#and borne out of loneliness when he was younger and not just wanting to make scientific history

[cryingalexanders]

Source: Smallville s2e17 "Rosetta" & s2e18 "Visitor"

Source: Superman: Birthright #6, #8

Source: Action Comics #1000

Source: Last Days of Lex Luthor #1

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[cressidagrey]

Tumblr Masterlist:

Unless otherwise noted, all my series/stories are ongoing, which means…if you have a prompt for any of them, shoot them my way. 

A Court of Gold and Shadows

The Female that was born into the flames, and the Male that was scarred by them.

The Unexpected Series

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

Indelible

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

A Pocketful of Stars

The Story of how Azriel ends up with a mate and a kid in the span of 24 hours.

The Starlight Princess

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

The Prophecy

Eira Archeron is a a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma..and Azriel would give everything to figure her out.

Recipe for Love

At first, Azriel just really wants a slice of Peach Cobbler. Later, he thinks that the bakery owner is quite pretty too.

The Ties that Bind

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

The Witching Hour

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him

Brighten Up the Sky

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Stars all aligned

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

It's a Love Story

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Dust of your Highest Hopes

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom. 

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere.

Don't wait for the Sky to Clear

The Fourth Archeron sister makes herself a life in the Dawn Court. 

Tear the World Apart

Eris’ mate decides to get rid of her father-in-law. Also known as: If Eris Vanserra married a very bloodthirsty Margaery Tyrell.

[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 9

Ysilla was walking up the stairs of one of the many secret passages of the Red Keep. Ysilla had explored the castle with her cousins since they were all just babes, and they used them frequently to move around unnoticed.

Ysilla liked to do it. Those dark and lonely places led to different parts of the castle. Every time she walked through those corridors, she felt like an adventure. She knew it was childish, but she enjoyed it.

But those were even the fastest ways to move in the castle, with no people watching or asking where she was going. She liked life at court, but people could be very inquisitive and curious. And she didn't want to show people the anger she was feeling. Aegon really knew how to be cruel when he wanted to be, and Aemond seemed to be the target of his jests and the Velaryon brothers, even if they were younger. Aemond felt left out from all of them, he was different. He would always following them to the Dragonpit even if he lacked a dragon, wishing for his egg to finally hatch or for a new dragon to be found.

What is a Targaryen without a dragon? Ysilla was not stranger to that thought. She still remembered how she cradled Darysir’s egg when she was just a babe of five, knowing that a dragon was the true legacy of a Targaryen. That was their sigil and symbol of power. No one but them could bound such terrible beasts to their will, no one was as strong. And yet a Targaryen without a dragon was just a human. No different from anyone else. That was a frightening thought, a saddened one too, and she felt for Aemond since he had to indulge in such pain.

“Are you alright?” She had asked him following him, to make sure he didn’t felt alone. She knew how loneliness hurt to the heart and the spirit.

His posture was stiff. Ysilla could not see his face, but she didn’t miss how he quickly pass a hand over his dirty face, “Yes, cousin.”

The girl looked down at her hands, she was picking at her nails, sometimes she did that when she felt uncomfortable. Out of words. Those situations were the hardest to handle, since she felt like her every word could make no difference.

“I’m sure you’ll have a dragon one day, my prince,” she whispered, not daring to get any closer.

Aemond scoffed shaking his head, “Don’t lie to me,” He asked turning to her, the dirt on his cheeks were stained, giving away the tears he had shad, “My egg will never hatch and there’s no dragon for me to claim. Don’t be cruel, Ysilla.”

Ysilla observed the boy in front of her, he desperately wanted to prove himself to all of them, to himself and the hurt on his face was so visible as if Ysilla was feeling it herself. Her words must have felt like another jest, and of that she felt bad.

“Aemond,” she spoke softly taking a step towards her cousin, “I was not trying to to be cruel, I hope you know that,” she assured, “What I meant is that mayhaps here in King’s Landing there are no more dragons to claim, but on Dragonstone there are. Vermithor, Silverwing, or the three wild dragons as well.”

Aemond looked at her skeptical, “And I could bend one?”

“You are a Targaryen, my prince,” she said looking at him in the eyes, “There is nothing you cannot do.”

“Other Targaryens do not think so,” he answered with frustration, “They see me fit for a pig.”

Ysilla moved her hand so that she could lift Aemond face with her fingers, “Velaryon are not Targaryen. They seem rather strong to me, but they are not us.” Her words seemed to surprise him, and when he saw her lips turn up into a smile, he timidly did the same. “Don’t be bothered by those kids.” As for his brother however…

Aegon liked to jest, never thinking about consequences. He never thought about consequences. He never cared about consequences, not until he had fun with it. She wanted to speak to her cousin, they had grew up together and he was probably the one she knew best, the one she was the closest to, the one who made her angry the most.

But when she arrived behind the hidden door of the passage, Ysilla heard a voice.

"Aemond is your brother."

It was the Queen. She must have already talked with the King.

Ysilla wondered if the King would have done something about what had happened—at least scold his son and nephews. The Queen had been so angry after Aemond had left for his chambers to clean himself. Ysilla understood how the Queen felt, and she would have liked to have a chance to talk with Aegon before his mother wanted any explanation.

"Well, he's a twat," Ysilla shook her head, hearing Aegon's muffled voice.

Gods, Aegon, she thought in silence.

"We are family," the Queen spoke, "You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the open world, we must defend our own."

"It was funny," she heard Aegon answer simply.

Ysilla took a deep breath. Sometimes, even the family itself can be dangerous. But that was not the case with Aemond and Aegon. They were just boys. Ysilla wished that Aegon had paid a bit more attention to his own siblings. He should cherish his family.

"Do you think Rhaenyra's sons will be your playthings forever?" The Queen asked, not trying to hide her irritation. “As things stand, Rhaenyra will ascend the throne and Jacaerys Targaryen will be her heir.” Ysilla got closer to the wall to hear at her best.

“So?” Aegon seemed lost and that made her mother groan out loudly.

“You are nearly a man-grown. How is it that you can be so shortsighted?” The Queen’s tone was full of frustration, anger and disappointment. But Ysilla could understand Aegon’s confusion. He would never think about the consequences, and Ysilla herself had found herself lost when the Queen had spoken to her about the danger their family was running into.

Does every family plot on killing each other for power? Or is just our prerogative? Ysilla thought as her mind went back to the last time she had seen her mother ride away for hawking, coming back as a corpse; cold and still, as a little girl of five found out that her own father had been the cause of that tragedy. And for what? To be wed to Rhaenyra? Become prince consort? Was that his plot?

Daemon Targaryen had left her motherless for a whim, and as he gained nothing, Ysilla had lost everything. The wrath that she felt every time she thought about her father was something that light such a fire within her, a fire that she desperately wanted to free somehow. But she had learnt the art of dignity and the taste of patience. She knew that the King would have never done anything to his precious brother, and yet Ysilla still dreamt of a day where her father would face the consequences of his crimes.

“If Rhaenyra comes into power your very life could be forfeit. Aemond’s as well,” the Queen spoke again, “She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession.”

Would Rhaenyra commit such crime against her own brothers, to secure her position and the one of her bastards sons? She once was so close to Daemon Targaryen, wearing the shiny Valyrian neckless that he had gifted for her as if it hold some kind of a promise between them. Such a beautiful neckless, Ysilla thought bitterly. My neck still remains unadorned.

A bond like the one Rhaneyra and Daemon shared, could lead them to the same crimes? Ysilla did not wish to learn the answer, she would have not learnt the answer. She had already lost her family. She could not lose another. She refused to. Aegon and his siblings would not pay the price to let bastard ascend to the Iron Throne. She could see it. But Aegon…

“Then I won’t challenge…” Aegon was cut of but the Queen’s screams. A sound that made Ysilla shiver.

“You are the challenge!” She yelled, “You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing!” Ysilla felt her breath labour as she slid down against the wall. It could happen. It would happen. Politics could be cruel, it knew no mercy, it knew no family. If a succession war was to happen, the first to die would always be the male heir.

“You are the King’s firstborn son,” the Queen kept saying, “And what they know, what everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones is that one day, you will be our King.” Ysilla closed her eyes with a heavy sign as she heard the Queen leave Aegon’s chambers. That future didn’t seem so far. The King did not possessed the best of health, having lost an arm and getting paler by the day. He still smiled though, and she wished that his body would keep living form many years more, because once the King would leave that world, not everyone would bent the knee to a woman, especially after giving birth to bastards, and at that point her cousins’ life could be at risk.

"Aegon," she spoke quietly, stepping into the room. She heard the boy take a shaky breath. He was about to cry, and that sound pained her heart.

"My mother had already scolded me, Ysilla," he said, pushing his head back as he stood up. Ysilla was quick to turn her back to him, noticing that he wasn't wearing any clothes. It had already happened before, so she was not surprised to see him like that, but she flushed anyway.

"I'm not here to scold you," she said, hearing him cross the room to get his clothes. In truth, she was, but after what she heard, Ysilla felt for him, and suddenly, she didn’t feel the need to argue with him anymore. You never think about the consequences, Aegon.

“So my brother had not come to cry to you as he did with Mother?” He asked with frustration, but Ysilla did not answered to that.

"I wished to ride on dragon back,” she said turning to look at Aegon, “Do you want to come with me?” His eyes widened in surprise as he observed her frame, but he nodded none the less.

They were strangely quiet as they made their way to the carriage that would bring them to the Dragonpit. Ysilla quite enjoyed that silence though. Quiet sounds, quiet times. Maybe they would all shout too much. She could feel Aegon’s eyes on her though, unsure of what to do or say. That behaviour made her smile.

