#and most times that's lying to her; keeping secrets; going off and doing stupid shit; putting himself at risk without telling her anything

[hijinxinprogress]

YJ being awful at sharing things (mostly bc they’re used to handling things themselves bc there was no one for them to depend on during their childhood)

YJ is great at subterfuge and lying but they keep unnecessary things on a need-to-know basis like their favorite colors so when people are like “why didn’t you tell me?? I can help! I hope you know you can come to me if you need anything” and yj responds like a stray animal being shown affection for the first time “with what?? nothing’s wrong…go away…” but they’re always injured or about to be whether it’s physical or psychological 

Cissie didn’t tell anyone she was allergic to walnuts until Oliver almost killed her at a mandatory family dinner (they also didn’t know she was in the Olympics or dating Kon until they were cornered by reporters in public who wanted to know if Kon was aware she had a relationship with Oliver Queen) (Roy had a very one sided beef with Kon for about three weeks once he saw the interviews)

Yj is outed for smoking when Bart gets caught with weed and the jl (mostly Barry) are lecturing him about the dangers of marijuana and Wally’s yelling bc they thought it was the titans smoking while bart just shrugs and he’s like “I thought you knew, it’s not like we were hiding it” they call a meeting w/ yj but Cissie’s just like “I mean what are you gonna do about it? You’re a couple years too late to be concerned” and behind them, an irritated Kon passes a handful of bills to a smug Anita

Or Tim’s been stabbed for the 5th time this week (and didn’t tell anyone bc he’s Tim) Cassie tries to hand him tequila and Bart looks at them like they’re stupid “he can’t drink that” and dicks in the background “no he can’t bc he’s literally a baby and so are all of you!!” and Anita reaches over to Kon who’s not paying attention and he’s like “yeah, rob got stabbed like an hour ago and didn’t say anything bc he’s a squirrelly little shit” and dick launches himself across the room holding 17 medical packs (he was supposed off planet for the next three months)

Diana hears yj refer to Cassie with they/them pronouns and pulls them aside to ask if they want to change their name (hero and civilian) and why they didn’t feel comfortable sharing their identity with her and Cassie just goes “I didn’t think it was a big deal”

Most people think that Anita’s raising her children so older heroes with make comments about her being too young to be a parent or being irresponsible for being a parent so young along with how it makes them unable to trust her judgment as a hero (Steph once made an offhanded comment about Anita being a real hero for raising twins after she cussed out an older hero) but no one outside of yj learns the truth until dr. fate shows up talking about irreparable damage being done to the timeline (the nearest speedster gets dirty looks despite not being at fault this time)

Yj invites Greta to the watchtower and she meets Constantine who starts going on about her being death-touched, possessed, and rambling about dark magic so he ends up calling the rest of jl dark which is how the jl finds out about Secret years after the fact

Kon casually makes jokes about Lex’s attempts on his life, Lex and Clark attempting to win him over to get one over on each other, Lex or Clark disliking him, his death, and the period of time Kon was homeless which is usually how anyone outside of yj finds out about things going on in his life

The jl loses their shit when they learn how often yj hide each other in their homes when they don’t have anywhere else to go (batman buys trackers in bulk when he finds out Tim has a secret house) 

[hey-august]

I have an idea...

I came up with something like modern au But mixed with superheroes au, where buggy is the villain and anon the heroine, Buggy knows Anon's secret identity and initially befriends her to plan revenge. But over time everything changes and they become good friends, One day things get heated (NSFW) and in the middle of the action Buggy says something that makes Anon recognize him as her arch enemy.

Oh, oh yes. I'm here for this. (Not me imagining Buggy as Bomb Voyage from The Incredibles now lmao)

WC: ~850 Warnings: a touch of nsfw, buggy x gn!anon, brief profanity, light mention of violence, mention of an erection

The way this guy fails upwards in the most unexpected ways. Buggy stumbled across Anon's identity, literally. How he managed to show up just as they were switching between private life and hero life was unlikely. It definitely did not happen because he was going to use that same spot to also change disguises.

And, of course, Anon can't deny who they are. Between tell-tale injuries and the stupid hi-tech gear they were using in bright daylight, there isn't much to say besides, "please forget you saw this."

Thinking on his feet, Buggy offers a different option. "How about no."

"What do you mean "no"?! What the hell are you doing here anyways? Just turn around and- and pretend this didn't happen."

Anon is panicking. And…in pain. Buggy is familiar with that frantic need to get rid of witnesses, all to maintain the image of being strong.

Buggy manages to convince Anon to grab a warm drink and get patched up. He's nosy and wants to know who managed to get them like this. (It was a one-off nobody, some black cat burglar.)

He listens, judges (silently and out loud), and makes plans to embed himself in Anon's personal life.

Anon lets it happen. It's nice to have someone who knows and listens. To have someone to call for a distraction, when everything is too much. A few texts after a tiring fight, a quick lunch, an afternoon matinee, a middle-of-the-night chat full of tears and sniffles, dinner cooked together.

Buggy remembers when the change happen. It was a classic brawl between the fated villain and hero. In the chaos, the beloved protagonist must have lost track of all the dangers and was in the direct line of getting skewered. If that happened, then the fight would be over. Forever. And, well, Buggy wasn't ready for it to end like that.

A few choice movements and taunts were enough to bring Anon out of harms way. Well, mostly - the sharp projectile did get a taste of flesh and blood, but not of life.

Buggy made sure to keep himself available after the fight. Just in case his "friend" needed him. (It helped offset the guilt that he was ignoring.)

After that, Buggy often found himself making sure Anon was not in mortal peril. Both from his own hands, and from others. It was dirty. He ended up making bad deals and alliances with scumbags, but it was all for safety. All to keep Anon safe.

Buggy tried to tell himself that this was all so he could come out on top. He could win exactly how he planned. But the night he fell asleep on Anon's couch with empty takeout containers on the coffee table, and their head in his lap, Buggy stopped lying to himself.

The lines were blurred. It was getting harder and harder for Buggy to keep his own identities separate. And that was his downfall.

It was a small thing. So little.

Once again, Buggy found himself on Anon's couch. But this time, they were on top of him, straddling his lap and grinding against the erection they teased him about barely 5 minutes ago. It felt so good.

He wrapped his arms around their body. One arm was looped low across their back. Their other brought his hand to rest on the back of their neck - that was it.

The feel of Buggy's hand on the back of their neck. The way he shifted his fingertips slightly before squeezing. Shit, there were in practically the same spot as when…as when…

A rough memory came forward - one with restraints and a long villainous monologue from their indulgent nemesis. As he prattled on and on, his large hands kneaded Anon's neck. Anon remembered those details clearly. It was the closest they came to losing.

And it happened just before this shithead showed up in their life. Probably for revenge. To finish things.

But why didn't he? Why was he sitting on their couch with strained pants? Why was his face in the crook of their neck? Why was he begging for more?

Was this a trick? Humiliation and demise would not be out of the question.

The questions and answers didn't seem right, though. Not for this situation. There were all those times Buggy helped clean a wound, or change bandages, while apologizing. Maybe those weren't generic platitudes, but honest admissions of guilt.

Now that felt more like an answer. And Anon had the question already - what would cause a villain to do the things they do? To pull their punches? To swap more banter than fists?

Hearing Buggy whine against their pulse, "please, I need you so bad," was the answer they accepted.

And it was an answer they kept for themself too. They needed Buggy, as well.

They also needed to mess with him. Not now, but during their next hero-villain fight. Buggy couldn't be the only one having fun with secret knowledge.

Just think about how he'd react when the goody-two-shoes starts flirting with the ne'er-do-well…

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part thirteen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: rape/non-con ; violence ; blood ; violence against women ; name-calling, bullying, and fat-shaming ; self esteem issues ; awkward, embarrassing situations

He doesn’t come back. From the time she wakes up at 5PM, she waits for him. Impatient, distracted, not knowing what to do to pass the time. Midnight peaks around the corner ominously, and she’s pacing back and forth in the living room when Michael walks through the door.

He smiles big, sets his bag down on the counter, and greets her. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to see him tonight,” she says, trying not to start crying like an idiot again.

“Oh, hun,” Michael sighs. He pulls her into a cold hug after hanging his jacket up. “Did he tell you you would see him tonight?”

She shrugs. “He said maybe.”

Michael motions for her to sit on the couch. His hair is still glittering with icy rain drops. “Well, at least he’s not lying.”

“I’m just confused. I don’t even know if he actually likes me.”

“If he’s kissing you and introducing you to his friends, then he likes you. Men are stupid. They think that things can be simple and clear cut, but they don’t factor emotions into their master plans.”

“So you don’t think I’m just a…fling?” She asks.

Michael cringes. “Honestly, I don’t know. On one hand, he sounds like he wants you in his life, but, on the other, he seems distant and secretive.”

She nods. “But I haven’t told him how I feel, either.”

“That’s the other thing; most men, like I said, emotionally inept. They need it spelled out. Maybe try telling him or asking him?”

She almost bursts out laughing at that, but just ends up snorting and rolling her eyes.

Michael laughs for her. “Why do you think I’m so bad at commitment? You tell a guy you really like him and suddenly you’re dog shit.”

“You tell anyone you really like them and suddenly you’re dog shit,” she clarifies.

“Men have broken my heart so much and disappointed me that I should be a nun,” Michael nods. “But, here I am, a slut.”

“You’re not a slut, Michael.” She glares at him for the first time since he’s known her. “Plus, there’s nothing wrong with having sex.”

“Well, if I’m not a slut, then I should be. Seriously, how many guys have smashed your heart into pieces? I’m betting the number is one or more.”

“Honestly,” she replies, turning toward him, “my worst heartbreaks haven’t been through relationships. Family and friends have fucked me up more.”

He pats her shoulder. “See, I envy you. You don’t need anybody. You’re strong.”

Now that, makes her burst out in laughter so hard she shakes with it.

“I’m serious.” It’s Michael’s turn to glare. “You’re self made. No one helped you get here. You clawed and fought your way to the top despite being hindered every step of the way. For Christ sake’s, you put yourself through nursing school. You’re a tough bitch and you need to start acting like it.” He pauses, collects himself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” she tells him, holding back her protest.

“I’m just. Sometimes you talk so bad about yourself that it’s just kind of pissing me off.” Michael grabs her hand and squeezes. “I get that you think bad about yourself, and it sucks, and sometimes you can’t help it. But if you don’t value yourself, then neither will leather jacket man.”

Michael’s words sting. He’s making her realize that she’s falling into a pattern of self sabotage and loathing again— the depressing epiphany would be helpful if she knew how to fix it.

“Let me help you get more confidence,” Michael asks. “Come out with me more often. Go shopping with me. Get your hair done just for the thrill of it. You just said the other day about how you wanted to get a haircut.”

All of that sounds truly wonderful in theory, but what about reality? What about the fact that she has no idea how to style her hair once it’s cut or act with the confidence to sport it?

“When you were young, what did you do for fun?” Michael asks.

“Lots of stuff—movies, books.”

“Did you ever play a sport, go to prom, have a shopping spree, go to parties?” Michael asks, eyebrows pulled down in concentration; obviously, they’ve led very different lives.

“No.” She looks away, a little embarrassed by her trashy upbringing.

“Get your nails painted, make out with cute boys under bridges?”

“Nah, boys didn’t…I didn’t really like guys. Feeling was mutual.”

“Jesus,” Michael sighs. “Then we have a lot to catch up on, don’t we? Oh-“ he puts his hand out to stop himself from talking. “My mistake. We can cross the making out off our list.” He grins. “Unless he isn’t cute.”

She drops his hand, laughing sheepishly. “He’s…” she struggles to find the right word, but gets upset just thinking of his absence. “Very cute.” She finds herself sinking into the memory of high cheekbones and woodsy eyes and thermal skin and hungry, rough lips.

Michael waves his hand in front of the glassy look on her face. “Oh, god,” he murmurs. “You’re totally fucked.”

——————————-

Michael thrusts a lace babydoll into her chest so hard that it makes her stumble backward. “Here, is this your size?”

She looks around the room to make sure no one’s watching. Just other women minding their business and digging through racks of lingerie.

She glares at Michael, because he promised that if she at least went in to Victoria’s Secret, he wouldn’t give her any suggestions on purchases. And here he is, handing her a piece of fabric that won’t cover her palm let alone ass.

She sticks it back on the rack it came from. “I don’t think it will fit me.”

He sighs, rummaging through the underwear bin. “How do you know until you try?”

She picks up a tiny, silk thong from the top pile and shows it to him. “How can you wear this stuff? Isn’t it in you the entire time rather than covering you?”

Michael takes the panties from her and examines them, chuckling. “No, see, you’re looking at them wrong. This one my ass would swallow.” He tosses it back, and holds up another in its place with seemingly better coverage all around. “This one would be cute yet practical.”

“Hmmm.” She tilts her head, trying to understand what he’s talking about. “I’m pretty sure my ass would swallow all of them.”

Michael sticks his tongue out at her. “No need to brag.”

While Michael decides on underwear, she goes to smell the perfumes. Now this, she thinks, Victoria excels at. In fact, she just might buy a cotton candy scented bottle that’s half off and the lotion to match.

Michael is proud, grinning, patting her on the back as they walk the mall. “See, Vickie isn’t that bad.”

“Eh, she smells nice, I’ll give her that.”

They both share a giggle.

She asks Michael if they can go into the book store, and he rolls his eyes.

“Babe, no offense, but you go in without me and I’m gonna check out Sephora.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” She taps her face. “When are you teaching me how to do winged liner?”

“As soon as you buy eyeliner,” Michael replies. “Which is why you should come to Sephora. I mean, not to sound like a vapid bitch, but.. the book store? Really?” He’s smiling, teasing her.

“That’s why it’s here, right?”

She doesn’t want to mention the real reason she came in, which is to get a present for John. If she ever sees him again.

She goes right to the romance section and begins to peruse around for something he might like.

The Jackal and the Cat, One Foot in Santa Monica, The Clandestine Candle.

She tries to picture him reading any single one of these, but her mind comes up blank. Maybe he meant that he likes older romance books?

Classical it is.

Two men in suits standing by Agatha Christie’s showcase catch her eye and remind her too much of a certain well-dressed gentleman she admires. Both are tall, well built, fancy and stoic, looking very out of place here in Books A Million.

They unabashedly and suspiciously watch her, and it freaks her out enough that she ducks behind a case of Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare. Weird merging timelines, but a great safe haven.

A small elder woman with white, wispy hair, dark skin, and sharp grey eyes smiles brightly up at her. She wears a black pant suit and smells like flowers. Tasteful jewelry adorns her neck and wrists. She has a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo in her hands, flipping it over to examine the shiny hardback spine.

“Oh, excuse me dear, but could you do me a favor? I left my reading glasses at home and I’d really like to hear the summary on this. Can you read it to me?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

After she’s done stumbling over her words, the older woman looks entranced and astonished like she’s one of the best storytellers from this century instead of a fumbling oaf. “Oh, that sounds wonderful,” she says, folding the book into her weathered palms for safe keeping. “Thank you so much. Have you read it?”

“Um, yes, I think in high-school?” Her cheeks get a little warm with embarrassment from being visibly uncultured in front of this sophisticated looking individual.

“Ah,” the stranger muses, “and A Picture of Dorian Grey?”

“I, um, wrote my big book report on that one,” she chuckles, rubbing her arm.

“Anything specific you’re looking for?” The woman asks, ready to return a favor.

“Romance? Something cultured? Older?”

The woman puts a finger to her lips in thought, then her grey eyes light with an idea. “Come with me.”

She’s surprisingly light and quick on her feet for a woman of her age. She actually has trouble keeping up as the tiny woman floats through the store until settling at the back wall. A large sign above the shelves reads: ROMANCE.

The older woman, knowing exactly what she wants, narrows in to the right handed corner. She fingers through some hardbacks, pulls out a plain blue novel, and hands it to the waiting person behind her.

In Safe Hands by Jane Sanford. The inner synopsis promises a thriller romance with a great twist. Plus, it’s a beautiful book. Simple and hardbound, shiny Robin blue. Something that John would appreciate, hopefully.

“Have you ever read this one?” Soft white hair floats into view as she examines the book.

She looks up and smiles. “It’s not for me.”

The elder grins and the devilish look makes her seem years younger. A certain knowing reflects in her face. “Ah.” Her tone is teasing. “A love interest, perhaps?”

The accent wasn’t noticeable before, but now it’s apparent. Some kind of rich, articulated drawl that she thinks she’s heard before.

Her skin heats. “Yes.”

“My, you live in this moment and love it no matter what hardship it brings.” Her crinkled eyes run up and down over the expansive shelves of paper before she looks back up at her and smiles. “Love is rare, you know. At least the good kind.”

She chews her lip. “The good kind?”

The woman chuckles. “I can tell you have the good kind. You’re buying them a romance novel. It can’t be anything else but the kind of love that makes everything else seem dull.”

She wants to believe this desperately. The words resonate in her chest and pound true through the pulse of her arteries. Once again, she misses John violently. Misses the feelings he gives her. She rubs her fingers over the spine of his present and thinks of his wish to be a librarian.

The old woman pats her shoulder. “You have a great day, dear.”

Her attention is drawn back to the movement of her acquaintance. She never noticed the the two men from earlier standing behind, still staring daggers at her head. They tuck the tiny, waving lady between them, and disappear behind shelves.

She meets Michael at a pizza place near the exit and tells him about the weird encounter while they eat.

“You’re living in a romance mystery novel and you refuse to buy lingerie?” Michael rolls his eyes. “That checks out.”

She shrugs. “It’s more pathetic than that.”

“I got you eyeliner,” Michael tells her, taking a bite of baked ziti.

“Michael!” She admonishes. She grabs a bag from their feet and opens it to show him the eyeliner, lip gloss, and small eyeshadow palette that she purchased after leaving the bookstore. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”

Michael cringes and smiles all at once. “Yes, but I’m surprised and proud.”

She grins. “Thank you, I guess.”

They take Michael’s car to a little coffee shop on Wall Street Court that he promises she’ll love despite the hustle and bustle at the heart of the city. He gets a big iced vanilla latte and she orders a smoothie. They sit next to floor-to-ceiling glass windows that give an amazing view of the lavish cityscape.

Important men in business suits and beautiful girls in bodycon dresses flit in and out of crystal business doors. Expensive limos line the streets. It’s strange, to have this scene at her back door when she’s always felt so separate from it. She watches like it’s a movie.

“Do you want to go to the theatre?” Michael asks, tapping at his phone. “Emily and Syreeta are going and want us to join.”

“They want you to join,” she corrects.

Michael glares at her. “Were we not just talking about this self pity thing? They don’t hate you.”

It stings because he’s right, but climbing out of a pit of despair is harder than it looks. Every time she tries to get a hand on the ladder rung above her, the hating darkness bats her away and keeps her stagnant.

“They just didn’t talk to me in the club,” she explains.

“Funny, they said the same thing about you. Just be yourself, like you were with me. When you actually talk, you’re the easiest person to get along with I’ve ever met.”

She sips her drink and thinks about it. “Thank you, Michael, but you’re pretty easy to get along with, too.”

He sighs, puts his phone down, folds his hands, and leans over. “You coming or not? It’s the Nutcracker. Uh, hello, earth to -“

Her attention is totally and suddenly taken by something on the other side of the window, eyes glassed with that unfocused, enraptured look again, and Michael waves his hand in front of her face. “Babe?”

John Wick stands on a street corner, waiting to cross, hands in his pockets. He’s dressed in a black suit and red tie, hair fluffed back, looking as good as ever. Michael glances over at her center of attention.

“Oh my god, it’s him, isn’t it?” Michael is suddenly whispering, although she does not know why. “Which one?”

“Shhh,” she says, embarrassed, looking away, playing into the top secret thing despite no one in here caring about them or what they’re talking about. Welcome to good old New York.

“Listen,” Michael tells her, pushing his coffee out of the way so he can lean over the table. “If you want to go after him and ask him what the hell is up, I don’t blame you. In fact, I support this cause and am here to help.”

“He might be working, Michael,” she says, looking away from John reluctantly.

“Only one way to find out,” Michael grins. “Go after him. Show him that you’re serious.”

Michael’s suggestion is all too tempting. Mostly because she misses him dearly even though it’s only been around 24 hours since they last interacted. It’s obsessive behavior, borderline creepy of her. He’ll probably hate her if she walks up and talks to him, now, but on the other hand, he’s the one barging into her apartment without an invite and cornering her at clubs and waiting outside for her to get home. Isn’t it fair if she returns the favor, shows him she wants this just as much? She glances once more at his broad back—he’s getting away again—and makes a split second, dumb decision.

She gets up, grabs her jacket, tells Michael she’ll be back, and slides her chair in.

Michael yells after her as she walks out the door. “Don’t get kidnapped!! If you’re not home by midnight I’m calling the cops! You better text me! I’m drinking the rest of this smoothie!”

She’s too clumsy to be any sort of sneaky, but she doesn’t really care if he sees her walking behind him - trying to keep up - because he’s going to get a full view of her anyway when they’re face to face.

The sidewalk and streets are blessedly clear of ice and slush and snow, and if she didn’t know better she’d say that divine intervention was on her side, because if she had to walk this fast on slippery ground, she’d already be K.O.’d by the earth.

John turns a corner and she is practically running to catch up with his long legged stride. She murmurs sorry as she whizzes by nicely dressed street patrons a little too closely and receives glares and annoyed murmurs for her trouble. By the time he stops, she’s struggling to catch her breath. He stands on the steps of a large building constructed to take up two corners of the street. It’s center piece among the business district, bleached white by the sun.

A bellman dressed in silver and red stands at the door and waits patiently for the only visitor, John Wick.

Shes grateful that he’s stalled on the steps, staring at a phone that she didn’t know he had, too distracted to see her as she clears the busy street. Drivers lay on their horns, someone screams at her out of a passenger window, and, finally, when her feet hit the curb and she almost wipes out trying to get away from moving traffic, John turns.

“Are you following me?” He wears the exact opposite expression that she wants to see; hatred and anger slash his angular features into something to be afraid of.

She feels like a fox in a henhouse with the farmers gun pointed at her muzzle, head between her legs and automatically backing away from him. She misinterprets his own fear for disgust at and now just wants to turn tail and leave, but the doorman sees her, and he undoubtedly notices her connection to John, and it’s far too fucking late for that.

There is a point that needs to be made to protect the precious pumping blood inside her body and he can’t decide what to do to get that point across when adrenaline is binding fury and fear inside of him tighter and tighter. He feels the tick of his watch against his wrist and relates it to her dwindling innocence and safety. He stalks toward her, one step from him matching four of her own.

John grabs her up by the bicep and drags her along like a stuffed doll to his car.

His grip is hard enough to sink bone deep and make her ache, but she shuts up and lets him take her where he wants, too ashamed to argue with him now.

She’s not sure what’s happening when he hustles her into his backseat and makes her lay flat down on it with her legs curled up on the freezing bench, but she doesn’t resist.

He doesn’t bother telling her to duck into the safety of the vehicle, just handles her into a fetal position himself. “Stay,” he says, and the door shuts behind him, leaving her alone and shivering in the cold leather.

Charon is waiting at the front desk to greet him with a placid smile. John flips him a gold coin in greeting. “Charon.” He tips his head as the man catches his bribe.

Charon’s smile turns ardent. “Hello sir, nice to see you, what can I help you with today?”

“I have a guest in my car. Could you take them somewhere comfortable, safe, secluded while I do business?” John’s voice is poised but his eyes are pleading.

Charon slips the coin into his pocket. “Of course, sir.”

His tensed body relaxes while one of the few people that he trusts to protect an innocent woman takes his keys and leaves the building. She still won’t be safe enough for him to feel entirely calm, and he only has a second to regret not putting her under his arm - the only place she will be completely protected - before he’s walking into the dining hall to meet Viggo and Winston.

“John,” Viggo cries, standing and pulling him into his side for a brief embrace. “Three minutes late?”

Cool sweat forms under his collar at the comment while he tries to remain composed in the face.

Viggo looks suspicious. But John can’t decide if it’s because of a tell on his features or the fact that he’s never been late twice in his entire life.

Viggo motions for him to sit, still cheery. Winston stays tight lipped, formal, poised. John envies him for the mastered skills.

He’s so wound tight that he almost jumps when he feels the oncoming, light pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He’s never been like this in line of Viggo’s sight, and he knows that the man can tell he’s not himself, but he can’t seem to get the vision of her bloody, pulseless body out of his mind. And what he will do to everyone in this hotel as a consequence of it.

“Hello John, can I get you something to drink?”

He turns to the waitress and tries a smile. “Hello Rachel, nice to see you. I’ll have a Blanton’s. Ice, please.”

“On the rocks,” Rachel winks at him. “Got it.” As she walks away, Viggo talks business.

————————————————————

Charon is very nice. He introduces himself, assures her that she will be an “honored guest”, and lets her sit up front while he drives the car into the attached, Continental branded parking garage.

The section they settle John’s car into is filled with other expensive-looking vehicles. She recognizes BMWs and Jaguars from TV commercials. Charon insists upon opening her door, much like someone else she knows, and then guides her to a big silver elevator with neon, red and green buttons blinking in sequence on an expansive wall panel tucked to the side. She thinks he’s going to press one, but instead, he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the plain metal door beside the elevator that she assumes, at first, is unimportant.

The staircase is lined with soft blue paisley carpet and the walls are decorated with pictures of strange art pieces. She stares at distorted naked bodies and eyeless characters and blurred grey crowds and angels battling bloody demons on top of cotton candy skies as Charon leads her into the dim underbelly of the hotel.

“They are all painted by former and current members,” he tells her.

“They’re really amazing,” she says, not wanting to push questions in fear of offending the overly kind man guiding her to safety that she didn’t realize she needed until she was being manhandled into John’s back seat.

If she lives through this, she’ll have to get permission to take pictures and show Michael. It’s strange, to not know if she’s going to be alive tomorrow or not. Fatality that seemed so fanatical and far away two weeks ago now stands at her doorstep waiting like an expectant courier and she’s starting to get strangely used to its harrowing presence.

Charon lands light on his dress shoes off the last step, and waits for her to catch up. She stumbles a bit on the rough rugs, and he reaches out a hand to steady her shoulder while she smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Do not be sorry,” Charon tells her, patting dust off her jacket. “These floors need a remodel. This is our old entrance: The only people that use it are the ones who can navigate it blindfolded.”

He motions her into a doorway that leads to a drastic change of scenery. In here, everything is modern and brightly illuminated. There are grey leather couches seated around a large table in the center of the room. A bed with black, shiny sheets sits perfectly in the open floor plan, with bamboo plants flourishing on each side of the wide mattress. There is a room that she assumes to be the bath, because it’s the only part of this place with a door attached. Two glass coolers glow with rainbow assortment bottles of alcohol and seltzer waters.

She blinks up at the high ceiling, too distracted by the view to hear Charon ask her if she would like something to eat.

“Miss?”

She stops and looks at him. “What? Sorry?”

He repeats the question. Her stomach growls, but she tames it and tells him that she’s fine, not wanting to be a bother.

“Help yourself to the beverages,” Charon motions, referring to the large coolers. “And feel free to use the room as you please until Mr. Wick retrieves you. This is a private, isolated suite we reserve only for select guests. No one will bother you, but if you should need something, please just pick up the phone and I will be waiting on the other line to assist you.”

She nods at him, using the gesture of gratitude that John favors - already adopting his mannerisms - and gives warm thanks.

“It is my pleasure,” Charon says, “any friend of Mr. Wick is a friend of mine.”

With that, he leaves her.

She has a million questions, but none of them seem more important than keeping hold of John Wick, so she quells them and waits like an obedient dog for his return.

————————————————————

Viggo is leaned back, drinking sweet vodka, negotiating the terms of John’s re-employment.

“It has been different, without you, John.” Viggo rubs the just-greying scruff on his chin, eyeing his former body guard. “Winston, can we still smoke in here?”

“‘Fraid not,” Winston replies, taking his own sip of sour scotch and pursing his lips as if in distaste. “Only downstairs.”

Viggo grumbles. “Gav-no. Why didn’t we go down there?”

“I figured it would be easier for you to run and get to your men if John decides to kill you,” Winston shrugs.

His dry sarcasm and witty grin has Viggo belly laughing, clutching his chest.

John says nothing and takes a drink, trying futilely to calm himself with liquor.

“I think it was stupid that they put you in prison and didn’t expect this to happen, John.” Viggo bites into his ravioli, chews, swallows. “And if they want a war, I will give them one.”

“We did it to prevent a war,” Winston interjects.

“Bah!” Viggo spits. “The war is already happening - it has been for a long time - what’s a little more blood shed going to do?”

“A lot more,” Winston corrects. “Blood shed.”

Viggo comes forward, eyes determined, tosses the silk bib from around his neck onto the table. “So be it. I want you with me, John. And I will make sure no one makes one hair out of place on your head.” He leans back, done eating. “And your head too, Winston.” He nods at the older man, an afterthought.

Winston raises his eyebrows and looks at John expectantly. “Your ball.”

————————————————————

The bathroom is more of a sauna. Different height benches, numerous sprayers on the ceiling, vents that leak hot steam into the room at the push of a button. A toilet with a bidet behind another secret door. The sink is concave marble, adorned with freshly wrapped toiletries and beautiful smelling lavender soap that she honestly thinks about sticking into her pocket and taking home.

Just as she’s about to exit, she hears the loud slam of a door and laughing male voices clanking against one another.

She freezes, turns the lock back, steps away, looks around for an escape which there is none of.

Then, a female voice, pitiful and pleading. She presses her ear to the smooth wood, listening as the woman - language different from her own - becomes more distressed.

Her heart rises from her stomach to her ribs and burns in anger and disgust as she tunes in to the exchange.

“Look at her, all tied up and nowhere to go.”

“Fucking slut.” A hard slapping sound and then a scream of agony from the high pitched female voice. Crying, more despicable taunting from the numerous male visitors.

She’s not thinking of anything but that gut-wrenching yelp of pain when she pushes through the door and steps out into the room.

