed to the bench while the held the bottle in the other. All you could focus on was his tattooed forearm and the veins in his hand. He was ringless as you two were relaxing after he got home from work and there wasn’t much point putting them back on when he wanted his knuckles deep inside you at some point during the night. 

The absence of his rings did nothing to diminish his attractiveness though because somehow the missing pieces allowed your eyes to focus on his veins instead. The way they made his arm look stronger and his fingers longer… how they tensed and protruded when he gripped your thigh or your throat. All you could fucking think about was him wrapping that same veiny hand around his cock to guide it to your mouth or pussy. 

Jesus…

“y/n?” 

“Hm?” You blinked, suddenly coming back into focus, “Oh, um yeah. Yes please.” 

You sat a little taller and slid your glass towards Harry, finding a cheeky fucking smirk on his face. He said nothing, but you could read everything in his expression. Harry pressed his tongue against his cheek while pouring your wine, focused on the way you bit down on your bottom lip. It was an anxious habit you had since before you two even became friends and was one of the first things he noticed about you that drove him crazy.

Now all he wanted to do was reach against the bench and tug your lip free to correct the behaviour. Seeing you be so enthusiastic at the mention of rope and toys had him going fucking crazy and now it was all he could think about. Having you bent over against his bed while he spanked you or spread wide and tied up for him so he could overstimulate you with a vibrator. 

He was fucked. His cock was still sore as he couldn’t exactly nut one out with your mum downstairs and his mind was dizzy just at the sight of you sitting there all cozy in his sweater. You were makeup free and flushed from wine and it was one of his favourite sights. He loved you in anything really, or nothing at all, but being in your kitchen with your parents and cooking together and enjoying wine like it was a normal occurrence stirred something in him.

It stroked that box inside of him that yearned for a family. The box you had cracked open and kept open just by being you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, suddenly aching for his touch. You just wanted to cuddle into him or hold his hand or anything. 

“You’re welcome, love.” He smiled, moving onto your mum. 

“Alright, dinner’s served. Pumpkin would you mind taking these to the table?” Dad motioned to the bowl of freshly grated parmesan and the salt and pepper shakers. You nodded and grabbed the items, tucking the shakers under your arm so you could carry your wine over to the table at the same time.

Soon Dad and Harry brought the bowls of gnocchi over to the table and you were all happily chatting away. Your mum made a very strategic play of ensuring Harry sat beside you, which was quite easy when she clung to your dad like they just started dating. 

Their affection was one thing you always admired about them. Even after all this time they still hugged and kissed and showed those quiet displays of affection. A peck on the cheek or holding her chair out before she even had an opportunity to sit down in it. Cracking pepper over her food without even needing to be asked because he knew she liked it. A hand on the small of her back and him carrying her shopping bags like the thought of her lifting a single finger even in an activity she enjoyed was torturous.

It was why you found the small gestures Harry did so much more gratifying than any big ones. The every day little things he did, possibly without even thinking about them that just made you feel special and important. His good morning texts and check-ins to ask if you had eaten or drank water, which you always forgot to do in your heavy study grinds. The daily goodnight phone calls where he asked about your day, which yeah sure, bare minimum, but he just treated you like you were the most important thing on the planet. 

It was why you were so head over heels in love with him.

“Dad, I have to tell you something.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out, really. Not in the middle of everyone enjoying their gnocchi anyway but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to talk about it after dinner so if anything went pear shaped at the very least your food wasn’t ruined, but the more you thought about it the more anxious you got and you didn’t want to put it off any longer. 

“Okay…” Dad’s eyes flicked to Harry briefly and you could see the look of concern flash in his eyes. “Everything okay, y/n?”

“Yes. Yes everythings fine I just…” This time it was your turn to look at Harry, whose gaze was soft and adoring. He immediately stopped eating to gave his full attention to you and found your fingers underneath the table for support. “I’m seeing someone.”

Your dad’s eyes widened in surprise and he was quick to look at your mum, “Oh wow. Wow. Did you know about this?” 

She nodded, “Yes. Not for long though.”

“Okay… shit, okay. First boyfriend, I hope. Unless you hid another relationship from me?” His tone was light and you just coughed out an uneasy laugh in response.

“Nope. First one, Dad.”

Harry tried to hide his amusement by rubbing his spare hand over his mouth. He made brief eye contact with Jules across the table who shared a similar expression. Hers was also laced with stress, but she flashed him a smile anyway.

“Well that’s fantastic.” Dad declared, spooning another scoop of his gnocchi into his mouth. “Who is he? Do I know him?...” He spoke between chews, “Is he that boy from your birthday last year? Y’know the one I didn’t like?”

“Um no not him, but you do know him. He’s really kind and funny… even plays golf like you do.” You chuckled at the way your dad’s eyes seemed to light up at that information. The entire time you spoke Harry kept his hand in yours and smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand. “He’s sweet and has a dog-”

“You love dogs.” Dad pointed out, to which you nodded with a smile.

“I do. He treats me really well and… well, I’m really happy with him Dad. Really happy.” 

“That’s all I want for you, pumpkin, you know that.” Dad smiled at you fondly, sipping his wine. “So who is he, then? Better not be one of my boys.” He referred to his company, hoping it wasn’t one of the idiots he had working for him. They were good on the tools but for the most part had no fucking idea how to treat a woman. His daughter especially.

“It’s Harry.” 

You just had to say it. You had built up his character in hopes to make a smooth introduction, but all that happened when you brought your intertwined fingers up onto the table was dead fucking silence. The mood disappeared instantly and a whirlwind of emotions circulated in the air. Dad didn’t say anything, Harry didn’t say anything, no one said anything. 

“Dad?” You swallowed thickly after what felt like an eternity of silence, watching his eyes flick between your face, Harry’s face then your held hands on the table.

“You’re lying. This is a joke right?” Dad laughed, suddenly standing from the table. “This is just some stupid joke for tiktak or facebook or whatever, right?”

“No… Dad, it’s not a trick. I’m not lying to you.” You stood from the table, pressing your hands to the top of it to keep you steady. His immediate reaction freaked you out and you weren’t sure where it was going to go from here.

“Y/n, he’s double your age. Are you serious!?” He snapped, jaw clenched.

“I am. I am serious.”

“And you knew about this?” His head whipped to your mum, “You knew she was dating him and let it happen?” Mum didn’t get a chance to respond before he was looking back at you, eyes showing just how hurt and angry he was about your relationship. “Y/n. My office.  Now.”

He had never spoken down at you like that before. Even as a child your dad was always gentle and corrected behavior rather than yelled to tell you off. He always heard you out, always. When you wanted to move away for school he was so damn against it because he thought it was a waste when there were good schools, even better ones closer by. But he listened to you and your reasoning. 

He hadn’t even given you an opportunity to reason with him yet. 

“No.” You shook your head, watching his eyes widen in surprise at your clear disagreement. “You have always given me the benefit of the doubt, dad. Always. Just let me talk and explain. Please.”

“This is ridiculous.” Dad spat, running his hand through his hair in utter disbelief of what was going on.

“Tim, please. I’ve listened to both of them and I think you should too.” This time it was your mum’s turn to step in. She put a gentle hand on his arm and you could visibly see the way your dad started to calm down a little bit. “She’s happy.” Her tone grew soft, as did her eyes. 

“Please, Dad.”

Your Dad looked over to you, then to Harry then back to you like you were his final destination. You flashed a pleading look, one he had never resisted before. It was like the cogs were visibly turning in his head and there was another long pause before he grabbed the half-opened bottle of wine on the table and filled his glass to the brim.

He collapsed down in his chair and chugged half the glass then placed it back down on the table. You looked over at Harry and you both excganhed a look of both concern and confusion, not really sure where this was going to go.

“Alright, y/n. I’m listening.”

You spent the next half hour explaining everything. You wanted to be as honest as possible about your relationship without exposing the entire truth because you didn’t really need him knowing that you and Harry hooked up for weeks before dating. All he needed to know was that there was attraction there but you didn’t want to start anything because of the many reasons there were. And that part was the truth.