“I was thinking about something,” she said suddenly, smiling when she saw her cousin take a relieved breath.

“Finally,” he said, “I wasn’t sure if you were angry with me.” Ysilla observed him.

“You get on my nerves quite easily,” she answered making him roll his eyes, but the smile never left her lips. “So, do you want to hear my thoughts?” She asked fixings her black riding clothes.

“As long as you don’t shout to me like Mother.” He mumbled looking outside the carriage.

“I was thinking about how lucky we are,” she said ignoring his scoff, “How lucky I am.” That made him frown as he turned to look at her, “After my mother I thought I would be alone for the rest of my life, but then you, all of you let me in this family,” she took a breath, “You are my family, Aegon.”

His eyes stayed on her, observing Ysilla with a confused stare, “I… I don’t understand…” Ysilla smiled, standing up as the carriage came to an halt.

“There’s no need,” she said, “I do.”

The door got opened by the guard that had escorted them. The man showed her his hand for her to take, so that she could safely get out. Ysilla knew she needed to no help, but the gallant gesture was much welcomed, so she accepted the hand. As she walked towards the Dragonpit, she could hear Aegon quick steps coming from behind her.

“You said you wanted to share a thought, but you said nothing I didn’t know,” he argued, still confused. Ysilla laughed.

“I’m glad it is no news to you,” she answered fixing the clothes of the gloves around her fingers. Suddenly he took her by the arm, making her turn.

“What did you understand that I didn’t?” Ysilla could see the confused frown upon his face, how his lips would pout when he got frustrated. That expression made her smile, as she swiftly caressed his cheeks.

“Many things, my prince,” she said freeing herself as her eyes went to Dārysyr. He was being brought to her by the Dragonkeepers. He would slither beautifully on the ground, his purple wings lapping in excitement as he saw her, like he had done since he was just an hatchling.

“Zȳhon belma qogror",” she said as Dārysyr would get close so that she could touch his snout. His scales were so hot against her gloved fingers. “Gaomagon ao jaelagon naejot sōvegon rūsīr issa?” At her question, Dārysyr growled, moving his dark wings. (My beautiful friend. Do you want to ride with me?)

Then another growl could be heard, but it was different from Dārysyr’s. Its pitch was higher and clearer. She knew who it belonged to.

“Sunfyre,” Aegon said with a genuine and happy smile on his face as his beautiful golden and pink dragon would get closer to his rider. Sunfyre was the most expressive among all the dragons and he absolutely adored Aegon. He playfully pushed Aegon as a greeting and Ysilla’s heart got full with fondness as she watch how Aegon caressed his dragon. Her hand would stroke Dārysyr’s neck as he’d protectively went around her as he always did.

“Is my prince ready to take flight?” She asked getting Aegon’s attention back to her.

“Are you ready, my lady?” He dared her as he moved to get on Sunfyre’s back.

“Don’t start something when you do not know how it will end,” she warned him playfully her securing the belt around her waist as she got comfortable on her saddle, but he just scoffed before giving Sunfyre the order so that the dragon could start moving towards the exit.

“Tolot zȳhos ābra, zȳhon ñuha.” She said patting Dārysyr’s neck, “Sīr zābūbys ābra, dārys. Targot dāeri, Dārysyr.” (He never thinks about the consequences, my friend. I’ll think about consequences, then. Fly now, Darysir.)

_____________________________________________________________

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[thatnonameuser]

I always have a spot for "Peepaw" Lilia, Alongside his war days self but I wonder what happens if the role of the Platonic!yandere turns.. Romantic? Reunion for feeling that living spark that he once had when he was young for his Childhood Friends.

What if he's not aiming for the young yuu that the younglings are hunting down, especially if he's also trying to be matchmaker for his sons... but A hidden older darling in Ramshackle that he stumbled upon while a potion/ Spell mishap? (Turning to a tiny bat, turning a ghost, teleportation, etc). 

Their child Yuu is out there, and Here they are recovering from– something? Where woes and common ground being a parent comes in play?

Before I begin, all the Lilia lovers out there. The reason I don't want to write Lilia as a romantic yandere for the MC in the yandereverse, is because Lilia is the equivalent of 70 in the TWST World and MC is at youngest 18. That's just makes me too uncomfortable for me to write.

But for an older darling, I can do that....

For this I'll be using Yuu for the MC, ____ is you. Also, the reader is the parent/older sibling of Yuu.

Lilia is no stranger to the craziness that comes out of one's love for their one true love.

It was much wilder in the olden days. Back when duels to the death were much more common. It's for the best the times have changed. The very last thing he wants to experience is having to pick between his boys should their fight for human Yuu grow out of hand.

Things have changed for the better these days.

But he wishes he'd made the decision to fight for Maleanor back when she was alive. The hole in his heart from that loneliness and grief has carved a hole in him that not even his fatherly love for Malleus and Silver can fill.

He's expected to die with that hole craving him clean through.

But it seems Maleanor didn't head back to stars just yet.

He was never one to follow the darling reincarnation belief after her death. All his years of travel during his search for information killed that belief dead, before it ever came to life. That was until he found you.....

He wasn't expecting to find you when he did. He wasn't expecting to find you at all.

In fact, he'd been following Malleus on one of his little walks dates. Yuu's rejection of his love was harsh, but Malleus was always so kind at heart. Poor boy always yearned for love. And he would get that love, all Yuu needs is a push, or rather a very harsh and painful shove.

That was his plan for the night. Go and nudge force Yuu in the right direction.

Malleus teleported back to Diasomnia, he'd calm his temper when he returned later.

And that's when it happened.

He'd known that besides Grim, Yuu wasn't the only one that lived in Ramshackle, but he was yet to see the other person. And now he did.

The foolish Yuu retreats back to the safety of their dorm. And an another one comes out.

And for the first time in four hundred years, his heart feels full again. He feels whole, at just the sight of them. That same pull that he'd felt back in his youth. That warmth and joy that's born from undying everlasting love. He feels two hundred years younger, like a weight was taken off his shoulders.

It seems his dove came back to him. And you've come back as something equally beautiful as you were before.

The little darling in your arms is frightened, "______...Why?! Why did he?" Oh, so that's your new name. ______, it's just as lovely as the last one.

"Sh, It's okay. You're going to be okay, Yuu." You hug them in your arms like you want to protect them from this big dangerous world. Far away from all the evils that threaten them. Aw~ Isn't that just the sweetest? Your parental love is just as strong as it's been all those years ago. So desperate to protect your children from the threats that try to steal them from your arms.

Well, it would just be cruel to do what he planned to Yuu now. It would just tear you to shreds to be separated from them.

Perhaps, he can use this to his advantage. You don't want to be separated, so he'll give you the option of staying together.

Wouldn't that just make you all a big happy family? Him, finally reunited with his precious dove again and one of his boys happy with their darling Yuu. It will mean he'll have to play peacemaker pretty soon but, after he convinces them to share, all will be well.

"Go back inside, Yuu. Arm yourself, stay with Grim and don't open the door until I come back. OK?" You're so protective, willing to send your loved one away and staying behind in the danger zone. The two of you are so much alike.

He doesn't mean to jump the gun, but it seems Malleus might even be reunited with his mother, all he has to do is make contact. Well, the younger darling is inside now, no time like the present.

"Hello there, little dove!" You jump out your skin in surprise at his sudden arrival, but he's expected that. He also expected the kitchen knife you try to drive into his face. He catches it with ease, he's grown up with your fiery little temper. You haven't changed a bit.

"You're wearing Diasomnia colours, are you Lilia Vanrouge?" You recognise him, why didn't he start believing in that idea earlier.

"Why yes I am."

"Are here for Yuu?"

"No, no, my precious dove. I'm here for you." Your face widens in surprise.

Now, that he's much closer he can see the difference between Yuu and yourself. You're a little older, by a few years at minimum. Still, you're quite young. He won't have to worry about your fragile human life ending so soon. Plus, this means he can leave Silver with some siblings.

"But-But I don't-I'm not-"

He shushes you, there's no need for this fear, this trepidation. "Dove. I've mourned you for so long. Now that you're back, I won't ever let you leave me again."

"But what about-"

"Don't worry, the little darling you're protecting will be fine. In fact, I think we'll be one big happy family."

[leviathxn]

“Little Girl to Little Lady”

Dads best friend! Miguel x Younger! Fem! Reader

Warnings : Cock Warming, Age gap, oral, mentions of masturbation (and slight but very little), dirty talk? Breeding king (per usual lmao) and I forgot what else but it’s sex so

Summary : Miguel and you have always been close… but even closer now

It always annoyed me whenever people would say “you grew up so fast” or “I remember you when you were just a baby”. It was even worse when Miguel O’Hara, your dads best friend, would say it. He didn’t say it often, but when it was a late night of drinking with my father he would always say it to me, almost as if he was telling himself. Whenever he said it he sounded like he was trying to reason with himself rather than just making small talk or being an emotional drunk. It wasn’t like Miguel and I weren’t close either. In fact my dad had always left me at Miguel’s house to babysit when I was younger, no naturally I looked at him as an important older figure in my life.

Well actually I looked at him more than just a supportive adult. To say he wasn’t an attractive man was a total lie. He was gorgeous, body chiseled like a greed god. He was the reason I even got sex toys and explored my kinks. Because every night he would plague my mind as I got older.

He was 20 when I was born, was married and had his daughter, Gabriella at 25. His wife passed 5 years later when he was 30. It was heartbreaking to see him and Gabriella in such despair and pain. Me and my dad had visited more often. I had felt the pain as well, especially as a 10 year old. Dana was a mother figure to me ever since my mom had up and left after I was born. Naturally this led me to help take care of Gabriella and be a supportive woman in her life. She lost her mom and I didn’t want her to feel the  loneliness that I felt. I was (obviously) 5 years older than Gabriella so when I turned 15 I was able to babysit her alone when Miguel and my father had went out. I taught her about body and how she would be changing, helped her dress up and learn makeup. It was almost weekly that our parents would come home and find us cuddled together, sleeping with a movie on.