Five young men have a small woman, completely naked and bound in rope, prone on the cold floor. Their hands bruise her skin as she sobs.

As all their eyes turn to her, reality smacks her in the face like a burst of fire burning her eyebrows off. The woman’s eyes are red and sore, tears streaking down her face. One boot has her cheek pressed down while a hand grabs her hair and pulls taut.

“Hey,” she says, voice filled with venom, adrenaline in her body fire that smokes her vision. “What are you doing to her?!”

The only problem here is that she’s a lone woman in a hotel room with no weapons and these guys look angry for the interruption. Very angry. The one with the boot on the girl’s head gets to her maybe as fast as John can, and grabs her by the collar. “Блять,” he spits, “тебя никто никогда не учил не лезть в свои дела?”

Her heart plummets again as her angry glasses cloud with fear. She’s up on her tiptoes, choking at his grasp, and choking on reality.

He pushes his face down to her own and she smells the potent liquor on his breath. “давай преподам поросенку урок.”

One of his companions answers in English. “Tie her up and make her help.”

The group laughs—this is a joke to them. Isn’t it always a joke? For scumbags who hurt those smaller and weaker than themselves?

She’s so tired of this shit. Men. Thinking they can do whatever they want with no consequences. Hatred tastes bitter in her mouth, so potent it hurts her teeth.

And this guy is nothing like Benny. Benny who she couldn’t even fathom fighting because he was so massive. This man, she could fight. This man, she could hit hard enough to knock down, if it wasn’t for his companions ready to ambush her.

This guy is small, thin, barely taller than her. She knows she can hurt him, so she does, slams upward with her knee and makes squelching contact with his dying erection.

He drops her and she falls back onto her ass.

As his companions laugh, he grabs his dick and moans through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

The victory isn’t for long, because now all the rest are coming at her with wicked, delighted intent.

The redhead gets in front of her and crushes her back against the legs of the more muscled member. She’s stuck sitting between them, but she still has her hands and feet, kicks and hits furiously at any soft body part she can find. Redhead yelps in pain as she makes blunt force contact with his balls and screams for someone else to get on her.

Two grab both her arms and twist them at angles that make her screech in pain. It gets the point across, and she stills. Redhead and Russian have stepped away to lick their wounds, but two of the others still hold both her arms in a neatly breaking fashion and the other one has her neck in his hands.

He pats her cheek and squeezes her trachea to play with how much air she’s allowed to have.

“Ah, a wild bull.” His thick accent is hard to understand. “Maybe we should have some fun with you?”

“Disgusting,” the muscled one hisses.

“No, she can clearly eat well,” redhead growls. “Make her eat pussy.”

“Would you like that?” It’s clear now from the potent smell that they’re all very drunk. “You hungry, little pig? Want to get all sloppy at the trough?”

Her wild eyes catch the ones of her bound counterpart, and this woman almost looks bored, in sharp contrast to herself. The agony is gone from her face and she’s watching this scene and practically yawning she’s so uninterested.

She doesn’t have time to be confused before one man twists her arm back again, and she’s sure it’s going to break, so she screams.

The Russian claps a hand over her mouth and tells her what she thinks is the equivalent of shut up.

Charon opens the door, John catches her scared eyes, takes in the picture, and the last shred of his building anxiety snaps in half.

First, he charges the one holding her throat, and a defensive hand doesn’t have time to raise before John returns the favor, grabs him by the neck, and tosses him into a wall.

He’s ready for the others before they have time to realize he’s an enemy.

She watches the unfair fight play out, not because she wants to, but because watching John move is like watching a captivating, bloody ballet, and it’s hard to look away. A big, dumb part of her feels bad for these stupid punks while he wrecks their shit.

He’s just so much bigger than them that it’s insane they think they can counter him. He looks like a giant being pounced on by miniature people. Maybe it’s just the way he doesn’t even try to hit them that makes him seem so massive in comparison. Flipping someone over his shoulder looks like playground antics.

Two by two they fall, until the last one pulls a gun from his holster and aims it at John’s chest. John moves an inch, the bullet hits him in the shoulder, and he simply grunts, inconvenienced, like a bear being shot with a paintball, knocks the gun out of his hand, and moves forward, backing him up and glaring down at the man who is now visibly shaking in fear, head down to submit, hands in the air to keep the apex predator at arms length.

He grabs him by the neck and this guy is thick but John’s whole hand covers his throat. He lifts him completely off his feet with his right hand, and punches him in the face so fast and graceful that it doesn’t even look like it would hurt until she sees the blood fly out of his skull and his nose cave inward.

He’s done with them, so he goes right to her, pulls her up and holds her at arms length to make sure she’s not hurt.

She pushes against him. “John.” Her urgent tone directs him to the bound woman.

John releases her and they both go to help.

She starts working at the knot around her wrists and stomach while John cuts her ankles free

He moves her fumbling hands aside to slice through the rest of the half-assed binding job.

“bạn có nghĩ họ đang làm tổn thương tôi không?” The free woman addresses her rescuers.

John stops. “Đúng.”

John and the woman have a full conversation that she can’t understand.  Catching any word is truly pointless.

The woman sits up and pats her on the shoulder. Then, she rubs her bare breasts and yawns. She tilts her head at John, questioning.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” She asks him. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” John says. “They paid her to have sex with them.”

“She was screaming.”

John shrugs. “That’s what they wanted from her.”

She feels so stupid it hurts. “I’m an idiot,” she whispers.

“She doesn’t think you are,” John says. “She admires you.”

She resists the urge to ask him what she really cares about, which is what he thinks.

They are sitting on the floor criss cross applesauce like in 5th grade reading class when Winston and Charon enter scene. Embarrassment, regret, and pure humiliation consume her as they assess.

“Jesus,” Winston says, looking over the mess. “Is anyone dead?”

“No,” John assures.

Charon starts profusely apologizing to John, but John shakes his head at the repentance and looks, instead, at the naked woman, asking her to tell the newcomers what happened.

Naked woman sighs, annoyed but agreeing.

Winston lays adoring eyes, flooded with realization, on the clothed woman sitting at John’s side, and smiles warmly. He comes and holds out his hand for a shake.

She gives him her own hand and he flips it over and kisses the back. He looks at John while she warms with embarrassment.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em..” Winston muses.

The muscled man tries to stand, but Charon pushes him back down with a shiny black heel. “Sir,” he alerts, motioning at the pile of men. “What should we do with them?”

“Probably something involving a doctor,” Winston says.

“Right away, sir,” Charon nods, pulling a phone from his pocket.

“Are you hurt?” Winston asks her, examining her closely.

She shakes her head no, but points at John. “He got shot.”

Winston looks over and John pulls his suit open to reveal a clean white dress shirt free of bullet holes.

She has to look twice and second guess her own eyes.

Winston sighs. “He wears Kevlar. Most bullets don’t pierce it. He’ll be alright. He’s taken worse than this, I assure you, my love.” He must see the worry on her face because his voice soothes and tames.

She looks at John with a million questions in her eyes, but asks none of them, which he’s thankful for.

Winston addresses the person in the room with the least clothing and they talk for a moment.

John puts his hand on her shoulder and slides over to talk low in her ear. “Did they hurt you?” He asks.

“Not as much as you hurt them.” She tries to comfort him.

“I’ll kill them if you want me to.”

“No you will not.” Winston switches from Chinese to English, turning on his heel to point a warning look and finger at John. “I’m already going to have enough trouble trying to make it seem like this wasn’t business, Johnathan. Plus, I don’t think Viggo will keep you employed if you kill his son.”

John sucks on his teeth and glares at the annoyance that is Winston’s rude interruption before focusing back on her. “My offer stands.”

“No,” she tells him, looking from him to Winston. “I don’t want you to kill anyone.” She grabs his hand and squeezes, pulling it into her lap.

She sounds like she means that, so he stays put, but he hasn’t decided for himself whether they’re going to live or die yet. Especially when they leave Continental ground and hunting season opens.

A loud knock brings the conversation to a small Asian man in a white suit and slacks entering the room. He wears a stethoscope and carries a brief case.

“John.” His set frown turns into a natural smile. “Long time no see.”

“Hey Doc,” John nods.

He sets to work like this is all completely normal. The smell of ammonia and iodine and salt is an affront to the senses as he opens his briefcase and begins waking and treating.

John tugs on her as if to escort her away, but Winston stops them. “Let me get you out of here so that no one else sees her.”

John settles, but he’s not taking chances, so he drags her into his lap with her head tucked under his chin and his tight arms wrapped around her protectively. Want her, go through me - the point is apparent

“John,” she grumbles, squirming to adjust, embarrassed by his parenting behavior but clinging to him anyway. She’s just happy he doesn’t seem to be mad at her, now.

Naked woman comes over and snuggles into John’s side, gripping his bicep to bulging, starring smugly at the groaning group of bleeding, bruised men.

John side eyes her, but allows it, reasoning that she must be weary of them trying to get their money back, and not one to deny someone - who is seemingly vulnerable - protection.

Viggo’s son sits up, spits out blood, and looks their way. He opens his mouth to say something, but the look on John’s face makes his snarl falter. “John,” he nods in greeting.

“Iosef,” John nods back.

The braver Russian man starts with venom, but Winston interrupts him. “If you think I can actually keep him from killing you or worse, you’re very wrong.”

He closes his jaw.

She feels like they’re in kindergarten and they have all just gotten into a fight so the teacher is making them sit on the floor and have quiet time.

Violent stares, instead of words, are shot back and forth until the doctor breaks a nose back into place.

Then, the only voice that has occurred in a while is the scream of this man.

John wants to make them apologize, because he knows she’s hurt by the things they said about her, but he doesn’t know if it would actually help her self esteem or harm it, so he stays quiet and promises death with his eyes.

“Now,” Winston addresses the room. “Unless you wish to forfeit the protection this hotel provides, you will forget this happened.”

“He beat us up,” the man with the thick accent argues.

“And you broke into a private room and assaulted a woman,” Winston tells him. “Sounds like you started it. If he’s in trouble, you’re in it bigger. So, nothing happened, correct?”

“We payed her,” Iosef growls, staring at the naked woman who clutches John tighter.

“That’s not the woman I’m referring to,” Winston says.

She looks up at John and it seems like he’s daring the other man to say something. She pulls at his shirt to get his attention, and he looks down at her, misreading the worry on her face.

“We’ll leave soon,” he says.

She sighs and leans her head on his chest, giving up.

Winston begins to say something, but interruption comes in the form of her phone’s vibrating ring.

All eyes focus on her as she digs it from her pocket, puts it on silent, and texts the frantic Michael that she’s fine and she’ll explain later.

John makes a mental note to beat the roommate into submission so that he’s a little less possessive.

“Uh, sorry,” she tells Winston.

“Quite alright,” Winston assures, smiling big at her like she can do wrong when, judging by this debacle, she definitely can and will.

John refuses to let her go until they’re in the back seat of an unlicensed black suv and being driven away from the building.

Even now, he keeps her tucked under his arm.

She looks up at him. “Sorry,” she says.

He keeps his eyes on the window scenery to avoid making her feel awful with his uncontrolled, cold expression.

He sucks on his teeth. “We will talk, not here.”

He pulls her further against him and she stays quiet.

[slut4sway]

Hall/Smith there was only one bed pleek

someone lit from within

blurring out my periphery

my smile is like i won a contest

and to hide that would be so dishonest

and it’s fine to fake it till you make it

til you do, til it’s true

and it’s like snow on the beach

weird but fuckin beautiful

🎧••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🫙

and they were roommates

tags : sharing a bed, getting together, friends to lovers, crush denial/internalized hatred, awkward, bro cuddling, fluff, requested, breakup recovery, taylor hall/craig smith, bruins ensemble

notes : i’ve never written this rare pair hope it’s all good!!

the boys were in new york for an away game, tensions were high as the rangers were playing pretty good this season. it’s been a rough couple of weeks for the entire team; but especially smith. he’s had some pretty nasty shit go down with his ex girlfriend and another guy. poor guy hasn’t been able to sleep for more than 3 hours without waking up on the verge of tears. everything’s been kind of difficult, with all the stress of the team and working out roomates hassle. because he zoned out, craig ended up sharing a room with taylor because everyone else had made arrangements to share a room with their best friends, and maybe the boys just figured. honestly, was it a blessing or a curse? he’s had a heart-wrenching crush on his best friend for years, but knowing he couldn’t have him made everything a living hell. he’s tried to deny it; get a girlfriend as a cover up but it just seemed to make matters worse, bottling up his emotions like that. something in taylor and the way he treated him just put him in a chokehold.

“okay there, bud?” the canadian beside him called out. craig had been so obviously pondering over something, and obviously caught taylor’s attention.

“um- great. just thinking… i guess” he awkwardly fibbed. he was definitely not fine. being in love with taylor and his ex still running through his mind stressed him out.

“you don’t look okay.. i can tell when your lying, smitty.” god that stupid nickname. taylor replied, tilting his head to match the angle of his friends.

“really i’m fine..” craig responded, slightly irritated by his observation. really he didn’t want to be ‘not okay’.

“cmon, i can tell. what’s on your mind? is it your ex?” the younger man interrogated, determined to find the reason to his friends stoic yet tense expression.

smith silently nodded his head. why did he absolutely despise the way he knew? he didn’t want him to know the real reason. he wasn’t completely lying, though. his ex was still running around his mind.

“she was a fucking bitch. i hated her im sorry but it had to be said. maybe this would be a good time to tell you i never got a good feeling about her but i just- wanted to keep you happy.” taylor insulted, following up with a confession.

craig clenched his jaw at his swears, but mostly of all his secret he had released so non-chalantly. he seriously wanted to keep him happy? he really wanted to say how much he hated big, dumb taylor. how he hated his best friend. how he hated he loved him more than a friend should. how he hated him and how he cared so much. how he didn’t tell him the truth just so he could stay content. but he hated most of all how he didn’t hate him. how he wishes he could just tell him he belonged with taylor. but those words would never be said, right?

“maybe you were right. i kind of knew you didn’t like her.” smith trailed off, still staring off into the passing trees as the bus rolled down the slow transition from trees to the mountains of barely upstate new york.

“i’m sorry for bringing her up.. on the bright side i’ve got you as a a roommate again” taylor tried to lighten the mood. he rested a hand on the older man’s knee, pushing out an awkward apology. maybe that made things worse.

craig tensed up at the touch, he hoped he didn’t hear him right. it wasn’t really a surprise they were going to be staying in the same room, but ever since the breakup hes wanted taylor more than ever. scared to say or do something he might regret, he just looked away at his sleeping teammates.

•••

the drive was long and dreary, the dead of winter in new york was not pretty at all. city traffic of downtown manhattan wasn’t much better. it felt like a release as soon as they pulled up to their hotel, looking up at the industrial style and sleek structure. the bus came to a quiet halt, the loss of movement in the vehicle breaking the constance of the boys’ naps.

“fucking new york.. i hate it here” fliggy groaned in the back.

“it’s not that bad.. i mean it could be worse right?” mcavoy chimed in.

“well you think so cause you grew up like half an hour from here or whatever the fuck-“ waking fliggy from his nap and speaking to him wasn’t the smartest decision.

smith tuned out the bickering in the background, as he got out of his seat to stretch. taylor followed, as he brought his arms over his head and released the pressure. craig subtly took a glance at his exposed midriff, keeping the picture of his happy trail and tanned abs in his mind. what the hell was he thinking? this was gonna be a long night.

taylor rubbed his stubble, cracking his neck while he trodded off the bus. he followed craig into the building.

“i’ll get us checked in with the boys, alright? just go take a minute.. i know things are uh- pretty rough right now.” he told smith. everything just felt more awkward, they weren’t the friends they were when smith had just ignored his feelings. it seemed like taylor knew, the way he bit his lip to self soothe seemed to tell craig everything he needed to know but left him with so many questions.

smith just gave him a thankful glance before he trudged over to a seating area by a semi enclosed sun room. the sky grew dull, more so than it had been on the drive here. darker as well, as the evening progressed. raindrops started to trickle down onto the glass. a thousand thoughts came rushing into his head the second he sat down, it was so overwhelming it almost made him dizzy. he couldn’t be left alone with his own thoughts, not now. he dropped his head into his hands propped up on his knees, running a hand through his hair. the ambient sound of people walking and speaking slowly faded, his mind just getting even louder. finally it was interrupted.

“smitty, you feelin okay?” taylor asked, eyeing the way his body language subtly perceived his mood.

“i got it all figured out, the doormen are even bringing our bags up. it’s gonna be okay, i swear”

the way he spoke to him so patiently just sparked something inside of the older man. why did he have to be in love with his best friend? of all people, for fucks sake.

“yeah, thank you; sorry really i’ve just been out of it.” he rasped, wiping away some sneaking tears from his eyes.

“don’t apologize, please bud.. just come up to the room we can talk about it there alright?” taylor coerced, canadian accent laying in quite thick; more than normal.

smith nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as he stood up from the cushioned seat and followed his friend to the elevator. everything just seemed like a blur, one second he was pressing the call button and the next they were at the door to their room. was he really that disoriented?

taylor inserted the key into the reader, as it clicked open with a green light. he stepped into the room and flicked the light on. their bags were already neatly laid out in a corner. he studied the room and the way it was decorated but then it hit him; there was only one queen sized bed.

“fuck..” smith whispered under his breath. this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, but now he had to share a bed with his best friend and the man he’s loved in secret for years.

“i’ll take the floor-“ he blurted out. he didn’t want this to be more awkward than it already was, given how they both weren’t really their bubbly, dumb selves.

“no, smitty. don’t make it weird. it’s a big bed, we can just share” taylor suggested. maybe he didn’t realize that two 6”1 men would have to barely be able to lay comfortably in a mediocrely sized bed.

“fine.” craig didn’t really want to protest. he sighed and made a beeline to his bags to the bathroom. maybe cause he was just tired. or maybe he’s been wanting this all along and he didn’t want to say anything.

they both went their seperate ways in the spacious room. smith made his way over to his own duffel bag and searched for a change of clothes. he picked out some grey sweats and thumbed through the folded clothes for a pair of boxers. he unzipped another compartment and took a pair of fluffy socks. he got up off his knees to his feet and turned the corner to the door to the bathroom. the automatic light turned on as the fan whirred to life. he flicked on the light that outlined the large circular mirror and took a look around at his surroundings. he set down his clothes and pulled a folded towel from the shelf. turning on the shower, it heated up quickly and the steam began fill the room and make his tired head spin. he groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes as he started to slip off each article of remaining clothing until he was bare. he stepped into the hot stream of water pouring from the rainfall shower head. it seemed like forever, those past couple of minutes. he just thought of his interactions with taylor and how awkward they were. he missed when they could fuck around and be themselves with the aftersilence feeling intimate instead of awkward. the past couple of weeks felt like everything was falling apart, nothing was as it once was. these thoughts filled his head as he let the hot water turn his carved body red. after breathing in the thick air for a while, it seemed to give him a false high. maybe this gave him the motivation to actually get cleaned up so he can maybe decide if sharing a bed with his friend was a blessing or a sign from hell. he pumped some shampoo out of the bottle mounted on the wall and lathered it into his dark, soaked hair. he massaged it to his scalp, excess rinsing off along with letting the water rinse off his head and all the product out of his hair. following the same procedure with conditioner, but while waiting for it to set he scrubbed his body with sage scented body wash.

after what seemed like forever, he finally let the water run all over him and rinse off the all the soap. the constant sound of water running suddenly stopped with a creak of the faucet handle turning. craig stepped out of the shower onto a fluffy white bathmat that absorbed each stray droplet of water. he wrapped the towel around his waist and turned towards the fogged up mirror to his left, drying it with one of the smaller towels. he took another folded up different sized towel and wrung out all of the excess, now cold water from his hair. the remaining steam in the room just seemed to make him more dizzy than he already was. smith ran his hands through his dark, silky flow, separating and fluffing up parts that were slicked back with water. after fixing his hair he slipped on the pair of plaid boxers and let the waistband snap to his hips. following, he stepped into his sweatpants and pulled them up just below his waistband. mindlessly just muscle memory as he just slid on the fluffy socks.

taylor scrolled through some random shows on netflix, resting his head on a stack of pillows with an arm slung over his waist and another holding the remote. his attention was lapsed from the endless scrolling on the tv to the smith walking out of the bathroom as steam billowed from the doorway.

“holy shit, smitty.. you were in there for like an hour and a half!” he nervously laughed, studying the redness on his shoulders.

“really? i didn’t feel like i-“ smith was interrupted by the sight of his best friend laid out on the bed, tanned abs, v line, grey sweatpants, the way his overdue-haircut messy flow fell perfectly over his forehead; the whole deal. he could have sworn he turned as red as a god damn fire truck with the way blood rushed to his cheeks and drifted all the way to his chest. he’d always seen taylor shirtless, but it was just different this time.

“alright there?” the younger man questioned, his casual expression turning worried.

“mhm. just… dizzy from the hot shower i guess-“ he lied, trying to make an excuse for how flustered he got.

“oh, fuck.” taylor swore under his breath as he glided of the bed and hurried over, gently taking hold of his friends wrists as he snaked a hand up to his bicep.

“just sit down alright? i’ll get you something to drink.” he said, leading smith to the bed. the dark haired man just let him move his body, head overloaded with his lingering thoughts and everything to do with his best friend.

taylor made sure he got comfortable on the bed while he fumbled in the mini fridge under the tv for some juice to bring him back to full awareness. he rushed over to his side, climbing back to his spot next to him. maybe he was too close for being “just friends”. he softly passed him the small bottle of chilled apple juice.

smith fixed his dull eyes to his ever so gentle calloused hands that rested on his inner thigh and passed him the juice.

“drink some, for me?”

taylor unscrewed the cap to the small bottle, as he laced their fingers together with each of their free hands, caressing his hand with his thumb. were both of them so sure they were and always will be “just friends”?

“damn you really turn into a mother as soon as i get sick, or hurt, or some bullshit like this.” the older man teased, if he hadn’t said this maybe taylor wouldn’t pull his hand away and turned so red.

“i mean- you’re my best friend and like.. i didn’t realize.. just fucking drink it smith.” taylor retaliated, taking his hands off him. there it is. there’s the returning awkwardness.

the ends of the dark haired man’s lips uncurled, as he shifted his gaze from their hands to the wall, taking a sip. unbeknownst to we’re taylor’s hands were. he didn’t want to imagine them anywhere else but on him. some random netflix show was playing in the background, maybe continuing from the trailer. he mindlessly downed the small bottle, reaching over taylor to put the empty glass bottle on the nightstand. more and more thoughts just came running to his head, yelling and screaming and reminders that he fucked up with his ex, and just made this situation silent agony. his eyes grew slightly glassy. he tried to blink away some tears but it seemed to just make them fall from his eyes.

“hey, hey, don’t cry.. it’s okay” taylor cooed to him like a child, as he noticed a change in smiths face. he kind of already caught on to why he was upset. he turned his head and shifted so he could face him.

“i’m- oh my god, tay; it’s all my fucking fault.. if i were good enough maybe she would have stayed.. if i were better she could still be here” he sobbed into his hands, just letting out every emotion he’s been holding in.

“don’t you ever talk down on yourself like that, smitty” taylor said harshly but somehow turned his tone to be forgiving in a way.

“it’s her fault she couldn’t see what i see, you’re more than enough. you don’t need validation from a woman, you’re too good for her and she didn’t deserve you at all” he reassured.

“..what you see? whaddya mean?” craig questioned, a chill running down his back.

“i mean.. where do i even start? you’re my best friend, you have such nasty flow; like come on she couldn’t do better if she tried! and you’re just such an amazing person i cant put it into words. i love everything about you and nobody could compare. smitty you’re so perfect and don’t you ever forget that, hear me?” compliment after compliment, taylor really poured his heart out even if they weren’t as deep of words as he meant them to be.

the “perfect” and “i love everything about you” just played over and over again in smiths head. if he meant it platonically or more than that would remain a mystery for the time being. the tears still fell from his puffy eyes. damn it, taylor made his life so complete but so difficult.

“i- i honestly don’t even know what to say back”

“you don’t have to, just let it all out”

and with that statement he did. he let out all his hopeless sobs and whines, falling into taylor’s gentle embrace. his salty tears fell from his glassy eyes to either taylor’s shoulder or off the sharp of his jaw onto his friends pectorals. he gripped onto taylor’s back so hard his fingers probably turned white.

“i’m here, i got you” taylor continued to reassure him, massaging the back of the brunettes head as he wrapped an arm around his trembling body. smith really had a hold on his back, but anything for his best friend really.

“fuck i’m not gonna be able to sleep after this”

“what can i do to help, i’ll do anything i can” the younger man warmly said to the crying man in his arms.

“just.. hold me” smith asked, quite hit or miss of him.

“i mean.. yeah if bro cuddling helps i’m fine with it” the canadian hesitated, but he really would go to so many lengths to keep his friend happy.

smith silently cheered and mentally jumped up and down like a happy little kid. maybe this was his awakening he didn’t have to deny it anymore. he shifted his position so taylor could get comfortable. they both lied flat on the bed as taylor finally turned off the tv in the background and flipped off the lights, just leaving the dim glow from the city skyline in the window that shone onto their faces. his nose grazed the tender skin of taylor’s neck, as his skin tensed under his touch. smith gently slung a leg over his thigh, taking in every second as taylor wrapped his chiseled arms around him. minutes of silence passed.

“tay, can i be dead honest with you?” he sort of choked through tears. finally he took a real risk.

“always, what’s up” taylor rasped, making blazing eye contact with him from their close position.

“this is really hard for me to say but i feel like you really should know and like..” smith sucked back a little bit, just beating around the bush.

“go ahead, i’m listening” the younger man said with a sleepy tone.

every one of taylor’s words just sent a new shock through his body.

“i mean.. i kind of- like i.. i’ve had feelings for you since you were signed. i got a girlfriend as a cover up and maybe i got a little too wrapped up in it but.. now i’m not really gonna ignore my issues anymore. it’s been bothering me for a while but just got worse since the breakup; and that’s why i’ve been acting so off, i’m really sorry i didn’t tell you before..” smith finally confessed, took him long enough as he ended his rambling and bit his lip to self soothe. he couldn’t bare to hold eye contact after what he just said, so he decided to stare off into the skyline.

“wow.. smitty. i’m really proud of you for being able to say that.. and now that i know for sure you’ve got a thing for me it would probably be a good time to tell you there’s a reason ive been turning everyone down, because honestly it’s always been you; you’re all i want and all i need, smitty” he finally confessed. the younger man gently stroked his soon to be lovers hair, rubbing his back and tracing hearts and shapes on his smooth bare skin lovingly.

“hallsy i-“ smith was already emotional, and this news just made his tears of pain turn into happiness. he shifted his weight so he was lying atop taylor. he released his right grip on his back and ran his hands up the the nape of his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.

taylor didn’t have to say much. he gently took cupped his cheek and brought him down to his level. the amount of want smith had cooled down. now they were just in each others presence and nothing felt rushed. their lips barely brushed one another, just feeling their lungs expand under them until they finally closed the centimeter of space between them. there was nothing that had to be finished by a deadline. just them. the kids was soft and sweet, nothing rough could come of it. the warmth of their tongues collided, sharing each others saliva as their prolonged kiss took their breath. smith rested his forehead on taylor’s, pulling away to catch his breath. the way his full lips felt against his was something different and unmatched. they made eye contact, even with heavy, half lidded gazes. taylor caressed his back, a hand rested just beneath his waistband on his hip and another cupping his cheek.

“i don’t think you understand how long i’ve wanted you, i don’t ever wanna imagine having to go back to a time when you weren’t mine.” smith told, almost going cross eyed from the way they were looking at each other.

“i’m here now, i’m all yours my love” taylor said breathlessly, connecting them once again; their lips making contact as needed. it was so right, the way their bodies fell together like a puzzle piece.

“god you get me so high” smith whined through the kiss, until they finally parted for air. taylor still continued to whisper sweet nothings and leave constant stray kisses along his neck. he finally relaxed his muscles and melted onto the younger man’s body.

“tay.. what are we now?” the brunette asked, his stubble rubbing against taylor’s jawline.

“i mean would you do this with someone who’s not your boyfriend? cause then i think you have your answer, smitty.” the canadian warmly spoke.

smith just chuckled at his snarky comment, now the after silence didnt feel so awkward. maybe things were going back to normal because they are supposed to be each others normal. the silence finally felt intimate again. he felt taylor play with his hair and fold over his waistband. his touch just made him relaxed enough to fall asleep slowly. he struggled to stay awake , no light in the room besides the downtown manhattan glow.

notes : denial is a river in egypt.

[neverhangd]

He’s exactly like the stories: menacing, smart, dangerous. Fucking embarrassing as it is to die like this, like a damned idiot, at least she won’t have lost to some half-witted fuck who won on a stroke of luck.

With one brow he makes it obvious her strategy’s fallen flat. So much for knocking him off-balance. Vague plans of pretending to know someone co-opting his legend to sic him on their tail and off of hers evaporates before they can even really get started. She can’t blame him for reveling in a reputation like his, annoying as it is that she’s failed to raise his ire the way she wants.

She damned near opens her mouth to start arguing—it isn’t quite the same thing, is it?, comparing an identity chosen in adulthood to one pushed in early adolescence—when he turns back around and snaps about lying. There’s no sense in arguing even after he’s done. It’s enough to set Anne back on edge, grinding her teeth together to keep herself from digging her proverbial grave any deeper. Anne swallows back bile and ire in equal measure. Besides, if Anne’s caught the pattern correctly (and she’s near certain she has) she needs to start bracing: he’ll be aiming again for the gut soon.

The gut punch arrives as predicted, and expecting it does make it an easier blow to handle. The Shark is no fool; he isn’t human enough to be one. He knows things only Anne, Jack, and a ghost should, damning things: her past aliases might be explained away by knowing her father, but the burning estate was a secret she’d meant to take to her grave. She feels neither shame nor regret in what she’d done—and why should she?—but there are reasons she’s never sifted through the ashes herself.