And he genuinely listened. His initial shock and disagreement for it had faded away a little bit and he was actually able to listen and ask questions and try and understand what you two had going on. You could kind of tell that everything you said just didn’t click with him, but he wasn’t reacting that way. For the most part his grilling was towards Harry and while part of you was happy to be out of the firing line, the other was worried that Harry was in it.

“So her age isn’t some weird kink of yours?” 

“Dad!” you scolded, slowly sinking down into your chair. It was like your parents had no filter. That or they just didn’t care about boundaries or how things came across.

“It’s okay, y/n.” Harry assured you, just like he did when your mum asked her death questions. Mum seemed to go worst case scenario with everything while your dad automatically assumed everyone was out to get you. It was an only child thing. “No, Tim, it isn’t. Y/n is the youngest woman I’ve ever dated in comparison to myself, yes, but that isn’t the reason I love her. In the beginning it was actually one of the reasons I didn’t want to pursue things with her but as we became friends… I realised that we had so much in common that it was hard to ignore how I felt about her. I think I knew from the moment things changed that she was different to any other woman I’ve met. There are infinite reasons I love her and care for her.”

It was question and answer just like that, and every single time Harry was able to provide some answer that had you absolutely swooning over him. Even the most awkward just fucked questions, Harry had no reaction to them. Nothing phased him. It was like he had prepared answers for everything that might come his way. 

“Okay, I’ve heard you two so now I think you should hear me.” Dad clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.” 

You went to protest his opinion but he quickly shut you down and glared at you. “Ah.” He tutted before continuing to speak. “I don’t think this is a good idea because he’s just too old for you, pumpkin. You two can love each other and have fun and think that this is forever, but you’re not realistic and I don’t think it’ll work in the long run. For kids, for life experiences, for everything. Your age gap will always dictate everything you do and I don’t want that for you.”

Harry grabbed your hand under the table and squeezed it tight, providing comfort you so desperately needed. Every word your dad said was just hurting you more and more. If your mum could see the potential in your relationship, why couldn’t he?

“I know you two don’t need my blessing and you’ll just keep seeing each other anyway, but I can’t agree with it.” Dad shook his head and stood up suddenly, “You’re happiness is my happiness, y/n so I won’t stay in the way, but don’t expect anything more from me than the bare minimum. Understand?”

You just nodded, a little at loss for words. It wasn’t the worst outcome in the world, but it also wasn’t the best. Your dreams of everyone getting along suddenly seemed so far away. Dad looked at you like you were still his sun, moon and stars but when he looked at Harry… it was like he hated him. A solid unwavering dislike that lasted generations and all it took was him finding out Harry was a whole lot more than your neighbour.

To think less than an hour ago your Dad and Harry were laughing like they were best friends and now… they were practically strangers.

“I understand your hesitation but I want you to know that I’d never hurt your daughter. This is the most serious I have ever been in my life about anyone and I hope one day you can see that.” Harry stood up from the table as well, extending his hand across your cold, forgotten food as a gesture of good will to your Dad. 

But all Dad did was look down at Harry’s olive branch then back up at his face. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. I have work in the morning.” 

Harry’s hand fell to his side but he didn’t look deterred at all. If this situation was in reverse and this was Harry’s family… you’d be in tears. Dad bid goodnight to your mum as he usually did then rounded the table to hug you too. It was brief and distant enough to make your heart ache. Still, he whispered an ‘I love you’ before leaving the room without another look at Harry.

“Well…” Mum announced, grabbing the second bottle of wine that emerged on the table sometime during your discussion to pour herself another glass. She clearly wasn’t going to work tomorrow. Luckily her husband was her business partner. She took a happy sip and looked at both you and Harry over the rim. “I don’t know about you two but I think that went a lot better than I expected.”

You knew she was right, but it didn’t really feel that way. 

“He’ll come around.” Harry shrugged, starting to stack the dishes so he could take them to the kitchen. “In time.”

Yeah… in time. 

//

“Mr. Styles, you’ve got a visitor.” Sharon opened his office door, peaking in just enough for him to see her face.

He replied without looking up, focused on the document in front of him. “Who? I’ve got an appointment with Niall in 10.” 

“Y/n? She said you’ll make time for her.” 

Yeah fucking right he was going to make time for her. His eyes snapped to hers quickly and she could see how his irritation had disappeared into thin air. 

“Do you want me to bring her in?” She continued, pointing behind her. 

Trying to hide his excitement, he set his pen down and quickly stood up, buttoning up his suit jacket. “No. I’ll go and get her.”

She had a mischievous smile playing on her lips and flashed a knowing look to her boss, someone she managed to create a pleasant working relationship with. 

“She must be special for you to go get her yourself.” There was a slight tease in her tone as she walked alongside Harry down the hall to where you were standing in the small waiting lounge. You hadn’t been back since that day Harry took you to Pleasing. You had often met in the city for lunch but never at his office. This time you wanted to surprise him. 

“What did I tell you about speculating about my personal life?” His tone was humorous, but Sharon knew he was being serious. 

“Right. Sorry. You just never have anyone visit.”

“I’m kidding, Sharon. She’s very special. She’s the love of my life.”

A soft smile played on her lips. Harry was a serious guy basically all the time. Seeing him look so happy was a nice change. She had noticed that he seemed happier recently too and more relaxed at work than usual. “Let me know if you need anything cancelled.” 

“Thank you.” His thanks was brief, a murmur like he didn’t mean the words because there you were sitting all pretty on one of the sofas scrolling away at your phone. You had one of the tote bags Harry bought you beside you and it looked full to the brim. It was one of the bags you two had matching, as were the pair of gazelles on your feet. You saw them in an ad online and told Harry how much you liked them and he was quick to order you a pair. You didn’t show them to him so he’d buy them for you but he liked to spoil you. They were cheap and Harry quite liked the look of them as well so he decided to buy himself a pair too. 

You always got so shy when he bought you something, always grateful. When he asked you why you got like that, you explained it wasn’t the item, but the thought behind it. He noticed everything to the point you were convinced he was writing notes or had tabs on your browser history because he was always showing up with something you made a passing comment about. 

Even the very same shoes you had on your feet. He showed up to his routine night at your house wearing his and was like a giddy kid giving you the box with your own pair in it. 

“Oh my god, you got the shoes! They look so good on you.” You beamed, eyes immediately drawn to his feet. They were the third thing you noticed about him. After his pretty face, his pretty mouth and those black joggers he wore when he wanted to be super comfy. They always managed to turn you on a crazy amount. 

Harry knew that too of course.

“I got you a pair too.” He smiled widely, practically throwing his overnight bags on your bed so he could open one of them to take out the shoe box. You thought you were bad with the amount of shit you took with you on your sleepovers, but no, Harry was just as bad. Worse even. He had some comfy clothes stashed at your place but if he was staying a weekend he always brought multiple outfit options and his entire stash of toiletries. 

It was sexy. You felt like a rich housewife when you laid on your bed watching him get dressed while he asked for your opinion on everything. 

“You didn’t!” Your mouth gaped in shock, grabbing onto the shoe box to open it. You didn’t expect to find the exact same pair as Harry’s inside, but it was a pleasant surprise to find that he had gone out and bought matching shoes for you two. It was possibly the cutest thing ever. “Matching shoes?” You smiled, looking up at him from the box.

He suddenly appeared very shy, like the very idea of being one of those couples who had matching clothes and outfits was a stupid idea. A sheepish expression flashed over his face and he tucked his hands behind his back like a dog tucked their tail between their legs. “Yeah… but if you don’t like them I can return them. Or even if you don’t like the colour we can swap th-” 

You interrupted him by chucking the box on your bed and pulling his face down to yours to give him a big thank-you kiss. “I love them.” You assured him before kissing him again. He smiled into it, wrapping his arms around your body to lean back and lift you off the floor until your tippy toes skimmed the rug. “Thanks for being the best sugar daddy ever.” 

Harry’s laugh broke the kiss while he set you back down on the floor. “Does that mean I get sugar in return then? Since I bought you shoes and dinner.” He let his hands crawl down to your ass, squeezing your cheeks through your leggings with both hands.