When I had turned 19 it was a little harder to visit Gabriella but I was always a text or phone call away if she ever needed me. My connection with her and Miguel was still very strong, as they came over for “family night” often. Obviously Miguel and my dad would drink while forgetting about whatever card or board game we were playing soon after. Gabriella started to get tired, it was around 10:30 as I put her to bed in my room. Whenever she fell asleep I would always share the bed with her. That’s what led me, Miguel and my dad to be downstairs, still drinking.

I didn’t drink really, Miguel and my dad knew this, never offering alcohol unless I specifically asked for it. I didn’t have a reason to drink, my social life never landing me at parties. When it came to relationships, I was hopeless. I was usually into older guys and besides a decent fuck, I didn’t see myself getting attached to them. At the end of the day, I always thought of Miguel when they were on top of me. It was shameful but most of the time the guys were too horny to even realize I wasn’t moaning their name.

I sat next to Miguel on the big couch as my dad sat in the arm chair to our right. He smiled as he listened to my dad, looking over at me. That’s when I heard the usual.

“Seeing you take care of my little Gabriella reminds me of when you were younger. You’re much more grown now though. A little Lady instead of a little girl”. I laughed as my dad finished his drink.

“Well Miguel? Let’s look at some baby photos!” My laugh abruptly stopped as my face flushed. I always objected, saying that Miguel has seen me as a kid so many times already, that he didn’t need to see anymore or be reminded. They always laughed me off as my dad took out the book.

“Even if I took care of you then, it’s nice to be reminded. I may still see you as a kid but the pictures remind me of how much you’ve grown”. There was that tone again. The one where he sounded like he was fighting himself to reason. But to reason over what? That I was a growing into a woman? Or that he thought I still acted like a kid? I grumbled as Miguel finished his beer and flipped through the photos with my dad. Even though I objected at first, it was nice laughing all together about my funny photos. As the night went on, my father slowly fell asleep on the couch, a smile on his face. I shook him awake, helping him to bed. As I came back down I saw Miguel still flipping through the book. I sat next to him again, looking over his shoulder.

Then there was a photo oh Miguel, feeding me cake as I sat in his lap. We both looked so young. I was probably around 6 in the photo, his frame still much larger than mine. He sighed, sliding his thumb over his bottom lip. I looked at him, as he looked at the photo for a good few minutes.

“Uhm.. Miguel is everything okay?” He glanced over to me, face flushed. I had never seen him look that way. He put his bottle down, next to the many other bottles…. I knew Miguel could drink but when did he finish so many? While we were looking at the photos? Miguel definitely wasn’t drunk but he was positively tipsy. He put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg. I shuddered at his touch. “Miguel?”

“I would kill to have you in my lap like that again”. He said unwavering. I felt the heat rush to my face as he said it, I looked away and shifted awkwardly.

“M-Miguel where is this coming from?” He chuckled and stopped his hand at my upper thigh.

“The only reason I’m able to say this is because of what I heard you doing to yourself last night”. My face drained. He saw that? How much did he see? I was face down, ass up with a vibrator, is he talking about that? Or is he pulling my strings? Did he hear me moan his name?

“What are you talking about? I was in my room reading.” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to seem convincing, I really did but I was so nervous under his gaze.

“Were you? That’s not what it sounded like… or what it looked like.” He shifted onto the ground, moving in between my legs. His arms on either side of me, trapping me on the couch. I couldn’t move. I was so nervous as my body trembled. “Did you imagine me eating you out? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, hm? You were so loud.. just for me”. He kissed my legs, slowly inching towards my inner thigh. I slightly opened my legs on instinct. He chuckled and didn’t move any closer. “Use your words querida.” He said firmly as I shook my head. This was too embarrassing for me. Even being below me he had so much control over me. He shrugged his shoulders and began to get up. I panicked and grabbed his shoulders.

“P-please don’t leave…”. I pleaded. No matter how embarrassed I was, I have been wanting this for so long, so painstakingly long. He licked his lips as he got on his knees in front of me again. Kissing my thighs again. “I thought about you… uhm well I thought about you eating me out” I choked out. He already knew that I thought about him, no point in hiding it. He smirked into the kisses and slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly. Miguel looked at me for conformation and I nodded my head. He pulled them down and off my body, leaving me in a shirt and panties. He brought his fingers to my clothed pussy, feeling the drenched fabric.

“Ahh so wet already. Were you thinking about me today?”. I nodded my head as he looked up at me. “Why? Tell me what made you think about me”. I felt embarrassed again, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about the answer.

“When I was putting Gabriella to bed I thought about having a family with you… a-and what it would feel like to have you put a baby in me”. His laugh was deep as he put his hands on my lower back and pulled me closer to him. His lips hovered over my panties, kissing my heat through the cloth. I twitched from the contact

“Oh my… you’ve got more of an imagination that I thought. Would you want to be a mother? Have my babies inside you?” I nodded my head again and he snarled. “Words cariño.” His tone was stern, not making things easy for me

“Yes, Miguel”. He nodded his head in approval before sliding my panties down and blowing over my heat. I yelped as the sensation, his breath was hot, and it made my body shudder. “Miguel please~”.

“Please what?” He asked teasingly as he inched even closer.

“Please eat me out”. He chuckled and latched his lips on my pussy. He took no time sliding his tongue in. He lapped at my juices as I threw my head back, gripping onto the couch. I whimpered while biting on my lip. I didn’t want Gabriella or my dad to wake up. He moved his hands to my thighs as he prevented them from clamping on his head as he continued to eat me out. His tongue did wonders and he moaned into me, letting the vibration of his moan toy with me. He spread my thighs further apart, allowing him to go deeper with his tongue. I didn’t think it was possible but the sliding of his tongue left me shaking. I wanted to squeeze my legs around him so bad, I wanted him to stay right there.

“Miguel more please~” I whispered, I was so scared to release a moan that I squeaked out the words. I was surprised he even heard me as his hands moved to my ass, allowing me to close my legs. I felt the knot from in my stomach as he continue to tongue fuck me. My legs squeezed around his head as I came in his mouth. He lapped up all of it, licking his lips. I panted as he chuckled and wiped his cheeks. He played with my juices on his fingers, putting them up to my mouth and making me taste myself.

“Was that good? I don’t think any guy your age could do as good as me”. He stated proudly as I nodded my head, still dazed from the sensation.

“I’ve only ever fucked older guys… but no guy has ever done that for me in the first place”. He scoffed

“Really? So un-classy… good thing I’m taking care of you from now on hm?” I giggled at his response. He was really getting an ego boost from this. He moved me from the couch and brought me upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Him and Gabriella were over so often that it was pretty much his. The only problem was that it was right nexts to my dads, and the walls weren’t exactly thick either. I reminded myself to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake him. “Rest for a few minutes. Im gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll come back up and give you what you really want”. I nodded my head, feeling my pussy throb and clench on nothing. He walked out of the room, my body trembling thinking about him. I wonder how big he is…. I mean I’m already much smaller than him so he would probably stretch me out.

I let my fingers slid down to my pussy, gliding over it. I let out a breath as I slid my fingers in, toying with my walls. I bit my lip again as I finger fucked myself to the thought of Miguel. He was amazing with his tongue but his dick would be 100x better. Hitting every spot, reaching deeper and deeper… then coating my walls with his seed-

My wrist was grabbed and my fingers were pulled out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness as I saw Miguel over me, licking my fingers. I stared up at him, watching him clean off my digits. He cleaned up that fast? Or was I imagining him for that long?

“Really? You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” I looked away embarrassed. He chuckled pushing me flat on my back. He took his jeans off and tossed them across the room. He slid his boxers down just enough. Miguel stood at the edge of the bed and pulled me towards him. I yelled as I felt my pussy press against his cock. He finally lifted up my shirt, unclasping my bra. “God you look perfect”. He stared at my flushed face, hair sticking out everywhere with lustful eyes. My nipples hardened at the cold air, perking up. He left one hand on my waist for support, the other hand lining himself up. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up with me. I gulped. The most I’ve taken in is 5 inches, Miguel was at least 8 and his girth…. He pushed his tip in and I gasped.

He continued to push himself into me, my pussy stretching more and more. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. He cusped my cheek and wiped the tears. “You’re almost there querida, breathe”. He got half way before my pussy clenched again. He grunted before putting both hands on my waist. He rubbed circles, trying to help me relax. “Mi amor please you have to relax or else I can’t fuck you”. The words ‘mi amor’ rung throughout my head. My body relaxed as I thought about it. I didn’t know Spanish but I knew that much. My face heat up as I brought my hands to my face. Mi amor? Would he call me that even if we weren’t fucking? Did he like me? I mean I liked him, hell I loved him. Did I love him or did I just want him to fuck me?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his push the rest of himself inside of me, I moaned out loud before quickly covering my mouth. I wasn’t ready for it as he bottomed out. He chuckled as he brought his lips close to mine.

“What got you so distracted? It’s almost like you forgot that my dick was in you”. I blushed as he stayed in place, me basically just cock warming as he spoke.

“I- uhm…. You called me ‘mi amor’ and I started thinking”. I trailed off, looking away. I didn’t want to move or else I would moan again. His eyes widened at my reaction.

“(Y/N) look at me”. I hesitated. “Look at me now.” I turned my head and met his eyes. Before could explain myself he kissed my lips. But it was warm… so warm and loving. I kissed back, wanting to feel more of his passion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. As our kiss deepened he began to rock his hips into me. I moaned into his mouth, letting him slide his tongue in. He took immediate control and continued to fuck me.