Her silence is damning. She knows it. The Shark’s gotten his fucking blood, and now he’s circling for more. Is this why they call him the Shark? Not because he’s a predator, not because of his fucked up teeth or because you won’t know he’s there until he strikes, not even because he follows the scent of blood, but because he’s always circling? Her hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat, her shirt sticks to her back with it, and the rope at her wrists growing swollen with it and tighter as a result. She doesn’t try to follow his circling until he says the thing that finally makes some damned sense of this whole encounter. You did get away from me that one time.

Fucking hell. The Shark had been on her trail at one time. At two times counting this latest, and neither time she’d been aware of it. What had she done to end up on the boogeyman’s hit list? She starts to wrack her brains for the answer—maybe she’s a means to an end still, maybe his interest is her father, or the stupid bitch she’d done for just after losing the privilege of being Andy—when he touches on another nerve, red and raw and angry. Sloppy? Sloppy?! She’d been a fucking sheltered-arse teenager when she’d done most of that shite! Sloppy! Hah! For a pair of fledgling kills those had both been surprisingly neat, especially spur of the moment as they’d been! He tuts in her ear but doesn’t make the mistake of lingering again, meaning she doesn’t have the chance to split his skull on hers.

When she speaks this time, it’s without a plan. (The plan’s gone to shit already. There’s no plan now outside of “draw more blood before dying.”)

“Ye’ve got the fucking wretch. I watched the whole damned house go up in flame afore I left: he died trapped and alone, same as he tried to do t’me.” Well. More literally than he’d tried to do to her, but that’s an unimportant detail in the grand scheme of things. “Now, if ye’re done jerking yerself off: free me or fucking kill me. Tired of this idiot game already.”

Anne’s spent her life being the growling underdog, the bitch, protective and snappish. She doesn’t bark when she can bite. The second he feels comfortable enough to touch her again, a spark lights in her eyes that hasn’t been there since she was a pup herself, the last dying embers of the firestorm she’d been in her youth. It hadn’t been beaten all the way out, and this is the first gasp of air it’s had in years.

There’s blood dripping over the bastard’s mouth as he speaks; she’d managed to break his nose, all right, but he hardly seemed to feel it. She’ll make him feel the next one. His wrist is well within range of her teeth, and she’s just figuring how she’ll jerk in towards him again to free her face some before trying to rip through his wrist with her teeth, when he manages a second gut punch, this one worse than the first. That had only been strange, perhaps a mite frightening: this actually knocks the wind from her—and worse, a spike of fear drives it way through all of the anger, cracking through her rage and onto her face.

She hasn’t been Anne Cormac since she was sixteen, nor Andy since a year or two before.

For a moment it feels like she’s going to make sick; she doesn’t, though her head is spinning and her stomach is somewhere near her boots. Shit. She is so fucked. She really must be cursed to have managed to sneak aboard a ship already looking for her. The ship of someone who knew a past she’d left buried in South Carolina. Worse, the ship of someone who knew her father—and not just his name, clearly. William Cormac, esquire, would not have approved of its delivery, but the message sent is a lesson he no doubt would have wanted imparted to her: open your eyes, girl! She hadn’t even realized she had them closed until the pressure disappeared from her jaw and he stepped away.

A third gut punch, but one much easier to handle than the first two. (She’s worn down. Dull. This is a really shit time for her to be playing mind games, drawing on energy resources already badly drained from the events of the days before.) Maybe she’s getting the hang of this, though, catching the pattern already: he throws out what it takes to fuck with her, then backs off to see what sticks. If she can pull herself back together, she could go on the offensive here—really get her feet under her and get going. If she can knock him off-balance, even once…. She needs to buy time back first, though.

She doesn’t doubt for one moment he’s the fucking Shark. Didn’t even need to say it, not after a peek into what he knows about her. If she wasn’t so damned hot right now, there’d be no color in her face at all. How do you stop a shark? You punch it in the nose

—Fuck, she’s done that already! What’s next? They…generally don’t survive the tales she’s heard, the people in Anne’s position. Their death is usually the call to action for the hero to take arms and avenge their death: Patroclus at the mercy of Hector, Mercutio on Tybalt’s sword, nevermind the hushed names attached to the Shark’s own legends.

She digs her nails into her palm in an age-old gesture to help ground herself. She’ll be the first to survive or the next to set their name ablaze.

“The Shark’s a fucking saltwater boogeyman: a tale sailors tell to spook one another. Smart to co-opt his legend, though. We almost crossed paths once, did ye know? Back when he set that fire near Nassau.” That’s another lie and she knows it—but maybe he doesn’t. Off-balance. She’d set that fire, and she’d started the rumor that pirates had done it, and somewhere down the line someone connected it to the Shark’s whereabouts and assumptions were made and never dispelled. “I’d been there that morning. Decided that night to elope. Lucky me, aye?, escaping a fiery death by a few hours.”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Oh shit, I never told you that Merlin isn’t my actual name??

Igraine reveals… one hell of a secret, and not the one you’re thinking of:

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4(final part)(coming soon)

TW: Uther being a Jackass I guess?

Arthur knows about his dumbass servant’s magic. He wasn’t best pleased, in fact, he was furious when he first found out; how is supposed to protect his servant-turned-best-friend-except-that’s-super-secret-even-from-himself if he’s off doing stupid shit like Sorcery in Camelot?!

He was a lot more sympathetic when Merlin explained that he’d been born with it, and that his destiny was, literally, tied to Arthur’s. That, mixed with the fact that Arthur tended to get himself into a LOT of trouble, without even realising it most of the time, means Merlin has no choice but to be doing stupid shit like Sorcery in Camelot.

Merlin is currently giving Arthur the silent treatment, not that Arthur seems to notice. The two of them were waiting for Morgause to finish whatever it is she was doing to, apparently, allow Arthur to speak to his mother.

She doesn’t take long, and though Merlin keeps his distrustful gaze on her the whole time, he still can’t quite tell what it is Morgause has done. She looks to them with a blank expression, though her focus is mainly on Arthur as she gestures him forward:

“It’s ready, Prince Arthur. Close your eyes, both of you.”

Arthur frowns briefly but does as told. Merlin raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms, and staring Morgause down; she rolls her eyes and huffs quietly when she realises that he isn’t going to take his eyes off her, but gives in, turning away and performing some sort of simple looking (though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it isn’t simple) ritual.

The Witch lets out a deep breath and steps back, and Merlin’s hard stare is finally drawn away from her when a shower of golden sparks materialises in a cloud in front of The Prince.

Arthur opens his eyes to see Igraine standing there, practically glowing, looking every bit the glorious Queen she once was. She gives him a soft smile, and Arthur can only stare, his mouth moving of it’s own accord:

“Mother?”

Merlin stares on in suspicion as Igraine’s smile grows:

“My son.”

She pulls him forward into a tight hug, and though Arthur had started off forcing himself to be wary, he falls into the hug easily, struggling to hold his tears in. They pull back after far too short of a time, and though Merlin was still distrustful, he wishes she had held Arthur just a little longer.

Merlin’s heart breaks as Arthur goes on to apologise for being born, but his feelings quickly turn to anger as Igraine explains the truth, how his people were being hunted, burned, vilified, all because Uther was too much of a hypocrite to admit his mistakes or listen to reason; but he couldn’t lash out now, this time was for Arthur, not him.

Igraine’s face falls even further, and she grips Arthur’s shoulders tightly:

“But we do not have time to talk of this, I can feel the other side pulling me back, I must be quick. Arthur, my son, you have a brother, and you must find him.”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he tenses in place; this had better not be some twisted trick on Morgause’s part to destroy Arthur, because he would destroy her in return if it was. And he would do it in a far messier way. Arthur just looks shocked:

“A brother? How?!”

Igraine smiles mournfully:

“A twin. He was so small when he was born, I thought he wouldn’t make it, but though I can’t see his face, I know he lives, I can feel it. He had hair dark as the night sky, a complete contrast to your golden wisps-”

She lifts a soft, gentle hand, and runs it through Arthur’s hair with a smile:

“-but his eyes, oh his eyes were just as golden as your hair, before they faded to the colour of the sky.”

Arthur gasped but Merlin tensed even further, certain that this must be some sort of trick:

“He was magic?”

Igraine smiles again and nods:

“It’s not common, but not completely unheard of for people to be born magic. Your brother was, and it was beautiful.-”

He smile falls into something more angry, though she’s clearly trying to hide it:

“-Your father... did something. I do not know what; by the time my soul was restful enough to be able to look back upon the world, it was too late, he was gone somewhere I could not see. I know he still lives, your father was too much of a coward to admit his mistakes, but too much of a hypocrite to keep to his convictions and destroy the child, which I can be grateful for. I feared he had been sent far away, but you must find him, restore his heritage.”

Arthur nods vigorously, his eyes wide and desperate, and Merlin finds himself desperate to believe that this spirit is true and genuine:

“What else can you tell me about him? Do you know where he is? What he looks like now?”

Igraine’s face falls into a soft smile again, though she shakes her head mournfully:

“He is powerful, extremely so. I worried he was dead until I suddenly felt him; he appeared in Camelot, around three and a half years ago. His power is vast, I can sense it stretching for miles and miles, though I can not pinpoint the epicentre; he is somewhere within the Kingdom, you must find him.”

Merlin frowns in confusion, stepping forward to interrupt, though he desperately doesn’t want to:

“Did you name him? Your son?”

Igraine looks to him suddenly, as if she weren’t aware they had company, but quickly turns almost her full attention to Merlin with a soft smile:

“You. You looked after my boy, thank you. Thank you for all that you have done. And yes-”

She looks back to Arthur:

“-I named him, though I whispered it with my last breaths, Uther would certainly not have used it, and I do not know if Gaius heard me.”

Arthur responds quietly, his cracking voice heavy with too many emotions to name:

“What is it? What’s my... my brother’s name?”

“Myrddin.”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp, and Arthur, always with at least one half of his brain focused on his manservant, turns to him:

“You know that name?! Merlin, do you know someone in Camelot with that name?”

Merlin just stares at Igraine, his eyes wide and his hands shaking:

“How... how do you think he got out of Camelot? How would Uther have sent him away?”

Igraine’s face is confused, but mostly curious as she takes a step towards him, still with one hand on Arthur’s shoulder:

“Gaius and Balinor possibly, perhaps Nimueh, though I imagine she fled rather quickly. They were Uther’s closest friends before the purge, and they all practised magic, they would have been... sympathetic, tried to help the child. Why? Are Arthur’s questions relevant? Do you know my son??”

Merlin’s eyes flickered between the two of them, but when Arthur says his name again, his voice nothing short of desperate, his gaze fixes on The Prince:

“Arthur, I... I never told you, because I didn’t think it was... relevant, but... Merlin isn’t my real name.”

Arthur recoils, shocked, and utters a dumbfounded “What?!”. Merlin gulps, and looks to Igraine briefly before resuming his fearful, and slightly confused, stare on Arthur:

“When I was young, my magic was still strong, but I had no control over it. I would subconsciously summon animals to my side constantly. Mostly small things, but the occasional stag or bear would wander through the village to find me. But... but what came most often where the birds; the village is essentially in the middle of a forest, and... and there were thousands of merlins. So I got that as a nickname, Merlin, and it just stuck.”

Arthur just shakes his head, caught off guard but mostly just annoyed:

“You heard my mother, Merlin, we don’t have much time, what is this-”

Merlin interrupts him:

“Just listen!! My real name.... it’s Myrddin.-”

Igraine takes in a quiet gasp, mumbling more to herself than anyone else “Gaius heard me.” but Arthur just stares. Merlin holds his gaze, but after a few moments, he looks back to Igraine:

“-My mother... she... she wouldn’t lie to me, nor would Gaius... this... it’s a mistake. It’s... it’s a common name, right?!”

Igraine responds in a hushed tone, though Arthur barely moves, still staring at Merlin as though he had gained a new head:

“Show me some magic, my boy.”

Merlin stutters and shakes his head, laughing incredulously before he notices her pleading face and looks to Arthur, almost for permission. The Prince gulps before nodding, just once, and Merlin lets out a deep breath. He holds his hand out in front of him, palm up, and without even needing to mutter a spell, a single flower grows; a Camelot-red Tulip, it’s petals dipped in gold.

When his eyes fade back to blue, he looks up to see the others’ reactions: Arthur is smiling softly, always eager to see Merlin’s magic, as if he had forgotten the situation at hand, but Igraine... oh, Igraine was staring at him with such wonder, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

Merlin drops the flower without a second though and shakes his head minutely, but Igraine just nods, allowing the hand on Arthur’s shoulder to slip down to his hand so she could tug him forward, towards Merlin:

“Myrddin, my boy, my son. You came home all on your own.”

Merlin just shakes his head again and steps back:

“No. No this... this isn’t real, this is a trick, or... or something. How do we prove it? How do we know you’re not lying or some trap laid by Morgause?!”

Igraine sighs, but nods, understanding:

“Ask Gaius and your... your mother, and thank her for me, for raising you with so much love. The doorway is closing, I can feel it.-”

Her gaze moves lovingly between then two of them, and when she steps forward once more, she takes Merlin’s hand before he can move away, pulling the two of them into a tight hug:

“-I am so endlessly proud of you both, and I love you, always.”

She fades from the air, and within seconds Arthur’s arms are falling in on themselves, nothing under them to hold their weight and forceful pressure.

The Prince’s head whips towards Morgause, who until that point had been completely forgotten about:

“Bring her back!”

Her stare is fixed on a frozen Merlin, though she slowly looks to Arthur when he takes an intimidating step towards her and goes to open his mouth again:

“I can’t. The doorway closes of it’s own accord, I can’t bring her back again. But that was... unexpected. I apologise, you shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

Arthur shakes his head angrily at her denial, but quickly refocuses and looks to Merlin, who still hasn’t moved an inch. He puts a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly until the other man looks at him; Arthur isn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but Merlin’s eyes to be filling with tears definitely wasn’t it:

“I... this can’t be real. My mother, Gaius, Kilgharrah, they all would’ve known. Why wouldn’t they tell me?”

Arthur pulls him into a hug, silently vowing to stop Merlin’s suffering as soon as he’s possibly able, that they would discover the truth no matter what. Merlin’s arms just hang limply at his sides, though he does push his face into Arthur’s neck as The prince responds:

“I... I don’t know, Merlin. Maybe they thought it would get in the way of that destiny of yours, maybe they were waiting for my... for The King to pass.-”

He pulls back, but keeps his hands on Merlin’s shoulders:

“-Lets just... get back to Camelot, and we can figure it out. We can go downstairs to talk to Kilgharrah.”

Merlin shakes his head, stepping back and wiping his sleeve over his eyes roughly before walking purposefully towards the horses:

“No, he’s the least likely to be honest, we’ll talk to Gaius. Though if any of this is true... I’m having some bloody harsh words with my... with Hunith.”

Arthur flinches slightly at the anger in Merlin’s voice, but after a quick glance to a slowly retreating Morgause, he follows him to the horses and they start the fast paced journey back to Camelot. The only words exchanged, around an hour in, were Merlin’s quiet, humourless:

“Gwaine’s never going to believe this.”

And Arthur’s responding snort of derisive amusement.

~

They manage to stay out of sight when they arrive back in the city, which is good really. Arthur’s lowly simmering rage had been reaching taller and taller heights with every pound of the horses’ hooves against the hard ground. But before he confronts his father, they need confirmation, in the form of Gaius.

They stalk quietly through the castle, using servant corridors and hidden passages to avoid being seen, but all bets are off when they reach the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius looks up with a quiet gasp when the two men burst in, locking the door behind them. Arthur’s blank stare and Merlin’s barely concealed anger force his shock and relief to morph into confusion:

“Merlin, Prince Arthur, where on Earth have you been? The King has been panicking, sending out patrol after patrol to search for you.”

Arthur’s face remains blank, and when Gaius looks to him for an answer he just moves his gaze to Merlin, allowing him to determine the pace of this much needed conversation. Merlin’s dark gaze is now fixed on the floor, though his jaw and hands are tightly clenched, and his breathing is shaky in his anger. His voice comes out lethally quiet, and Arthur can tell that it’s only a matter of time before he explodes:

“Gaius, what’s my name?”

Gaius just looks slightly taken aback, like he hasn’t quite grasped Merlin’s meaning despite its plainness:

“My boy, whatever are you-”

He’s interrupted when Merlin looks up at him sharply, his eyes blazing and his face turning slightly red:

“It’s a simple question Gaius: What’s. My. Name?-”

Gaius’ eyes flicker to Arthur in confusion, but Merlin breaks from his near frozen stature, moving with a speed that Arthur had never seen in him before to slam his hand on the table:

“No, don’t look at him, look at me. What’s my name, Gaius?!”

Gaius nods, his eyes sad as he gulps before answering quietly:

“Myrddin, but you already knew that.”

Merlin takes a deep breath and nods, his fingers tapping rhythmically, though a tad aggressively, against the table. Arthur goes to step forward to put a calming hand on his shoulder but Merlin shoots him a withering look and he stays back. Merlin’s hard stare returns to the resigned physician:

“And my parents?”

Gaius gulps again but straightens his posture, putting up a confused façade, though it’s easy to see through:

“Hunith is your-”

Merlin slams his hand on the table again, much harder this time, and a voice in the back of Arthur’s head—the one at the forefront was spitting obscenities and planning rather gruesome ways to murder his father—makes a note to check his hand later, a hit like that had likely broken something, though Merlin was clearly too furious and confused and upset to notice:

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

Gaius is taken aback at Merlin’s bitter yell, but he softens again at the tears on his ward’s cheeks; he collapses into a chair on the other side of the table, rubbing his eyes tiredly before looking up at the distraught man:

“Uther and Igraine Pendragon. You are a year older than your mo- than Hunith led you to believe, and you are Arthur’s twin brother.-”

Arthur turns away angrily, vocalising the curses that had been playing on a loop in his mind, and Merlin nods, pushing his injured hand into the table without even realising:

“-I am so sorry, my-”

Merlin shakes his head and holds a hand up to stop him but doesn’t say anything, not pulling away this time when Arthur steps into place beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder, waving the other one aggressively at the elderly physician:

“You had no right, no right to keep this from us. I grew up being taught to hate magic, miserable and alone, and Merlin grew up hating himself, just as miserable and alone, if not more so. You had no right to take us away from each other.-”

Gaius goes to respond, but Arthur stops his excuses before they even make it past his throat:

“-No. There is no excusing this, you and my father took my brother from me, and there will be no forgiving that. I’ve known about Merlin’s magic and our entwined destinies for over a year, you’ve had every opportunity to tell us, but you didn’t. That’s not even mentioning the nature of my... our mother’s death. You are a coward, and in your cowardice you have been cruel; I will not stand for it. Where is my- where is The King?”

Gaius nods slowly, standing on almost wobbling legs before gesturing to the door:

“The King is with Sir Leon trying to figure out where to look next, they’re in the council chamber. You are right, and I am sor-”

Arthur cuts him off with a sharp gesture and a dark look, taking Merlin’s uninjured wrist and pulling him towards the door. The servant (Prince?) follows easily, unable to meet Gaius’ gaze and allowing Arthur to drag him briskly through the corridors towards the council chamber.

By the time they reach the chamber, Merlin has broken out of his stupor, wiped his tears, and pulled his wrist from Arthur’s grip, instead walking alongside him and using just as much force when they both push the doors open and stride in.

Uther and Leon both look up rapidly, startled at the sudden intrusion, but whilst Leon looks relieved and sends the two of them a small smile, Uther looks angry:

“Arthur. Where have you been? I have had search parties out looking for you. Arthur?”

Arthur doesn’t answer for a few moments, but a glance at Merlin by his side gives him the confidence boost he needs and he straightens his back, draws his sword, and stares The King right in the eyes:

“I know what you did to my mother, and I know what you... what you took from me.”

Uther stands tall, glancing to Leon briefly as he announces:

“Leave us. No one is to enter.”

Leon looks between the three other men, but doesn’t make it to his second step towards the door before Arthur has his sword pointed at his chest, though The Prince’s gaze stays on his father. Leon knows it’s less of a genuine threat and more of a way of emphasising his words, but that doesn’t stop him from taking a slight, wary step back:

“No, Sir Leon, you will stay.”

Leon glances nervously to the red-faced King, but doesn’t move. Uther looks furious at Arthur’s denial of his orders, but The Prince pays him no mind, finally turning to look at Leon with a slightly softer look in his eyes:

“Sir Leon, do you bear witness?”

Leon frowns slightly, looking between Arthur, Uther, and Merlin once again, frown deepening as he spies the unshed tears in Merlin’s eyes and the purple bruise forming over one of his hands. He finally looks back to Arthur, moving to stand to attention with one hand held over his heart and the other resting on the hilt of his sword:

“My Lord Prince Arthur Pendragon, I, Sir Leon, bear witness.”

Uther just splutters angrily, but Leon pointedly keeps his gaze on Arthur until The Prince nods at him and is the first to look away. Merlin had stayed silent the entire time, but visibly relaxes when Leon swears to stay, and that just makes the knight even more curious; this seems to be just as much about Merlin as it did Arthur’s parents.

The Prince moves his gaze—and his sword—to be pointed at The King once more, and he takes a deep breath before forcing the words from his mouth:

“You used magic, against my mother’s will, so that you could conceive. Is this true?”

Uther huffs angrily, gaze dashing to the other two men before it settles on Arthur again:

“This is preposterous, Morgause has lied to you.”

Leon is practically holding his breath at the side of the room; he can clearly tell that Arthur is moments away from striking his own father down, but does he interfere? Does he let it happen? And he still has no clue what’s bothering Merlin so much, other than the obvious pain in his hand.

Arthur takes slow steps towards Uther, inching the blade closer and closer to his throat:

“You are the one that’s lying. You started a genocide because you insisted on blaming magic for your own mistakes, and that’s not even the worst thing you did.-”

Arthur lets out an incredulous laugh, and Uther takes a step back as Leon tenses and Merlin stays blank:

“-I had a brother, a twin born with magic. You were too much of a coward to admit your mistakes but too much of a hypocrite to stick to your convictions, so you sent him away instead of killing him.-”

Uther goes pale, taking another stumbled step back as Leon’s eyes go wide, his gaze jumping to Merlin with a sudden, dreaded clarity.

(Perhaps Leon had picked up on Merlin’s magic a few months ago, and perhaps he had come to the conclusion that the younger man was the best protector Arthur could have.)

“-Do you even know his name? Mother said you would likely refuse to use it, but do you even know what it is?!”

Uther quickly regains his anger, his fury snapping into place as he gestures threateningly and thunders:

“It was an abomination! A creature of magic that destroyed your mother and almost tainted you! I should have slaughtered it where it lay-”

Merlin takes in a sudden breath at his words and Leon clenches his jaw; itching to comfort the younger man, but knowing that he wouldn’t exactly be welcomed right now. He’s meant to be here as an impartial third party.

Arthur throws his gauntlet down before Uther can finish his aggressive assertion, and Merlin gulps, moving properly for the first time since he’d entered the room. He grabs Arthur’s arm and pulls him back slightly:

“Arthur you can’t, he’s your... he’s The King.”

Arthur glances to him:

“I don’t care, he took you from me, he had no right.-”

He looks back to Uther, who is now staring at Merlin with a shocked venom. No one notices the way Leon quietly draws his sword; impartial his arse, he’d protect Arthur and Merlin to his dying breath:

“-You are the abomination, and you will pay for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve sent Myrddin, that’s his name by the way, further afield, perhaps I’d have been more inclined to keep you alive until I found him. Pick it up.”

Uther’s gaze doesn’t move from Merlin as his face grows redder and redder. He doesn’t look down to the gauntlet, nor does he look at Arthur, nor does he notice Leon creeping closer:

“You. You foul, hellish, beast!”

Without another second’s of hesitation, he lunges forward and draws his sword all in one move. Arthur reacts too slowly, not expecting The King to attack Merlin instead of him, and Uther pushes him out of the way, swinging the sword down harshly toward Merlin’s chest before Arthur can block him. Merlin is too shocked and angry and scared and upset to even think of using his magic, so just stumbles back helplessly, falling and landing harshly on his already broken hand, yelping slightly.

Before anyone can even blink, Leon is there, stood over Merlin with blazing eyes and his sword raised. He parries the King easily, and by the time Uther has processed one of his own knights turning against him, Merlin has scrambled back, injured arm held to his chest, and Arthur has moved to stand at Leon’s side, sword raised.

Uther can only stare in furious bewilderment, but it doesn’t take him long to concede that he has been outmatched. He calls for the guards, though once they’ve spilled into the room, six in total, they stutter to a confused stop when they see The Prince and The First Knight seemingly defending a servant (a well-loved, well-known servant), from The King.

Arthur, without looking away from Uther, speaks harshly, his voice controlled and forceful and, frankly, Kingly:

“Arrest The King and escort him to his rooms. Remove all weapons and bar the windows and doors, I want him under constant guard.”

Uther screeches angrily, both at Arthur’s words and the fact that the guards make no moves to detain The Prince and the knight, like he clearly wants. Before he can actually say anything, Arthur speaks again, his voice even louder than before, first to the guards:

“NOW!-”

And then back to Uther:

“-You will either be arrested for your crimes, both against our family name and humanity as a whole, or I will kill you where you stand.”

Uther tries his best to stare Arthur down, but there really is no competing with the fire in his eyes, and it only takes one short nod from Leon for the guards to step forward and confiscate The King’s sword before they pull his arms around his back and push him towards the door. He digs his heels in and begins screeching again, though they can only make out the odd word, it’s mostly just “BETRAYAL!” and “SORCERY!” and “HOW DARE YOU!”. Arthur pulls Merlin to his feet gently, frowning at his purple wrist and knuckles before sighing and rolling his eyes, nodding to Uther and muttering, just loud enough for Merlin and Leon to hear:

“I don’t suppose you could do something about that, could you?”

Merlin looks shocked, but huffs out a gentle laugh when Arthur just raises his eyebrow in question. He looks to Uther just as the guards struggle to open the door, muttering a quiet spell under his breath, his eyes flashing golden. Leon takes in a slow breath at the obvious display of sorcery; he’d been constantly on edge since he discovered Merlin’s talent, desperately fearful that someone would find out. Thankfully, the guards are entirely focused on the task at hand.

Uther quickly goes quiet, his head drooping, and Arthur grimaces as the guards struggle to hold his sudden dead weight. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing aloud when they turn to him with questioning looks; he just nods and gestures regally for them to keep going.

Soon, the room is quiet again, only the three men remaining. Leon looks between them apprehensively but Arthur just takes a fortifying breath before focusing his attention on Merlin’s arm, holding it gently in front of him and frowning worriedly:

“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten any better at healing magic since the arrow incident?”

Merlin scoffs and rolls his eyes:

“That wasn’t my fault, you’re the one that yanked it out of my shoulder and left the damn head in. And for your information, yes actually, I’ve been practicing. But I really think we have more important things to deal with at the moment, like the fact that the council is going to freak out when they find out you had The King arrested.”

Arthur shakes his head, giving Merlin a firm look:

“Merls, I just found out that you’re my twin brother, you are the important thing right now. Heal your hand, I don’t care how long it takes. Leon will take care of the council until we get there.”

He looks pointedly to Leon, and the knight nods, clearing his throat with a confused frown as he replies:

“What... uh... what would you like me to tell them, My Lord? Before your arrival? And where would you like them?”

Arthur smiles, grateful that Leon knows to take cues from him, knows what to focus on, knows that he is being trusted:

“Take them to the Throne Room. Tell them that Uther has been forcibly removed from the throne, that I have discovered the existence of my magical twin brother, whom I intend to have announced as Crown Prince within the week, and that I plan to legalise magic.”

Merlin, already pale and shaky, flinches, starting up with a “But I don’t want-” but Arthur cuts him off with a harsh, though fond glare, looking back to Leon to see the knight’s face shocked and pale. He purses his lips, before humming thoughtfully and speaking again:

“Actually... that probably wouldn’t be for the best. Just inform them that it’s an emergency, reassure them we haven’t started a war or anything, and tell them I’ll be arriving shortly.”

Leon visibly relaxes and nods, giving Merlin a soft smile and ruffling his hair quickly before striding from the room. Merlin huffs at the affection, but Arthur can tell he’s secretly pleased and copies Leon’s fond smile. Merlin looks to him confusedly:

“Why will the council have to wait? It’ll only take a few moments to heal myself.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, nodding at Merlin’s hand pointedly and crossing his arms as if he were expecting failure. Merlin just rolls his eyes before looking down to his injury and muttering a few words, grimacing as his knuckles realign, and the bruise recedes. It doesn’t disappear completely, but the bones and deeper muscle tears have obviously repaired themselves, and Merlin looks very proud of himself as he looks back to Arthur:

“That’s the best I can be bothered to manage-”

Arthur huffs disapprovingly but knows he isn’t going to get any better than that:

“-so why are the council waiting?”

Arthur sighs, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and leading him to the door:

“Well, you look one stiff breeze away from keeling over, and I imagine you’ll want to speak to Gwaine?”

Merlin looks to him suspiciously, but allows Arthur to lead him through the castle towards where Gwaine was almost certainly pacing worriedly in his rooms:

“I thought you didn’t approve of Gwaine?”

Arthur grins wolfishly:

“Oh, I don’t, especially now that I know that you’re a Prince, and my brother, but it’s my duty as the oldest to threaten him more than I already have.”

Merlin stops suddenly in the corridor and pulls Arthur back:

“Hang on a minute you prat, first off, when have you ever threatened Gwaine? And second, who said you’re the oldest?”

Arthur’s smile just grows and he grabs Merlin’s uninjured wrist to start pulling him down the corridor again:

“Literally the day I found out he was attempting to court you, which was about a month before you figured it out by the way,-”

Merlin grumbles, but doesn’t argue:

“-and I’m the oldest because I said so, and mother said naming you was... was one of the last things she did, so you obviously came out second, idiot.”

Merlin rolls his eyes yet again, but doesn’t say anything as they come to a stop outside of Gwaine’s room. He takes a deep breath, and Arthur moves his hand up to his shoulder again, giving him a small smile and a supportive nod. 