“Fuck off.” You hit his chest, trying to act like you didn’t want to give him sugar when in reality you had been waiting to see him all day in hopes he was horny. He usually was. “I’m not an object. You can’t buy me.”

“I can’t?” He raised a brow, “I saw you look at my cock the moment I walked in, y/n. Had you in the palm of my hand just because I wore the sweatpants you like.” Harry had this cocky shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to hit him. Because he was right. All it took was a simple pair of (expensive) sweatpants and you were ready to spread your legs for him. And he brought shoes and dinner? Maybe you could be bought.

Who were you kidding, you definitely could be bought. 

“You’re annoying.” You huffed, grabbing the collar of his to pull him in for a kiss. It only lasted a second before you pulled back, rolling your eyes at the pure look of satisfaction on his face. “Just because you’re right this time doesn’t mean you’re right all the time.”

“No?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, using his hands on your ass so he could pick you up and set you down on the bed. “You want to test that theory?” 

You watched as he smoothly shoved all his belongings (and your shoes) off the bed before taking his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. He grabbed the back of both collars near his neck to do so and fuck. You never understood why it was so sexy when men removed their shirts like that and yet it had you sweating.

“I’m up for some experimentation...”

The sight of you standing from the sofa broke him free from the memory, which was probably best because you were wearing those jeans that made your ass look incredible and the memory associated to them was heading down a reverse cowgirl lane. He didn’t exactly want to be getting hard in the middle of his office. 

“Hi.” You beamed, quickly tucking your phone into your back pocket and slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“Hi…” Harry beamed, immediately drawing you in for a tight hug. You smiled into it, careful not to get makeup on his expensive suit. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have classes today?” He asked, pulling back while letting his hands rest on your hips. 

“I skipped.” You shrugged, “It was just a lecture anyway and I wanted to finish work off at home. I wanted to surprise you too.” You smiled softly, resting your hands on his chest. 

“I’m so happy you’re here, baby. Truly.” he squeezed your hips, biting down on his bottom lip as his expression turned almost painful. “But Niall will be here in five minutes... I can cancel, though. I will cancel.” 

“About that…” you looked away for a moment, making brief eye contact with a random girl at her desk who seemed far more interested in you and Harry than her work. “I’m Niall.”

“Since when?” He shot back, laughing softly. “No. Seriously. Since when?”

“Stop.” You protested, poking his chest at his teasing. “I wanted to make sure we had time and… well it was kind of fun, actually.” You admitted, watching his eyes twinkle at your admission, “I even called pretending to be his assistant.”

Harry laughed loudly, head tilting back in that gorgeous wide smile that you adored of his. His happiness seemed to capture the attention of anyone nearby and you suddenly felt quite overwhelmed with all the eyes on you two. You didn’t particularly dress up to see him and compared to everyone else in their business attire, you looked extremely casual and young. 

“You could’ve just texted me, baby. I would’ve made time for you.” 

He was so free with his affection for you. So willing to show you off. He wasn’t hiding that you two were a couple or even toning anything down. It made you feel so special. So important. 

It felt so free knowing that your parents knew about him. Even if Dad was pretty against it, mum was happy for you. She was happy that you finally found someone who you deemed worthy to date you and who made you happy and one was better than none. 

You were just so scared to tell them about the trip. Knowing that your mum was willing to accept your relationship made the whole world of difference but your anxiety was at an all time high. Now that everything was in the open, it felt like you two could move on to the next stage of your relationship as well as the next steps Harry had to take with his family situation. While it was his family and a problem that existed before you two even met, you were going to be there on the trip for him in whatever capacity he needed. 

You didn’t want to get involved because families could be so messy and it truly wasn’t your place, but you wanted to support him. You were going to support him.

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” You replied in a ‘duh’ tone before widening your tote bag to show him its contents. “See. I brought sushi for lunch.”

After everything he’s been doing for you to get ready for your trip, you felt like it was a nice gesture to bring him lunch as a bit of a thank you. It wasn’t the end of your gratitude and not the first thank you, but it was a start. Harry was even going as far as offering his credit card to you for any pre-trip shopping as well as a designated shopping day to buy you anything you may need. He knew you well enough to know you were already looking for new dresses and swimsuits and options on options for clothing and wanted to cover all of it. He bought you things he thought you’d like (or selfishly just because he wanted to see you in them) and had already sat through a clothing haul and it had barely been a week since he booked your flight. 

He just loved to spend his money on you. It was almost a turn-on for him to see you enjoy the fruits of his labour. A dress he thought you’d look pretty in or a pair of shoes you had your eye on. He liked to keep your belly full and your heart happy and wanted nothing more than for you to be taken care of in any way. It wasn’t to diminish your hard work or make you feel like you couldn’t afford the things you wanted, just because he fucking loved you more than anything. 

You felt a little bad that he was covering the trip, especially since your flight was booked much later than it should’ve been and ended up being quite pricey (not that he let you know the exact price anyway) but you could also tell that Harry was happy to pay for it. He showed genuine pleasure and excitement for it and there wasn’t a hint of him that felt apprehension or like you somehow owed him for the trip. He was happy that you were joining him, no matter the cost.

You used that happiness of his to try and not feel as guilty for the trip. When you told your friends about it they thought you were crazy for ever feeling guilty in the first place. Before you two even started sleeping together, you’d fantasise about having a rich man buy you nice things and take you wherever you wanted and now that it was actually happening, you felt anxious about it.

But you wanted to enjoy it and you obviously would when you were in the Italian sun with a spritz in one hand and an ice cream in the other… you just needed to give back a little. You had your eye on a nice shirt for him and already started researching restaurants to go to in Italy that you could treat him to. You promised yourself you’d take him to one fancy, romantic dinner and what better place than the home to pizza and gelato?

Harry’s eyes beamed literal hearts as he squeezed your hips and leaned in to kiss you. It was a little unexpected since Harry was very particular about his job and you two were in the middle of his office, but it was a good unexpected. It was gentle, innocent, a loving peck before he pulled back and smiled down at you.

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” You blushed, not really used to the amount of PDA you two were doing right now. 

“Come on.” He nudged, smirking at your shy reaction. “We’ll go eat in my office.” 

He let you walk slightly ahead of him but kept his hand on your lower back to guide you to the right place. Last time you were here you didn’t get inside his office so you had no idea where you were going.  

“Can’t believe you’re here. I missed you.” He murmured, shutting the door behind you two and then immediately grabbing your face to kiss you properly. A peck simply wasn’t enough. After the full-on week you two had, he had missed this. Missed you. He hated when things were complicated and spending time with you like a normal couple was his favourite thing in the world. 

“I missed you too.” You giggled, clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket while kissing him multiple times. He smiled into the kiss and kissed a few kisses down your jaw to your neck. A pretty little pant whimpered into his ear and that’s when he had to stop himself before he got too ahead of himself. 

“Come on, baby. Sit next to me.” He smiled, grabbing your bag from you and setting it down on his desk. “How’s your day been?” 

“Boring.” You groaned, watching him beeline to one of the arm chairs in front of his desk so he could drag it beside his wheely chair, “I finished one of my smaller assignments last night and today I worked on one of my final ones. It’s literally due next week and worth like 40% of my grade and I feel like I’ll never get it done in time. I’ve barely studied for my exams either and I just feel so shit. I’m over it.” You whined out the complaint, feeling like your head was going to explode.

You had so many things on your mind at once, it was hard to keept track of it all. There was so much left to do for your trip but you barely had any time for it all and you still needed to deep clean your apartment before you left. Most of your clothes were there, but you had so much at your parents’ too that you needed to go through and they didn’t even know about the trip yet. You felt like you were going to be in such a rush towards the end.

Luckily Harry had taken care of practically all the travel essentials, so all you needed to worry about was packing. It still felt like a mammoth of a task when you were swamped with everything else going on in your life. 

“I know it’s hard, baby but you’re doing so well,” Harry praised, pulling his nice chair out for you to sit down. “You’ve been working so hard and you’re so close,” he let you sit down before pushing the chair in for you before sitting down beside you, “You just have to stick it out a bit more. It’s only two weeks.” 