He bottomed out quickly, beginning to pound into me. “Listen to me (Y/N), wether I had you in bed or not I love you”. I nodded my head and whimpered as he continue to fuck me. He moved his hands to my breast, latching onto my left one with his mouth and playing and twisting my right nipple. I tried so damn hard to stay quiet as his balls slapped against my ass. If I spoke now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making noise. “Say it mi amor”.

“I- I love you too Miguel-mphm!” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, moving his to leave hickies from my shoulders to the valley of my chest. His tip hit every spot, I felt every vein on his girth as he continued to pounded into me.

“Yeah? So that means I can put my babies in you? Fill you up with my cum all night? You would want that wouldn’t you. For me to use you as a cum dump”. A ray of yesses left my mouth, said so drunkenly. I was so dazed from his cock I couldn’t think straight. The drool started to pour out of my mouth as he pressed himself deeper and deeper. He has so much stamina. He grunted as he watched my tits bounce. “Don’t be too loud… your dad might wake up”.

Miguel put his hands on my waist, wanting to let my boobs bounce on their own. Lewd noises filled the room as I saw stars, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. He staggered, my pussy clenching on every bit of him. A knot formed in my stomach as I continued to pant and whimper. It took every ounce of will power not to break and scream out his name.

I felt the knot burst as I came, a moan escaping my lips. A few more stores and Miguel coated my walls. I felt the heat fill me up to the brim. He hovered over me before pulling his cock out. He watched as our mixed cum began to spill out of me. Miguel pressed his thumb to my hole, keeping in as much as he could.

“Don’t want any of it to go to waste right? Or else we’ll have to do this again”. He was met with silence. Well besides my pants as I stared up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes and drool still lining down my cheek. He stared at my fucked out appearance and admired his work. He went into the bathroom (connected to the guest room) and grabbed a towel. He cleaned us both up before putting on a pair of boxers. He ventured to my room as he grabbed me a pair of panties. He looked over to Gabriella, sleeping soundly. He smiled and kissed her forehead thinking about how good of a mom I would actually be.

Coming back to the guest room he saw me sitting up, cleaning up my face and hair. We smiled at each other as he helped me put the underwear on. He gave me one of his shirts as it would fit like a dress. Although the sheets were slightly stained, that was something he would worry about another time. He debated his options. He could sleep and cuddle with me and run the risk of my dad seeing us or he could send me upstairs to Gabriella. As safe as it sounded he decided to keep me with him, wanting to be with the woman he just talked about having a baby with. It’s the least he could do after he just fucked you like that.

He pulled me close and laid down with me, spooning me from behind. I used his arm as a pillow, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smiled as I closed my eyes, painfully tired after our “little stunt”. He watched me fall asleep before kissing my head and closing his eyes as well.

OKAYYY SO IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A FEW HOURS NOW AND IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART 2 OF LIKE THE AFTERMATH THEN JUST LMK! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED

If I do write a part two should I make the dad find out and have angst or basically keep it hidden until the reader is old enough to live on her own

PART 2 IS UP AND ITS FLUFF - I don’t know how to link it so bear with me please and just find it, it’s “Little Lady to Little Wife”

[inventedfangirling]

Pat's Growth- from troublemaker to walking green flag

Pat Napat Jindapat is by far one of the greenest flags i've ever seen in shows. Especially asian shows with men. But for quite a while i was wondering why Pat's character in the first episode gave very different vibes from the one he turned out to be eventually.

Of course he liked to help people but Pat in episode 1 is mostly picking fights for no reason and just exuding aggressive {alpha} male-ness (derogatory) and i just couldnt��really put a finger on exactly how his transformation happened. How convincing it was that this was the same guy.

Pat and icy?? I just had to replay that part when i rewatched the episode for the second time cos the pat i loved was the very opposite of icy.

That's when I was reminded of Pat from high school. The younger, happy go lucky version of himself who had few disappointments in life being the spoilt golden son in a clearly patriarchal household. Despite being spoilt though, while he was still mischievous he wasn't really picking fights for no reason. He had left that in his childhood as had Pran.

High school Pat was thus a glimpse of the man he could turn into, the man he would turn into. That was until Pran moved away and Pat was suddenly all alone. He was still the popular guy, he still had people around, his family was there still hurrahing every small and big victory spoiling him left and right, he didn't have to move away, he no longer had to compare GPA's he was finally at peace, except that the peace came at the price of a loneliness so depressing and soul crushing it literally sucked the very Pat out of Pat.

The loneliness borne out of Pran's absence allowed a multitude of thoughts to fester in his mind. Idle mind is devil's workshop and whatnot. He began to be more man. Be more louder. Be so in your face nobody could ignore his existence. Loud enough that maybe it could drown out the deafening silence of his loneliness. And that's the Pat we meet in episode 1. The one who picks fights for the flimsiest of reasons and just can't control himself in one. And then? And then he sees Pran.

Memories flood back. Of times gone by. Childhood games and Guitar picks and writing songs.

Except it doesn't. Pat doesn't allow them to come back. There is no instant change in him. He tries to continue his old ways. Tries to fight.

Tries to keep it loud and all man. But alas how longer could he have stalled the change. How longer could he have pushed away the memories. Pran was back. His competing dimpled and fierce buddy-enemy was back. More importantly at that point the Pat who he was when Pran left was steadily knocking at the door to be let out. And Pat could choose to suppress him again. Or he could choose to be him again.

With Pa's advice and fate intervening and putting them in  next door apartments, things begin to change. Pat suddenly finds himself wanting to be around Pran all the time. Trying to make up for all the lost time. For all the loneliness. And that's when we see Pat meeting his younger version.

A softer, kinder, more safe space puppy human than macho fighter.

Still Pat, but a better one. One who looked for solutions than to create problems. One who wanted to be friends more than fight. The one who wanted to and now once again suddenly got to be around Pran. 

And so he does. He sheds his macho skin like that, he becomes the Pat that Pran fell in love with in the first place.

He becomes the Pat that Pran continues to fall deeper in love with.

He becomes the Pat that sacrifices his win for his boyfriend, sacrifices his need to be loud if that's what Pran wanted, the one that is lifted up by a simple phone call or the smallest note, the one who still fights but apologizes soon after.

The one who wakes up early to make breakfast for his boyfriend, the one who reaches inexplicable levels of happiness just by sniffing a shirt.

The one that ends up on that rooftop with Pran. Not the iconic rooftop kiss one. Of course that. But eventually the one on the house they will end up sharing together.

And thats how i believe Pat became the Pat we loved in episode 12. He was always in him. And when he longer suppressed that part of him, when Pran's return heralded his own revival, that was when that Pat could come out and breathe the fresh air and become the person he was always meant to be. The one with whom just being in his presence makes Pran feel like freedom was his. The one who both Pran and all of us fell in love with.

I made a much longer version of this but for Pran, do check it out if you'd like here

[cer-rata]

Fic WIP "Boys Will Be Bugs"

When Jon first met Damian, he didn’t have a lot of friends. His early life was pretty unstable actually, and so were his powers, so there weren’t tons of opportunities to mingle. He'd never willingly admit it, but on a level his friendly personality was born out of loneliness as much as it was his natural state.

Anyway, back then Jon didn't know a ton of people, and It was easy for him to call someone a best friend when there were only three options--especially since one of them helped a crazy British man harass his family. And torture him. Kon had finally gotten him to admit to himself that Manchester Black's attempts to recruit him counted as torture, and he wasn't sure he appreciated knowing that, actually.

He was over it though, he and Kathy were still close, even if they saw each other less nowadays. But…it did give Damian a bit of a leg up in that race. As for Maya, well, she was like an older sister almost, still a friend, but it was a little different. So in some ways it kind of defaulted to Damian, especially with how much time they spent together in the years since.

The really interesting thing, Jon thought, was how Damian managed to keep that spot when he started adding new friends to his orbit. Jon had some really good friends too, friends he’d trust with his life, friends who knew things about him that he’d never tell his parents, friends who he knew liked him separate from the Superboy thing.

But still, Damian was the one Jon thought about when something went wrong, or when he figured out a new way to use his powers and wanted to tell someone. He thought about Damian a lot, really.

Damian had added some new friends to his orbit too, and recently a boyfriend even. Which was so…cool. Jon was happy for him, Damian deserved to have something nice like that, and it was great to see him opening up to new possibilities and stuff. He even genuinely liked the guy, and they’d already gotten past the “almost killing each other because of a misunderstanding/supernatural problem” stage, AND saved each other's lives. Conrad was Jon’s friend too, and that was neat. 

He wasn’t jealous anymore. Not at all. That wouldn’t make sense. Damian was already his best friend, what else could he even want? The Sapphire crystal thing showed you what you loved, and obviously he'd love his best friend, that wasn't weird, and the moment where he wondered about there being more to that was just him being stupid and dramatic and immature.

So he floated over to where Damian was drawing at his desk, and rested his chin on his shoulder, hovering just enough to not put too much of his weight on it. Damian didn’t bother shaking him off, or even complaining, which was crazy considering how they’d started off. Over their three years of friendship, Damian had been getting warmer and more tolerant of affection, and was almost normal about it. Jon wanted to think that his consistent positivity had finally worn Damian down…but…he acknowledged that the recent shift probably had to do with Conrad and how he’d been dragging Damian out of his shell. It seemed so easy when he did it, and Jon couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t managed it himself...but it was good that it happened! He was happy about it!