The Warlock knocks on the door, and Gwaine opens immediately. The knight relaxes significantly when he sees that it’s the two of them back from God knows where, though he tenses again as his eyes run over them; he takes note of Merlin’s red eyes, injured wrist, and generally shaky demeanour. He also quickly catches on to the protective way Arthur is standing behind him, and the way The Prince’s loose hand shakes slightly with left over adrenaline.

Despite himself, Merlin relaxes and smiles when he sees Gwaine; with everything that had been going on he hadn’t really had a chance to think about how much he missed him, about how much he needed his support.

Gwaine pulls them into the room quickly, shutting the door behind him and turning around to see Merlin looking at him sheepishly, and Arthur staring at him with a predatory smile:

“What happened? Where have you been? Is everything ok?!”

~

End of Part 1!!

Hope y’all enjoyed this!! I probably could’ve fitted more in, but I figured this was a good point to stop. Part 2 and 3 are out (link @ top), part 4 won’t be too long!!

Drop comments and things lads, I love y’all!!

[succliberation]

I can DM you my Ao3 later, I'm about to eat dinner. Most of the stuff there is pretty old lol.

If you want a 6+ hour version of everything I would have to say about the movie, go watch EFAP lol. Its a media review podcast, the latest episode was about Glass Onion.

Off the top of my head, there's 1. Framing shots in a way to intentionally lie to the audience. Not in a "unreliable narrator" way, but a "This movie is flat out lying to you or not giving you all the clues" way. BBC's Sherlock would do the same thing, that's why it was an awful mystery show.

2. There was no twist, the only guy who had any motivation to kill people killed 2 people. This isn't a whodunnit lol.

3. Secret twin? Really? It's not a trope that is always 100 percent bad every time it's used, but in this case, it was extremely poor.

4. Journal stopped a bullet from killing someone.

5. Why the fuck did the rich guy let Benoit stay on the island??? On the outside, this was a mild game for fun, and having an actual detective there would ruin the rest of the game for everyone else. Rich guy knew he was going to kill at least one person once Helen showed up, so why the fuck would he want a detective to be around when a murder happens?

6. Rich dude is simultaneously too stupid to be able to do anything but steal someone's ideas, and also smart enough to build a tech empire on his own.

7. The fucking napkin. Why would rich dude keep it after the court case was over? The shit written on the napkin was so fucking stupid and nonsensical anyway. None of it meant anything??? How did he build a successful business from anything they said there?

8. The not-secret twin was smart enough to do all the work but still stupid enough to die to the extremely stupid rich guy. Also she was too stupid to read a contract that was apparently set up in such a way that she could get cut out of her own company at any time on rich guy's whims?

9. France went bankrupt *checks notes* after 2 months of being in the pandemic and *checks notes* to raise money they *checks notes* loaned out the Mona Lisa????????????????? To a private billionaire????????

10. Read #9 again. If the United States goes bankrupt we're not loaning out the Statue of Liberty or the Constitution to get money flowing again.

11. "If someone murders your sister, burn their stuff, endanger everyone else on the island with an explosion, and destroy a priceless cultural art piece that will only give the murderer a giant insurance payout." ~ Moral of the story

12. Benoit Blancovitz is bad at Clue and Among Us LMFAOOOOOOO. Like bruh, those are children's games???? But also, apparently every puzzle in the box that he was sent were for children (as he states himself), but he solved them easily? So is he good at solving simple puzzles with no stakes or is he bad at them?

13. Tech billionaire can only be reached by fax machine? Dude his own board of directors would have kicked that guy out years ago. Every fucking body needs a phone, his ass would be on the fucking streets.

In general, every character was fucking stupid. Covid was brought up long enough to see everyone wearing masks before it was immediately written out by a mysterious shot of medicine in the mouth. Morality of the film is insanely skewed as far as who we're supposed to be rooting for or what is considered good. But because it's called Glass Onion, it's okay that everything in this movie is stupid lol, because it's not supposed to be deep.

Man I shouldn't feel so insecure in my writing that I double-check smut for plot holes before I publish it. I should just do what Rian Johnson does and make all my characters extreme caricatures of stupidity, then call every one of my stories "Glass Onion" so I can make fun of people who point out how retarded my writing is.

[imashoe69420]

Those Eyes: Rise! Leo X OC

Chapter 10

Part One (1) Finale

Over the next several days, Leo stays the night at my apartment—for the most part. He would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me he had to go help his brothers or just return to the lair to avoid suspicion. I started to whine and sleepily beg him to stay, holding any part of him I could to keep him there with me: his arm, his leg, the tails to his bandanna. Sometimes I’d catch him leaning over me and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his head towards my chest. He’d gently tug at my arms in protest, but surrender for a couple of minutes until he says one of his “I really have to go now”’s or “c’mon, I have to go”’s or “Don’t make this hard”’s. This was always met with a whiny “no” from me, but I’d eventually let him go.

He’d also become more touchy: casually setting me in his lap, rubbing his thumb against my thigh, and he kissed me on the back of my hand before departing once. I almost simply passed away from that one. I can’t tell if he’s just more comfortable with me or he’s been trying to flirt with me. Either way, I’m ok with it.

With the klepto-situation, I’ve tried to resist the urge to steal. It’s been about three (3) days since I have, but it’s literal hell walking into a store and not snatching anything. Leo hadn’t brought it up since he did the first time, but I catch him periodically glancing at me when we pass a street vendor or a shop. I get the feeling that he doesn’t trust me as much anymore, which fucking sucks and just makes me want to steal more to ease my mind.

I just hope this doesn’t ruin our relationship.

Third Person P.O.V.

Leo drops down into the lair and slowly creeps toward his room. He’d just left Lala’s not too long ago. He feels awful about leaving her all to keep a secret, but he had to do what he had to do.

Suddenly, a bright light beams directly into his eyes. He shields his eyes before he looks forward to see all his brothers staring at him with serious expressions.

You’re shitting me, he thinks.

“What’s with the flashlight?” Leo asks.

“Leo, we know what you’re up to.” Raph accuses him.

The blue clad turtle laughs awkwardly. “What I’m up to? You guys are crazy. What—”

“Then who’s this?” Mikey holds up a picture on his phone and shoves it at Leo. What he sees before him causes his heart to race.

It’s a picture of him and Lala walking down the street, arms linked smiling and talking.

“Uhm… my… friend?” Leo says slowly, instinctively backing away from his brothers.

“You two look like a little bit more than ‘friends’.” Mikey raises an eyebrow. “More like dating friends!”

Leo can’t help but blush at his youngest brother’s accusation. “Nonono, we’re not—”

“Now, Leo,” Raph approaches his younger brother and lays a hand on his shoulder, “we don’t care that you have a girlfriend. But why didn’t you tell us? Your own brothers!”

Leo pushes Raph’s hand off his shoulder with the back of his hand. “Because she’s not my—”

“And you lied: ‘I’m going to Mike Tony’s’, ‘I’m gonna return this DVD’, ‘I’m going to the store’.” Donnie adds. “We’re—correction—I’m not stupid. We all knew you were doing something else.”

Leo groans. “Fine, you caught me. I’ve been lying. But she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Now, now, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” The orange clad turtle pats Leo’s shoulder. “Having a girlfriend is completely normal.”

Although Lala isn’t his girlfriend, he somewhat liked his brothers calling her otherwise. Leo likes Lala. A lot. More than he’s ever liked anybody. She’s fun to hang out with and talk to. He likes teasing her, especially when her nose scrunches up in annoyance. It’s cute. He likes when she snarks back at him. He likes that she can be really sweet sometimes even when she’s annoyed by him. Lala doesn’t particularly like anybody else and can be kind of cold, but isn’t as cold to him. He likes that she lets him touch her, and really likes that she was never freaked out by his appearance.

Leo constantly thinks about telling Lala how he feels about her; how she made his stomach do somersaults she told him she didn’t want him to leave; how she makes him lose his cocky composure whenever she smiles or laughs at his jokes, or says something genuine to him.

He felt like he needed to tell her soon. But soon became later, and later became eventually. She seems to like him, but how does he know for sure?

“She’s not my girlfriend because we haven’t even talked about anything like that.” Leo admits.

“Ooh, so she’s your crush?” Raph teases him.

Donnie furrows his eyebrows. “But you like her so why haven’t you told her?”

“I-I dunno,” Leo stutters, “I don’t even think she likes me like that.”

“We’ll set you guys up on a date!” Mikey’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “And then at the end, you tell her! Then you guys will kiss and then—”

“Woah, woah. A date?” The blue clad turtle furiously shakes his head. “Why a date?”

“You guys hang out literally every day. Does it really matter what you call it?” Donnie asks.

The oldest turtle nods in agreement. “I think that’s a good idea, Mike. We set ‘em up, and then they smash faces at the end of the night. You in, Don?”

The purple clad turtle hesitantly nods.

“Wait, I never agreed to this!” Leo retorts with a flushed face.

“But you wanna tell her, right?” His youngest brother asks.

“I-I, well, yeah but—”

“It’s a date!”

* * *

Hours later, the plan is put into affect. Leo wears a black hoodie with the hood up to conceal the ear piece that’s connected to a microphone his brothers are able to talk into. He stares at Lala’s closed window, light from the TV shining through. He always found it weird how she wouldn’t turn on any lights in her apartment except for her room.

“Alright, let’s do this thing!” Raph exclaims into the ear piece. “Just like we rehearsed.”

“Gyuu…” Leo makes a random sound out of nervousness. “Here goes nothing.”

The turtle jumps down onto the fire escape and gazes into the window to the apartment. It’s almost pitch black, but he sees Lala’s silhouette in the kitchen stirring something in a big pot. Leo’s unsure of how she’s doing this in the dark, but he shrugs it off and knocks against the tempered glass. The girl spins around towards the window before nearing it. To his delight, she has her hair slicked back into a ponytail, every curl in her Afro puff defined. Most importantly to him, he can see her enchanting brown eyes and the birthmark above her eyebrow. The only thing she’s wearing is a gray sports bra and black shorts. Like, short shorts.

Lala pushes the window open and rests her elbows on the window sill. “What business do you have here, sir? We didn’t plan anything today.” She smirks playfully.

Leo chokes on the lump in his throat, but quickly recovers. “Y’know, just out and about. Wondering if someone would like to join me.”

“Well, you should’ve texted me earlier. I’m busy right now, but you can come in. I’m making chili.” She turns away from the window as to let him in.

“Ooh, chili! Get us some!” Mikey says into the ear piece.

“Stay focused, Mikey.” Raph reminds him.

Leo sighs at his brothers’ antics before calling out to his friend. “Actually, I was thinking we could maybe just go out to Central Park. Just for a bit.”

“Oh,” Lala turns back around to face him, “what’s going on down there?”

“You’ll see.” He says unable to find a good excuse. “I promise you.”

The short girl groans. “Leo, I just said—”

“Just trust me.” He says quickly. “It’ll be fun!”

Lala stares at him, a confused look on her face. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Abort mission! I repeat, abort mission!” Donnie commands.

“No!” The eldest shouts. “Be smooth. Stop making her suspicious.”

Leo gulps. “C’mon, let’s just go. We’ll come back later. Just 20 minutes. I promise.”

Lala glances back at the stovetop a while before walking over and opening the pot. She looks inside before closing it again and turning the fire on low. “You’re lucky it needs to simmer for an hour. Lemme get dressed.”

The brothers’ boisterous whoops are heard across the multiple buildings they had been watching the two from. Leo shushes them in fear of this god awful plan being ruined.

His crush soon appears back from her room in a black t-shirt and royal blue joggers, her tall pony now low with two wisps of hair on either side of her head by her ears. On her feet are lightly used Concord Air Jordan 12 Retros.

How is she so cute but so cool at the same time? Leo thinks as he scans her up and down.

“Lead the way, Leon.” She hops out the window and holds her arm out.

* * *

It only takes about five (5) minutes to get to Central Park, but the walk still dips into his total of 20. The duo amble through the park for another three (3) before Lala starts to get bored.

“So… we’re just gonna walk?” She asks the turtle.

“So impatient. We haven’t even been walking for that long.” Leo taunts her. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Lala whines as she interlocks their arms, grabbing onto his bicep and squeezing it a couple of times. “I don’t like guessing games. You know that!”

“Don’t tell her, just keep walking.” Raph encourages his brother. “It’s almost showtime.”

Leo faces away from Lala before rolling his eyes, and then returns his gaze back to her. “Relaaax, you’ll see.”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, the girl pipes up again. “Y’know, we could be at some boring ass business conference and I’d still have fun if you were there.”

Leo's brothers coo at her comment.

"See? This'll go great." The orange clad turtle tells him.

Leo sputters for a bit, unable to form words.

Lala laughs awkwardly before letting go of his arm.

"Sorry, that was random."

"No, it's alright." He gently pulls her back over to him and rests his arm around her shoulders.

"We could be at a drag race and I'd still look at you."

The brothers coo again. Leo would do anything to tell them to shut up.

Lala giggles as she rests her head against his shoulder. “I haven’t snatched in a few days.”

The blue clad turtle’s heart suddenly drops. His brothers don’t know this girl, especially not about her stealing habit.

“Wait, what did she just say?” Raph says, taken aback.

Leo attempts a smile. “Th-that’s good! Really good!”

“Yeah… I was thinking about what you’d said about how I’d feel if someone stole something from me. Reminds me of when I was in fifth (5th) grade—”

Everything else she says is muffled by the other turtles’ voices.

“Did she just say she steals?” The red clad turtle asks. “Leo, who is this girl?”

“I had a feeling this would happen.” Donnie murmurs.

Mikey wails into the microphone. “Nooo, she’s a criminal? We’re supposed to fight her, not set you up on a date with her!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Leo’s mind begins to race as he tries to figure out what to do next. The plan failed and now his brothers think the girl of his dreams is the worst person in the world.

“We’re coming down, Leo!” The ear piece fades to static after Raph’s statement.

In the spur of the moment, Leo spins Lala around and firmly grabs her by the shoulders.

“Leo, what—”

“Lala, I have to tell you, something.” The turtle’s voice quivers slightly. “It’s important.”

Lala’s face contorts into a look of worry. “Leo, you’ve been acting so weird. You’re freaking me out.”

“No, no, I’m not trying to, I’m sorry. It’s—”

A loud thump rumbles the ground as a loud bellow echoes from across the park. “Hey, you! Get away from him!” Leo’s older brother shouts, him, Donnie, and Mikey running at them.

Fear consumes Lala’s face, and Leo could only assume how she was feeling.

“Leo, let go of me! What is this?!”

“No! Lala, listen, I didn’t know this was gonna happen—”

The girl doesn’t listen to his reasoning and punches him in the face, forcing him to let her go. When he looks back up at her, tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“I trusted you, Leo!” She sobs. “I thought you liked me! You tricked me!”

The turtle begins to breathe heavily. “Lala, this isn’t what it looks like! We made this plan for me to tell you—”

He’s cut off when his brothers step in front of him in defensive stances.

“Back off, thief. We don’t tolerate criminals and I don’t appreciate you making lovey-dovey eyes at my little brother.” Raphael says coldly. “Get outta here before we—”

“You guys are overreacting. She isn’t a criminal! Er—she’s not trying to be one.” Leo defends her, pushing past his brothers and spinning around, spreading his arms out. “She’s not a bad person.”

Raph grunts in frustration. “Leo. She’s. A. Bad guy! She’s tricking you and you’re falling for it! Stop defending her!”

“No she’s not! Stop saying that, you’re freaking her out.” Leo turns back around and slowly approaches her now crouched down form. “Lala, it’s okay. This is all a big misunderstand—”

“Get away from me!” Lala shoots her hand out at him with her eyes screwed shut. To his surprise, he’s blown back by a current of energy pulsing from her hand. The pulse uproots the surrounding bushes and trees, the debris flying back towards the group. Raph catches Leo from the air and uses his mystic powers to guard his brothers from the blast.

Once the dust settles, Lala opens her eyes and stares in horror at the aftermath she created. She gazes at Leo, who looked terrified.

“I-I… I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t even… know I could do that. I wasn’t…” Lala stammers, tears streaming from her eyes. “It’s… it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault!”

Without another word, the girl sprints away sobbing all the while. Leo finally comes to and wrestles himself out of his brother’s grip, charging after her.

“Lala, wait!”

“Leo, no! She just tried to kill us!” Raph yells after him, but his brother ignores him.

Lala felt like a fool, but more importantly a monster. A sick, twisted monster. She hates herself for hurting Leo by punching him and with that blast. She hates herself for even having those powers. She hates herself for lying to him about being a part of The Foot, for stealing, for every awful thing she’s ever done. She knew it was stupid to think she could form any sort of relationship again. She knew what would happen, but she ignored it, chalking it up to her just being paranoid. I asked for this, she thinks.

Suddenly, she hears a familiar warping sound as she feels her wrist being snatched and pulled to a stop.

“Lala, I know you’re upset but please just listen.” Leo tries to reason with her. “Raph’s wrong. I know who you are and I know you’re a good person. You’re not a criminal. You’re—”

The girl sobs loudly as she struggles. “Leo just leave me alone!” She stomps her foot.

The surrounding air gains warmth as surges of blue electrical sparks consume the both of them. Suddenly, the ground below their feet disappears. Below them is now the distant city street, the buildings not seeming as high as they were on the ground.

They’re falling.

“Holy shit, holy shit.” Leo curses, his sleeves flapping in the wind. His look fixes on Lala who couldn’t have looked more terrified. “C’mere so I can portal us back down!” The petrified girl ignores him—or rather doesn’t hear him because has her hands over her ears. Leo nears her, but they get teleported further up in the air. “Lala, please! You’re gonna—”

She finally looks up at him, anger riddled on her face. “Who cares?! Who cares what happens to me?! I’m a monster!”

“No you’re not! You’re not a monster!”

The duo teleport to a further height. “Then why is this happening?! Why are we in the air?! I-I hurt you! I punched you and then I used these powers against you that I can’t control! I steal and don’t feel bad about it, and I’ve been lying to you ever since I met you!”

Leo’s heart sinks. “W-what’re you talking about?”

“Leo, I’m not the person you think I am. I’m… I’m a part of The Foot Clan! I’m supposed to be your enemy, not your friend! I do the awful things I do because I was raised to be a criminal!” Lala finally admits to him. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want you to think I wanted what they wanted! But I can’t leave, I’m… I’m stuck!”

Another teleportation.

The blue clad turtle is rendered speechless. This compares with the random powers he didn’t know she had is all too much. Lala’s a part of The Foot? But she isn’t anything like them. Maybe she has a few tendencies that he picked up on, but she’s never tried to hurt him. In fact, she felt bad about it.

After a second and another teleport, Leo’s mind clears and he realizes this is his one and only chance.

“Lala, listen, this is… a lot and we can totally talk about this later, but I have to tell you something!” He takes a deep breath before he starts, “You’re literally the best person I’ve ever met. I wish I would’ve told you this sooner and in a less deadly setting, but Lala, I really fuckin’ like you! Like, a lot! Like, more than friends! My brothers and I tried to help me tell you but it really backfired. You’re so much fun to be around and I always think about the next time we get to hang out! I like how confident you are! I like that you tolerate my jokes! I like annoying you because you do that scrunched up thing with your nose and I think it’s really cute!”

Lala’s melancholy expression morphs into one of surprise.

Leo continues, “You’re so smart and brave and I sometimes wish I could be you just to know what it feels like to be so sure of myself! When you smile and laugh, it makes me feel like I’m finally doing something right! La’, being around you makes me feel happy. I’ve been in such a good mood ever since we started hanging out. So when you call yourself all those nasty things, I can’t understand what you’re talking about because I don’t see any of that!”

The young girl’s eyes shimmer with amazement. She knew he felt some type of way about her, but not like that. Not that intensely.

“And your eyes are really pretty! I know they’re just brown but I swear there are like, seven other colors in there!” The turtle adds.

Soon enough, Lala retires her amazement for laughter. She loses it, snorting and cackling while tears still leave her eyes. Leo loves that she’s laughing, but he looks down to see the city street a little too close for comfort. He takes ahold of Lala’s shirt collar and unsheathes his sword. Yanking her into his chest, the two (2) fall into the newly created portal, the opening on the other side going the opposite direction as to break their momentum. Leo then closes the portals and he and Lala fall onto their backs on a random rooftop.

The girl finally stops hysterically laughing, wiping her tear-stained cheeks on her shortsleeved shirt. She gazes up at the turtle and smiles a genuine smile at him.

“I like you, too, Leo. More than a friend.”

Leo’s cheeks begin to burn, Lala’s gaze melting his brain into mush. “Wait, really?”

She nods as she leaves his grip and stands to her feet. She offers him a hand. “Yeah. Really.”

He takes her hand and she hoists him up. “You’re not joking, right? You really mean it?”

“What were you saying about my nose?” Lala changes the subject.

Before he can answer, he sees his brothers in the distance. Leo grasps her hand and steps in front of her. Once they near, Raph lets out a long sigh, but Leo starts talking before him.

“Guys, please just hear me out. Lala isn’t who you think she is. She—she doesn’t steal anymore and…” he glances back to face Lala, and she nods. “She’s a part of The Foot Clan, but she doesn’t want to be in it anymore. She doesn’t know where else to go and could you really blame her? What if we got kicked out of the lair? Where would we go?”

Raph looks sternly at his brother, but his gaze soon falters. “Dammit, Leo… why ya doin’ this?”

“Because…” he turns around again and they exchange smiles. “Because I like her.”

Mikey exclaims in excitement. “He did it! The plan didn’t fail!”

“Incorrect, the plan was to get them to”—Donnie types away on his arm panel—“‘smash faces’.”

Lala giggles at Leo’s flustered expression. At this point, he would never do anything with Lala in front of his brothers again.

Leo’s oldest brother stares down at him, then Lala, then Leo again. “If you really like this girl, you better keep her in check. No flip-flopping between us and The Foot. And no more stealing.” He shoots a look at the girl. “I’m watchin’ you, Lala.”

The girl sarcastically salutes him. “Aye, aye.”

* * *

Third Person P.O.V.

“She refused to do it.” The Foot Lieutenant grunts angrily. “I’m questioning her loyalty to us. She may have other plans.”

The twisted scientist, Baron Draxum, scratches his chin and hums in affirmation. “The Yokai will not betray us. From what you have told me, it has nowhere else to go. It may not have executed the mission, but when the time comes, the turtles will be powerless against it.”

“You don’t understand.” The Lieutenant claims. “She constantly evades me and my recruits. She’s incredibly stubborn.”

Draxum ambles over to the Shredder armor. He stares up at it in admiration, the sight of it reminding him of his mission. “The Yokai may have evaded you and your weak army…” he turns back to the former Foot clan leader.

“…But it will not evade me.”

• • •

Aaaand this is the end of Those Eyes Part 1! I hope you guys liked reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it! Part 2 will come out in a few weeks!

Thank you for reading and have an amazing day!

-Han7a

[sukirichi]

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event: 

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours.  Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks. 

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words. 

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Failed, Faked, Fallen - Harry Styles

a/n: this story was a pain in the ass, not gonna lie and i really thought i would just end up deleting the whole thing but I MADE IT TO THE END YAY so now please take the time to read bc it literally made me want to jump off a cliff lol

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ for putting up with me throught the writing process, she is the reason i didn’t just delete the whole thing haha

pairing: Fratboy!Harry x Reader (fake dating AU)

word count: 16.6k

masterlist

Tonight has been in the making for ten years. Every fiber in your body is protesting against it, but you just can’t carry this massive secret around any longer. You need to tell your best friend that you are in love with him, have been since middle school when you first met him. It’s a scary thing to come clean about your feelings for someone, but you feel like it’s now or never.

Your friendship with Oliver has been always a little… blurry. You were just regular friends when he was dating someone, but whenever he was single, he seemed to seek comfort and intimacy with you. It always starts with him getting a little more touchy and cuddly with you, then comes the kissing and hugging, his hands wandering to places friends shouldn’t explore and you somehow always end up in a bed…  

Then it would immediately change once he got himself a girlfriend and you figured he has just been confused about his feelings for you. It has to be that, right? These past few weeks the situation was the same. He broke up with this girl he was seeing all summer before you all came back to school and you think this is the perfect time to finally talk about what’s really going on between the two of you.

Your roommate, Sandra has helped you with your makeup for tonight’s frat party and now you are deciding on the dress. You want to look your best so when Oliver confesses his love for you tonight, you’ll look as dreamy and pretty as you always dreamed about.

“The black one is fucking mint,” Sandra points at the black bodycon dress lying on your bed. “I can give you my red leather jacket,” she offers, finishing up putting her hoop earrings in.

“The red jacket?” you eye her in surprise. Sandra loves that jacket more than her own life. The two of you have been sharing your clothes since you became roommates last year, but the jacket has been off limits always.

“I know how important tonight is for you. The occasion deserves the red jacket,” she chuckles, stepping to her wardrobe to get the jacket. It’s the most badass leather jacket you’ve ever seen, looks so perfect on Sandra every time she wears, you feel honored she is letting you take it for the day.

“Oliver won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you,” she smiles at you excited once you’re all dressed. The jacket looks amazing, pulls the look together perfectly, you can’t deny that.

Soon enough, the two of you leave the dorm and head in the way of Kappa Chi, that’s only a fifteen minute walk away from your dorm. They are having a party almost every other week, those boys would celebrate the stupidest shit just to fill their house up with people and booze as much as possible. You and Sandra have been attending their parties since first year, it’s always a great way to unwind after a tiring week at uni.

“When is he coming?” Sandra asks over the music once you two arrive and head to the kitchen for a drink.

“Um, he texted me ten minutes ago that he is about to leave soon. He’ll be here shortly,” you tell her and thank her when she hands you a beer in a red solo cup.

The house is packed, just like always. Most of the football players from school are member of Kappa Chi, so naturally, all girls want to be around when they are throwing a party. You could say they are the popular guys, but it’s not like in the movies. They are just some particularly handsome guys living together, attracting a lot of girls. They are not at all unreachable, you are kind of friends with a few of them as well even without being a sorority girl yourself.

Standing in the kitchen you get into a conversation with a few girls from your dorm, that’s when you see Harry Styles storm through the house, Naomi Saddler following behind him, seemingly very much in the middle of a fight he doesn’t want to take part in. You know Harry, but you couldn’t say you two are that close. You did a group project last year together and he is actually a really smart guy despite the gossips about him just being a dumb womanizer. He surely is a ladies’ favorite, but you wouldn’t say the description fits him. You haven’t actually seen him with more than three girls since freshman year, unlike some of his other teammates that hook up with a different girl every weekend. He and Naomi have been in this on-off relationship for a few months now, but you don’t know much about them. You don’t run in the same groups to know the details.

The two of them disappear upstairs and you are pulled out of your thoughts when someone asks you a question, so you forget about Harry and Naomi in a blink of an eye.

An hour passes and still no sign of Oliver and you start to feel anxious. You shoot him a text, struggling a little with the typing thanks to the alcohol you’ve been consuming to keep your cool. Surprisingly, he answers right away.

Oliver: Be there in 3. Meet me outside?

Y/N: Sure!

“Alright, wish me luck,” you tell Sandra as you fill your cup again and head outside.

Kappa Chi has a nice backyard with a decent sized pool, some beerpong tables and lots of lounge chairs. You walk past the beerpong games, paying no attention to them at all as you go for an empty lounge chair. You sit down, fix your dress nervously and wait while you try to think through what you’ll tell him.

You can’t believe you are finally telling him how you are feeling. Your teenager self would be peeing herself is she knew what you are planning to do now. All those years of pining and crying whenever Oliver had a girlfriend in the past, now is your chance to finally be that girl and you’re actually quite convinced he’ll say he feels the same way about you.

Fidgeting with one of the zippers on Sandra’s jacket, you nervously wait for Oliver to show up. You look in the direction of the backdoor right when he appears from the crowd inside. Your heart skips a beat as you stand up quickly, a smile tugging on your lips. You are just about to wave in his way to catch his attention when you see some brunette by his side… holding his hand. And then she kisses him shortly right before they step out of the house.

What the fuck?! This cannot be true. Who is she? And why do you know nothing about her? Did Oliver keep it a secret that he is dating someone? But why?!

For a moment you actually feel like you are about to faint. Blood rushes out of your head as you see the couple walk their way around the beerpong tables, Oliver obviously looking for you, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Y/N! There you are!” he beams happily, pulling the brunette with him when he finally spots you. You need a moment for yourself to get over the first wave of your shock.

“Oh, yeah! Hi!” you smile awkwardly, eyes meeting with the girl’s. She is so pretty and actually seems nice. You hate her for that.

“Y/N, I want you to meet Lexi,” Oliver introduces the brunette. “Lexi, this is Y/N.”

“I’ve heard so much about you, Y/N!” she smiles, pulling you into a hug that catches you off guard for sure.

“Wow, I… wish I could say the same,” you bitterly reply, eyes meeting Oliver’s once Lexi lets go of you. He is clearly uncomfortable at your comment, but tries to mask it quickly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to tell you about Lexi. But it’s kind of new.”

“How new?”

“We’ve been going out for about three weeks,” she answers your question, her hand finding his pretty quickly as she smiles up at him with so much adoration.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out for a moment. You still haven’t completely processed that your plan just went straight out the window and that once again, Oliver chose another girl over you.

But then, the more you think about it, the angrier you get. You are tired of this stupid game you two have been playing, but you also have no idea what to do about it.

“I thought that Y/N, if you have a boyfriend, we could maybe go on some double dates! Would be so much fun!” Lexi suggests, but her words make your stomach churn. You have always wanted to go on double dates, but with Oliver being your date. Not someone else’s…

“I uhh… I don’t…” You are so frozen, you can’t even think of an answer, you just want to leave as soon as possible, so you can cry yourself to sleep. Oliver brings an arm around Lexi’s shoulders, looking down at you as if he wasn’t cuddling you just not that long ago. As if he wasn’t preaching your beauty a few weeks ago, making you feel like the only girl in the world. This is so not fair.