“I know.” You sighed, helping him to unpack the food you bought from your tote bag. “Everything’s happening so fast, I just feel so unprepared.”

“Well you’ve got me to help, okay? So just focus on your studies and I’ll help you with everything else. We’ve got time and all the important things are taken care of. I’ll help you clean your place and pack and whatever else you need. Don’t stress.” He assured you, giving you a comforting squeeze on your knee.

“Thank you,” You smiled, squeezing his chin to bring him in for a quick peck before you looked at the array of trays and small bites you grabbed to share with him. It was what you usually did when you went out to eat so you two could try a little bit of everything. “My mum called too…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… she was talking about you again. It’s all she talks about and she’s always asking if I’ve seen you recently. I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s jealous I see you more than her.” You laughed.

“I keep bumping into her on my morning runs more than usual. I have a feeling its on purpose.” Harry laughed in return.

“Yeah that sounds like her…” 

“And your dad?” He nudged your shoulder, “I haven’t seen him since we had dinner. Is he coming around to the idea of us yet?”

“He is. Sort of. I don’t know, Harry, he seems a bit distant towards me. We usually call every couple of days and he’s still doing it but it… feels different. I haven’t even told them about the trip and I don’t want to put it off but I feel like he’ll be really upset.” 

“You haven’t told them yet?” Harry blinked, “Y/n we spoke about this. You were meant to tell them over the weekend.” He sighed, almost like he was disappointed in you. You both agreed that you had to tell them sooner rather than later. You wanted to give your dad a few days to process your relationship before telling him because you couldn’t really leave it any longer than that. 

It was just shit timing. The trip was coming so fast and your parents found out about you two so close to when you were leaving. Way too close. 

“I know. I know.” You replied, groaning a little. “It’s just shit timing.”

“I know, y/n, and they might be upset about it but we leave in two weeks. You need to tell them.” He stressed. You hated when he spoke to you like that. It wasn’t rude or condescending in any way but you could tell he was a little annoyed about it. He had every right to be because this was something you had to do and you didn’t want to fight about it or start anything unnecessarily when you were in the wrong. 

You also just didn’t have the energy to deal with it.  

“I hate when you’re right. It’s annoying.” You sighed, trying to lighten the mood by laughing softly. Harry knew this was a conversation that didn’t end here, but he could sense your reluctance in it all. He was happy to entertain a small break from it, but it seriously was something that had to be dealt with. 

“Well I get it from my mum so if I’m annoying so is she.” Harry smirked, expertly picking up a piece of sashimi with his chopsticks before popping it into his mouth. 

“No, never! Anne is like a ray of sunshine. She can be right whenever she wants” 

“And I can’t ?” He laughed, “that seems unfair.”

Harry wasn’t sure why the sound of his mother’s name on your lips made his heart beat so goddamn fast, but he nearly dropped the sushi from his mouth at how casual and normal it was. He loved it. Adored it. He hoped that you two meeting in person would be as successful as it was via Zoom. 

Harry also hoped that her concerns for your relationship would disappear once you two were face to face. You’d have ample opportunity to spend time together on your trip and he hoped that it would solidify what you two had. The future you two had. 

Anne’s concerns were valid and Harry knew that it was something that would come up time and time again with everyone that met you. 

“She’s just so… young. She’s a gorgeous girl and so sweet, I can see why you like her but are you being realistic? I just don’t want you getting hurt, H,” Anne sighed through the phone, “Young women want to be free and I just don’t want you two to get a year, two years in and you’re ready to slow down while she’s just getting started. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.” 

“I love her, Mum and if anything her age has been better for me. I feel like I'm enjoying my life in a way that’s completely different from when I was single. I’m learning so many things and so is she. It hasn’t been easy by any means, but it’s working.” 

“Well, as long as you’re sure…”

“I am.” 

“I saw she’s wearing my necklace too,” She continued after a beat of silence, “She must mean a lot to you.”

“She does, mum. She means everything to me. I can’t explain it but I just know she’s my forever.”

“Well it’s nice to see you so happy. It’s been a long time since you’ve smiled so much. I missed it.”

“I missed it too.”

“You’re just saying it’s unfair because I’m on her side and not yours.” You grinned, breaking him free from his daze. 

“If this is going to be another Archie situation where my mother loves you more than me…” he waved his chopsticks towards you, making you giggle. 

“Oh it absolutely will be. I’ve been texting her y’know. We follow each other on Instagram now.” 

“You’re kidding.” He gawked, all wide eyed. 

“Nope. When she found out I was coming to England she was so excited.” 

“Yeah I’m sure. You’re her favourite and she’s only known you for a week.” Harry sighed dramatically, eliciting a little shove of his arm. He grinned and squished your face to draw you in for a kiss, loving the way he could taste and feel every emotion you two were feeling in that moment. Words could lie but a kiss never could. 

“I’m serious though, y/n...” He murmured against your lips before pulling away while keeping his hand on your jaw. His thumb brushed against your cheek, caressing your soft skin. “You need to tell them tonight.”

“I’m scared.” You whispered. “I’m going either way, obviously, but I’m so worried they’ll be really upset with me. You know I hate upsetting them.” 

“I know baby, I get it.” Harry dropped his hand from your cheek and relaxed back to his chair. “The timing is shit and I know if this trip was in a couple of months it would be easier for them to handle, but this is your life, y/n. We’ve done nothing wrong by going on a trip and I’m sure if they can accept our relationship, they can deal with a holiday. You’re an adult and so am I.”

“Maybe you’re right...”  

“Baby all we did was fall in love.” He sensed your apprehension and wanted to try and convince you otherwise. He tipped your chin towards him so you were looking at him before grabbing both of your hands in his. “Your dad might not be happy with us dating or going overseas or any of it but I can make him understand. I know deep down that all he wants is for you to be happy and… I can prove that to him. You’re important to me, y/n. The most important person in my life.” He reached out to fiddle with the little pearls around your neck. Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling all kinds of nervous at his words. “If I were a father, all I’d want for my little girl is to know she was being loved and cared for. That she’s happy. No matter who she’s dating.” 

Harry wasn’t sure where it came from, putting himself in the role of a father. He could’ve phrased it in a different way, in any other way and yet it felt so right to imagine himself like that. Barely three months into being in a relationship with you and he somehow felt different about everything. 

It scared the hell out of him. 

“I am happy. I am.” Your eyes softened, glossing over ever so slightly. You squeezed his hand in both of yours,. “And I know you’re right. I just want us to skip to the good part where we’re together with our families, y’know. I loved meeting your mum and even just having dinner with you and my parents was amazing… before I opened my mouth.” You laughed softly but it was over before it even started because you just found yourself overcome with so much emotion. Through everything, Harry never failed to know what to say or how to make you feel better. It sometimes felt like he had a read on you before you even knew what you were feeling. “I just want us to be happy.” You whispered, reaching up to cup his face, “I love you so much Harry. I’ve never felt like this, ever. You’re my person. I want everyone to know that.”

You’re my person. 

You’re. My. Person. 

Harry repeated the phrase in his mind over and over, nearly bursting at the seams with how much love he felt towards you. You were his person too. Through and through. From the moment he met you he just knew there was something different about you which is why he was always drawn to you. And now he had the words for it. 

You were his person. 

Harry cupped your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss, one that expressed every single emotion he felt for you. He could taste the sushi and soy sauce on your lips but he couldn’t care less. He was happy and the boring day he was having suddenly turned into the best day. 

“You’re my person too.” He breathed, panting slightly from how long the kiss had gone. “Have been from the moment I met you. I just didn’t know it.” 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was something about Harry being romantic and professing his affection that got you so unbelievably riled up, you couldn’t contain it. You couldn’t switch it off and while you could pretend it wasn’t happening or ignore the fact you already had a heartbeat between your legs, you didn’t want to.