Besides, there were probably more…”incentives” for him to listen to Conrad. Jon and Conrad were both kind of dorky, but Conrad had cool hair, and was sort of...pretty in a way Jon didn't see himself as being. His charisma was slightly different too, as were the things he was confident about. He might have been nervous about being a superhero, but he was a shameless, earnest flirt, and maybe Damian just appreciated the audacity. Maybe Jon was too laid-back.

Conrad was also the same age as Damian, and being a little younger than his buddy had never felt like a problem before, but now Jon was wondering if maybe Damian didn't take him as seriously as he thought he--

Damian sighed quietly. “Jon.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re grinding your teeth in my ear.”

“Oh! Sorry. You…you can hear that?”

“Everything about you is loud.”

Jon rolled his eyes and bumped the side of Damian’s head with his own. He finally actually processed what Damian had been sketching: It looked like a bunch of weapon designs. Swords and hammers and axes and stuff. “Whatcha working on?”

“You know how Conrad is a dumbass?”

“I refuse to be on record agreeing with that.”

“He’s terrible at thinking up new constructs quickly, but has a sharp memory, so I was thinking I’d give him some detailed designs for basic weapons when he gets home.”

Jon swallowed down a feeling that didn’t make sense. “Ah, that’s sweet of you.”

“It’s practical. Sentiment has nothing to do with it.”

“You’re allowed to like, admit that you like doing things for your boyfriend.”

Damian sucked his teeth. “If it’s obvious, why would I need to say it?”

Jon considered that for a minute. “I guess that’s fair. I like that hammer over there, third from the top.”

Jon heard Damian bite his cheek. “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll show him that one--”

“It’s two hands with their fingers all laced up, right? That’s cool, especially given Conrad’s whole deal.”

Two heartbeats that were slightly faster than normal were the only indications Jon got that Damian was a little embarrassed. “Well…yes, that was the idea.”

“You wanna hold his hand, huh?”

“Jon, get off of me.”

Jon wrapped his arms around Damian’s shoulders. “You miiiiiiss hiiiiim.”

“I will stab you in the eye with this pencil.”

“It’s normal to miss people you’re dating.”

“It hasn’t even been three weeks, I’m not so needy.”

“Oh yeah? I mean, would you even let me touch you this much if he was around? I’m basically just keeping a seat warm.” Jon winced as soon as he finished letting that disaster of a sentence dribble out of his mouth. He could feel his friend’s muscles tense.

Damian got up, gently pushing Jon off on him in the process. He turned to affix his sharp gaze on him, seeming confused and somewhat concerned.

Jon would have preferred him looking annoyed, actually.

“Jonathan…are you alright?”

Jon did his best to play it off. “Yeah, of course. I was just teasing you.”

Damian didn’t look convinced. “Well…if you’re sure--”

Jon flashed a smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Totally. I’m more worried about you though.”

“You’re trying to redirect me.”

“If you don’t let me, I’m going to hug you again.”

Damian sighed. “You people are so violent.”

Jon raised his eyebrows, and Damian smirked. “‘You people?’ What do you mean ‘you people?’”

“You know, the clingy ones that dress in blue and wear a symbol that is clearly an ‘S’ but they insist isn’t one, despite the fact that the House of Zod’s emblem is clearly a ‘Z’ so--”

“That’s a coincidence! If that’s how it worked, then our crest would look like an ‘E,’ we’re not the house of ‘Sel.’”

Damian looked defiantly up into Jon’s eyes. “I think an ‘E’ would look better. ”

Jon blew a freezing blast of air over him, and he gasped out a laugh as he tried to avoid it. “Hey! Stop that!”

Jon spent a moment chasing him around the room, before he ran out of breath. After, Damian was hugging himself and shivering, but still smiling. Jon crossed his arms. “That’s what you get, 'elf off the shelf'.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“Me?!”

“I’m freezing! What if I die, hmm? What if I go into shock, and just die in front of you, and suddenly you’ve murdered ‘Damian Carlisle Wayne,’ and have to go to--hey!” Jon interrupted him with a bear hug that he was too sluggish from the cold to dodge in time.

Jon held him tight. “Yeah, yeah I’ll warm you up, crybaby.” He paused. “…’Carlisle?’”

Damian clearly sounded embarrassed this time. “Oh. Um. That’s…Conrad has this stupid running joke where he says my full name but adds a random middle name every time.”

Jon squeezed his eyes shut. “Ah, that’s pretty good. I think you’d be a Jerry.”

“You’re in biting distance.”

“So are you.”

“...Touché.” 

Jon focused really hard and vented just a little of his solar reserves. A teeny tiny bit, just to raise his temperature and warm Damian up faster. He was actually pretty proud at how much control he had over that now, the idea that he’d blow up by accident seemed ridiculous. Dumb stupid evil alternate timeline Tim. “That better?”

Damian growled under his breath. “...Yes.”

Jon giggled. “You sure you don’t wanna come over for dinner tonight? Kara and Dad are both back from their space things.”

Damian shook his head. “No, Duke and Cassandra want me to come with them to take Black Mask down, I need to be ready to go.”

Jon squeezed him a little tighter. “Oh. Well…it’s the summer, I can stay out a little later, especially cause I’m almost fourteen, so if you want I could maybe help?”

Damian shook his head. “I appreciate it, but that’s alright. It’s Duke, Cassandra and myself, frankly It’s already overkill.”

Jon bit his lip. “Ah, okay, well--”

“Besides, the way you start giggling sometimes when people shoot you kind of kills our mystique.” 

Jon scoffed. “It’s not my fault they don’t use big enough caliber bullets to do anything but tickle me. A 50. cal could almost kind of theoretically hurt.”

Damian snorted. “Uh-huh. Sorry chuckles, we're finally free of one clown, that doesn't mean we need anoth--ow! Stop! I thought we were both joking about the biting--Jon!”

[moltensmusings]

I'm getting emotional about the idea of Layla Heartfilia so enjoy my rambles and headcanons. Largely canon divergent. Part of which is Layla having Taurus before Lucy does.

Imagine Layla being an incredibly talented Celestial mage with more magic than most people thought capable who made a name within the guilds for holding not true allegiance but being willing to work for hire. Aquarius is the first golden key she ever got and she has a weird knack for being able to direct and command Aquarius in a way that gets through her insubordination and anger. She's respectful to Aquarius, asks her advice on missions, inquires about Aquarius's own likes and dislikes and how her relationship is going. While Aquarius won't admit it she has a strong fondness for Layla.

Layla collects her spirits and makes a name for herself due to her bravery, intelligence, tenacity, and charm. She takes jobs for the church, historians, nobles, anyone who inquires and can pay.

She meets Jude when she's about 28 due to people pointing him in her direction when he's looking into hiring some protection on his travels for his guild. He's slightly younger than her and pretty instantly is smitten by her much like everyone. Even after their first mission ends he keeps going back to spend more time with her until she inevitably muses that he should just out right ask her out. Which he, fumbling, does.

They get married years later because Layla is someone who always thinks it's important to take her time in life. And when she retires from guild life due to her new status as a noble, much of the magic world sends her letters pleading with her to reconsider or wishing her well in her life.

When lucy is born Layla spends so much time with the spirits summoned so that her daughter never once has any loneliness. Lyra is around to sing her lullabies, Aquarius grumbles about how messy children are but is always first in line to hold the child and summon water for fun. Cancer takes his time trimming Lucy's hair so he can hear her excitedly ramble about the things she's learning. Crux is summoned to read Lucy stories and teach her important subjects when Layla deals with other affairs.

Taurus is the final key Layla ever receives and the excitement Lucy exhibits when he appears allowing her to run around and play is so palpable that often, despite his destructive nature, Layla has him out. When Layla goes on that final mission only to pass away the absence is palpable. Jude would been ready to sell the keys or give they away, blaming magic and the call of it for her passing. But Lucy for the first and only time begs her father for something.

A little girl with only a barebones understanding of magic, summoning spirits constantly despite the tole because more than anything she wants her mother back. When Aquarius hugs her it's almost like her mom used to, when Taurus is around she can pretend even for a moment her mother is just standing off to the side, watching with a smile ready to step in if things get too rough. The lullabies help her sleep faster and in dreams she finds her mom. Stories and lessons are things her mom set up so she'd always be knowledgeable. Cancer is there to help her keep her hair tidy, she's still too small to do it properly herself.

When Lucy runs away to join a guild, it's not just them being cool, it's memories of her mother talking about the life she lived before marriage and the happiness that came from guild quests and fellow mages. It's a connection to her mother reinforced by the shadows of familiarity that pass over people's faces when they see Lucy and remember Layla.

[scun-gilli]

So, I was wondering about the Demon summoning AU WIP you posted. It looks really fun, what are your plans for it???

I am glad you asked!

I have two other long-fic projects I am working on in the background of TRT. one being the demon summoning and another being a horror fic.

The demon summoning is still in its beginning stages, so the plot is definitely subject to change, however, I'll give you a brief description of my general plot/themes:

The story is a modern/human AU, just so you know

Alastor is a popular podcast host by day and, as we all know, a serial killer by night. He is extremely meticulous with his work but even he knows that the law is starting to sniff him out. He looks back into the occult, a minor obsession of his when he was younger, and tracks down a cult specifically to get his hands on their grimoire (think Apology Tour people with Stolas)

Lucifer is a divorcee and an empty-nester. He has been struggling with his loneliness and longs for something new. He wants to explore and travel and be in nature, but Heaven has forbidden his entry to earth. The only exception to the rule being when he is summoned by a mortal for a deal, not even Heaven can step in.

Alastor summons lucifer to make a deal so that he is never captured, allowing him to continue his *hobbies* without worrying about the police or his dear mother finding out. Lucifer accepts the deal but turn down the idea of owning Alastor's soul, instead, he wants Alastor to be his ticket into staying on earth for an extended period.