“Y/N is not a fan of double dates.”

Suddenly, an arm swings around your shoulders and a tall body stands next to you, pulling you to his side. Turning your head you are shocked to see Harry standing there, smiling at Oliver and Lexi as if this discussion was completely his business.

Oliver seems just as shocked as you are. He is staring at the football player by your side with wide eyes.

“Wait, you two are… dating?”

“It’s pretty new, but yeah. Y/N and I have been going out for a while. Right, baby?” He squeezes your arm, glancing down at you and when your eyes meet, he gives you a look that says ‘just go with it, I’m saving your ass’ and you decide to play your part.

“Oh, umm, yeah. We’ve kind of reconnected when we got back after the summer,” you nod, hoping that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“That’s amazing!” Lexi cheers, clearly eating up the impromptu lie, but as you glance at Oliver, you can tell he is sceptic.

“I didn’t even know you were friends in the first place,” he comments, eyebrows furrowed a little as he eyes Harry’s hand on your shoulder.

“We were! We had a great time working on a group project last year and then later I asked for her number. But the summer was so busy for both of us, so we kind of fell out, but then we met again in September and I finally manned up to ask her out.”

You are impressed by how easily Harry is lying. If you didn’t know it wasn’t true, you would eat it up just as easily as Lexi is doing right now. Especially because his body language matches up with what he is saying so well. He is keeping you close, fingers dancing on your upper arm and shoulder, anyone would think he actually has a thing for you, but you know that’s not true. You two are barely even friends.

“That sounds so nice. We definitely should meet up sometime, the four of us!” Lexi suggests again and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“We’ll see about that. But I’ll have to steal Y/N away now, I have something to show her.” Harry bids his goodbye quickly, pulling you away before Oliver could even say a thing and you just blindly follow him inside the house.

You don’t even process what’s happening. Harry takes your hand, pulling you through the crowd and you catch Sandra’s gaze who is still standing in the kitchen, her eyes widening when she sees you with Harry. You just shrug in confusion, following Harry upstairs until he leads you into a room that, you assume, is his.

When he shuts the door closed, the noises of the party gets muffled and you look at him with probably the stupidest look ever.

“Alright, let me explain myself,” he breathes out. “I’m sorry if I stepped over some boundaries, I just… I was outside and heard the conversation. Thought I would help you out.”

“But what made you think I needed help?” you ask. The conversation was very innocent for an outsider. He couldn’t know what you were planning to do, so why did he think you needed his help?

Harry gives you a tight-lipped smile, cocking his head to the side.

“Y/N, we might not be close friends, but I’ve seen you around with Oliver. It’s written on your forehead that you have the fattest crush on the guy.”

“What?!” you snap, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Is this really that obvious?!”

“Don’t worry, seems like he is one of the few that don’t seem to notice it. I saw how uncomfortable you were when he introduced the girl. Seemed like you needed the help.”

Nodding you take a few seconds to process everything that just happened. You shouldn’t have drunk that much, because now your brain has to work even harder to put the picture together.

“Alright, but… now they think that we are dating. Lexi will want to meet up with us and it will look stupid if we never even show up again together.”

Harry nods, his lips rolling into his mouth and you know just from his look that there’s more.

“Yeah, about that. I might have had some selfish reasons behind my actions as well.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry walks past you, over to his bed and sits on the edge, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. You’re not sure what to do with yourself, if you should sit next to him or somewhere else, he has a few beanbags in the corner of his room, but you decide to just keep standing.

“So, I don’t know if you know this but I had this thing with Naomi Saddler.”

“Harry, everyone knows it.”

“Right, yeah,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So the thing is, we have broken up a long time ago, but she keeps coming after me and I’m just so over it. So when we were fighting earlier today I told her that I’m dating someone else so I would appreciate if she left me alone.”

He doesn’t need to say more, you finally see the whole picture. He helped you because he felt sorry for you, but also because he thought it would benefit him as well. You could be his new girlfriend so Naomi would finally let him be. You have to admit, it’s a lucky coincidence, but still, the situation is a little absurd for your liking.

“So… what are we supposed to do now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Harry looks up at you, seemingly surprised you haven’t snapped at him.

“Well, I know it sounds crazy, but I think we both would benefit from it if we just… pretended to be a couple,” he clears off.

“Like, a real couple?”

“Well, obviously not real, but it would look real to others,” he chuckles, standing up and taking a few steps closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m convinced we could pull it off.”

“We barely know each other.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that, won’t we?” he asks with a boyish smirk. “Look, we just have to appear together here and there. I’ll pick you up sometimes, we can go for lunch or dinner sometimes, and I’ll get you tickets for some of my games. That’s it. People will see us out together and that’s gonna be perfectly enough. Or do you actually hate me? Now is the time to tell me.”

“I don’t hate you, I don’t know you that well,” you reply with a soft chuckle. “But I’m not convinced enough this is a good idea at all.”

Harry sighs and walks closer until he can rest his hands on your shoulders. You look deep into his green eyes as he smiles at you warmly.

“Let’s make a deal. You can use me as an excuse whenever Oliver and Lexi wants to hang out with you, or if they actually force you to meet them, I’ll go with you so you won’t be the third wheel. And you’ll just have to say that I’m your boyfriend and spend some time with me so Naomi believes I’m dating you. I think it’s a fair deal for the both of us. And you can call it off anytime, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You chew on your bottom lip, thinking hard to figure out what to do. Judging from this short conversation with Lexi, you’re sure she’ll try to keep you around often, but you are not in the mood to watch Oliver be all lovey-dovey with someone else, so you could actually use a solid excuse, which Harry just offered you on a silver plate. You just have to spend some time with him in exchange and tell people he is your boyfriend. It’s not that horrible and you always thought Harry is nice company, you two just never was in the same friend group to get closer. You can’t really bring up anything against his plan.

“Okay,” you finally nod, Harry’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Really?”

“Why are you so shocked? Your points were valid, I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Yes! Thank you!” he cheers, arms wrapping around you as he hugs you tight in excitement. “I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, you won’t be disappointed!”

You want to say how it’s easy to be the best because you’ve had none so far, but you decide to keep this information to yourself.

“We need to get our story straight though, so we don’t mess it up when someone asks.”

The two of you go over an elaborate timeline of your nonexistent relationship so you’ll be able to tell the same story. It’s the same he told Lexi and Oliver outside, you just agree on the details, like when you started dating, how he asked you out, what you’ve been doing as a couple lately.

When you leave his room a little later you’re still a tad bit shocked where this evening ended up heading. You really thought tonight would be the turning point for you and Oliver, but now you are in a fake relationship with Harry Styles, ready to fool everyone around you.

Walking down the stairs Harry takes your hand and laces your fingers together. You agreed on no kissing on the lips for now, but other touching is allowed, you’re just not used to have someone other than Oliver touch you like this.

“Want another drink?” he asks as the two of you walk into the kitchen. You’ve already caught some wide-eyed look upon your arrival, but you’re trying your best to ignore them.

“I surely need it,” you nod, making Harry chuckle.

Sandra and the other girls are still in the kitchen and she immediately pulls you to the side when Harry lets go of you to get drinks.

“What the fuck?!” she snaps, clearly a little drunk, but not enough to ignore the fact that she has seen you now two times holding Harry’s hand.

“Sandra, don’t freak out, I’ll explain it all when we go home, alright? But… as far as you know, Harry and I are dating.”

“You what? You better fucking tell me everything when we get back to the dorm!” she demands right when Harry appears, two cups in his hands, giving you one of them.

“Here,” he smiles warmly.

“Thank you. Harry, this is Sandra, my roommate.”

“Hi, I think I’ve seen you around, but we just never met.” Harry holds out his now empty hand and Sandra shakes it with a dramatic smile, clearly still confused about the situation.

“Yeah, but I guess we’ll be… seeing each other more?” she implies, telling Harry she knows something is up without using those words.

“Ehm, I guess,” he nods, a little uncomfortable before he turns to you. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Let me know when you want to go back to the dorm.” “Sure,” you nod, Harry squeezes your hand gently before moving away.

Sandra is dying to know what the situation is with Harry, but you don’t really have the chance to talk in the middle of the party, so it’s postponed to later. You and Harry do your own thing through the rest of the night, occasionally interacting whenever you cross paths. When that happens he makes sure to touch your arm or face, have a few words with you so people see that the two of you have a thing going on.

It’s a little past one am when you and Sandra decide it’s time to head home. As promised, you shoot Harry a text that you’re planning to leave and he replies with one saying he’ll meet you outside at the front. By the time you and Sandra step outside, he is already there waiting.

“Ladies, let me walk you home,” he smirks charmingly, offering his arm for the both of you, so this is how you head home: you, Sandra and Harry walking side by side with linked arms.

“Mm, Harry, I hope you know you won’t be spending the night in our room,” Sandra sighs, clearly a little too lost in her drunk thoughts. Harry chuckles, finding it amusing that Sandra is so blunt.

“Weren’t planning to.”

“Good. I’m not gonna listen to you guys have sex all night.”

“Sandra!” you snap at her, gasping. It’s funny how she also believed the little act you and Harry put up tonight.

The walk back to the dorm is short and it’s mostly filled with Sandra’s babbling about whatever catches her attention. Arriving to the building Sandra says her goodbye to Harry, heading up to the room on her own so you can have a minute with Harry.

“I’ve had at least ten people coming up to me tonight, asking about you,” Harry tells you, an excited sparkle in his eyes.

“Really? And what did you tell them?”

“What we agreed on. That you’re my girlfriend.”

“Sounds so weird,” you admit with a chuckle.

“You’ll get used to it,” he nods smiling. “Well, I’m gonna head back. I’ll talk to you later, okay? We’ll discuss the dates and all.”

“Very romantic,” you point out smirking, but Harry just laughs before he gives you a quick hug.

“Good night, Y/N. Or should I say, baby?”

“Bye!” you sing waving in his way as you walk into the building.

It’s no surprise that Sandra is already out when you walk into the room. Her clothes are in a pile next to her bed, but she managed to throw on at least a t-shirt before she passed out. You just smile at her before doing your quick night routine and go to sleep yourself.

“So… you are fake dating Harry, because Oliver introduced you his new girlfriend and also because he is trying to get rid of Naomi? Am I getting this right?”

Sandra narrows her eyes at you over her morning coffee the next day, though it’s already past noon. Waking up was a little painful for the both of you, but especially for her, the two of you decided to treat yourselves for a very late brunch while you tell her everything she needs to know about last night.

“Yeah,” you nod, taking a bite from your waffles. “I know, it sounds stupid, but… it can easily work great for the both of us.”

“I can’t believe he just came up with it. You guys are not even really friends.”

“I know, I was shocked when he appeared all of a sudden and called me baby. Almost fainted,” you chuckle.

“I hope you know you’ll be one of the most envied girls in school if the news spread and I’m sure it will, because even I heard people talking about you and Harry last night.”

“I know, but there’s not much I can do about that,” you shrug.

“I feel like it’s the plotline of some teenage rom-com,” Sandra huffs. “Just be careful, Y/N,” she sighs, finishing off her coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that pretending can easily turn into reality. If you’ll spend so much time with Harry, there’s a chance you’ll develop real feelings for him. Just make sure you won’t end up with a broken heart.”

“That’s silly, I won’t fall for Harry. I…” You cut your words, thoughts wandering over to Oliver right away, and how you felt when he introduced you to Lexi.

“I hope you’re right,” Sandra tells you, stuffing the last bits of her muffin into her mouth.

The weekend flies by fast, you busy yourself with doing laundry and finishing a paper you need to turn in soon. Harry text you on Sunday that he’ll walk you to class on Monday morning and you agree to meet up a little earlier so you can actually talk it all out.

Sandra is still in bed when you leave in the morning. Just as Harry promised, he is waiting for you in front of the building, wearing his usual black skinny jeans and a loose grey shirt and a zip-up hoodie. His curls look untamed, a little all over the place, but it looks good on him. You have to admit, that he is definitely handsome, you understand why so many of the girls at school are after him.

“Good morning, girlfriend,” he smirks, holding out his hand for you that you take, still feeling a little weird about walking around campus hand in hand with him.

“Good morning. How was your weekend?”

“Pretty boring, we had to clean up after the party,” he chuckles. “Wanna grab a coffee?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You swing by the little café that’s on campus before aiming for a bench under one of the pergolas near the main building.

“So, you still haven’t changed your mind,” he speaks up. It’s not a question, more like a comment.

“Not yet,” you chuckle softly, sipping on your cappuccino.

“I meant it that you can tell me whenever you want out. I don’t want to force you into it in any way.”

“I know,” you smile at him. “I’m fine for now. It’s just still a little weird.”

“I know, but I’m kind of happy you are the one I’m doing this with.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know, you seem like a cool person. I actually enjoyed working with you last year on that project, you are funny and smart, I think we’ll get along pretty well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smirks at you, taking a sip from his coffee. “You know, if I’m being honest I never understood why you and that Oliver guy were so close anyway. You’ve known him for a long time?”

“Yeah, met him in middle school and we’ve been friends since then.”

“And how long have you been… you know,” he implies, seemingly very careful not to ask something that would upset you.

“Pretty much ever since I’ve met him,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. It sounds so embarrassing to admit that you’ve been in love with your best friend for so long and never worked up the courage to do something about it.

“You never even tried to tell him?”

“I was too afraid of his reaction. I was planning to come clean at the party finally, but then he arrived with Lexi and… you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry. I know how shitty it is when you have feelings for someone and they don’t feel the same about you.”

“So what’s the situation with you and Naomi then?” you ask, thinking it’s only fair if you also know his story now that you confessed him how ridiculous you’ve been with Oliver all your life.

“We dated at the end of last semester, tried to keep it up in the summer as well, but it didn’t work. It made me realize I don’t even want it to work so I told her that we should just go our separate ways when I got back after the summer, but she wasn’t a fan of my idea.”

“She’s still in love with you?”

“I’m not sure if she ever was,” he truthfully answers. “I think she liked the idea of dating someone more than she liked me.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he smirks at you playfully. “I’m all good. I just wish she could accept that I want to move on. It’s not ideal that I have to fake date someone to get rid of her.”

“She always seemed like a nice girl to me, I wouldn’t have guessed she can be so stubborn.”

“Well, she is a nice girl,” Harry nods. “We were just not compatible on the long run, you know? I couldn’t see it work in the future, so I didn’t want to waste more time on it.”

You just shyly nod, even though you don’t really know about it. You can’t, because you’ve never been in a similar situation. You’ve had a few attempts at dating in high school, but they never turned out the way you wanted and you always ended up pining after Oliver at the end, so you eventually gave up. But you’re not willing to admit that to Harry. It’s pathetic enough that you’ve been so hung up on Oliver your whole life, he doesn’t need to know that you gave up your whole dating life for the wait for him.

“Well, aren’t we a nice pair then? Two ridiculously failed love stories, how tragic,” Harry chuckles softly as he finishes up his coffee and throws the empty cup into the bin next to him.

“Yeah, pathetic,” you agree with a tight-lipped smile.

It takes some time for word to travel, but by the end of the first week of your fake relationship, it becomes a well-known fact that you are indeed dating Harry Styles. You don’t overdo it though, only meeting up once or twice a day, Harry usually walks you to your classes in the morning if he doesn’t have a lecture himself, you’ve had lunch together twice and you went to the library on Thursday together. It’s been pretty casual and you’ve been actually enjoying spending time with Harry, especially because it seems like Oliver has fallen off the face of Earth lately, barely even talking to you.

The more time you spend with Harry the more you realize he is nothing like others try to make him look like. You’ve heard many gossips about him being an empty-headed womanizer, but he is a lot smarter than people assume him to be, but he has proven it before as well. He actually has a great point of view of life and it’s nice to discuss basically anything with him.

Friday brings another party and though you didn’t plan on going, you had Sandra and Harry convincing you this time. Then later Oliver texted you asking if you’d be there and it angered you a little. He barely spoke to you and is now asking if you are coming to the party where he’ll probably keep ignoring you for Lexi. So you told him you and Harry would be there. He didn’t reply to that.

You and Sandra call an Uber, the Omega house is a little farther away from the dorm than the Kappa house. Harry called you to tell you he’d be a little late this time because they are having a double practice today, but he would come and find you when he arrives.

“Isn’t it a little weird you can’t hook up with anyone because of the Harry situation?” Sandra asks as the two of you make your way through the spacious living room, heading to the empty loveseat in the corner.

“As if I did a lot of hooking up before,” you scoff, taking a sip from your drink.

“Okay, but you could be doing it now, but you can’t, because people would think you’re cheating.”

“It’s a good thing then that I’m not into hooking up,” you point out with a shrug. You were never a fan of just hooking up with someone and then move on the next morning, that’s just not for you. It’s not a big deal that you are kind of out of the dating scene because of your arrangement with Harry, you don’t feel like you’re missing out on anything.

The two of you are joined by a few peers from one of Sandra’s classes and you barely even notice when Oliver and Lexi arrive, however, they immediately spot you.

“Y/N! Hi! So good to see you again!” Lexi greets you, pulling you into a completely unnecessary hug.

“Oh, hi. Good to see you too, I guess,” you chuckle awkwardly. Oliver gives you a side hug as well, but it seems like he is not entirely present in his head.

“Where’s Harry?” Oliver questions.

“He’ll be here soon, he just had double practice today,” you tell him and he nods shortly, but something feels off about him.

Lexi makes you come to the kitchen with them so she can get a drink and you can’t really think of a reason why you shouldn’t, so you find yourself listening to her nonstop chatter while Oliver is mixing them something to drink.

Y/N: Harry, SOS! When are you getting here?? I’m stuck with O and L…

You really hope he is somewhere close, because you’re not sure how long you can put up with their company.

“I know last time you said you’re not a fan of double dates, but I really think we should give it a try!” Lexi begs you, she even puts her bottom lip at you and it annoys you how she can’t just leave you to be.

“Yeah, I would love to get to know Harry better,” Oliver chimes in.

“You do?”

Relief washes over you the moment you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, a moment later you feel his palm on the small of your back and you’re finally rescued. He smells like fresh body wash, he surely just had a shower right before he came here. You let yourself lean into his side, curling an arm around his waist.

“Harry, nice to see you again,” Oliver smiles at him dryly and now you’re sure something is up with him, but what is it?

“Sorry I’m so late. Everything alright?” Harry looks you in the eyes and you know his question is more than just him being nice. He wants to know if Oliver and Lexi has driven you up the walls.

“I’m… fine, yeah,” you nod and he holds your gaze for another moment before nodding to himself.

“We were just talking about how amazing a double date would be. I’m sure you could convince Y/N to come, right?” Lexi smiles at Harry and you catch a small frown on his face before he returns the smile to Lexi. You find it funny, but you push down your laugh.

“Um, not sure. Y/N always has a strong will, not sure I want to go against it.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!”

“Y/N doesn’t like PDA, I’m sure double dating is a lot for her,” Oliver comments and your eyebrows shoot up at his words.

“How would you know if I disliked PDA?”

He has no valid information about it. He wouldn’t know, because the only person you ever wanted to get touchy and lovey in public was him, but he only let you get physically close to him when no one was around. When he felt like he needed someone in his bed so he didn’t feel too alone. When he let his hands roam your body under the blanket when you were watching a movie. He never let it happen with others around though, so how would he even know what you like? Hell, even you don’t know it…

Oliver’s eyes meet yours and it’s clear that your question caught him off guard.

“You told me,” he simply answers.

“I don’t remember,” you retort, not letting him get away with it this time.

“This is how you’ve always been.” He is clearly pissed that you are going against him.

“You know what? Let’s do a double date next weekend, alright? But we have somewhere to be now, if you’ll excuse us,” Harry cuts in, taking your hand as he pulls you away from the happy couple. You glance back at Oliver one last time before turning around.

Harry walks you out to the backyard and the cool air hits you hard in the head. You haven’t even realized how hot you were getting in there, but you’re not entirely sure it was because of all the people, rather of because Oliver’s behavior.

“Okay, what the fuck was that in there?” Harry questions.

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m not dumb or blind. Lexi might be oblivious to whatever you and Oliver have going on, but I’m not. Something has happened between you and him, right?”

You chew on your bottom lip, crossing your arms on your chest, not too keen on admitting it. You have never told anyone about it in details, not even Sandra. She knows you and Oliver get a little too close at times, but she has no idea you’ve slept with him on several occasions. You always thought you were a fool for sleeping with him and then watching him date other girls.

Unfortunately, your silence is enough for Harry to draw his conclusion.

“Wait, what? Did you two…?”

“Yes,” you shortly nod, feeling uncomfortable, but you can tell you can’t dodge this conversation this time.

“You’re telling me he has the nerve to sleep with you whenever it’s convenient for him and then drop you when he starts dating someone else?”

“It sounds worse than how it really is,” you mumble, but you don’t truly believe your own words. It’s pretty bad either way.

“Y/N, this is fucked up. A friend wouldn’t do that to you. It’s one thing to seek comfort at your friends, but using them for your own physical needs is just way beyond the line.”

You have nothing to say. Deep down you know he is right, you’ve always known, but you never knew what to do against it. Before you could even stop yourself, you feel your lips trembling, tears bubbling in your eyes as you glance at Harry. You expect pity from him, an act that tells you that you brought it all to yourself, but that’s not what you see. He gives you an apologetic look and he is quick to pull you into a tight hug, exactly what you need right now.

“I know, I’m so stupid,” you mumble into his chest.

“You’re not. He is just an ass,” he corrects you, earning a small chuckle from you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks, pulling back so he can look into your eyes.

“You just got here.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood to party. Want to have a bite somewhere?”

“That would be… great,” you nod with a small smile, sniffling a little before you wipe your cheeks.

You let Sandra know you’re leaving with Harry and she can tell something has happened, but you just tell her you’ll talk later and she doesn’t push it further. Harry takes your hand as the two of you make your way through the people and you spot Oliver near the kitchen, one arm around Lexi’s shoulders as his gaze meets yours. You see him clenching his jaw when he sees your hand in Harry’s hold, but you don’t pay much attention to him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

Luckily Harry drove to the Omega house so now you don’t have to wait for a car or take a long walk, you can enjoy the comfort of his Rover as the two of you leave the party behind. It’s silent in the car, you fold your arms over your chest, your head resting against the car door, not even questioning him where you are headed.

About ten minutes later Harry pulls up at a little diner, the two of you walk in and it’s not surprising there are just a few people lingering around at this time, though you know later they’ll have quite a few drunk students that are on their way home and in desperate need of a late night bite.

You take an empty booth and a waitress arrives immediately, handing you each a menu.

“Do you go here often?” you ask quietly, eyeing the options.

“Sometimes. They have great fries.”

You nod and decide to have just a cheeseburger with fries and a lemonade while Harry gets the veggie burger and a milkshake. The waiter takes the order shortly and leaves you alone. You’re not sure what to say, but you feel like you need to say something.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, staring down at your arms laying on the edge of the table, your right hand covering your left.

“For what exactly?”

“For… I just feel so stupid about this whole… Oliver thing. I know I shouldn’t have done what we did, but I just… couldn’t say no. I know, sounds ridiculous.”

“No, not at all,” Harry shakes his head. “You fell for him and he used you. If there’s anyone to blame it’s him, he shouldn’t use a friend for his own selfish needs. I’m not judging you, it’s easy to fall into holes like this.”

“I just really thought that he came to me because I meant something for him, but I can tell that… it wasn’t anything like that. The way he acted today was shockingly sobering,” you chuckle bitterly. “I think he is mad that I’m not available for him anymore and he is trying to play us down,” you say pointing at him and yourself. “So when he breaks it off with Lexi he can count on me, but it’s not happening.”

“I am happy to help you teach him any kind of lesson,” Harry grins just as the waiter arrives with the food and you start the feast. “I know you despise the idea of going on a double date with them, but I think we could have a lot of fun,” Harry points out while eating.

“How?”

“It’s obviously bugging Oliver that you are dating someone, we could give him the extra happy couple act, make him question why he was always such an asshole to you.”

“You think it would bother him?”

“Absolutely,” he chuckles. “We would serve him all the sappy, lovey couple shit from movies and get under his skin. I think it would be fun.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod and Harry grins at you from across the table.

“Yes! Fake dating on maximum level!” he cheers, punching into the air, making you laugh.

As the two of you eat Harry talks your ears off and you know exactly why he just keeps on talking. He wants to take your mind away from everything about Oliver and he succeeds. He tells you stories about what it’s like to live in the frat house, all the funny things they’ve done with the boys and you just keep laughing and laughing until all the food is gone, the table is cleared off and it’s nearing one in the morning. Just as you expected, people from around the campus start dropping by for their midnight bite so the two of you slowly head out, not really wanting to run into someone you know. Harry drives you back to the dormitory and walks you up to the entrance.

“Thank you for tonight,” you breathe out, still feeling a little helpless and pathetic, but he definitely made it better with his company.

“No worries. After all, this is what boyfriends are for,” he chuckles lightly. “But I hope you are not gonna sink into self-pity over that douche.”

“Just a little?” you peek up at him with a scowl.

“Nope, not even a little, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your time. If he is really gonna let you slip through his fingers, he is the biggest idiot on Earth. And he also has to be blind.”

For some reason, Harry’s words bring a blush to your cheeks, even if there’s a chance he doesn’t really mean them.

“Thank you,” you breathe out and he pulls you in for a hug without hesitation. You wrap your arms around his waist and inhale his sweet scent, melting into his warm embrace before you force yourself to let your arms fall from around his frame.

“Have a good rest of your weekend, girlfriend,” he smirks, backing towards his car. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“Bye Harry!” you smile in his way before making your way inside.

Not too willingly, but you talk to Oliver the next week about the double date. He sounds clearly surprised that you brought it up yourself and he tries to talk you down, but you’re now way too curious about what would go down, so he has no choice than to say yes. You fix the date to Saturday and Harry says it’s fine for him and that the two of you can go over to the frat house later, they are gonna have a small get together for one of the guys’ birthday. Not a party, more of a beer and pizza type of evening since Clyde, the birthday boy is not that big of a party animal.

The week passes by as usual, you spend some time with Sandra and a little more with Harry. Since you’ve started this whole dating thing, you’ve found yourself getting used to have him around. It doesn’t feel forced anymore, you actually like hanging out with him, have him beside you in the library even if you’re not even talking and whenever you spot him waiting for you in the morning or after one of your classes, you have this stupid smile on your face walking up to him, especially when he calls you girlfriend. Sandra’s warning words pop up in your head time to time, telling you to be careful with having actual feelings for Harry, but you keep telling yourself the two of you are nothing else than just good friends.

Saturday morning you get your nails done with Sandra, have some much needed girly time since you’ve had little of that lately, even a fake relationship needs a lot of time and energy, if you’re being honest.

Sandra catches you smiling down at a text that’s from Harry, he just joked about wearing a tux to the roller-skating rink and you imagined it right away, the picture of everyone else dressed casually while he is dressed for a royal ball is just hilarious.

“So how are things with Harry?” she asks from the chair next to you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyes fixed on your nails as the lady is carefully painting them a light pink color.

“You two are like glued together.”

“Yeah, I like spending time with him. And like, we are dating,” you smirk, finding it funny to just casually say it.

“You do know you don’t have to keep the act up with me, right?”

“I know, but we really are friends,” you nod.

“Just friends? Because sometimes being friends with someone is a bit more to you,” she comments and your face falls. She right away realizes it was a little harsh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t want to see another guy taking advantage of you.”

“He is already taking advantage of me in a way, but it’s mutual,” you shrug, trying to mask the fact how much her words hurt. You’re still trying to get over the whole Oliver thing and though it’s been easier with Harry around, you still feel hurt over how badly he has been using you in the past years.

“And… you don’t have feelings for him?”

“We’re friends,” you tell her again.

“Yes, but you can have feelings for a friend too, Y/N.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it. We are doing fine, I enjoy being with him, that’s all.”

“Alright, I believe you. Just want to make sure you are not getting yourself into another Oliver situation.”

“I’m not. Harry is not him,” you firmly state and it’s the truth. Even if things go south with him, you can never see him do the things Oliver did. He is not him in the best possible way.

 For the double date you choose to wear your favorite pair of light-washed mom jeans with a tank top tucked into it and a colorful cardigan under your jacket. Harry texted you that he would pick you up at six and because you are ready by half past five, you sit around in your room a little anxiously. You honestly have no idea what’s gonna happen tonight, where it’s gonna head but you can only hope it won’t be scandalous. People already talk enough about you for dating Harry, you don’t need to be known about being the girl who made a scene at the roller-skating rink with her boyfriend and best friend. It wouldn’t do good to your reputation.

When Harry finally texts you letting you know he has arrived you rush down the stairs, still haven’t been able to shake your nerves off, but as soon as you spot him standing by his car, you kind of forget about everything else. He is wearing his usual skinny jeans with a black shirt, of course, the first few buttons left undone. His hair is getting longer, curls constantly falling into his forehead, but you love it. Makes him look soft and like… like a prince.

“Hey, ready to have fun?” he smirks at you, opening the door to the passenger seat to you.

“I don’t think I will ever be ready for this kind of fun,” you admit with a soft chuckle before getting into the car.

“I’ll be right there with you, okay? We’re gonna crush them,” he grins at you driving. “And we can just leave whenever you want to.” Reaching over the console he takes your hand and squeezes it gently. The gesture sends a shiver running down your spine. It feels so good to have his support, you wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else than him.

Oliver and Lexi are already at the arcade that’s connected with the skating place when the two of you arrive. She looks ecstatic about tonight and it’s almost kind of cute, you’re convinced you’d actually be friends with her if the two of you met under different circumstances.

“Hi! Thank you so much for coming! I know it’s not really your thing, but I’m so happy we can finally hang out!” she cheers, giving you a hug. Oliver and Harry shake hands and Harry gives Lexi a short hug while you just awkwardly nod in Oliver’s direction, already feeling anxious in his presence. Harry takes your hand walking in and squeezes it gently. Peeking up at him he gifts you with a warm smile that tells you: it’s gonna be alright, I’m here with you.