Things were left so unfinished the other night and you always did wonder what it would be like to be bent over Harry’s desk…

“Harry I mean this so seriously, if you keep talking like that….” You breathed, watching the way his heart-eyes heated up and turned into something dark and smoldering. 

“What?” He grinned, cocking his head. “If I keep talking like that ‘what’?”

He was teasing you, trying to coax you into admitting what he already knew you wanted. 

“I won’t be able to stop myself…”

“Then don’t” Harry smirked, letting one hand slide down to loop around your neck so he could pull you in to kiss him again. You whimpered softly into his mouth, cupping his jaw while practically melting into his touch. Your other hand fell to his thigh, squeezing it in your palm while your mouths molded together in a kiss so intense your body was floating.

Were you really going to have sex right here? 

Yeah. Fuck it.

 “Baby.” He groaned against your mouth, forcing himself to pull away from you. Your chest was rising and falling quickly and all he wanted to do was get a handful of your breasts. To tug at your pebbled nipples that he could see so fucking clearly due to the soft cups of the bra you were wearing. At this point he knew exactIy what your tits looked like in all different types of bras. 

Stifling back a moan, he slid his hand back up to cup your cheek while running his thumb over your mouth. Your lips were swollen, all pink and pretty and so delicious it was almost painful to not dive back in and kiss you. “We need to stop if you don’t want things to go further.” 

“Who says I don’t want things to go further?” you breathed, grabbing onto his spare hand to bring it up to your chest. Your hand pressed over his until he squeezed a good handful of your breast, running his finger over your hard nipple. Shit. “Please.” 

“Go lock the door.” He murmured, standing up quickly out of his chair while shrugging off his suit jacket. 

You beelined to the door, thankful for the big oak doors Harry’s position afforded him. It didn’t mean you had total privacy. Walls were thin and he had huge glass windows on one side of the office. Anyone could see you two and someone could most definitely hear you.

Which is why you had to be quiet and quick. 

Harry met you halfway, crossing the floor in three quick strides to grab your face and kiss you again. Everything was happening so quickly. You were unbuttoning his pants and pulling his dress shirt out of his pants while he guided you backwards towards the small couch he had against one wall. Harry would’ve liked to bend you over his desk, but it was covered in your uneaten sushi and he had a feeling both of you would be starving after your quick fuck.

He almost couldn’t believe it was happening until he remembered all the moments you two practiced exhibitionism before. In his pool, his car and on the boat during your weekend away. He had no doubt it would happen again, most likely at Pleasing where you two could really explore all the things you wanted to. 

Harry sat back on the couch, keeping your mouths connected while he undid your jeans button and zipper. It was such an effort wearing jeans and you suddenly regretted wearing pants at all. You quickly made a mental note to wear something easier to remove if you were ever visiting Harry for ‘lunch’ again.

“Why did I have to wear jeans?” You groaned, helping him shove them down your legs to quicken the process before you stepped out of them. 

“Don’t wear pants next time.” He breathed, grabbing the back of your thighs to guide you down to straddle him. 

“I won’t.” You agreed desperately, threading your fingers through his hair while kissing him to try and keep yourself quiet. You could feel the hard length of his cock the moment you straddled him, all long and thick. You could hardly wait to get him inside you, not when he had said such romantic things and looked so fucking hot in his suit.

There was something so sexy about his workwear and now that you were straddling him in nothing but your sneakers, underwear and t shirt and he was still practically fully dressed… it had never been hotter. 

“You’re so hard.” You murmured, tilting your head back to gasp as he grinded your pussy against his cock. 

His fingers were dug so hard into your ass you knew you’d be feeling the touch for days. He’d probably come over straight from work and fuck you again, making it known how hot he finds the fresh bruises on your pretty skin. Then he’d take nice care of you and massage your skin, rub cream into the marks and kiss you everywhere until you were reduced to a sleepy mess. 

“And you’re so wet. Did telling you I love you really turn you on this much?” Harry smirked, nipping at your neck. He tucked his work pants down to his thighs when he sat down on the couch so you wouldn’t make a mess of them and he was glad he did so. You were soaked. A sticky mess that had fully soaked through both your underwear and his until his cock felt warm with your arousal. 

“I like to be romanced.” You smiled, nipping at his bottom lip. “Being sentimental gets me wet, what can I say?”

“Yeah? Maybe I need to do it more often then.” He murmured, pushing your t shirt up until it bunched over your tits. He cupped one of them, keeping firm eye contact with you while running his thumb over your nipple until he pushed the thin lace material of your bra down to expose it. “Tell you how my heart skips a beat when I see you. How fairies are born when you laugh?”

He was only teasing, but there was nothing teasing about the way he wrapped his mouth around your nipple and sucked, tugging at it between his teeth until you were holding back a loud moan. That was torture. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Am I? You’re saying that you don’t feel your pretty cunt flutter when I tell you how my life would be incomplete without you?” He cocked his head, watching the way your eyes glazed over as he continued grinding you over his dick. You could already feel that tingle in your belly and it had barely been two minutes of grinding on him. “Or would you prefer I tell you how badly I need to pump you full of my cum? How you’re a needy little slut for begging me to fuck you right here when anyone could walk in on us?”

And he felt it. He felt the way you clenched against him. How the heartbeat between your legs increased at the first few words of degradation.

“That I love you more for it…” He had this shit eating grin on his face and was happy to nip at your nipple and grind your clit against him until you were a poor tense little thing on top of him. “That did it, didn’t it, baby?”

“I need your cock. Please.” You whispered, dragging his head from your breast upwards so you could kiss him again. He smirked into your mouth and lifted your hips off him, making you rest on your knees instead of his lap so he could untuck his cock from his briefs. 

The moment his cock was free he dragged you back down and dipped his fingers between your bodies to nudge your underwear to the side so he had free access to you. “Y’want my fingers?” He offered, knowing it would sting to take him with no prep. Harry knew you liked that, but he also couldn’t assume it’s what you wanted.

The haste shake of your head was all he needed to guide his cock to your entrance, making sure to muffle your quiet whimper by his own mouth while letting you take lead and drop down at your own pace. You had no issues being quiet by yourself. You could make yourself cum dozens of times and barely moan so no one would hear and yet the second you were with Harry all you wanted to do was make noise.

Maybe it was because he always encouraged it. That he loved the way you moaned his name and screamed for him. Or maybe it was because no vibrator or dildo could compare to the feeling of his hard cock splitting you open. The way his veins felt going inside you and how it was attached to the hottest man on the planet.

Your vibrator didn’t wrap its arms around you and your dildo certainly didn’t kiss you filthily and grab your ass to encourage you to take it. They didn’t grab your hips and bounce you or wrap their mouths around your nipples to deliver that bite of pain Harry knew would get you off quicker. 

Because this was a quickie and the moment you had his entire cock deep inside you Harry was pulling out all the tricks to get you to finish quicker. He had no issues orgasming fast, nor did he have issues holding himself back to make it last longer. But you… he needed you to finish first when he was inside you and that wouldn’t change just because you two were having a quickie.

“Shit. Shit, Harry.” You gasped, rocking your hips back and forth to grind his cock against your g-spot. With every back and forth movement, your clit rubbed against the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock, the material of his boxers adding extra friction that hit you so much harder than usual. 

“I know. I know. Being so good for me. Y’ride me so fucking well, baby.” He whispered, fisting the hair at the back of your head to kiss you again. 

It was all gasps and slapping skin and sloppy kisses that were way too loud. If anyone came close to the door they’d know exactly what you were doing but neither of you seemed to care. You were both just trying to reach your highs while keeping your moans to a minimum. 

What never stopped though was his filthy fucking dirty talk. Right in your ear when he kissed your neck and rumbled into your mouth when your lips brushed together while you two tried to catch your breaths. It was why you finished so fast. Why your first orgasm tumbled over you barely two minutes into riding him, then a second under two minutes after. Everything about the situation was so hot and you were so beyond turned on it felt easy for your body to respond to every touch and every word. Every utter of I love you.

You severely underestimated the ability for those three little words to cause so much love and so much arousal all at once. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Harry breathed out a laugh while tucking himself back into his boxers, watching you hastily pull your jeans back on.