Therefore, the bickering roommates are born. Lucifer creates a human disguise and lives on earth with Alastor while also keeping him from capture.

Meanwhile I have all sorts of other hijinks planned with cults, helluva boss crossovers and all sorts of other stuff. My plan is for it to be domestic, fluffy and hopefully funny. It will also probably be a pretty slow burn.

-------------------------------------

The horror fic is basically my excuse to write some creepy monster stuff XD

The plot is heavily inspired by the SCP community. Also a modern/human AU set in the H.A.Z.B.I.N research facility.

Alastor is a seasoned researcher who has recently been entrusted with access to the facility's lowest level, home to their most dangerous anomaly, 7-666 (Codenamed: Lucifer). This particular anomaly is known for being incredibly aggressive, powerful and unpredictable. As Alastor slowly starts to learn more about 7-666, he starts to realize that maybe the previous researchers have been going about it all wrong.

This is planned to include characters from both Hazbin & Helluva with all sorts of shenanigans (I can't help it even though I technically want this to be a grittier story), monster romance, and two misunderstood beings finding their kindred spirit with each other.

------------------------------------

I was thinking of starting to post drabbles or one shots on ao3 just to show y'all the concepts I'm playing with to see if any of them are interesting. Because I do also have ideas for a mafia AU, Eldritch/monster hunter AU, and mayyyyybbbbeee something canonverse. Not to mention the overlord Huskerdust fic I had almost COMPLTELY written before Radioapple stole my heart. That has been sitting in my drafts for ages.

Let me know your thoughts!!!

[syluscore]

One Foot Here, One Foot Out the Door

~Leon Kennedy angst~

Word count: 854

Content warnings: PTSD, mental illness, gun use, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, near suicide attempt, self-destructive behaviors, Leon is depressed and contemplating suicide. No comfort, no happy ending, just pure sadness.

I've been having a hard time lately with the battles inside my own head, so I wanted to write about the part of Leon that most resonates with me. The one foot here, one foot out the door feeling. Teetering on the edge of the end. I've barely scratched the surface here, but it felt nice to release these feelings from inside of me.

!!!!!SUICIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER. REACH OUT TO SOMEBODY, NEVER SUFFER SILENTLY!!!!!!

~masterlist~ for those who don't wish to proceed with this piece

Why are any of us even born at all? Brought into a world where pain and suffering is the primary universal experience.

He looks at an old lady pushing her grocery cart, knowing she’s experienced pains he’ll never be able to comprehend. He sees a newborn baby and knows there’s nothing at all anyone can do to prevent them from enduring countless heartbreaks and devastation. He looks in the mirror and sees the shell of a man he once was. Or maybe he doesn’t recognize the face staring back at him at all.

He’s merely the solution of an equation made up of trauma, ache, and dread. 

So that begs the question, why the fuck were we even born at all?

Graced with a life that we beg any higher deity to take away. Take it back, take it all back. Why must we be forced to exist? He never should’ve existed at all.

Projecting his own damage as the general consensus to aid in an endless loneliness that no company could ever fill. Emptiness. How can one person feel so empty and so full of disgusting emotions at the same time? 

Countless people tell him he’s worthy of a better life. That he deserves so much better, that there’s better out there for him. But no one ever offers a solution. It’s just words they tell him to make themselves feel like they did something for him. 

If one day he loses the battle between himself and his own brain, they can say that they tried to help him. They were there for him. They took care of him. They can’t believe that this has happened.

They didn’t do a fucking thing. Thank you, sincerely, for your meaningless phrases that went in one ear and out the other. Empty words that he tossed away. Meanwhile, the words inside his own brain telling him the world would be better off without him dug their claws deeper and deeper into this godforsaken soul.

This soul that couldn’t have possibly been designed to endure such bullshit.

If everything happens for a reason, he’s sure that the reason is to see what will be the final nail in his coffin. Each day is harder. The years pass and traumatic event after traumatic event after traumatic fucking event just keeps happening to him. What will it finally take for him to fall apart completely and give himself away completely?

He wishes he could summarize it so simply. He could proclaim that the darkness has him in its grip, but that wouldn’t do it justice. Maybe he’s become the darkness. Maybe any light left inside of him has burnt out and now he’s left with only the nothingness within him.

If he had a choice, maybe he would feel better. He’d tell himself that he does it because he helps people. But that’s just more bullshit.

He’s never had a choice. He’s always been expected to put everything above himself, who gives a fuck what happens to him? Another statistic? A plus one to the casualty count? He’ll destroy himself until one day, that’s all he is.

If he thinks about how much light he used to hold inside of himself when he was younger, he’s filled with a blinding rage. The hopes and dreams he’s long lost and buried. 

How is one person expected to mourn themselves while still fucking breathing?

He’s not himself anymore. The Leon he once knew, maybe even the one he was meant to be, is gone. And there’s nothing he could ever do to bring him back. 

No matter how much he tries to numb himself, to detach himself and just go through the motions, the depression and anxiety always creeps up. It’s the only consistent thing in his life, and it’s not much to cling to, is it?

And as hard as it is to admit it, he truly wants it all to end. 

Maybe not by his own hand. Maybe not intentionally. No, he’s a coward. Too cowardly to take that final step that he so desperately craves.

His daydreams have become a grim vision of what it would be like if a mission went wrong. If something out of his control finally ended his life. 

Perhaps he’s become careless. Acting despite the possible consequences. Because if something finally clipped that last thread tying him to our world, would that really be so bad? Is that really “worst case scenario”? 

He’s no hero. He’s a fucking fool. A fool who at the root of it all, should’ve never existed at all.

The only comfort he finds is in the fact that one day he will cease to exist and there will be no one left on earth who remembers Leon Kennedy. The pain and suffering he’s seen will die with him.

But unfortunately, today is not that day. Today isn’t the start of the world after Leon Kennedy.

“Fucking coward,” he whispers to his reflection as he clicks the safety back into place. He lowers the gun from his temple and smashes it against the bathroom sink with a loud clang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hey. i love you. and i would listen to you any fucking time. don't let the worst day of your life be the last. -hannah

[slytherinshua]

DOVE genre ➳ fluff. prince au. childhood friends to lovers. a pinch of angst maybe? warnings ➳ tiny bit of crying. mysterious unspecified heart disease. harua kinda flirts but he doesn't know it lmao. pairing ➳ prince!harua x fem!reader.wc ➳ 2.6k.

Harua was born very sick. He had a hereditary heart condition— the same as his mother. Hearing the news of his condition a few hours after his birth, his father decided that he was too fragile to take on the role of a prince, so he was kept hidden from the world. 

From that moment on, Harua was never allowed outside unsupervised. He was confined inside the castle where the palace nurses could make sure he was safe 24 hours a day. Whenever he went outside, he was accompanied by his mother and 2 nurses. They were all paranoid that his heart might stop at any minute.

Harua never felt as fragile as they told him he was.

His mother often took him to the beach when he was little as the doctors said the seabreeze was good for him. Harua loved everything about the beach. He loved the shells that he found on the shore, how they twisted and spiralled into different colours. He loved the waves, their constant push and pull towards the shore and towards his feet. He loved how the sand felt between his toes, how soft and smooth it was. He loved how he could build little castles with the sand depending on how much water he added. 

But, most of all, he loved the girl who found the shells, raced against the waves, walked along the shore, and built castles with him. He loved the girl who made him feel normal. No mentions of being royalty. No mentions of his weak heart. You made him feel at ease, even as a little child.

You were always on the beach whenever Harua came, and he used to come almost every day. It didn’t matter what you were doing with him, any time spent with Harua was precious to you.

When Harua was 12, his mother died of her heart condition. Her sudden death caused such a stir in the kingdom, that the palace almost completely shut down. The king fell into a depression, having lost his precious wife. He spent most of the day by her grave and did not speak to Harua or anyone else in the castle. 

Without his mother to accompany him, Harua was no longer allowed to go off the castle grounds. He was able to access the gardens and the little patch of woods where wild mushrooms and forest creatures dwelled, but he could not go to the sea.

He could not see you.

It wasn’t just the king that seemed sorrowed by the queen’s passing, even Harua’s nurses and maids who he had become good friends with barely spoke a word to him anymore. It was like everyone had forgotten his existence, trying to keep the kingdom alive with the king almost completely isolating himself from society.

Harua missed the balls and the laughter. He missed seeing his mother in pretty dresses and dancing with princesses. He missed the palace he once knew— the palace that was alive. But nothing could compare to how much he missed you.

He spent most days by his window, like he was sitting now. If he squinted hard enough, he could just barely see the start of the shoreline in the far distance. It didn’t seem so far away when he was little, but now it was practically unreachable.

He tried not to cry. An 18 year old prince should not be swayed to tears so easily. But his life really was miserable, and shining tears slipped down his milky cheek the longer he stared out the window. 

He was trapped. 

His mother used to sing a song when he was little, the lyrics depicting a dove trapped in a cage with a broken wing. It’s situation seemed helpless, until a small swallow helped it. He didn’t realise when he was younger that his mother was comparing him to the dove. But now, he was starting to realise what she meant. 

The cage that the dove was confined in was the palace. The dove’s broken wing was his weak heart. And the swallow who saved the dove from its life of isolation and loneliness was you.

He wanted to rush out of the palace and sink his feet into the warm sand again, but he knew that no one would let him leave. Sneaking out was an option, but Harua didn’t know if he had the courage to pull something like that. His entire life he had been well behaved and obedient. He listened to his parent’s requests and followed their rules. Yes, he was 18 now. Technically an adult. But he had never broken a rule in his entire life. Somehow, the thought of breaking that streak was worse than anything.