Once all four of you have changed your shoes to your skates and put your belongings to the lockers you head to the rink, you and Lexi in the middle, Harry on your other side while Oliver is on Lexi’s other side.

“Y/N, Oliver has told me a lot about you. What was it like, growing up with him?” Lexi asks as the four of you roll around. You’re not the worst at roller-skating, you can move confidently, but it seems like Harry is the best out of all of you, easily moving around, as if he were on his feet.

Thinking back at your time with Oliver now at Lexi’s question, it’s quite bittersweet. Because you are starting to realize things you didn’t see back then. Like how you were always in his shadow, he was always the guy everyone liked and you were just the girl that tagged along.

“Um, not sure what you want to know about,” you chuckle awkwardly as you watch Harry throw his ball for the first time.

“Was he a womanizer? Tell me the truth! He says he barely dated a few people,” she chuckles, taking Oliver’s hand. He is pretty much avoiding to look you in the eyes as you glance over him and you really wish she didn’t ask you about it.

“He had quite a few… flings,” you say, not entirely sure how to phrase it. He wasn’t a womanizer, but he did start to hook up with you between girls a while ago, making his reputation a little questionable.

“I knew you were downplaying it!” she playfully smacks his chest and you just bite into your bottom lip. This is already so awkward.

“I think Y/N is just exaggerating,” Oliver chimes in, seemingly not a fan of the conversation either.

“Sure, it’s always me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry takes your hand and gets a little ahead of you before turning around so he is facing you while skating backwards.

“Hey baby, want me to teach you how to go in zig-zag?” he smirks, clearly wanting to ease the tension. Nodding you let him take both of your hands as the two of you stay a little back from Oliver and Lexi. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He is a fucking asshole,” he tells you when he knows they can’t hear him.

“Was he always like this? I have no idea how I could put up with his act,” you mumble with a scowl.

“Fuck them. Come on, let’s have a good time,” he grins before taking the lead.

Harry makes your forget about them so easily, like it’s not even a double date, just the two of you hanging out. He keeps teaching you moves, laughing together whenever you get wobbly. He catches you every time when you’re about to lose your balance, he doesn’t let you fall and every time his arms circle around you, keeping you on your feet steadily, you find yourself blushing at how close he is getting to you. His hands holding yours, small touches on your arms and back, he takes every chance to connect the two of you and you enjoy every second of it.

“Harry, no!” you laugh as he holds your hand, still going around.

“Come on! Just try it! Just a little jump!” he encourages.

“Do you want to see me fall?”

“I would have let you fall a long time ago if that’s what I wanted,” he smirks. He gets ahead of you again, both his hands taking yours and you still can’t get used to how soothing his palms feel against yours. “I’ll catch you this time too, don’t worry.”

“I swear you are trying to kill me,” you groan as you try to figure out how to do a little jump without breaking a bone. “But just a little one!”

“The tiniest one,” he chuckles nodding.

You let him take the lead and he starts pulling you again, skating backwards like he did all evening and when you feel like you’re stable enough, you give it a go.

Unfortunately, what happens is exactly what you were expecting. When your skates meet with the floor again after the little jump, you don’t find your balance and immediately feel your feet rolling out from under yourself. Harry reaches out for you, just like he promised, grabbing onto your arm with one hand while the other one presses into your back, but this time he can’t save you and you pull him with yourself as well. The two of you end up falling to the ground in a laughing mess as Harry is partially lying on you, an arm stuck under you while the other one is across your chest.

“I told you!” you cry out but it turns into laughter pretty fast.

“I’m sorry, baby, are you okay?” he asks laughing and your heart skips a beat at how he called you baby again and Oliver is not even around.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out as he peels himself off you, helping you up with him as well. He is so close to you as you finally stand on your feet again, your noses almost brush against each other as you blink up at him nervously.

It would be so easy to kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to feel his lips against yours. Maybe if you move just a little…

“Are you trying to break a bone, Y/N?” Lexi rolls up to you, totally breaking the moment as you both turn to her. Harry leaves an arm around you, hand resting on your waist and you lean against him to steady yourself on your wheels.

“It was Harry’s idea, but I knew I would terribly fail,” you chuckle slightly. Oliver appears behind Lexi, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and you clench your jaw at the gesture. Harry must have noticed the shift in you, because he tightens his hold around you, his hand soothingly running up and down your side. And just like that, Oliver is long forgotten, you can only think about how it feels to have his fingers dancing on you.

“You were never really into athletic things, Y/N,” Oliver comments and you grimace.

“Just because I didn’t play any sports in high school, doesn’t mean I can’t try things now.”

“I think you did great,” Harry smiles down at you. “You just need a little more practice and you’ll be better than me, baby.”

Baby, there’s that pet name again. It’s doing things to you for sure.

Glancing over at Oliver you catch what looks like an eye-rolling and he genuinely looks annoyed by you and Harry and it’s making your blood boil at this point. Why can he be the only one to date someone? Why can’t you have a good time with someone? Now that you are thinking about it, he did it not only with guys, but also with anyone who tried to be friends with you. Oliver wanted him to be your only friend and sneakily ruined every friendship you ever had. Sandra is your first real friend other than Oliver, only because he couldn’t do anything against you forming any kind of relationship with your roommate. But you are now getting quite fed up with his little games and Harry might not be your real boyfriend, but you are friends with him and Oliver can do nothing about that.

Soon enough you decide you’ve had enough of the skating, so you move to the side and start changing back to your shoes. Lexi runs out to the restroom and while you are putting your sneakers back on Harry spots someone he knows, working at the buffet so he steps aside for a minute, leaving you and Oliver alone.

“Are you really dating him?” you hear him speak up and you can’t help the scowl on your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He is just so not the type of person you hang out with,” he comments with a shrug and your eyebrows shoot up.

“First of all, how would you know? My friends were always kind of more your friends, never really had the chance to find my people. And second, what’s the problem with him?”

“The problem is that we all know what he is like. Everyone on campus knows that Harry is famous for going after a lot of girls.”

“And you believe what others say? You know nothing about him. He is not what people try to make him appear to be, but you wouldn’t know, because you don’t know him like I do. And for the record, yes, I really am dating him and I’m very happy about it.”

You can tell he doesn’t like your reaction and he is probably fighting back to snap at you, but Harry soon returns, oblivious to the scene that just went down, however he can sense the shift in the atmosphere immediately.

“Everything alright?” he asks, seemingly innocently, but you know he is asking if Oliver has done something.

“Yeah. Can we leave?” you ask, not too keen on staying with Oliver any longer. It’s getting hard to imagine how you could ever put up with him and his act.

“Are you guys leaving? We could grab a bite together!” Lexi chimes in arriving back from the restroom. You are about to decline, but Harry speaks up before you.

“Oh, we have plans already, but maybe some other time,” he politely says, a hand on your lower back as he pulls you to his side and you’re thankful for his close presence now. If he weren’t there, you would have already jumped at Oliver’s throat probably.

“Oh, okay! I’m glad we got to do this though,” she smiles warmly, taking Oliver’s hand while you just chew on the inside of your cheeks, very keen on leaving as soon as possible.

Your force a smile on your face, bidding goodbye before Harry takes your hand and the two of you head out to his car.

“Hey, everything okay?” he asks when it’s finally just the two of you. Staring down at your hands on your lap, you bite into your bottom lip.

“Just… let’s leave. I had enough of Oliver for a life today,” you mumble and luckily, Harry doesn’t try to keep asking around, just starts the car and leaves.

On the way he asks if you still want to come over to the frat house and you say yes, because you feel like you could use the distraction. You’d rather spend some more time around him than go back to your dorm room and be alone with your thoughts.

Just as he promised, it’s nothing big, just a few close friends of some of the frat boys, pizza boxes are piled in the kitchen, music is playing in the background but it’s not blasting like when it’s a party. A big group is playing UNO in the living room using two deck of cards so the rounds don’t end too soon.

You and Harry get a slice of pizza, already starving after the skating and when you’re done with that, the two of you wander into the living room. There’s no more room left on the mismatched couches so Harry plops himself down to the ground and you stop for a moment, because there’s someone sitting on both of his sides, leaving not much space for you, but he is quick to solve the problem by taking your hand and pulling you down so you sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

“Oh,” you breathe out from the sudden contact, but it feels nice. You cross your legs so his legs can bridge over them with his knees bent as he looks over your shoulders to see the game unfold.

“You guys want to play?” one of the girls asks.

“There’s not enough cards for the both of them to join!” another warns.

“We’ll just play together,” Harry speaks up from behind you and in the next round you join the game.

Harry rests his chin on your shoulder as his arms come around you, holding the cards so you can see them as well. It’s the closest he has been to you, basically wrapped around you and it’s definitely doing things to you. The way his chest warms your back, how you can feel every breath he draws because his face is so close next to yours, how his arms cage you gently, you are suddenly aware of even the smallest things.

“Pick one,” he murmurs when it’s your turn to throw a card in. You’ve been so occupied with him that you have no idea what color or number you should pick so you quickly check the deck in the middle before pointing at a red card. “Throw it in,” he tells you, pushing the card up with his thumb so you can take it and put it to the top.

Sitting here, on the floor of his frat house, his arms around you feels so much better than anything you’ve experienced with Oliver and the realization hits you hard in the chest. Turning your head to the side you let yourself take a good look at his perfect side profile, his chiseled jawline, the bridge of his nose and the little wrinkle between his eyebrows as he knits them together in focus, staring down at the cards in his hands. He catches you looking, his green eyes meet yours and a soft smile spreads across his face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head.

“Everything alright?” he quietly asks and you nod.

“Yeah,” you breathe out turning back, but you still feel his lingering gaze on you for a few more moments before he turns away too.

You keep playing as the night moves on, drinking some beer, making you relax even more, though Harry’s closeness does the job just perfectly. Even when you are not sitting on the ground anymore, he always keeps close to you. Curling an arm around your waist when you stand in the kitchen talking with others, he keeps giving your hands and hips assuring little squeezes and you can’t help but lean into his touch every time. You want him close, you want to feel his touch, you love it when your eyes meet and he always shoots you a small smile, it makes your heart flutter, like you’re a little school girl with a silly crush.

Because now you are more than sure that you’re crushing on Harry. How can you not? He has been so good to you, did more than Oliver has ever done and you’ve been friends for just a few weeks.

You leave him for just a few minutes while you use the bathroom and as you return, you catch some of the conversation he is having with one of the boys, Jake.

“Dude, can’t believe the ladies’ favorite Styles is taken,” Jake laughs and it makes you scowl as you stop at the corner, listening on them.

“Jake, I told you to stop calling me that,” Harry huffs.

“I’m just telling you the truth. Every girl on campus is after you.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me being in a relationship.”

“I just thought that the womanizer Harry Styles wouldn’t settle again for a while.”

“Jake, I’m not a womanizer, stop this bullshit. Just because girls try to get together with me, doesn’t mean I want the same thing.”

You choose this moment to walk in, knowing well Harry must be losing his patience with Jake and his irrelevant accusations. Walking in you smile warmly at Harry, curling an arm around his waist as you lean into his side. His arm comes around your shoulders and he pulls you close. Jake eyes you with an unreadable expression before his gaze returns to Harry.

“Hope you know what you are doing, mate.”

“I surely do,” Harry firmly answers and it makes you smile, especially because you know what they’ve been talking about.

When Jake walks out you turn to face Harry, playfully poking his tummy as you glance up at him.

“Hey,” you smile up at him, your arms wrapping around his waist as his hands fall to your shoulders.

“Hey,” he chuckles. “Why are you so smiley?”

“I can’t smile?”

“Of course you can,” he smirks. “Want to go back a little more?” he asks nodding towards the living room where there are still quite a few people. You nod and let go of him, turning around you are just about to walk ahead but you didn’t see that a girl was coming inside and you bump right into her, the liquid from her cup spilling down your shirt.

“Shit!” you gasp jumping back, colliding a little with Harry’s chest and his hands immediately grab your waist in case you might lose your balance.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” the girl stutters, reaching for paper towels right away, but it helps nearly nothing.

“It’s fine,” you breathe out pressing your lips together.

“Come on, I’ll give you a shirt,” Harry tells you, taking your hand, walking you upstairs. The fabric of your shirt is turning cold against your skin and you really want to get rid of it.

Harry pulls out a simple black shirt for you and shows you the way to his little bathroom. Changing into his shirt you make an attempt to wash yours out, but it doesn’t do much to the sugary spill.

“Do you mind if I stay in it for the rest of the evening? I promise I’ll give it back next time we meet.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles and you catch his gaze wandering down your body, his shirt hanging loosely on your frame. “Do you still want to stay or do you want me to give you a ride back to the dorm?”

“Uh, maybe I should head home,” you nod to yourself.

“Is it okay if I take a quick shower? I feel so sweaty after the skating, just five minutes.”

“Sure, go ahead,” you nod smiling before he disappears in the bathroom.

You hear him turn the water on and walking over to his bed you lie down for a little, feeling the tiredness coming over you all at once. It’s been a long and exhausting day and listening to the soothing voice of the running water you find yourself drifting off to sleep before you could stop yourself.

When you open your eyes again the room is completely dark, but you quickly realize it’s not your dorm room; you’re still at Harry’s. Turning to the side you see him sleeping peacefully on the other side of the mattress, lying on his back. Still groggy with sleep, you realize you fell asleep while he was in the shower and he probably didn’t want to wake you so just went to bed next to you.

He looks like an angel sleeping, his green irises hidden from the world, thick lashes fanned over his cheeks, his pink lips slightly parted as his chest rises and falls peacefully. Sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes, seeing him next to you, he is all you can think about and it brings a smile to your face.

Gently, you scoot closer to him, but still don’t touch him, however the movement makes him huff in his sleep and turning to his side his arm falls across your waist, making you gasp in surprise. You freeze, thinking that he might wake up any moment but it doesn’t happen and you’re stuck in his hold, not that you mind it. You push yourself a little closer, your nose almost touching his chest as you make yourself comfortable and closing your eyes you go back to sleep without a worry in the world.

Waking up you find yourself curled up to Harry’s side, one of his army around you while the other is holding your hand on his stomach. Blinking your eyes open you look around and take a few seconds to fully wake up. Harry feels so warm against you, but you think he might not like to find you all melted against him so you try to move away but his hold tightens around you.

“Mmm, stop movin’ around,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Sorry, I just thought that… you might feel hot,” you lie in a whisper.

“I am hot,” he smirks with his eyes still closed and his comment makes you laugh.

“And so full of yourself!” you chuckle and try to pull away once again, but he locks you to his side, not letting you break the position you are in.

“I said stop movin’! I like being warm in the morning,” he murmurs, snuggling you more to his side and you bite into your bottom lip as your smile stretches wider with each passing second.

Yeah, you definitely have a crush on Harry and you can’t even act like you don’t.

“Sorry for falling asleep in your bed,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you let your head rest on his chest.

“Y’ looked cute,” he huffs with a soft smile. “S’alright. Give me five minutes and I’ll be awake to drive you back to the dorm.”

You hum a response and just enjoy it while it lasts, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. But you have to. Slowly, the two of you get ready to leave, you want to change back to your stained shirt, but Harry tells you to just keep the shirt, he has two more of the exact same one so you walk out of the frat house wearing Harry’s shirt, holding Harry’s hand and get into Harry’s car. He is everywhere and you absolutely love it.

“So we have this game next weekend and I thought you might want to come? You don’t have to if you absolutely hate football, I just thought—“

“I would love to,” you say cutting his rambling short as he smiles with his eyes staring ahead at the road.

“Cool. Bring your roommate if you want.”

“Sure,” you smile.

Football has never been your thing, but watching Harry is, so the game turns out better than you expected. Sandra tags along and luckily, she knows a little more about the game than you do, so you can ask her questions whenever you are completely lost about the happenings. Though you don’t know much about what a good player should be like, but it’s still clear to you that Harry is one of them. He scores half the points of his team and you are guessing that’s quite fascinating.

“Am I just dreaming or does he keep looking your way?” Sandra questions after you also just caught Harry’s gaze on you a moment ago.

“So what if he is?” you ask with a shy smile, eyes glued to his running frame on the field.

“Are you guys like… really together?”

“No,” you shake your head. “We are just friends,” you add, the term tasting a little bitter on your tongue.

“But you want more.” It’s not a question, Sandra can see right through you. Glancing at her you let out a huff before turning back at the game.

“It’s hard not to,” you truthfully admit, your eyes following Harry’s every movement on the field. Looking around you see that you are probably not the only one. Half of the girls on the bleachers are staring at him and you can’t even blame them. You have to be blind and stupid at the same time not to like him and apparently, you’re neither.

They win, no surprise. The whole team goes crazy as they score their last point and it puts them in the lead in the last minute. Everyone is cheering and screaming at the boys as they are celebrating their victory, along with Harry.

Jake starts running up and down the bleachers shouting that they are throwing a victory party at the frat house so now you know what you’re gonna do for the rest of the evening. As the team makes its way back towards the locker rooms Harry runs up to you, all sweaty and grinning crazily.

“Hey, you coming for the party, right?” he asks, still breathing heavily from the game.

“Sure,” you chuckle.

“Yes! You guys want a ride?” he asks in excitement glancing at Sandra beside you.

“That would be nice,” she nods happily.

“Alright, meet me at my car in fifteen,” he breathes out and before he runs away, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, then leaves in a rush, catching up with the other guys. Suddenly, it feels a lot hotter than before…

“Okay, there’s no way he is not into you too,” Sandra mumbles to you as the two of you head out to the parking lot.

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” she laughs, folding her arms on her chest. “That guy is like a puppy in love around you.”

“What if it’s just his normal?”

“I don’t know, is it? You’re the one who spends every possible minute with him,” she points out and she is right. This wasn’t like this before and as far as you know, he was never like this with anyone either. The only person you saw him act similarly was Naomi when they were dating, so could this be a hint for you that he feels the same way?

You’re still chewing on it when Harry emerges from the building, carrying his huge sports bag on his shoulder, his locks still wet from the shower he must have taken, his smile is still as wide as it was after the game.

“Ladies, fancy a ride?” he asks and as he walks past you he squeezes your hand gently before rounding the car and sitting behind the wheel.

By the time you arrive to the frat house the party is already on, music blasting in the living room where not so long ago you were playing UNO, sitting in Harry’s arms, booze is piling in the kitchen and more and more people are showing up.

“Hey, can you come up with me to drop my bag off and change?” Harry asks upon walking into the house and you nod. Sandra gives you a look that says ‘man up and talk to him’ before you take Harry’s hand and the two of you head upstairs.

“Be honest, did you bore yourself to death at the game?” Harry asks when you’re in the safety of his room.

“It wasn’t that bad, though I definitely need to learn more about the rules,” you chuckle admitting as you sit on the edge of his bed while he moves around, putting away his stuff. You watch him with a fluttering heart as you think about your conversation with Sandra. Even if she is right, how do you bring it up? You can’t just simply drop that you would like to turn your fake relationship into something real, you are not ballsy enough for that anyway.

“I’ll change quickly and we can head out,” he smiles, grabbing his usual skinny jeans and a white shirt from his dresser before disappearing in his bathroom.

While he is in there, you try to build your courage up to have the talk with him. Now seems like a good time, you’re alone in his room, no audience in case he rejects you painfully so no one would witness your breakdown. Chewing on the inside of your cheeks you stand up and start pacing the floor, stopping when the door opens and he walks out, smiling at you warmly as he fixes the dog tag around his neck.

“Everything alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I, uhh… I wanted to talk about something,” you start shyly, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Okay, go for it,” he nods walking closer.

“I just, I’M not sure how to bring this up, and I hope it won’t sound weird. But I’ve been thinking about, um—I thought about this, what we’ve been doing and I realized that I—“

Your rambling speech gets interrupted when Jake bursts into the room without even a knock or warning word.

“Dude, come down! We need you on our beerpong team!” he urges Harry who gives him an annoyed look.

“Jake, don’t just fucking barge into my room without knocking!” Harry snaps at him.

“Like I haven’t seen your dick before,” Jake snorts and you feel the heat crawling up your neck at even just the thought of Harry naked.

“I don’t fucking care, knock!”

“Okay!” Jake growls rolling his eyes. “But you gotta come down now!”

Harry looks back at you, knowing well you two were in the middle of a conversation, but Jake’s arrival threw you off completely.

“Go, we can… talk later, it’s not that important,” you smile at him weakly.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his hand taking yours.

“Yeah, totally. Just go and celebrate your win,” you chuckle and with that, the moment is already gone.

You return to the party and while Harry gets sucked into an epic beerpong game, you join Sandra in the living room, who eyes you with a curious look, but you just shake your head.

“Don’t even ask,” you mumble and grabbing her drink from her hand you take a big swig from it, hoping the alcohol might help you with your anxious thoughts.

An hour later you feel the buzz, but you’re not at all drunk, just a little… braver than usually. You’ve moved to the kitchen with Sandra and a few girls, you’re sitting on the counter, nursing another drink as you listen to one of the girls rage about her asshole ex. Glancing out of the kitchen your eyes find Harry standing in the living room and for your surprise he was already watching you. You catch his smile, his focus completely on you when the guys are talking to him in his little circle, but he doesn’t seem to care. His gaze brings the heat back into your body, he can make you go nuts with just a look and you want to hate him for that, but you can’t. There’s nothing you hate about this guy.

“Stop eyefucking your man and just… fuck him for real” Sandra chuckles leaning closer to you, so only you can hear her words.

“Sandra!” you gasp, smacking her in the boob knowing well she hates it when you do that. She just cackles, returning to the discussion with the girls.

Soon enough, you see Harry moving towards your little group, creeping his way into the kitchen, stopping right beside you, leaning on one arm, his hand placed dangerously close to your thigh on the counter.

“Hi,” he smiles with his rosy cheeks, he surely has drunk some as well, but he doesn’t seem drunk either.

“Hi,” you breathe out, feeling flustered by his closeness again, a smile stretching across your face as he keeps eyeing you grinning. “What?”

“Have I told you how cute your smile is?” he asks and now you’re sure you’ve turned into a tomato.

“No,” you mumble shyly and almost gasp when his hand moves from the counter to your thighs as if it was the most natural thing, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well, it is cute,” he chuckles, before turning his attention at the conversation in the little circle, but his hand remains still on your thigh.

From there, the situation escalates pretty easily. All it takes him to get between your thighs is to reach for one of the drinks on the counter next to you, his hand still resting on your thigh, and as he is done with the drink, he places it to the counter, his other hand coming to your other thigh, now standing facing you between your legs. Before you could say anything, he pulls on you a little, so you press up against him, your hands instantly coming to grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself in the movement.

“Hi again,” he smirks with glistening eyes.

“You didn’t go anywhere,” you chuckle quietly, your fingers dancing up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls.

“I know, but it made you smile and that’s what I wanted,” he smirks, so proud of himself. He licks his lips and you catch his gaze wandering down to yours, instantly making you nervous as you think back at the failed conversation you had with him not so long ago. This feels like a moment that could head into a direction you are dying for, but without the talk, you’re not sure if you should take the risky step.

Good thing that Harry is not shying out of it. Pressing forward his forehead meets yours, noses muzzling together as his lips linger so close to yours. You suck on your breath, arms curling around his neck as you wait for him to move the last millimeters between the two of you, and seeing that you are not pulling back, Harry makes the final move.

His lips move perfectly against yours, so warm and welcoming, soft and intoxicating, kissing him feels like a gift from above. He is taking his time with you, tasting and savoring you and you’re definitely not complaining. You could spend the rest of your life kissing him and you’d be fine with it.

One of his hands stays on your thigh, keeping a firm grip on it while the other one moves up to cup your cheek as you angle your head to reach him perfectly. He licks into your mouth without warning and you almost let out a moan at the sensation, but you’re just too busy returning his kisses.

You have absolutely no idea how long you stay like that, kissing and touching each other, but when he pulls back, you can’t help the stupid grin on your love drunk face. Harry’s expression kind of mirrors yours as he pecks your swollen lips once more before getting back to his previous position, his hand never leaving your thigh and you hug his strong, tattooed arm, needing to touch him in any kind of way as the two of you reenter the discussion that never stopped. Sandra gives you a wide-eyed stare and you just bite into your bottom lip, turning into a giggly teenage girl all of a sudden.

For just a few minutes you are absolutely convinced the kiss was real, but that’s all you got. As you look into the living room you catch Naomi’s burning stare and it tells you right away she witnessed the whole scene and to make it even worse, Oliver was standing not too far, glaring at you firmly and they make you think.

What if Harry saw them near and kissed you just to mess with them? What if it was all just part of the act? You should have pressed more earlier and have that damned talk with him, how are you supposed to ask now if he meant it or not?!

The more you think about it, the more painful it becomes and the little evil voice in your head convinces you that he didn’t mean it. It’s not like you want to believe it, but you can’t ignore the possibility that slowly grows into reality in your clouded mind.

You lose both Harry and Sandra at one point after going to the bathroom and though you know they are somewhere around, you feel like you can’t stay any longer at the party. Before anyone could stop you, you sneak out of the house and head back to the dorm, hoping that a good night sleep would get your head straight.

Harry tries to call you, but you ignore them all, heading straight to bed when you arrive. You feel guilty for leaving without a word but there’s just too much going on in your head, you need time to process and figure out what to do.

You’re still up when Sandra arrives back but you pretend to be asleep, not feeling like dealing with her investigating questions about the kiss and why you left so suddenly. It takes over an hour for you to finally fall asleep and escape your buzzing thoughts.

Waking up you see no sign of Sandra and you remember she mentioned that her brother is visiting town so they might spend the day together. Amazing opportunity to bury yourself into your deep loneliness and try to figure out what to do.

Harry has been nonstop texting you, asking if you even made it back to the dorm safely and you just shoot him one message to let him know you’re still alive and then ignore him again. Thinking back at the kiss last night your heart flutters every time, you can still feel the touch of his lips, the way his hand cupped your cheeks, it’s driving you crazy. But then you remember seeing Naomi’s and Oliver’s face and you’re convinced Harry saw them too and you always get to the same conclusion: the kiss was just part of the act.

You barely leave the bed the whole day, lying under your covers and watching Netflix until your mind feels numb enough to stop torturing you with your thoughts. And then, there’s a knock on the door. You freeze, knowing well that whoever is on the other side, you don’t want to see them.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there, I heard you watching The Vampire Diaries,” Oliver’s voice calls out from outside and you let out a shaky breath.

Dragging yourself out of the bed you open the door and stare back at him with a blank expression.

“What do you want?” you simply question.

“I broke up with Lexi,” he answers and your eyebrows shoot up. Without asking for permission he pushes his way into the room, stopping in the middle with his hands on his hips. “Last night, I broke up with her.”

“I uhh—I’m sorry, I guess, but why? She was so sweet.”

“I miss you, Y/N,” he blurts out and your shock just raises. Did he just admit to breaking up with his girlfriend because of you?!

“What?”

“Lexi is a nice girl, but I miss you, I miss what we had.”

“And what is that supposed to be?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you fold your arms on your chest. “You miss fucking me whenever it’s convenient for you? Because I certainly don’t miss that.”

“We both know it was more than that, Y/N,” he smiles warmly, but it makes your stomach churn. Nothing about that smile is friendly or nice, he is trying to manipulate you like so many times before, but it’s not working now. He lost his power over you.

“It wasn’t. You were using me, Oliver.”

“That’s not what it was. We were having fun!”

“I wasn’t! I had feelings for you and you used them for your benefit!” you snap at him, not in the mood to play by his rules any longer. You’ll not let him bring you down again. “A friend doesn’t do that.”

“You could have spoken up against it, but I didn’t hear you complaining,” he retorts and it feels like a slap across your face. “I know you miss it too, Y/N. You don’t have to act like you are into Harry, I can see through you.”

“Oh really?” you snort, finding his words rather comedic. He knows or sees absolutely nothing and he just proved it. “Tell me then what you see!”

“I see that you’ve been trying to make me jealous and I’m gonna give it to you, it was successful.”

“Amazing, only problem is that I never wanted to make you jealous. My feelings for Harry are more real than the ones I had for you and I would really like it if you just left right now.”

Grabbing the doorknob you hold it open for him, wanting nothing more than to get rid of him for once and for all. You’ve had enough of his toxic, manipulating ass for a lifetime.

“Are you really kicking me out and just gonna choose him over me?” he huffs in disbelief and you can tell you’ve hurt his ego pretty badly.

“I’m choosing myself and doing what’s best for me. Now leave,” you demand and he finally moves. Walking past you he stops and looks down at you one more time.

“You’re a fucking waste of time,” he sneers before walking out and you need every ounce of power in you not to go after him and punch him in his arrogant face. How could you ever consider him even a friend, let along sleep with him?! He is the most disgusting and degrading asshole you’ve ever seen and you’ll work on forgetting about his whole existence for the rest of your life.

You shut the door behind him and leaning your back against it you slide down to the floor, feeling your chest tightening at the intensity of what just happened. You lost the person you loved the most just weeks ago and realized that he was never who you thought him to be.

You feel like crying for a little, but the tears never come. Instead, a soft sense of relief washes over you, like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, finally setting you free. One less thing to worry about.

As you push yourself up from the floor you hear fractions of a heated conversation outside and when you recognize both voices, your heart stops beating for a moment. Opening the door you hear the conversation between Oliver and Harry now fully clear.

“Stop fucking acting like you are the center of her world, Styles. She has no fucking idea what she wants,” Oliver snaps at Harry, clearly upset about something he said earlier.

“No one thinks that but you! Stop harassing her like a fucking psycho!” Harry fights back and your lips part at how he stands up for you.

“You’re the one harassing her! Don’t think for a moment you have a chance with her, she wants me, not you! You’ll never get into her pants like I did—“

Just when you’re about to barge out of the room to end whatever parade they are having, Oliver’s groan fills the hallway and as you step out, you see him fall to the ground after Harry’s has punched him right in the face.

“What the fuck?!” you snap in shock and they both turn to look at you in the middle of their fight.