“Me? You’re the one telling me fairies are born when I laugh. In the middle of sex too.” You laughed, running your fingers through your hair. 

“I wasn’t exactly lying.” He flirted, grabbing your chin with a cheesy smile before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You repeated earnestly. 

“Did that make you wet?” He asked, already expecting the roll of your eyes. 

“You’re an idiot. Now sit back down, I’m going to go pee and clean up quickly.” You poked his chest and went to grab your phone then walked to the door.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mock saluted, returning in his chair by the time you unlocked the office door. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

“Yeah. We passed it on the way to your office. Now don’t eat everything.”

“You better hurry up then.” He teased, shoving a piece of a california roll into his mouth. You rolled your eyes again and left his office, shutting the door behind you on your way out. 

Harry’s office was the last door at the end of a hallway. There were a few closed offices on the way, then the bathrooms were closest to the waiting area. It was a short walk, barely 20m between you and your destination which was a blessing considering the cold cum slowly soaking into your undewear. A quick wipe with a tissue wasn’t enough with the amount of cum he filled you with. Which was why it never occurred to you that you’d run into anyone you knew. 

You knew there was a possibility, given Harry worked with his friends and… Ethan, but it just didn’t cross your mind because they all worked in different areas and you were a little preoccupied with the mess between your legs. Their jobs overlapped but the only reason they spent so much time together was because they were friends. Otherwise the overlaps could be handled by a third party. 

Wednesday’s were Harry’s meeting heavy days and often the day he chose to work at home. They were usually via zoom anyway which is why you chose today to come visit him. He’d be busy with meetings and you booked a slot. You knew he was avoiding any work with Ethan and when it couldn’t be avoided, Harry would get someone else to deal with it. 

As bad as it sounded… you were just trying to forget about it all. Or at the very least deal with what happened without dwelling on it. You had shut it out of your mind, ignoring the big part of you that wanted him to pay for what he did. You knew it was a bad coping mechanism but it was better than dwelling on the fact that you couldn’t get him on any charges. With the way he did everything there was no paper trail or evidence so you couldn’t exactly do anything without it being a he-say, she-say situation. 

You trusted that Harry was still devising a way to get him out of your lives for good, but for now you were just focusing on working on your relationship supporting him when he had a particularly rough Ethan day. It wasn’t a long term solution by any means, but you couldn’t exactly do anything about it. You had the pictures and he was leaving you alone, that was good enough. 

So when you were distracted replying to a message on your phone and a body was distracted by a folder in their hand, you didn’t see them until your shoulders bumped. 

“Oh my god, I’m so so-” The words got caught in your throat, eyes widening at the sight of Ethan in front of you.

“No worries babe, should’ve looked where I was-” he replied on autopilot until he actually looked at you and an arrogant pig-like expression morphed onto his face. “Well if it isn’t little y/n. What brings you here?”

In a split second time seemed to freeze. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t hear. Suddenly the world around you was blurring into fuzzy shapes and black dots. All you could think about was the intimate photos he had of you for weeks. How he had a list of people with copies, most who probably saw them and how he probably got off to them and got off on the fact that Harry was reduced to nothing and had to pay thousands of dollars just to protect you. To get you back. 

You weren’t even sure Ethan knew that you and Harry were together, but you knew damn well he revelled in the fact you two had to break up. That he ruined your relationship. 

But you couldn’t say any of that even if you wanted to because the world was starting to close around you and you felt this pressure on your chest that became suffocating. It was like air ceased to exist and you feared that if you didn’t get away from him you’d die on the ground right at his feet. 

You said nothing and ran past him, ignoring his confused ‘what the fuck?’ that you somehow felt rattling in every corner of your brain. Stumbling, you shoved your way into the women’s bathroom and headed straight to a stall so you could sit down. 

You barely made it, collapsing onto the closed toilet seat so you wouldn’t pass out. Your whole body was trembling and it was like you were burning from the inside while simultaneously freezing all over. You had never experienced anything like it and even though you were trying to control your breathing, trying so fucking hard, nothing was working. 

With every breath the air became thinner, every tremble you sweat harder. All you could think about was your naked body being in the hands of a stranger, someone who had no permission or right and willingly paid to view you in your most vulnerable state. You couldn’t get it out of your head or your heart or your body. 

You were panicking. 

And then you felt it, a brief moment of fresh air and crystal clear vision before your lungs closed again. There was a commotion outside the bathroom, two muffled voices that made no sense to you. Then a second later the door was slamming open and you recognised the voice of your lover in his own panic. 

“Y/n? Baby where are you?” 

You tried to open your mouth and yell out to him but all that came out was a muffled gasp. It didn’t matter whether you yelled to him or not though because he was slamming each stall door open until he found you and when he did he fell to his knees in front of you, right on the dirty bathroom floor. But he didn’t care, not one fucking bit when you were sitting on the toilet looking like you were about to die. 

“Oh god, baby. Look at me. Just look at me, okay?” He soothed, cupping your face to try and get your eyes to focus on him. 

He knew exactly what was happening. He didn’t know why or how exactly but he figured it had something to do with the bastard he passed on the way to find you. Right now though, none of that mattered. Not when you were having a full blown panic attack right in front of him for the first time in your life. You must’ve been so scared and being scared and panicked was only going to make it worse. He knew that. 

“Sharon, I need water.” He called over his shoulder. “And a towel please and you need to make sure no one comes in here, okay?” 

You heard her muffled reply before he was looking right at you again. “Look at me, y/n. Come on.” He encouraged, running his thumbs over your cheeks. You finally looked at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Good girl. That’s it. It’s okay. It’s okay, y/n. You’re safe and nothings going to happen to you, okay? I’m right here.” Shit. “I’m right here.”

“It’s… I can’t-I can’t breathe.” You whimpered, clawing at your own chest to articulate how horrible you were feeling. 

“I know. I know but it’s okay. You’re okay.” His voice was so calm, so steady. You appreciated that. He gently took your hands in his so you wouldn’t hurt yourself and cradled them so his chest. Using one to keep them there, he used the other to grab the back of your neck gently to pull you forward so your foreheads were pressed together. “Just breathe with me, okay? Try and match my breathing.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You protested, closing your eyes while a pitiful whimper slipped in the small space separating your mouths. You panted desperately, breathing through your small cries while hugging onto his body in hopes that his warmth and calm presence would help you. 

“I know it’s hard, but you can do it. Just try, baby. You can do it.” He was trying to encourage you and stay calm. The last thing you needed was feeling any stress or panic from him because that would just make the entire situation worse. But god it was so fucking hard. Feeling your body tremble and watching your pretty face in so much pain was horrible. But he had to stay strong and he just wanted to get you better so he could take you home. It was his only concern. 

“Deep breath in, y/n. In… out…” 

Harry closed his eyes for a single moment, collecting himself before opening them again to watch you while he guided your breathing again. He kept his tone soft and even, guiding you through it until you seemed to be breathing easier. Your trembling started to cease and you were no longer a stiff board in his arms. You were able to relax into his touch, slumping against him with your forehead on his shirt. 

“That’s it. You did so well, baby. Love you so much.” He soothed, letting his lips brush against your head while he ran his hands over your back.

You didn’t respond, but he took how pliant you were becoming in his arms as a good sign. The bathroom door swung open a moment later and Sharon was rushing in with a plastic cup of water and a damp hand towel. She passed them to Harry and wordlessly left once Harry thanked her to guard the door to give you two some privacy. 

“Here…” Harry nudged your chin, “Can you drink this?” He held your chin in a gentle grip, feeling like his heart was going to shatter just at the sight of your teary eyes and puffy cheeks. You grabbed the cup from him and started to take shaky sips from it, closing your eyes when he grabbed the damp towel to dab your face. 

The two of you remained like that for a while. You weren’t exactly sure how long. Harry just kept rubbing your back and using the cool temperature of the towel to try and calm your splotchy skin. You didn’t say anything and neither did Harry, but even if you wanted to, you had nothing to say. Your mind was blank and if anything… all you wanted to do was go home.