If he couldn’t go out and see you, maybe there was another solution.

Harua may not have taken on princely duties most of his life, but he knew how things worked in the palace. He knew the offices and which people to go to if he wanted to find someone— summon someone.

So, he did. He sent a request for Miss Y/n L/n to be sent to the palace immediately. Doing as little as that was very satisfying for Harua. He had never been allowed to lift a finger his entire life. He was dismissed as incompetent because he was sick. But, he was smart and witty. He had learned the ins and outs of the palace from just observation. 

Now that the request was sent, all that was left to do was wait. He hadn’t seen you since he was 12, and the longer he waited in the entranceway of the palace, the more he felt nervous to see you again.

He had always liked you, and he still did after all this time. You were the only girl that he really knew. The princesses he had danced with had been pretty, but they were all the same once you tried to get to know them. And maybe he was always subconsciously comparing them to you. It was like they faded into the distance whenever he thought of them compared to you. 

If Harua had to describe you, he would compare you to freshly blossomed flowers or rich chocolate cake. The splash of cool water on a hot day or the crackle of a wood on fire. You were vibrant and full of life. He couldn't explain just how wonderful you were. There weren’t enough words in the world to even begin to scratch the surface of you. He could easily spend his entire life admiring you.

And all of this was just from his memory of you. Harua wondered how much you would have changed in 6 years. Did you still love seashells and the waves? Did you still love strawberry shortcake more than any other dessert in the world? Did you still prefer light blue dresses to pink?

Harua knew that he had changed in 6 years. He didn’t smile as much. He didn’t even remember the last time he had laughed. He spent most of the time in the library when before he had never even wanted to touch a book.

As he thought through it all, he only became more impatient to see you again. He had already checked in his mirror to make sure he looked his best, but it had been hours since he sent the request. Surely it wouldn’t be that much longer?

Thankfully, it wasn’t. The guards announced your arrival an hour later, and Harua raced to the front entrance. He had had hours to think and prepare himself for seeing you again, 6 years later, but nothing could have prepared him for just how beautiful you looked.

You were dressed simply in a plain dress, certainly nothing fancy compared to your elegant surroundings. Your hair was tied back and it reminded Harua of how much you used to hate tying your hair back when you were little. Maybe that’s one of the ways you had changed. You looked confused and a little unsettled. 

Harua’s heart dropped at the thought that the guards might have been rude to you or been too rough escorting you to the palace. What if you thought you had done something wrong? Did you think you were called here for a bad reason?

You turned and finally made eye contact with Harua. He felt like your gaze had completely frozen him to his spot, his feet sticking to the floor no matter how hard he tried to move them. But as you looked at him, he saw your expression relax and all the fear in your eyes melt away. It faded his nerves as well, and he was able to offer you a small smile.

“Y/n?” It felt surreal calling out the name after so many years. You were his best friend, his closest companion. You had known him since you were a baby. So why did he feel so awkward?

“Harua!” You smiled— god, he had missed your smile. You looked elated, as if it were your birthday or something. You eagerly stepped forward, embracing Harua in a hug before the boy had time to think. 

It was kind of like his brain malfunctioned at that point. You had been several feet away just seconds ago but now you were so close, arms wrapped around his still frozen figure, face buried in the crook of his neck. It felt as if nothing had changed. Nothing was different. 6 years had passed but you were still Y/n and he was still Harua.

He relaxed completely, smiling just as widely as you and wrapping his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze. He could smell your hair from how close he was, picking up the subtle hints of lavender and rose. It was comforting and familiar and he hugged you closer.

“I missed you.” You whispered, laying your cheek against his chest and you could just barely make out his heartbeat— it was racing. You were glad you weren’t the only one.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I left that day.” He mumbled, referencing the last day he had seen you. Palace guards had come unexpectedly and taken Harua back to the palace without a single explanation for him or you. You thought you would see him again the next day, but he never showed up. You waited for an entire week at the beach, waiting for him to come back. You never knew why he wasn’t able to until now.

Harua showed you his room and around the castle grounds. It was most deserted, but still glamorous and elegant. You had never seen such intricate architecture and sophisticated decorations. There were paintings hung on the wall that were twice as tall as you, and statues in the gardens so lifelike and impressive that you could only wonder how much they cost.

As it grew later in the evening, Harua took you to the dining hall where an immaculate dinner spread was provided by the chefs. It was just you and him in the endlessly big palace. He showed you the attic filled with artifacts and the 3 story library that had secret rooms in the bookshelves. The day was filled with wonder and laughter and reunion. You never wanted it to end.

It was dusk and Harua was walking in the garden with you, hand-in-hand. The moon was up in the sky, showing itself as the sun set for the day, soft pinks and yellows mingling together in the sky before fading to a dark blue. It was gorgeous.

“Harua?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the promise you made me when we were 11?” You weren’t sure why your brain thought of it at this very moment, but the thought made you smile.

“That I would marry you?” He responded immediately, the memory still clear in his head.

“Yeah. I still have the ring, you know.”

“Really?”

“I wasn’t going to throw it out, obviously. I always thought one day I’d reunite with you and you’d make the promise come true, you know?” You said, words floating along with the breeze. 

“Do you still want it?” He looked at you, eyes shimmering— sparkling like the stars. He was the prettiest boy you had ever seen.

“If you… would settle for a girl like me.” You gulped, but the lump in your throat didn’t go away. When you were little, you didn’t understand the difference in class. You didn’t realise how absurd the thought of someone like you marrying a prince was. Though, it seemed to work out in fairytales.

“I wouldn’t be settling for anything less than perfect.” Harua said sternly.

“Did you forget that you’re a prince?”

“I don’t feel like a prince, Y/n. There’s nothing about me that screams princelike.” He said with a frown, “And I’ve never met anyone who I liked better than you. If anyone asked me to describe the perfect person, I would only ever be able to think of you.” 

You blushed at his words, looking away at a rose bush to distract yourself from his pretty face. He seemed to notice your embarrassment and it made him smile. He silently picked one of the roses from a nearby bush— a soft yellowy-pink one that reminded him of you. He offered it to you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your hair as he did so.

“You’re blushing.” He said softly, almost in awe of the pretty colour that tinted your cheeks.

“You’re not helping.” You replied back, carefully taking the rose from his hand.

“Huh?” 

“Harua!” You whined, frustrated that the boy didn’t seem to realise the effect his actions had on you.

“I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” You pressed a finger to his lips, preventing him from speaking another word. “It’s endearing.” 

This time, he blushed at your words, his once confident eyes shying away from your gaze. You wanted to coo at how cute the sight was, or maybe you really were just too enraptured by the boy that sat in front of you. 

“You really want to?” You asked again, wanting him to clear away any last bit of uncertainty that you had. You were still guarding your heart, too scared that it might get broken if you offered it to Harua.

But, his eyes softened and he nodded and gave you a reassuring smile. The gaze melted away all your worries and doubts, and you put all your trust in him.

“Then I’m all yours.” You whispered.

If you had thought about this in terms of the books you had read, you should’ve known that a kiss would come next. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Harua started to lean in, soft lips searching for yours. But you were never able to predict anything with Harua, and so, when his lips finally pressed against yours, your heart was startled. It skipped a beat and then sped up, thumping heavily in your chest. You started to wonder if this reaction was normal.

Harua’s lips felt plush and soft, somehow much more moisturised than yours. They felt nice— a heart fluttering, blush-inducing feeling that you never wanted to end. But, neither of you had unlimited breath, and you had to pull away eventually.

Harua’s eyes held such fondness as he looked at you after the kiss, your eyes still closed, cheeks burning. You were so pretty, so precious to him. He loved you more than anything in this world.

You were his swallow.

&team taglist: open!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for wanting to maintain a relationship with my step-grandfather? (tw for mentions of child abuse and death)

so my (under 18, nb) step-grandpa (84) has been feeling lonely recently. his son passed away this february, and his best friend isn’t doing well healthwise and probably won’t make it to the end of the year. my grandma (74) has been communicating with me and my mom (47) about step-grandpa’s loneliness. i offered to help them adopt a cat (he said he didn’t want to have another pet die, though he is in his eighties, so…) and surprised him with a card for father’s day.

here’s where things get tricky. my actual grandfather died a few months before his daughter (my mom) was born, so my step-grandpa is the only father figure he’s ever known. he was pretty abusive when she was younger, to the point of kicking her out when she was 12, which caused her to get kicked out of middle school because the us public school system doesn’t care about at-risk teens and children. my mom also has some triggers because of this abuse, namely slamming doors. she was also abused by one of her stepbrothers, the one that died last february. the other stepbrother is a wonderful guy who’s gotten a lot of therapy and has cut off contact with his dad and brother, but still occasionally talks to my mom.

however, my step-grandpa has, according to my grandma, turned over a new leaf. he’s taking medication for mood swings and goes to therapy. apparently it saved their marriage, so good for them! despite this, my father (47) believes my step-grandpa is a “textbook psychopath” and has also stated numerous times that he doesn’t want me around my step-grandpa. my dad did not grow up around my step-grandpa. he did not know my step-grandpa until my mom introduced them when both my parents were well into their twenties (or possibly in their early thirties). my dad has never experienced my step-grandpa’s abuse. my dad hasn’t had a whole conversation with my step-grandpa since maybe before the pandemic.

i’m not asking to live full-time with my step-grandpa. i just want to take him to a pet shelter or somewhere where he can hang out with cats without necessarily having to adopt them. my mom is fine with this. my mom has actually been encouraging me to hang out with my step-grandpa more, because like i said, he’s lonely. i respect that my dad doesn’t want to talk to my step-grandpa, but i do. i’ve told him this, and he keeps insisting that i “keep my distance” and “be careful”. he is literally the only person who is saying this. even my mom gets along with my step-grandpa now that he’s gone to therapy. it might be a religion thing, as my dad is lutheran and my step-grandpa is a recovering jehovah’s witness (which did influence how he raised my mom) but last i heard, he is fully an atheist now and has apologized to my mom for being a shitty dad. i don’t understand why my dad is so wary of him. i just don’t want him to feel alone.

so, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott has said he “enjoys being gay so much, on so many levels”, and says he feels “lucky” to have been born that way.