“Your fucking boyfriend punched me for no reason!” Oliver spats, pushing himself up, holding a hand to his jaw that’s already turning red.

“Stop making yourself the victim, Oliver, no one buys it!” you groan at him as you step to Harry. He seems ashamed, even scared of your reaction about the fact that he just punched Oliver, but you are not gonna blame him. He did God’s work in this case.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re still taking his side!” Oliver snaps angrily. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”

“Shut up and leave!” you shout at him before grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him towards your room.

You hear Oliver mumbling something under his breath, but you couldn’t care less, shutting the door at him once again, this time with Harry in the room with you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fucking lost my temper and—“ You wave him off, taking his hand in yours softly, taking a look at his knuckles.

“It’s fine,” you smile at him. “Does it hurt?” you ask, gently running your thumb over his reddened knuckles.

“No, it’s alright,” he murmurs, standing so close to you again. His green eyes search yours as his other hand reaches under your chin to lift your head. “You have been ignoring me since last night.”

“I just… had a lot of stuff to do,” you awkwardly answer clearing your throat.

“You sure it’s not because of what happened between us?”

“What? Of course not!” you huff. “I get it, you were just trying to make it convincing because Naomi and Oliver were both watching a-and so you just—“

“What?” Harry asks tilting his head to the side.

“I mean, that’s why you did it, right? I saw them after we—uhh after we you know, kissed.”

“Okay, I didn’t see them and that’s not why I did it,” he admits with a nervous chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought we were on the same page, but apparently not. Y/N, nothing I did recently was because of Naomi or Oliver. If I’m being honest it hasn’t been about them for a while. I really like you and I know I should have talked to you first about it, because now it was all kind of confusing, but I wasn’t faking it. I meant everything I said and did.”

You stare back at him in awe, heart pounding against your chest as his words sink in. He wasn’t acting, the kiss was real and you’ve been acting like a lunatic since last night, completely ignoring him instead of just talking to him, you are such a dumbass!

“Really?” you breathe out, barely more than just a whisper.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “And I kinda thought you feel the same way, but then I came here and ran into Oliver who told me you two just had a chat about… possibilities between you and him?”

The hurt is clear in his eyes and your hatred towards Oliver is not on maximum level. You can’t believe he tried to ruin it all one last time even after you told him you want nothing to do with him.

“That’s not what we talked about,” you shake your head. “He came here, told me he broke up with Lexi and that he misses me, but I told him that’s too bad because I don’t miss him and his stupid little games anymore.”

“Oh!”

“And he tried to convince me to choose him over you, but I already chose you, so he had no chance,” you add, a wide smile spreading across your face as you see him realize what you just said.

“What, does this mean…?” he questions with sparkling eyes as he starts inching closer to you.

“Last night, when Jake barged into your room, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. That I’m not really faking anything anymore, but we were rudely interrupted and then… you kissed me and I thought things were finally going right, but then I somehow convinced myself that it was just because you saw Naomi and Oliver around and tried to upset them.”

“Fuck them!” Harry laughs, his hands finally reaching to grab you by your waist as he pulls you against him. “I don’t care about them anymore. I just want to be with you, no faking, no acting, just… you and me.”

“That sounds… perfect,” you admit with a tired smile before he finally leans down and presses his lips against yours.

“I have a warning for you, Y/N,” he mumbles between kisses, his lips moving against yours.

“Yeah? What’s that?” you hum, melting into him.

“I will not stop kissing you. It’s my new favorite thing,” he giggles, hands pulling you even tighter to him.

“Oh, how upsetting!” you chuckle without a care in the world before the two of you fall to your bed, a mess of kisses and giggles, but not an ounce of faking.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[fruitcoops]

okay so we all love dad dumo and he's an incredible parent but even dumo isn't perfect. Could we maybe have dumo snapping at logan (or sirius, if it strikes your fancy, but i love dumo+logan dynamics) and then apologizing for it like a parent actually f*cking should

Oof, yes. Combined with asks for Sirius and Logan bonding, as well as some pre-Cap and James. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for parental figure disappointment

The car rumbled. Dumo’s hands squeaked on the wheel as he flexed his fingers. Logan felt like he was going to throw up.

Can we turn around real quick? No, too vague. Can we go home so I can use the bathroom? No, he’ll say I can wait another ten minutes. I forgot my phone at home? No, he saw me put it in my pocket. Logan ran through every possible way of asking to go back to the Dumais house without giving away his dilemma; with each scenario, they grew further from where he needed to be.

“Hey, Dumo?” he began quietly, swallowing around his dry mouth. What was it his father always said? Honesty is the best policy. “We need to go back to your house for a moment.”

“We’re already running late,” Dumo said, not even sparing him a glance in the rearview mirror. The traffic around them was a mess. “If we go back, we’ll miss the first part of warmups.”

“I know, but it’s kind of important.”

“So is the game. If it’s your wallet, you don’t need it right—”

“I left my skates by the front door.”

Dead silence filled the car as Dumo slowed to a stop at the fourth red light. Logan’s heart sank and his stomach crawled into his throat. “What?”

“I left my skates by the front door,” he repeated, staring at his hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Tabernak, Logan!” Dumo snapped. He felt something inside him wither and die. “First the nap, then forgetting to wash your jersey, and now you left your fucking skates behind? What’s going on in your head? You are an adult now with responsibilities, and it’s your job to keep track of your shit.”

“I know,” Logan said quietly.

Dumo huffed. “Clearly you don’t! Do you just not care? Is that it?”

“I care.”

“This isn’t a college team, Logan.” Dumo’s accent grew harsh around his name. It had been a bad day for him—Adele came down with a nasty cold just after Celeste left to visit her parents for the weekend, and there was always an added pressure with home games. Logan knew that, and he knew he should have been paying better attention.

“I know.”

Dumo muttered a curse under his breath and pulled onto a side road, then swore again when his duffle bag slid in the passenger seat. Logan closed his eyes; there was no way they would make it all the way to the house and back to the rink in time for pre-game rituals. Damn it, Tremblay. What were you thinking?

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Dumo parked the car with a quiet “go”, and Logan hurried inside with a slight nod to the babysitter as he grabbed his skates before slinking back to the car with his head hung low.

“I’m really disappointed in you,” Dumo said when they reached the freeway again.

“I’m sorry.”

He received no response.

They won the game despite skipping all their superstitions, no thanks to Logan. He played like shit; Arthur barely gave him four shifts the whole night. Finn shot him a concerned look as he rinsed off and slipped back into his street clothes, but Logan didn’t have the energy to confront both his best friend and the upsetting feelings connected to the aforementioned best-friend-slash-secret-crush. If he tried, he’d certainly end up doing something stupid.

He packed his things, slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed Dumo out to the car like a stray dog with his tail between his legs. “I really am—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dumo interrupted as they pulled out of the parking lot. Logan pressed his lips together. “Are you hungry?”

Starving. “Kinda.”

“I’ll heat up some leftover lasagna when we get back to the house. Will you pay the babysitter and make sure the kids are in bed?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Logan ground his teeth around the steady ache building in his chest—he hated disappointing people in general, but it was a whole different story with Dumo. He was his second father, the person Logan admired most on the team. He gave him a home and a substitute family to ease the homesickness, and was always there to cheer him on. And Logan let him down.

They went through their nightly routine silently, which was a sharp contrast to their usual banter. Marc and Louis refused to go to bed at first, nearly bringing Logan to tears in his frustration, but he eventually got them settled down and tucked in. By some miracle, both the girls were already asleep.

“I’m going to call Celeste,” Dumo finally said as Logan unloaded the dishwasher. He nodded without a word, not trusting his voice.

As soon as the dishwasher was full and running, Logan took his phone out and dialed the only person he wanted to hear from. It rang twice before connecting. “Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Hey, Cap, what’s up?”

“Not much.” Sirius sounded confused, and more than a little tired. “Ça va?”

Logan’s eyes burned. “Not bad. Do you have a minute?”

There was a rustling noise from the other end, followed by the clink of keys. “You’re at Dumo’s, right?”

“Oui.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks,” he managed around his tight throat. “See you soon.”

Hushed voices came from the living room and Logan padded down the hall, knocking gently on the doorframe. Dumo looked up and furrowed his brow. “Un moment, mon amour. Are you alright?”

“Sirius is coming by in ten. We’re going to hang out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Tell him I say hello.” Without another word, Dumo uncovered the base of his phone and returned to his conversation. Logan nodded and headed back out into the hall, swallowing down the tears forming behind his eyes.

Ten minutes turned out to be seven minutes—Logan was simultaneously flattered and concerned—and a soft knock startled him out of his thoughts. Sirius already looked worried when the front door swung open. “What happened? Is everyone okay? Did something happen to Celeste?”

“She’s fine. Dumo says hi.” And he’s horribly disappointed in me. Logan took several deep breaths through his nose to control the tremor in his voice and Sirius gave him a worried once-over. “Can we drive around for a bit?”

“Of course.”

For all of his bluster and general brooding vibe, Sirius continued to be the king of empathy and (in Logan’s opinion) a secret mind-reader. The second his arm draped across Logan’s shoulders and held him close as they walked down the sidewalk, he felt some of the pressure in his chest release. “Sorry about the late call,” he sniffled. It was a cold night—the snot threatening to drip from his nose was frigid already. “I just—I needed to get out for a minute.”

“À tout moment.” Any time. Logan didn’t feel deserving of that kindness after the mess he had been on the ice. The heaters kicked on as soon as Sirius started the car and Logan closed his eyes, leaning back into the warm seat. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Logan took a moment to breathe before shaking his head. “I forgot my skates. We were already running late, and I forgot my fucking skates at the house.”

Sirius hummed, but said nothing.

“It’s—Dumo has been having such a horrible day.” Tears clogged his throat again. “And I took a nap earlier because I stayed up late last night like an idiot, and Adele’s sick so he had all the kids and no help while he was trying to get ready, and then I overslept so it was already going to be rushed and forgot to clean my jersey and then—and then I forgot my skates. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.” Logan wanted to kick him for being so infuriatingly patient. Sirius glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not why you’re upset, though.”

“He’s—” Logan broke off and swiped the first tear away with his sweatshirt cuff. “He said he was disappointed in me.”

“Ah.”

“It’s such a stupid thing to be upset about.”

Sirius sighed through his nose and pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Taco Bell, then turned off the car and faced Logan with one eyebrow raised. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Belittling yourself.”

“Okay, Heather,” Logan snorted. Sirius reached over and flicked him on the forehead. “Hey!”

“You forgot your skates. Big deal. We’ve all been there.”

Logan shot him a glare. “You’ve never forgotten your skates.”

“Yes, I have. My very first game with the Lions, actually. Except I didn’t realize it until we were already at the rink.”

“Did Dumo drive you back?”

“The whole damn way. He was mad as hell, but he did it.” Sirius’ face softened, and he poked Logan gently on the thigh. “Stop kicking yourself for this one. It sounds like it was a bad day for you both.”

“I still feel like shit.”

Sirius shrugged. “I bet. Disappointing Dumo is the worst feeling ever.”

“He wouldn’t even let me apologize.”

“He will.”

They sat in silence for a full minute as Logan tried to find the right words. “How did you deal with it? Letting people down. It feels like I’m drowning, sometimes.”

“Really, really poorly,” Sirius half-laughed, crossing his ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t until I was named captain that I started accepting that people weren’t lying when they forgave me for fucking up.”

“Why?”

“Believe it or not, the people I was around as a kid didn’t make a habit of apologizing to me when they did something wrong.”

Logan looked up from the faded letters on his sweatshirt sleeve and sniffled. “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

“Pas de problem. I figured you could use some company outside the house.”

“You’re the best.”

“I try.”

“You succeed.” You’re like a brother to me, actually. “Is this what James did for you?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. Affection took over his face, bright even in the dim light from the streetlamps. “No, he snuck me onto the roof of the rink with massive amounts of junk food and stayed with me until the imposter syndrome faded. It was fantastic, but we nearly got hypothermia several times in the winter. This is much more comfortable.”

“Thanks for helping me keep all my fingers and toes,” Logan said wryly. He lapsed back into silence and folded his forearms on the dashboard, sighing at the pleasant stretch of his back. “I know I have to go back eventually, but I’m scared.”

“Honestly, Logan, I bet he’s already forgiven you. He knows it was an accident.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” The words came out as little more than a whisper. Sirius’ hand rested hesitantly between his shoulder blades until Logan leaned back into it, then began rubbing gentle circles.

“He does,” Sirius said softly. “And he loves you so much.”

Logan sniffed back more tears. “Really?”

“Ouais. You’ve been living with him for nine months now, and he’s so proud of how far you’ve come.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me. Last week, after your hat trick. People fuck up, Logan, but that doesn’t mean they’re unforgivable. You don’t need to flay yourself for one bad day.”

Logan shut his eyes with a slow exhale and buried his face in his forearms. “I think I’m ready to go back now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“D’accord. Buckle your seatbelt.”

He straightened up and stretched, wincing at the crack of his back. Sirius drove out of the parking lot and hummed under his breath to the radio, but Logan didn’t miss the careful glances out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he finally said. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Sirius said casually, though he looked like he was holding something back. Logan didn’t press; Sirius would talk in his own time if he wanted to. He opened his mouth, paused, then sighed. “But I do worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Thank you, Captain Black, for the most media answer of all time. “You really don’t have to.”

Sirius parked the car and leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re my friend, and I care about you, so I worry.”

Logan blinked at him. “You care about me?”

“Obviously,” Sirius muttered. Even in the darkness of the street, his cheeks were pink. “Now go on, you've got someone waiting for you.”

“I care about you, too.”

“Out of my car, Tremblay.” Despite his words, a smile quirked at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. Logan socked him lightly on the arm and opened the door, shivering in the night air as it bit through his hoodie.

“Drive safe, Cap.”

“I will.”

The walk to the front door felt less like a trip to the gallows and more like coming home; Logan felt his muscles relax, and saw the curtains shift as someone moved away from the window. Dumo opened the door before he could even knock.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison. Logan raised his eyebrows and Dumo opened the door the rest of the way, ushering him inside.

The moment the door closed behind him, Dumo wrapped him in a hug. “I’m so sorry for what I said earlier, Logan. You made a mistake, and I shouldn’t have come down hard on you.”

“I’m sorry I made us late,” Logan said into his soft shirt. “And for not helping earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“All is forgiven.” Dumo patted him on the back of the shoulder and held him at arm’s length with a sad smile. “I should have kept a better handle on my temper. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

Logan bit back the urge to say it’s okay or I deserved it and instead pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t realize how much you’ve helped me until today.”

Dumo made a quiet sound and held him tighter. “It’s a gift to have you here.”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of emotion rolled in his heart. “There is nowhere I would rather be,” he whispered. They stayed like that for a long moment, swaying slightly, before Dumo stepped back.

“Get some rest. We have early practice tomorrow.” He mussed Logan’s hair and gave him a nudge toward the stairs. “Bonne nuit, mon fils.”

Mon fils. Logan’s breath caught for a second and he smiled. “Bonne nuit.”

[a-hobit]

Y’all I used to watch Danny Phantom over and over for years I loved that shit so much and so I thought “oh a trip through my nostalgia! Blorbo!”

Not as deep as I remember it being and I think my opinion on Bitch Hartman actually kind of sours a lot of my enjoyment sometimes (sexist and homophobic jokes my detested) but otherwise if anyone was thinking about rewatching it I recommend it! It’s pretty fun for most of the time and while I didn’t love a few episodes (*COUGH COUGH* IDENTITY CRISIS *COUGH COUGH*) flanderization is really apparent in DP (Skulker, Vlad, Jazz, Sam, Danny andTucker all kind of suck in their own special ways toward the end of the series) and the way that you can pick on the writing errors pretty easy is annoying it doesn’t detract from how good it is!

Other news when Danny is not out of character and horrendously down bad he is so cute I might die. Also Sam? Not as bad as I remembered her for being towards other women! She’s typically supportive but slightly judgmental rather than outright being a killjoy. It mostly frustrates me that the writing for the other women who aren’t main characters is so shallow that it makes Sam seem like the only sane one in a room often. Buuuut to be perfectly honest idk a woman born around 1995-2005 that didn’t have a not like the other girls phase sooo

But god damn does this show make me laugh! It’s so well done — so here’s a list of some of the jokes that made me actually laugh out loud!

(In no particular order)

“Dude. You are one jacked up crazy frootloop. That will never happen.”

“But back in our college days she was just Harry — Harry CHIN!? GET IT??!”

“Agh who cares about who you were in your college days? It’s who you grow into that counts. If you can be that crazy back then and turn into a super cool ghost hunter…maybe there’s hope for me yet.

Aww thanks son…but your curfew is still ten.

Awww man!” 

“Does anyone want a cookie?

*shakes head no*

THEN PERISH!!!!!”

“The reason why Danny feels like you don’t relate to him is because you never talk to him about when you were younger!

Jazz—

When you went to college— had your first date —

Jazz—!”

“I know your little secret Danny.

YoU dO?!

The lying — the sweatiness — you have a girlfrie—!

ITS A LIE IM NOT A GHOST!!!”

“*in Walkers jail looking at past enemies*

Wow a table full of people who hate me…Just like high-school.”

“I’m perfectly happy Maddie—JACK FENTON DONT YOU DARE WIZZ ON MY RUBARB! Perfectly happy…”

“A party?? For me? ‘A decade of devoice’! You all remembered!!

Of course! And we even convinced your ex husband to come!”

“*Danny staring at Sam all lovesick*

Uhhh can you watch something other than me??

*pauses*

*pulls out a picture of Sam*

*continues staring lovesick*”

“*in a gaming lab with Tucker and Danny — Sam walks in*

What are you doing here? (To Danny) She can’t be here to play…

Oh because I’m a girl? And us girls are lacking in what? Opposable thumbs? One track minds? Stupid berets?

Hey!”

“*Danny Sam and Tucker walking though school (Danny with his shirt covering his mouth)*

Is anybody looking at me funny?!

Yeah…but that’s because you look like you’re trying to eat your way through your shirt.”

“Spooky hospital…ghosts guarding the joint…still no sign that Danny is in any real danger yet!

(Danny from inside the hospital about to be dissected)

Let me go!

Still…technically not a cry for help!

HELP!!

Well—not a cry for me!

TUCKER???!!?”

“*Danny Sam and Tucker are talking in the highschool about Danny pranking Dash*

He’s going to find out it’s you.

(Danny and Tucker) Have you seen his grades? Never gonna happen!

(Dash) Hey! This iS FENTON WIPE!

(Sam) ‘Never’ is karma’s doorbell! Ding dong it’s for you!”

“I’m Sam Manson and my happy princess talent is…(glances over at Dora who looks threatening)…

Goth haiku.

DESPAIR WITHOUT END Dora’s a ghost!

UTTER BLACKNESS — NOTHINGNESS! Dora’s a ghost!!

DORA. IS. A. GHOST!!!

(Pushed off stage)”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take it upon myself to keep Danny safe and calm until you complete the task.

Me stay with you?! Forget it!

*manifests a little thunderstorm that electrocutes Vlad*

WILL YOU QUIT DOING THAT?!?

Look on the bright side Danny! Until we get back he’s going to have to cater to your every whim and desire…

Yeah! He wouldn’t want to make you angry…

(Vlad stares at them blankly)

(Danny smiles) This pleases me!”

“*Danny is manifesting himself in Tucker’s dream and is watching Tucker live out a fantasy where he’s a billionaire spending time with two girls who look like star*

(Tucker to janitor) That will be all Fenton.

(Dream Danny) Yes sir.

(Real Danny) Wait…I’m the janitor?!?

*later*

By the way Tucker? I don’t do windows”

“*Danny is being impersonated by Morpho and is chasing ‘Danny Fenton’ though the house as the alarms blare”

The ghost defenses! That means—!

*Fentons bust in guns blazing*

Bingo Maddie!! Putrid protoplasm straight ahead!!

And he’s after our boy!

(Morpho as DF) Ah—? Oh that’s right I’m your boy—Billy!!

Danny?!”

“*after being on a cooking show with Pamela Manson*

(Maddie to Sam) I can’t believe your mother said I had bad meal presentation— so I didn’t use a parsley sprig is that a crime?!!?”

Hope you all enjoy! I’m rewatching Gravity Falls next!

[tommybaholland]

helping their sleepy s/o remove their makeup

featuring: 4/5 bakusquad (aka bakugo, kirishima, kaminari, and ashido) 

1.5k special writing event poll is still accepting responses. it’ll be up until haikyuu night on thursday so there’s plenty of time to get everyone’s votes in! enjoy <3

bakugo 

he notices that you’re practically falling asleep while you two are having a meal together 

your head is drooping so low that he has to catch you from falling face-first into the food 

“hey, watch it, idiot! your hair’s getting in it.”

declares that you’re too tired to eat and wraps up your food for you so you can eat it later 

if it seems like you’re so tired that he has to drag you to bed, he’ll just go right ahead and pick you up to carry you the rest of the way there

but don’t think that he won’t still put a stop to your mumbling protests 

“it’s obvious that your dumbass is too tired to walk so shut up and let me help you.”

he places you down in bed and begins to tuck you in before he notices that you still have makeup on

he looks around the room briefly for whatever you use to remove it

“hey, don’t get too comfortable yet. how do you take that stuff off your face?”

after deciphering your vague pointing and mumbled directions, he finally locates the bottle of micellar water and the little reusable pads 

you giggle as he begins to clean your face off and tickles your skin

“hey, hold still for a minute, you idiot. i thought you were tired.”

peeling off your fake lashes is probably his least favorite part

they’re so annoying because he always finds them stuck to him or in a place they shouldn’t be and he’ll mistake it for a spider

“i’m going to put these stupid things in your desk drawer where they WON’T get STUCK to ME.”

tries to be gentle when rubbing off your eye makeup but he wants to make sure he gets everything off so he finds himself scrubbing a little harder

but he makes sure he doesn’t get anything in your eyes

his favorite part, though, is cleaning off your neck 

he’s got this weird hyper fixation about it...he just thinks you have a nice neck okay

once he’s done, he takes a clean pad and does one more pass over your whole face and eyes to make sure he got everything 

“okay, there. now you won’t get that shit everywhere in the bed.”

puts the remover stuff away and gets into bed with you

finds his favorite spot, resting his head on your shoulder with his face hiding in your neck

“i love you. now get some rest, dumbass.” 

kirishima

he returns from class or training and unexpectedly finds you in the same spot as he left you

“oh, hey, pebble! didn’t expect to find you still here.”

class was canceled so you were just trying to catch up on some work 

he observes your slumped figure and droopy expression

this was seemingly not the cute and smiley s/o that he knew 

he always thinks you’re cute but you just looked especially fatigued, that’s all

once he watched you sigh, yawn, and rub over your face and eyes all within a few seconds 

that’s when he sees that you seemed to forget that you were wearing makeup and smeared it a little around your eyes

he couldn’t continue to hesitate from saying something 

“babe, i think you need to sleep. why don’t you take a little nap and i’ll get us some food and you can eat when you wake up?”

but first, he’s gonna clean your face off so you can relax

you’re barely conscious at this point, luckily he knows where you keep your makeup wipes 

after a few swipes across your face, he’s amazed as he sees all the product coming off onto the wipe

“whoa, babe, i think it’s working!”

he’s acting like he just discovered gold or something

“that’s so cool. isn’t it crazy that it’s taking off all the dirt and stuff-- i mean, your face isn’t dirty but, like, it’s getting rid of the stuff that could make it dirty. gotta make sure my pebble has clean pores!”

unlike his exploding friend, he’s more gentle around your eye area

lets you know when he’s going to put more pressure and tell him if he’s rubbing too hard 

but now he understands why you rub your eyes raw to get all your mascara off

he does the best he can without causing you any discomfort 

when he thinks he’s cleaned it all off, he lets you know he’s done by kissing your cheek many times which makes you giggle 

“all clean! are you ready to get some sleep?”

insists on carrying you or at least helping you to bed

he isn’t someone who likes to take naps but he’ll lay there with you and rub your back until you’re fast asleep 

kaminari 

the day had been long and hard, one that left you exhausted both physically and emotionally 

your muscles ached and your eyes felt strained from being awake and alert all-day

but if you want to take a nap, your boyfriend would love nothing more than to be lazy and chill with you 

and once denki gets into a cuddly, sleepy mood, he’s glued to your side 

literally follows you everywhere until you’re relaxed in bed or somewhere comfy with him

he goes to the bathroom with you so you can remove your makeup beforehand 

he likes to stand behind you, hugging you from behind but his close presence is only making it harder to stay awake

he sees that your movements are becoming more sluggish and you’re beginning to lean back into him more

“do you need some help, gorgeous? here, sit down for me.”

he’s kinda nervous about using the putty balm stuff that you use to remove it because he’s never seen anything like it 

he’s seen you take off your makeup a few times but he checks in with you to be sure

“okay, so i can just put this right on your face, right?”

once he starts, he gets into it and enjoys rubbing the stuff onto your cheeks 

“haha this is so fun! you have such cute cheeks, babe.”

even though it’s kinda messy, the balm actually does a great job at taking off your makeup easily 

but he’s kinda hesitant about using it on your eyes and doesn’t want it to get in them 

luckily there’s not much left on your eyes, having been worn away from the day’s events 

“whoa, your eyelashes feel weird with mascara on. very pointy.” 

his observations never fail to amuse 

when he’s done putting it all over your face, he realizes that he doesn’t have anything to wipe it off

has you keep your eyes closed as he washes his hands off and locates a towel

“sorry, babe. hang on one second. okay, here we go. now you’re getting clean!”

he’s amazed that, despite being a thick balm, it wipes off your face real easy

“huh, i guess that’s why they call it a ‘makeup melter--’ okay, all done!”

rinses out the towel and hangs it to dry then holds you from behind again, steering you out of the bathroom and into bed

places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth before spooning you 

ashido

you love learning new dance moves from mina but there are days when you feel like you don’t even have the energy to watch her dance 

which is sad because you love watching her more than anything 

but she’s the greatest girlfriend and understands as she promises she’ll show it to you later 

(next, she’ll have to show you how to keep up sheesh)

for her, being tired is not an excuse to skip skincare before bed

or at least taking your makeup off before bed

“babeeee, you know that’s, like, so bad for your skin. not to mention that it’ll get your pillows dirty!” 

she grabs the micellar water and methodically swipes over your face, not pulling or pressing too hard

this is the time when she likes to pay you the most compliments, even if you’re half-asleep 

“oh my god, you have to tell me what lashes these are. they’re so fluffy and pretty!”

“your skin is so smooth and glowy, sweetheart.”

“i love this shade of lipstick on you. makes your lips look so kissable.”

takes every chance that she can to kiss you

in fact, every spot she cleans off, she’ll kiss

it’s like a secret code that it’s clean 

and that’s every spot because she doesn’t want to miss any 

she’ll even clean off your lashes by picking off the glue and letting them soak in micellar water for a few minutes 

“i like doing your makeup but this is so much more satisfying.”

like bakugo, she’ll do one more pass all over your face, placing final kisses in some spots as well

but even when she’s done, she’s not done 

first, she’ll get you comfy into bed, lying down on your back 

she’ll grab that stone she uses to massage her face, the gua sha

she absolutely swears by it and credits it to her killer jawline 

and she’ll lightly massage your face with it while you fall asleep

it’s the epitome of relaxation, especially when she rubs it over your jaw and does little circle motions at the end  

she’ll lay down with you when she’s done and you’ll usually turn over to spoon her, pressing your face to rest between her shoulders 

behold, it’s bnha night! inbox is ready for requests..

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hi guys! This is my first writing piece. I tried not to do a two parter for my first one but it ended up being so long. Sorry! I would love to hear your feedback so feel free to leave me a message! Part two will be posted soon. Also I have completed a rewrite of the show with a JJ x Routledge sister pairing so keep an eye out for that! Also wanna shout out @skiesofthesketchy​ @malfoyfarms​ @collecting-stories​ because they were some of the first masterlists I read and I loved them and it inspired me to write my own. So thank you!

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, angst, very slight mentions of abuse

Part 2

Y/N Y/L/N. That’s you. Or as some like to call you, Hannah Montana. You live the best of both worlds, living it up on Figure Eight and wearing hundred dollar dresses to fancy dinners and parties, sneaking expensive mimosas to brunches with your friends, and getting biweekly mani pedi’s with your sister. Meanwhile, when you’re not rolling around in the luxuries of Kook Life, you’re rolling around in the dirt with your Pogue friends, baking in the sun on a dirty small boat while drinking the cheapest beer one of the boys’ could get their hands on. Most Kooks hated you even when they wanted to be you. And most Pogues didn’t trust you even as they tried getting in your pants.

One of them being JJ Maybank.

Kiara introduced you to her group of friends right after freshman year. The two of you were the black sheep of Kook Academy. Both your families have money, sure. But you weren’t jerks about it. You enjoy a little pampering here and there, but you’re not tone deaf and superficial like the rest of your peers. You were so grateful that your science teacher paired you two together for that year’s science fair. You instantly clicked with the curly brunette and spent most of the class talking about whatever came to mind instead of actually brainstorming project ideas. After working together for months on a science fair project with a shared passion of wanting to help save the environment, Kie finally introduced you to her best friends.

John B and Pope immediately made you feel like one of the group. Sure, they were curious about your life but you never felt like you were being interrogated with questions. They included you on inside jokes and even gave you the nickname ‘Sassy’ after proving to them that you can hold your own in a verbal fight.

Thanks to JJ.

From the start he claimed to never like you. He hated where you were from, who your parents were, and that you never had a job. He hated that you didn’t even have to try to get people to like you. In his eyes, everything was handed to you on silver platter. You had a picture perfect life and all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and show off your pearly white teeth. He couldn’t stand you.

Yet, he was dangerously attracted to you.

He loved the way your hair shined against the setting sun, he loved that you didn’t wear makeup every single day like every other Kook on the island, he loved how your white jean shorts perfectly shaped your curves, and he loved how your temper was as equally as short as his because it made you fighting with him that much hotter.