You had never felt so emotionally drained and numb all at the same time. It was like all your compartmentalisation and bad coping skills had suddenly given way and let everything in all at once. There was so much going on in your brain that it all cancelled each other out until you felt absolutely nothing but pure exhaustion and… anger. You were tired and angry and numb and everything was so fucking confusing you didn’t know what was what, just that you were over it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked softly, speaking the first words for what felt like an hour. You weren’t sure why it jarred you so much to hear him ask that but you took that as a sign that you needed to go home. You didn’t want to be in this office any longer than you had to be and as bad as it was… you didn’t want to be near Harry either. 

You went from needing him and feeling like his presence and his calm was the only way you could breathe to feeling suffocated just by being near him. You didn’t understand it when it wasn’t his fault but somehow felt like he was the one to blame. It was unfair.

It was also unfair to have photos taken of you in your most vulnerable state then be threatened with them. It was unfair to have your boyfriend work with the man who did that to you and suffer no consequences for his actions. Even if Harry did have a plan, you just didn’t fucking understand how he could stand being in the same building as him. 

The last thing you wanted was saying something you’d regret because your mind wasn’t clear so it felt like the right decision to go home by yourself, even if you already knew Harry would want to drive you and make sure you got home alright. 

“No… um, no I don’t think so.” You shook your head and pressed your hand to the wall of the stall to help you stand up. Your legs were cramped and shaky from being sat down for so long and the rest of you felt like you had a 50kg weight tied to every muscle in your body.  

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he quickly stood up as well. There was a switch in your demeanor that he didn’t like. A distant, almost… cold shift that he had only seen in the very beginning of your relationship when he fucked everything up. But he hadn’t done anything so to see you become so withdrawn sent alarm bells ringing everywhere. 

“That’s okay, you don’t… you don’t have to.” Harry exhaled a deep breath and squeezed the towel in his hand, “I know it’s hard but it is good to talk about it. I’m here when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, crushing the plastic cup in your hand. The sound echoed around the bathroom and it felt entirely too loud for how intense the situation was. 

Harry attempted to reach out and give you a comforting squeeze on your arm but was only met with rejection when you shifted your shoulder back to avoid it. You could see the flash of hurt cross his eyes and the way his brows knitted even closer together, but he didn’t dare comment on it. Harry knew how sensitive someone could be after a panic attack so he tried to not take it personally and viewed it as a mistake on his behalf.

But you let him hold you for what felt like forever. You just collapsed in his arms until you could breathe again… still, he had gone through panic attacks and he knew that everyone reacted differently. You could come out of it in the worst mental state and the last thing he wanted was giving you too much space and something happening because of it. 

“I’m just going to wash my hands.” The moment you slid past him and out of the stall, you immediately felt a sense of relief from not being so confined anymore. You scratched at your chest a little while watching him join you at the basin beside you to wash his hands as well.

“I’ll drive you home, y/n. I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Harry spoke softly, looking directly at you while scrubbing his hands with the soap. 

“I actually think it’s better if I am… alone.” You cleared your throat and walked to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands. Your back was towards him but you could feel his stare on your back. “I parked at the station so the train will be fine. I think I just need some time alone, if that’s okay?”

“Are you sure? You’ve never had a panic attack before, y/n. I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you all by yourself. At least let me drive you.” Harry offered, trying to be encouraging without too pushy. But it was really fucking hard because every moment you withdrew from him was another moment he felt himself start to panic at what was going on with you. He had no idea what was running through your head and there was no way for him to find out unless you told him yourself.

“I’m fine, Harry. Really.” You sighed, turning around to face him. He looked so… sad. Helpless almost. “I just need to walk it off, okay?” 

With a firm nod, Harry reluctantly backed down. It was the last thing on the entire planet that he wanted but what choice did he have?

“Okay. Just…” he inhaled a ragged breath and stepped towards you. Harry wanted to touch you so badly, even just a pinky looped to yours but he stopped himself just before his fingers grazed the back of your hand. “Let me walk you out at least. Please.”

Even though your chest was still clammy, your lungs didn’t feel like they were at full capacity yet and you just didn’t want him to walk you anywhere, you still agreed. He had done so much for you, more than you felt like you deserved. The least you could do was let him walk you out the building. 

The walk to get your things and go downstairs was painfully awkward. Thankfully Sharon had warded off the bathroom and hallway so there was no one lingering around, including Ethan but that did very little to dispel how uncomfortable you were. It hadn’t felt like this for months and there wasn’t a single moment since you two started dating where you didn’t want to be around him.

It was a sick feeling, one that just mixed in with your need to go home and die in your bed. Unfortunately, you knew that once you had a shower and cried some more, you’d be pushing it all away again to focus on your assignment. It was cruel. 

“Text me when you get home?” Harry asked, voice full of hope. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you adjusted your tote bag on your shoulder. The street was full and busy of the usual lunch rush, all the corporate men and women off to buy an overpriced sandwich or go to their favourite hole-in-a-wall restaurant for takeaway. 

You two could’ve been going to your favourite japanese cafe for a coffee right now to walk off your food comas, but instead your nice romantic lunch had turned into something ugly. It felt like it was all your fault and yet somehow your brain was blaming Harry. 

Again, even if you didn’t want to agree, you did. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, cool. Thank you?” Harry wasn’t sure what to do or say. He was at a loss.

There was nothing about this situation that felt normal or even was normal. He didn’t feel like he could kiss you or even hug you goodbye. It felt like the end of an awkward first date where the polite thing to do was hug goodbye even if neither party wanted to. But Harry did want to. He wanted to follow you right now to make sure you got home okay. That you were okay. 

“Bye Harry.” You opted to make the painful goodbye, feeling sick to your stomach at the entire day. You felt dirty and sticky and the complete normalcy of everyone around you just going about their day was kiling you a little bit inside. 

“Right… um, okay. Goodbye, y/n. Thank you for lunch.” 

It was formal and ugly and all you could do in response was mutter another goodbye and flash him the saddest most pitiful smile you could muster before turning around to walk in the direction of the closest train station. 

And just like that, Harry watched you walk away. 

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[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 9

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I have a few fic ideas that would be set when the reader first gets to the Night Court. I also have more Azriel imagines planned that wouldn't be in this series so look out for those! Thank you so much for all of the comments and love on this story, I appreciate it more than you know! <33

Summary: After months of healing, there is still something weighing you down and Azriel wants nothing more than to help you.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: bad body image, nudity but not straight up smut, let me know if I need to add any others :)

A few months had passed since everything happened and you were feeling better for the most part. Azriel had more than proved himself and you two were best friends again. You now trained with the Valkyries and enjoyed their company. You had also been helping Amren out with translating old texts a lot lately.

You enjoyed having work to do, you started to feel like your old self again. But there were still a few things that gnawed at you.

The main thing were the scars. The physical reminder of what you went through weighed you down. You covered yourself up as much as you could everyday so no one else saw them.

This seemed to be working for you until one day, Azriel came up to you with a big smirk on his face.

"I got you a present!" the still smirking male told you

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop buying me presents!" you told him

You had never received so many presents in your life and you doubt he has ever given this many. It started out small like bringing you a coffee while you worked, then he would buy you little things here and there like a notebook for your research. Eventually, he was buying you more expensive things like jewelry every other day.

Every time you would tell him you didn't need anything, and every time he responded with the same thing - "I can't help myself, I saw it and thought of you"

The butterflies you would feel were always better than the gifts.

Amren was sitting beside you watching the interaction with a smirk on her face.

"Hmm? A chocolate croissant this morning and now another surprise? Two in one day? Seems like a new record." she spoke in a slightly joking tone, enjoying poking fun at the spymaster

You and Az made eye contact and quickly looked away, a slight blush taking over both of your faces.

After his confession all those months ago, you both began to try and be friends again. You knew he was waiting for you to be ready for more but you weren't sure how to go about it all. It was easier to push those thoughts away for now.

Deciding to help the shadowsinger escape all the joking, you stood up to go to him. He held his hand out to you, and led you up to your room. Before entering, he put his hands over your eyes, using them as a blind fold.