Speaking to Attitude about his upcoming film, All of Us Strangers, the Irish actor said it was an “extraordinary privilege” to play the character of Adam in Andrew Haigh’s acclaimed drama.

Scott stars alongside Paul Mescal in the film, which follows screenwriter Adam as he is drawn back to his family home, where he connects with the ghosts of his parents, who died in an accident thirty years earlier.

Based on Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel, Strangers, the movie explores themes around grief, coming out and loneliness, as Adam and his neighbour Harry (Mescal) find solace in each other.

“I wanted to bring as much of myself as I could, because I feel that’s what the audience is going to relate to the most,” Scott said, adding playing the role had been “cathartic”.

Another of the themes of All of Us Strangers is that his character would have grown up in “the shadow of Aids”, while Harry is younger, meaning the way they relate to their sexuality is vastly different.

I certainly know that the shadow of Aids was looming when I was growing up in the nineties,” Scott went on. “And, of course, that’s going to affect the way we think about sexuality, in the sense that [we felt we were being] punished for being physical or for expressing love.”

The emancipation from that feeling of shame after the crisis is “one of the wonderful things” about being gay, the Fleabag star said.

“I enjoy being gay on so many levels, it’s such a wonderful thing to me. It’s an extraordinary gift and just to be able to see the real beauty in being gay is completely wonderful.

“The older I get, the more I feel lucky to have been born gay, and that pervades my life in the sense of all my friendships. I have so many amazing queer friends [who] I just adore.”

And when he sees same-sex couples holding hands on the street, “I’m like a little weirdo. I’m smiling at them. They’re like: ‘What’s that dude smiling at us for?’ Because I just think it’s so wonderful.”

All of Us Strangers representation of LGBTQ+ romance is critical, Scott continued.

“When we read positive things or see representation on screen, when we see ourselves, we think: ‘Oh, well, we can forge a way in the world’. That’s why a movie like this is so important, because it’s incredibly compassionate and tender, but it also doesn’t erase the fact that it’s painful and it can be lonely being gay.

“There’s a certain thorny path that we all have to go to in order to find love, not just in another person, but in ourselves.”

Scott also believes the phrase “openly gay” should be retired for good, and replaced with the word “out”, with the former phrase making him “uneasy about what it implies”.

He explained: “I do understand that historically we need a word to recognise the fact that there are sometimes people who are gay, but, for whatever reason, aren’t able to be open about it. I totally get that. And so, I just feel the word ‘out’ does that. It’s simpler. It does the job, with less implications.”'

[archersxartxblog]

Caleb and Fjord are Ingo's kids, Caleb at 4 Fjord 3

description below the cut

Caleb being the older of the two, by at least year and a half. you could say that he wasn't exactly planned, the result of loneliness, the want for companionship, and too much alcohol, Caleb was born in the Pearl clan settlement during spring with the identity of his mother needing to be kept a secret as it might be seen as scandalous for a captain of the Galaxy team to have a child out of wedlock with a Warden from the Pearl clan. Luckily Ingo, stepped up, taking on the role of single father. Caleb has electrical scars going up his right arm, the result of him grabbing the tail of a Pichu that had been hiding into his father's tent, causing a bit of nerve damage in that arm. Caleb is a pretty talkative kid, even at a young age. often times just talking out loud to himself or anyone willing to listen to him. though he tends to get overwhelmed easily by new people and crowds. He has a deep love of baked goods, and later does his best to learn how to bake. He's also a huge fan of the game chess, and tends to play both casually and competitively, his favourite opponent? his little brother, even if when they start playing, Fjord doesn't exactly know what's happening. while Caleb was nervous at first about leave Hisui to go with his dad, the moment he laid eyes on Gear Station and found out what his dad and Uncle did, Caleb new he wanted to be a Subway Boss.

Fjord, unlike Caleb was a bit more planned, the secret getting out the two parents tried to make things work with the hope that if they were more public Caleb could spend time with his mother and that maybe a younger sibling would mean Caleb would have a companion, someone like him. Fjord was born in the Fall in Jublife Villge, but there was a problem, Fjord's right leg showed deformities around his knee, while the doctors and Nurses of the Galaxy team said he'd grow out of it, Warden Calaba suggested otherwise. when the time comes of Ingo to go home, their mother chooses to send them off with their father, knowing they will be far safer with him then they would if they were to stay. (and also because their existence messes with the timeline but that's besides the point.) Fjord doesn't really remember Hisui or who his mother is, but he has a vague feel about the place and his mother. while Fjord is able to walk, he has a noticeable limp and can't really run. as he get older he ends up needing the help of a Cane and a wheelchair just to get around. Fjord is a fairly quite kid, and doesn't really talk to much, as he would much rather let his brother do the talking, though he does take after his father in how loud he can be, something that can be rather surprising to those that don't expect it. Fjord enjoys knitting, he tends to knit his own sweaters when he gets older, though he always makes the sleeves to long. he also love videos games, specifically Legend of Zelda. Fjord tended to spend a lot of time around his Uncle Emmet, picking up a few of Emmet's mannerisms, such as his love of battling and trains. while being a Subway Boss isn't Fjord's dream, it quickly becomes a goal he starts shooting for.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Dear fucker Nikki (fanfiction)

A/N: This little letter was born out of nowhere and will probably give you a toothache but it needed to get out. Plus it was Nikki's birthday yestarday, so why not? A huge thanks to @glamourizedcocaine for their wonderful handwriting <3

Dear Nikki,

you are probably wondering who the fuck I am but don’t bother because I don’t exist. Well, I should say I don’t exist yet but I will. See, I’m Nikki from 2023 your 65 years old version and as you can see we didn’t lose our love for making things as complicated and dramatic as we can.

Let’s start with the big question: how in the hell did we get to 65 years old? I’m still wondering about it myself so I can only give you my honest opinion : we pulled our heads out of our ass and someone up there took mercy on us. Does this answer satisfy you? Probably not, but I’m here to explain.

Right now it’s December 11 1987 for you. You are all alone in your Van Nuys house, shooting up under a Christmas tree and wondering why nobody loves you or why did your family abandon you. “Why does living feel so draining?” you used to say or I should say I used to say but I prefer referring to you as a separate being. Loneliness is eating you alive as much as your addiction is destroying your life piece by piece, you know that but you are too scared to admit it. You need help but you don’t know how to ask for it.

Second question: why are you writing to me, your past self? I could say it’s because I’m an egocentric bastard or because I want to leave something to this world but I’d be lying. The simplest answer is that I felt the need to. 

The more complex one is that we live in a fucked up world, where each day everything seems to fall to pieces and the opioids epidemic seems to take more and more lives. It doesn’t matter how much I try to take action because it never seems enough but if I know something that did help that was the book I wrote about our story so maybe this letter will too.

However deep down I know you can read through my bullshit. Even after all these years I still think I can trick people but I end up looking like a child with a mouth covered in sugar who swears he didn’t eat any candy. I didn’t completely lie when I said I’m doing this to help people but I omitted that I’m one of those people.

“What the fuck dude, you just told me we get to be 65 and now you tell me we are still need help?”  

Well, everyone needs a little comfort sometimes even when you know all the tricks to take care of your mental health. I might be an old man but you still live in me, just like the little Nikki who has been hurted by everyone, simply some days I can hear your voices more loudly than others. I know the symptoms all too well : racing heart, general tiredness, the urge to fuck everything up, emotions all over the place. 

So what do I do? Anything you wouldn’t do: allowing myself to feel the emotions instead of bottling them up, relaxing, distract myself and writing this letter. Knowing who I was and how far I’ve come, getting back in contact with you gives me hope for two reasons : reminds me I don’t want to get back to that and empowers me to heal. I thought nobody was there to comfort me so I’m letting myself from the future do it because sometimes it’s easier to be kinder to our younger versions even if they were a piece of work like you.

You’re worth it, just like I am. Even when the world feels like collapsing on itself, we are still worth it. We were worth it when I was you, a junkie, and we are when I’m just an old man playing bass. I just need to repeat it over and over until it becomes a part of me since the human minds are incredibly forgetful when it comes to their importance.

I want to leave you with hope, the same one that helps me going through all the hard times in my life. We made it, we finally got the family we always wanted : Gunner, Storm,  Decker, Frankie and Ruby are all different ages and we love them with our whole heart. Ruby is only 3 now and she gets to receive everything we didn’t, especially since we are more mature compared to the others. I hope I’m a good enough father for them but sure I tried and keep trying my best. What matters is that it’s possible to break the abuse cycle and we are the living proof. 

The band it’s still going after 40 years and after a brief pause we are still touring. So many teenagers love Motley Crue now because they made a movie about us, which allowed me  to tell your story and show people there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

Thank you Nikki for not giving up on us and coming back that night. Thank you for allowing me to blurt my feelings out in this letter on my birthday, while I’m hidden in my home’s studio while I get to roll a tear and move on. Thanks to all the other Nikki(s) who fell down and got right up because that’s what we do. And lastly thanks to myself for keeping fighting and making sure that future Nikki can enjoy his old age with a lovely family and badass fans.

It will get better for you and for me.

Sincerely yours

An old man you killed 36 years ago or Nikki Sixx.