"Is this really necessary?" you giggled

"Of course it is! Now walk forward" he told you and you could hear the smile in his voice

You walked, well shuffled, into your room with him close behind you. He started a countdown.

"3...2...1...Open!" he shouted, removing his hands

On the wall in front of your bed was a brand new mirror. Dread filled your body. The thought of having to see yourself every time you changed made you want to vomit.

Azriel of course noticed the reaction and immediately began to worry.

"What's wrong? You don't like it? I knew it was stupid, Cass helped me pick it out and he has the worst taste." Az babbled on.

"No, I love it." You told him. If you let him know you didn't want it, then he would want to know the real reason. You couldn't explain it all to him right now.

He gave you a look that showed he didn't fully believe you but he decided to let it go.

You gave him a hug and thanked him for it. It truly was a beautiful mirror. It was huge and had the most detailed golden flowers all around it. Perhaps you could focus on that and not the nasty marks that littered your body.

Night time came faster than you would have liked and the thought of changing in front of the mirror seemed like too much. You knew you needed to do this, another step in the healing process.

Eventually you made your way up to your room and began to get ready for bed.

You started to peel off your clothes from the day, breathing through each piece that came off. Once you were fully naked you couldn't take your eyes off of your body.

How would anyone be able to find you beautiful when you looked like this? You wrapped your arms around your stomach as tears sprung to your eyes. You began to softly cry.

Suddenly, you saw movement in the mirror behind you. You lifted your head until you were making eye contact with Azriel through the mirror.

Shadows shot out to cover you, helping you keep your modesty.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked

The name only made you shudder, knowing he wouldn't call you that after seeing your body.

"I'm hideous. My body doesn't even look like its mine anymore." you voice cracked

His heart broke for you, and he ached to hold you.

"Can I come closer?" He asked

You nodded and he walked until he was behind you, so close you could feel his chest as he took a breath.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He stated and laid his hands on your shoulders, moving them down your arm until they rested on top of your hands. He laced his fingers with yours and kissed the back of your head.

"You haven't even truly seen me to know that." you said

"I don't need to see you to know that it is true. But if you think that, then show me." he stated

"What?" you couldn't believe your ears.

"If you're comfortable, let me see." he spoke confidently

You nodded and let him know it was ok to remove the shadows. He bent down and placed a light kiss on your shoulder, right on one of the marks, then on another right next to it.

Slowly the shadows pulled away from your body and you were left compeltely naked. He was staring at your body through the mirror, in awe of you.

He walked til he was standing in front of you.

"Just tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable." He whispered

You nodded and he got even closer. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed a scar on your palm. Then moved to the other arm and kissed a scar by your elbow. He got down on his knees and looked up at you through his lashes.

"Beautiful" he said right before kissing a rather large scar on your stomach.

He didn't stop until he kissed every mark and scar on your body. He stood up and took your face in his hands.

"Yep, its just as I thought, you are the most beautiful being that I have ever seen." He spoke as he leaned down to your face

"But I'm broken, these scare are proof" you cried

"These scars are proof of your strength. When I look at you, I don't see anything broken. I see the the love of my life. I see intelligence, kindness, power... I see my mate." he confessed

You inhaled sharply and were confused until you felt it too. A tiny pull on your chest as if someone was tugging a string attached to you.

"You're my mate," he smiled then stopped himself, "I found out when Lucien carried you through the doors and none of us knew if you were even alive. I didn't want to tell you because of everything going on and I wanted to earn your love, didn't want you to feel pressured into anything."

You were so shocked, you still hadn't spoken. In a way, you were glad he kept it from you. If you had known he was your mate you aren't sure what you would've done. All of the trauma you went through must've stopped you from feeling it too.

"I understand if you don't want to accept it. After everything I did-" he started but you immediately shut down that thought

"You have more than proven yourself to me Az. You are my mate and there is nothing that could change that" You told him.

He growled softly when you called him your mate.

You both continued smiling at each other, wrapped in each other's arms.

"If you'll let me, I'd like to continue worshipping you for the rest of the night." he purred.

"It's only fair, you did say you loved groveling" you whispered and he smiled and leaned in.

"Wait!" you quickly said placing a hand on his chest.

He looked confused but you ran over to your bedside table and grabbed the chocolate croissant he had gotten you earlier. You handed it to Az with a smile.

"Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?" he questioned

"It is the only thing I have been certain of in a long time." you responded and he ate some of the pastry.

He set the food down and put one of his hands on your waist, the other on your neck. Slowly he leaned in and placed a soft and gentle kiss on your lips. You wrapped your hands in his hair and pulled him down for a much longer, more passionate one and he grunted into your mouth.

The frenzy quickly kicked in and Azriel ended up worshipping your body for the next couple of days.

You still weren't fully healed and you probably wouldn't be for a while but that was okay because you had Azriel and the rest of your family to help you get there.

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[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a partner that had a tough childhood

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Svt reaction when there s/o was in lots of foster homes as a kid and was adopted, like talking about how there s/o childhood was like and stuff ‘

A/N: the request was specific, but I think a lot of tough upbringings can lead to similar outcomes in adult life. To the requester, I hope me broadening this concept is okay and you could still relate to it. 

A/N #2: I don’t discuss the tough childhood itself, but rather what those outcomes later in life can look like. Still, if this might be a sensitive topic for you, proceed with caution. 

Prioritizes your physical safety - Seungcheol, Woozi

He doesn’t need to know details, but if he ever gets the hint that physical harm has ever come to you, he takes on a guard dog mentality. He's your body guard everywhere he goes with you. He buys you all of the self-defense keychains and teaches you how to fight if you don't know how. He installs a high-end security system in your home or apartment. These are non-negotiables for him in a way, because he doesn’t like the fear in your eyes if your personal history comes up and he refuses to let any of it repeat. So he spends a pretty significant amount of time and money to give you tools that might make you feel safer. 

Cuts out triggers for you anytime he can - Joshua, Mingyu, Vernon

He also doesn’t need all the details. Just a simple, “I don’t like this,” is enough for him to help you avoid it forever. Doesn’t matter if it’s a particular song, or the smell of cigarettes or alcohol, or the darkness in your bedroom at night. It seriously does not matter what it is because it’s all going on his list to keep in mind. He skips the song or deletes it from his music library altogether. He avoids environments with you where smoking and drinking might be prevalent. He buys you cute little night lights and lets you cuddle into him at night for some extra security. 

Tries to ease your stresses about financial security - Wonwoo, Seungkwan

He spots the amount of money in your savings one day and muses about if you’re saving for anything in particular. You say you’re not, it’s just in case you need it. He thinks that’s pretty sensible, until he sees how your definition of 'need it' varies from his. Your car breaks down for the tenth time and you’re in no rush to trade it in anytime soon, just doing minor repairs to get it up and running again. He’ll eventually talk you into trading in, if only because he worries about you sacrificing your safety in a junk car in order to keep the money in your account. He’ll also offer to help with these sort of things, not that he ever expects you to take him up on that offer. 

Helps you experience things that you might have missed out on - Jun, DK, Chan

A tough childhood can mean that you’ve never experienced a lot of things. These are fun things, like getting to decorate your own room or go on trips. Like if he ever hears you’ve never been to an amusement park, he’s taking you right away. But there are also some serious things you might have missed out on. Like if you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s encouraging you to go in for a checkup. Or if you didn’t get to prioritize school, he’s encouraging you to go back and pursue something you’re interested in. These guys will not hesitate to fund any of these opportunities for you, even if you put up a fight about it. 

Tries to help you reframe the image of what a healthy family and/or relationship is - Jeonghan, Hoshi, Minghao

The first fight between you two is an eye-opening experience for him. He’s not sure what you expected, and maybe he doesn’t want to know the specifics, because you seemed to expect much worse than a little silent treatment until he figured out what he wanted to say. If you ever express any confusion about how he handles these moments of tension, he’s setting you straight. Yes, he’s upset, but he couldn’t dream of doing anything other than talking it out with you. He learns to have some extra patience, and you learn to work through the anxiety with him.