Last night was no different than every other night with you and your friends. It was quiet, spent around a bonfire in John B’s back yard. You sipped on cheap beer from the can while the smell of JJ’s marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Kie lightly strummed the strings of her ukulele while Pope and JJ bickered about the pros and cons of smoking weed.

This was your family. You had friends on the other side of the island too but you weren’t as close as you were with the Pogues. You would do anything for the people surrounding you. Even JJ. You tried to tell yourself you hated him just as much as he hated you, but you couldn’t help but feel like every other girl on this island, falling for his ocean blue eyes and golden locks. His wit and his charm. His loyalty and protectiveness of his friends. How he looked with his shirt off. How he would wink at you when he caught you staring. You wished you didn’t, but you loved him.

“Hellooo, Y/N?” John B waved his hand in front of your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

John B smirked but didn’t say what he was thinking. He always thought you and JJ were acting dumb when it was clear as day that the two of you were attracted to each other. He always caught you two staring at one another when the other wasn’t looking. You two would always ask about the other person when they weren’t there even if it was just to throw a sharp jab behind their back.

“I asked you what you were up to this weekend.”

“Oh,” You shrugged. “Probably run some errands, babysit my neighbor’s kids...”

Just like Hannah Montana, you also lived a secret life. Your life wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought it was, but you’d never admit to it. Your mother would be crushed, your friends would find you stupid and pathetic, and you would hate yourself even more than you already did.

“Good. Sunday we’re going to check out the surfing competition on Seasill Beach. JJ’s trying to qualify for it next year.”

Your smile immediately dropped. “Sunday. Oh.”

“Already got a spa day planned, Princess?” JJ smirked from across the way.

“I, uh,” You tried your best to fake a grin. “I’m sorry. I can’t go. I already have plans.”

You held you breath as you waited for someone to respond. This was the third time this month you flaked on your friends without a good explanation. You never knew what to tell them, only that you had plans. You were afraid if you said anything else, they’d find out you were lying.

“Again?” Kie stopped playing her ukulele to look at you. “Seriously. Is there some secret boy we should know about or something?”

You scoffed. “No.”

You felt the most guilty lying to Kie. After all she was your best friend. The one you were supposed to be able to share everything with, even the stuff you couldn’t tell your parents.

“Kie’s right. You bailed on us last week last minute too,” Pope said.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your head wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie.

“We all knew this day would come.” JJ’s smirk was gone. He flicked the butt of his joint into the fire and claps off the ash from his hands. “Hannah Montana dips her toes into the wild life. She feels free and independent long enough to decide she’d rather go back to her cookie cutter life and live with all the privilege that daddy has to offer.”

The word ‘daddy’ physically made you flinch. Your eyes narrowed in a tight glare as you dug your fingernails into the palm of your hand, hating that this was the way JJ thought of you.

“J...” John B tried to warn him but JJ didn’t listen.

“No, seriously.” JJ stood up. “I bet the reason she’s not telling us what all her ‘plans’ are is because she knows you’ll all be disappointed. Me? Well, I couldn’t care less whether you hung out with us or not. In fact, I’ve been praying for it. So tell us, Y/N, what are you doing that you won’t tell us? If it’s not some dude, then maybe you decided you’d rather be a Kook. Are you going to fancy lunches and riding yachts across the ocean? Maybe you’re spitting in the faces of the people who work to make your life easier. Maybe -”

“JJ!” Kie yelled.

You stood up, your vision turning red and your skin going hot. Usually you could take JJ’s insults. You were use to JJ throwing your family’s money in your face, trying to make you feel bad for something you can’t control, but this was too much. Because now he was calling you out on your loyalty to your friends. And he was so far from the truth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You said. The other three stood up when you took a step in JJ’s direction. John B stood close to you. He didn’t know what you were going to do, but he’s never heard your voice so low and threatening in a long time. The other time was with a Kook who was giving JJ shit. Ironically. “For me to just leave.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. In fact, because I’m such a nice friends, I’m going to give you some free advice. First, the last thing you want to question me about is my loyalty to the people who’s lives I would put before my own. Second, I would suggest removing that stick up your ass because it seems like your way too uptight to handle it.”

JJ glared at you and didn’t move to respond. A part of you was surprised he didn’t have anything to come back with and the other part of you was relieved.

The thick tension between you and your friends was suffocating. Your night had been effectively ruined by a simple question. But the sad part is, you didn’t even know who to blame. JJ, or the other man causing most of your guilt and grief.

“Y/N/N...” Kie tried stopping you as you gathered your stuff to leave.

“I’m out of here.”

You stormed out of the backyard and into your car. There was only so much you could take until you broke. And you were not going to give JJ Maybank the satisfaction of seeing you break.

                                            ***********************

You couldn’t fall asleep last night. JJ’s words kept replaying in your head like a bad song stuck on replay. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to blame him for not trusting you. But instead, you hated yourself. Because you’re the reason he can’t trust you. Cause you have secrets you don’t want shared.

Your thumb hovered over his contact. Not JJ’s. The man who’s made your life a living hell for the last sixteen years. You wanted to scream and cry and slap him in his face. But instead, you stayed frozen in fear. Like the little pathetic girl he says you are. And you hated yourself more for proving him right.

Your attention was taken away when someone busted through your bedroom door out of breath. Kie immediately went to your drawers and pulled out the first bathing suit she could find and threw it at you.

“Kie -”

“We need to go,” She said. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Pope and John B ran out of gas doing grocery runs for Heyward. We need to get them with the HMS Pogue.”

“Where’s JJ? Why can’t he help you?”

“He’s working,” Kie said quickly. “Come on.”

                                           ***********************

You and Kie found Heyward’s boat stranded in the middle of the marsh like Kie said it would be. John B and Pope were waiting for you on the back and thanking you both for coming to help. You hold the gas as they helped you onto the boat. They directed you to the tank while they helped Kie.

As soon as you made your way to the front of the boat, you heard the engine of the Pogue rev and take off. You dropped the gasoline gallon and sprinted to the back of the boat where they left you. John B and Pope waved back to you as Kie drove them back to the Chataeu.

“What the hell?” You yelled at them to come back.

“You and JJ need to work your shit out!” John B yelled back to you.

“What...” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards you. You gasp in surprise when a sweaty JJ passed you to glare at the boat that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“There’s food and blankets in the cabin!” Pope yelled back.

“We’ll come get you in the morning,” Kie said.

You clenched your teeth together with frustration. JJ looked just as pissed off and small part of you was disappointed with that. He turned around, cursing to himself and hitting random shit in his way.

This was going to be a long day.

                                           ***********************

After four hours, you and JJ still hadn’t spoken to each other. He took over the cabin while you laid out on the back of the boat. Your head was running with different thoughts. Should you try to make up with JJ? Should you just continue to ignore him? Should you tell him why you can’t go to the surfing competition tomorrow?

You didn’t know what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here in silence anymore.

You reluctantly stood in front of him with crossed arms. He was smoking a blunt and looking out into the setting sun. If you were friends, you would take a picture of him right now. The pink sky painted his skin perfectly.

“What?” He said without looking at you.

“Seriously?” You raised one brow. “We’re asked to do one thing on this boat and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said last night.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes. The problem with both of you was that you’re both stubborn. But if the problem with JJ couldn’t be fixed today, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to put up with his rude remarks and assumptions about you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You said.

“My problem?”

“Yeah. Your problem. You’ve been treating me like shit ever since Kie introduced me to you. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so goddamn much?”

JJ shook his head in annoyance. “I’m not doing this.”

He got up and walked to the back of the boat where you were sulking not even five minutes ago. You followed him like the stubborn person you were and you continued to grill him.

“I’ve tried so hard to be your friend. I’ve bought you drugs, I’ve even done yours and JB’s laundry. I put in a good word to the tourons who ask about you at boneyard parties. I laugh at your jokes, even when they’re about my friends. I try so hard to be on your good side and you still want nothing to do with me!”

“Because you’re a Kook!”

“So?”

“You have everything. Money, family, friends, a future. I don’t trust you because I don’t know what the hell you want with us. What do we possibly have that you can’t get on Figure Eight? Hm? Are you trying to prove a point to your mom that you don’t need her? You trying to prove to your dad that you’re a tough girl and don’t need his money or protection to keep you safe? Huh?”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t listen! I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t care about any of those things. I hang out with you guys because you are my friends. I have a good time when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to get?”

JJ scoffed. “Please. You don’t think I see you constantly checking your cell phone? Making sure no one can see who you’re texting? If we’re such good friends, why won’t you tell us what you’re doing tomorrow? You always have ‘other plans’ and then you never tell us what they are.”

“Because that’s none of your business!”

“If my friends are going to get hurt because of some lying bitch then it is my business!”

You were breathing so heavily, you were basically panting. Your blood felt like it was boiling under your skin and your head felt fuzzy with lack of thoughts. You didn’t know what to say, truly lost for words.

JJ took another step closer to you. You’re so close to him, you can feel his breath on your face and see every mark on his skin. You never knew he had a scar right above his brow or a freckle under his ear. He smelled like weed and sun sunscreen and his breath like mint. Had you not been fired up with rage, you would have thought he looked hot and maybe even made a move.

But now it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m sick and tired of you spoiled brats getting everything you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t even know the kind of privilege she has if it hit her in the face. You can’t relate to anything we have to go through. You don’t have to get dirt underneath your fingernails to make a buck. You don’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You wouldn’t last a week on the Cut because you’ve never known what it’s been like to live the life we do!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” You snapped. The heart in your chest felt like it was being shredded to pieces by a rapid wolf. You felt like you were being torn apart one by one with each insult he threw in your face. Little did he know, he was wrong.

“I know enough to never want to see you again. I will never accept you into our group of friends. Don’t you get that? So you can stop playing the nice girl act around me and go back to Sarah Cameron and the other Kooks that you still hang out with despite knowing everything they’ve done to us. To Kie!”

Bringing up the fight between Kie and Sarah was a low blow and JJ knew it. It was something you always struggled with because you continued to be friends with both of them separately. At first, they were both mad at you but then accepted your friendship when they came around to loving the idea that you would fight for both of them. You tried getting them to talk and make up, but both of them refused. Maybe you should just stick them on a boat in the middle of nowhere and force them to work it out.

Although, clearly your experience with it wasn’t going so well.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well life’s not fair sweet heart. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

You thought the fight last night was bad. But this one took the icing off the cake. You wished so desperately that Kie had just trapped you both in a locked room, so at least you had the chance to break out and run away from the darkness that was clouding around you.

You were most upset that this was how JJ thought of you. You didn’t know if you would have the same devastating reaction if someone else had said these things to you. You wanted so badly to be friends with the blonde Pogue. You saw the way he interacted with his friends and you wanted to be a part of that small circle so badly, you would almost do anything to be in it.

But you didn’t think you could last another second of being belittled and tormented with JJ’s outspoken feelings towards you. You wished there was a rewind button so you could go back to bed and hopefully never wake up and you’d lock your door so Kie couldn’t break in.

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and admit your defeat. You wanted to find the nearest corner and crawl into it and escape the murderous glare of JJ Maybank. JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because in this moment, you still wanted him. And you were just realizing that you never will.

“You judge me by the surface. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t ask. You just assume that I’m like every other kid on Figure Eight. You don’t know where I’ve came from. What I’ve been through. What I live with. You don’t know my plans for the future or my hobbies or even my favorite color because you didn’t ask!” Adrenaline pushes through your veins like a wave of energy. You’ve never felt so powerful but so small in your life.

“All right. So tell me,” JJ said. “Tell me whatever story you can think of that will change my mind about you.”

You paused, standing there face to face with someone who will never accept you. You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions you didn’t know which one to choose from. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion, shame.

You couldn’t believe you even thought about telling JJ your story. A story that you haven’t even told Kie. The story about how you were actually born and raised on the far end of the south side. How your dad use to abuse your mother right in front of you before she managed to escape when you were eight. For six months you lived in her car before she got a job as a housekeeper at a cheap motel used mostly for hookers and their cliental. Her employer let you live rent free if your mom accepted a cheaper pay check. During one of her shifts, your mother ran right into Andrew Y/L/N. No, he wasn’t one of the hooker’s clients. He was actually on the property looking to buy out the place. Even though he was a Kook, he looked through the housekeeper’s uniform into my mom’s heart and loved everything about her. He took her on a couple dates, then less than a year later, married her. You changed your last name to his because you didn’t want any relation to your father anymore. You thought the man was scum and deserved to rot in hell for everything he put your mom through. You hated him and even wished for him to die. Sometimes you even thought about doing it yourself. But then you saw him again. At a gas station in the middle of The Cut. You couldn’t believe he recognized you and you were even more shocked he had the audacity to talk to you. And you listened. He told you how sorry he was. How he never meant to hurt your mom. How he missed his baby girl and wanted to be in her life again. You fell for every word because a part of you you didn’t know existed missed having a biological dad.

That was your biggest mistake.

He didn’t change. He was still the same bastard he was eight years ago, using violence and threats with people much weaker than him to get what he wanted. He loved guilting you with your new luxuries. How you now had everything right under your fingertips after you left him to wither away with nothing. He said you owed him. Because you were his daughter and you were supposed to love him unconditionally. And you fell for it every time. He never hurt you like he hurt your mom. A few slaps here and there but nothing to leave a mark to get your mother questioning.

So now you were trapped - trapped in his world and in his life. Using your own money that you actually worked for, little did JJ know, to pay for his bills, his drugs, and sometimes, even his bail.

You didn’t tell anyone about this secret life because you didn’t want anyone to make you feel any more pathetic and weak than you already felt. And most importantly, you didn’t want to hurt your mother by telling her you’ve been supporting the one person she’s been trying to protect you from.

And you were about to risk that by telling someone who probably still wouldn’t care about you even after hearing what you had to say. You are who you are. If JJ didn’t like you now, he shouldn’t like you after telling him your story, anyway.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No?” JJ scoffed. “I’m finally asking you tell me something and you’re saying no?”

“Because you don’t care, JJ! Not really. You think knowing my sob story is going to get you to like me? I don’t need a pity friendship. I am who I am because of shit I’ve had to overcome. And this is me now. So if you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll do it your way and call it quits.” JJ didn’t say anything as you turned around to find somewhere to pass out in hopes of getting morning to come faster.

You found a blanket deep into the cabin and pulled it over your body, shielding yourself away from the world. You hoped the darkness would sweep through your head so you wouldn’t be plagued with torturous thoughts about your past or what’s going to happen to tomorrow. You cried - you cried because even after JJ ripped into your like a zoo animal, he still hated you.

JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because you didn’t have him.

                                           ***********************

Surprisingly, the sun rose sooner than you expected it to. Sleeping on the swaying boat wasn’t as awful as you thought it was going to be. In fact, it was kind of peaceful with the stars above you and the sound of moving water right under you.

The morning wasn’t so calming. You were slapped in the face with memories of the night before. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being face to face with JJ again. You knew what you had to do and thinking about it made you sick and depressed.

You pushed yourself up and checked the time on the radio. 8:03. Anxiety instantly flooded through you. You only had two hours to get home to be ready in time to run ‘errands’ with your dad.

You looked out to the back of the boat where JJ was looking into the horizon, probably waiting for your friends to come.

Fresh set of tears pricked your eyes at what’s to come. You loved your friends and you even loved JJ. But you couldn’t stay with the Pogues. You didn’t want to make JJ any more uncomfortable than he already was and you were afraid the constant fighting would push your friends further apart. You didn’t want to be the reason for that.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and walked next to JJ. Without a word, you looked out in the same direction he was looking and admired the morning sun.

Surprisingly, JJ was the first one to speak. He looked at you and instantly felt guilty all over again. He tossed and turned all night contemplating on whether he should wake you up to apologize or just wait until morning. He knew he wasn’t being fair. You’ve done nothing but tried to earn his trust since day one. You accepted him for all his flaws and he couldn’t do the same for you. Yeah there was the phone thing and not telling the others what you’re up to, but it wasn’t like you were constantly in his business. If you see him with unexplained bruises, you don’t pester him about it. If he comes back to the Chateau in a pissy mood and blames it on a fight with his dad, you try to make him forget about it with a distraction instead of making him tell you what the fight was about. Why couldn’t he give you the same respect?

Truth was he wasn’t so much worried about his friends getting hurt as he was getting hurt. He liked you more than a friend should which would make your departure from your friends that much more heartbreaking for him. He never felt this way over a girl, let a lone a Kook and he tried so desperately to hate you. But it didn’t work. Instead, it made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wanted to fix what he broke. He told himself he still had time left. His friends weren’t back yet to get him.

“Listen, Y/N -”

“It’s fine, J,” You sniffled. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. You tried blinking them away which only made them fall faster. You hated crying in front of people. Your dad always said it was a sign of weakness and you believed him. You wouldn’t be surprised if JJ laughed in your face right now and called you a loser. “It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

JJ’s heart physically broke when he saw your tears. He had never seen you cry. Not even out of joy. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of this. That he had made someone as beautiful and as kind as you actually feel bad about herself. He wished he could take back time and start over. He wished he gave her a chance from the beginning. He wished it wasn’t too late.

You both looked up when you heard the engine of the HMS Pogue. In the distance, you could hear your friends laughing and calling out to you, not yet realizing their plan went to shit. You had to make this quick.

“The last thing I want is to get between you and your friends. You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, especially Kie. I’ll back off.” You said, making JJ’s brows furrowed in confusion and his heart raced with worry. “I’m giving you what you want. I’ll stay out of your life.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he drove you to do the one thing he actually never wanted you to do. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

You looked JJ in the eyes and he wished you didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t see the light behind your eyes or the little crinkle in the corner when you smiled. They were dull and lifeless, making him sick to his stomach.

“I didn’t stutter. Did I?” You used his words from the other night and it felt like a stab in the heart to JJ.

JJ was left speechless which almost never happens. He wished he could say something, anything, to make you feel differently, to tell you he was wrong and sorry. But nothing came out. He could barely breathe.

“Hey you crazy kids,” Kie’s voice pierces the air, jokingly and airy. If only she knew that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Missing a key or something?” John B joked alongside her.

“You should have called us sooner!” Pope added.

When the boat came closer to yours, they finally got a look at the two of you. They were shocked to see you silently crying and looking like all the life had been sucked out of you. JJ looked mad but they couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you or them or himself.

The three of them went sick with anxiety, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea. Kie tried to get you make eye contact, but you wouldn’t look at her. You couldn’t look at any of them - afraid you might actually break completely if you did.

“Y/N/N...” Kie said softly.

“You guys okay?” John B asked wearily.

JJ helped Pope tie The Pogue to Heyward’s boat and hopped on right after. Pope traded spots with JJ and came up beside you and stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do either.

You looked up at him before he could come up something probably stupid to ask. “Can you drop me off please?”

Pope glanced back at his friends and nodded. “Uh, sure. John B will probably get you there faster though if you -”

“No, it’s okay,” You said. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle being in an enclosed space with JJ for another minute. You just wanted to go home and forget the past two years ever happened. “I’ll stay here.”

Pope shrugged at his friends when you trudged back into the cabin and curled yourself into the corner. You didn’t know what the next few weeks would be like, but you hoped they go better than the last twenty four hours did.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, It’s Cold...

Warnings: this fic includes dubious/nonconsent, fingering, lying, manipulation, and general Ransom naughtiness

This is explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You go to meet your online admirer but not all is as it seems.

Note: Our Chris-mas fic is here! I tried to keep the holiday details as vague as possible and hope you all enjoy what I came up with. As a reminder, y’all chose Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + Silverfox (= yes please)

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

Your nerves wouldn't stop. It was the tap of your fingers, the urge to chew your thumb, and the way you shifted in your seat just when you got settled. The flight was long enough to calm down and definitely not long enough to prepare yourself. 

You scrolled through your phone, offline for the journey. You swiped through the photos saved in your gallery. Hugh had paid for the ticket. A gift for the holidays he said; his gift, he added, was you. It was cheesy but it made you smile. He always had a way of surprising you. One moment, he was stern and demanding, the next he was flirty and fun, and sometimes, he could be sappy. He was different than any man you’d met; well you hadn’t exactly met yet.

It had started on your Insta. You liked to post pictures of pretty things; flowers, birds, critters, and the odd monument. Sometimes, even, yourself. He messaged you about some photo of a vintage book. It was random and awkward. You weren’t quite sure how you managed to bring the quality to text but you did always find a way.

But it continued and you got to know him. He knew a lot about books; he said he worked in publishing. As a photography student, you weren’t as impressive. You assumed he was older; a few years, he said. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He also suggested you keep some prints; it could make for a good coffee table book. You liked hat he humoured you but you were like any other arts major; you were waiting for your green apron.

As they announced the landing over the speaker, you buckled in. You played with the locked buckle. You had lied to your mother. You told her you were staying on campus for the winter break. What would do if she knew if you were meeting a stranger? Huh, you were meeting a stranger and you had kept it all a secret. Your romcom had just become a horror in your mind.

Well, you had the app on the phone. The one that would send your location if you didn’t log in within the next eight hours. But it could be too late by then. Shit, this was stupid. So stupid. You could hide and tell him you missed your flight. Well, fuck, you’d texted him just before boarding.

As the plane descended you went through every worst case scenario; catfish, liar, murderer… Hugh was hot as fuck and you had to admit, a rich guy with eyes like his, was way out of your league. You bit your lip as you looked at the pic of him at the beach; was it the abs that made you so dumb or the smirk?

The large wheels rolled over the tarmac as the pilot steered past the other planes and into position. You waited as disembarkment began and the attendants reminded passengers to remain seated until told otherwise. You felt the wine in your stomach swish. Hugh had paid for first class; you had enjoyed the complimentary drinks a little too much. The first had been for courage, the second for foolishness.

Finally, it was time to get up. Time to face your naivety. Why did these things seem like a good idea until the last minute? Rather, why did you think they were? This was like that blind date in your freshman year that turned out to be a prank by your roommates. Sophomore year saw you relocated.

What if the same was going through Hugh’s head? What if he was disappointed? It was easy to seem cooler than you were behind a screen. It wasn’t exactly like you broadcasted the fact that you spent all your time in the library or the fact that your study group was the majority of your socialization. Well, maybe you’d both be let down and you could laugh about it together.

You grabbed your carry-on and followed the rest of the passengers down the ramp and into the tunnel. You felt like you were in a movie or a dream. It was surreal. Had you really flown all this way to meet this online pal? 

As you reached the escalators, you turned your phone off of airplane mode. There was a message waiting for you. ‘At the gate.’ It was all too real as you sent back an emoji and neared the belt to grab your bag. You extended the arm and rolled it behind you as you headed for the last barrier. You were waved through customs and met another set of escalators. You bounced your leg as you descended.

You got to the bottom and walked around as you searched those waiting around the gate. Blonde hair, you couldn’t miss it. Blue eyes, tall, broad shoulders… he was the type to stand out in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you felt a large hand on your back and another on the handle of your bag. “Right here.”

The deep voice was the same from your phone calls. You smiled and looked over as he took your bag entirely and wrapped his arm around you.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” You turned to him and his hand rested on your hip as he faced you.

The air went out of you and your lips parted. You blinked and sputtered. “H- Hi.” 

“You okay? How was the flight?” He asked.

You were in shock. Your entire body jittered and your breath was trapped in your chest. It was Hugh but he was about twenty years older than his photos. Most of his hair was silver, with only a few strands of blonde, and though he hadn’t aged poorly, the difference was stark. Handsome as he still was, he had lied.

“It was… fine.” You forced out. “I…” You shook your head and pouted as your thoughts raced, “Hugh, you’re… older than I expected.”

“Call me Ransom. Everybody does.” He leaned it, “Why don’t we talk about this in the car?”

You looked around. You couldn’t really just turn around and go home, could you? You lowered your chin and sucked in your lip as you thought. What else had he lied about?

“Sure,” you said thinly. “I…”

“Babe, it’s me,” he coaxed, “I’m exactly who I said I was. And you, you’re even more gorgeous in person.”

You glanced at him and nodded. You hooked your shoulder bag over your arm and he grabbed your hand as he pulled you with him. The wheels of your suitcase rolled loudly behind him as the buzz of the crowd drowned out your panicked mind. You let him guide you, in disbelief. You didn’t know what else to do.

You were outside as the haze cleared. You approached a car, sleek and sporty, though you were never good with types. Hugh, or Ransom, opened the trunk and dropped your bag inside. He went to the driver’s side and opened the door as you stared across at him. You mirrored him and lowered yourself into the passenger’s seat. The doors closed almost in unison and you stared through the windshield at the unfamiliar parking lot.

He cleared his throat and turned the engine. You snapped your belt into place as he shifted into gear. You flinched and crossed your arms. You peeked at him in the rearview and his hand crawled onto your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he smirked. You were paralysed as he steered with one hand and his fingers tapped against your jeans.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he said, “Or… happy holidays. Whatever’s politically correct.”

He laughed and you only managed to choke on your spit. You felt like you should be mad but did you have any right to be? He hadn’t exactly catfished you. Not completely. And he had paid for your ticket and from what you could tell, he was just as rich as he claimed. Yet, that wasn’t exactly why you’d come. Sure, it was all just in good fun, you didn’t expect a whirlwind romance, but it was still jarring.

“Why don’t you just relax?” he purred, “I know it wasn’t too long a flight but flying always takes it outta me. And you’ll need your energy. I have lots of surprises in store for you.”

You nodded and leaned against the door. You hugged yourself and lifted your leg over the other and Ransom’s hand slipped away. He seemed unbothered as he sat back in his seat and turned his attention to the road.

The radio flicked on and filled the tense silence. You clung to the unknown lyrics to keep from drowning in fear.

🎁

Despite your doubts, you couldn’t help but be astounded by Ransom’s house. Almost four years in a dormitory and the Holiday Inn was like a palace to you, but his place was even more than that. A modern façade with a blanket of store across the sprawling yards which seemed to have been perfectly laid to match the straight lines of the structure. 

You stayed in the car as Ransom climbed out and took your bag from the trunk. You jumped in your seat as he tapped on the window with his knuckle. You looked over at him and undid your belt. You got out, your bag dangling from your wrist, and he touched the small of your back again as he led you forward.

“We’ll have dinner and then you can open your gifts,” he said, “That’s when the fun will start.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed as he unlocked the door with a code and ushered you in.

You watched him hang his jacket and reluctantly unzipped your own. You put your bag down but kept a hold of your phone.

“You’re nervous,” he intoned.

“Why did you send me those pics and not something more recent? You lied.” You said.

His mouth slanted and he raised his brows. “They were me. Not much of a lie.”

“Enough of one, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “I think you at least owe me a little leeway. Considering.”

“Considering what? You offered to pay. Don’t hold that over me.”

“I’m not but… you’re young, you’re impulsive. I mean, you came all the way here and now what? You’re going to tuck tail and run home? Spend the last of that bursary money so you can hide?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you huffed as you stepped out of your boots.

“I’m not.” He said firmly. “I’m giving you advice and it’s hard to see when you’re young but we both know you’re smarter than your age. We both know what this is and me being older isn’t going to affect that.” His eyes roved over you, “Is it?”

You lowered your lashes and thought. You wetted your lips and looked down at your phone. You unlocked it and opened the app. You keyed in your password and turned off the alert. You’d come this far and you were fairly certain he wouldn’t murder you. Besides, your mother would kill you once she found out you’d come all this way.

“It’s just gonna take me a bit to get used to it,” you tucked your phone away, “But promise me, that’s it. The only lie.”

“Promise,” he said gently, “Now, dinner should be here soon so why don’t you get changed.”

“Changed?” You snorted, “What--”

“Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall, there’s a red box on the bed. It should fit. If it doesn’t, I’m sure it’ll still look great on you.”

You smiled as your cheeks burned. He was older but he still had charm and had aged into his looks and not out of them. 

“Alright,” you said, “I… what’s for dinner?”

“Another surprise,” he replied as he neared and leaned in, “I’m more excited about dessert.” His breath tickled your cheek, his lips too, and you shivered. “Now go, we’ve both waited long enough for this.”

You drew away and turned to head up the stairs. He tapped your ass and you squeaked. You looked back over his shoulder and he winked. “Can’t help myself,” he raised his hands, “But I’ll try.”

You continued up the stairs and tried not to gape at what had to be expensive art. The furniture was no less extravagant and as you entered the room at the end of the hall, you closed the door and pulled out your phone. You typed in Ransom instead of Hugh Drysdale and pages of results popped up. Editor, Publisher, and Owner of Blood Like Wine Publishing. Jesus Christ, were you really that daft?

Well, he was famous enough to reassure you he wasn’t going to kill you. You tossed your phone on the bed beside the box and carefully untied the black ribbon around it. You shimmied the lid off and revealed the red velvet. You lifted it up, a short little piece trimmed with white fur. It was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen but scandalous nevertheless.

You stripped as your nerves only got worse. You slipped into the dress, it was tight around your chest and the short skirt had a slit along the thigh. You wanted to laugh at yourself. There was a pair of heels at the foot of the bed and you sat to slip on the stilettos. You stood and wobbled. You felt so dumb but a glance in the mirrored door of the closet gave you pause. Not bad.

You slowly made your way down the stairs. You held tight to the railing and as you came to the bottom, you looked around at the airy halls. You wandered into the next room and back to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as Ransom looked up from the counter. He carefully plated the food from the containers surrounded by paper bags. Expensive, boujie take out.

“The other way,” he smiled, “Past the stairs. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Oh, okay,” you spun and caught yourself on the wall. 

You found your way to the room across the hall. There was an artificial fireplace in the wall burning and a low table with two cushions planted deliberately on the floor. There was a bucket with ice and champagne in it and two glasses waiting. You crossed to it and touched the petals of the stemmed roses in the tall crystal vase.

You turned as you heard footsteps. Ransom entered with two plates. He passed you and set them down on the low table. He spun back to you and took in every inch of you. “Wow, you look… great.”

“Thank you,” you shied away and he caught your hands. He pulled you close as the candlelight gleamed along his silver hair.

“Come here,” his hand grazed your arm and he caught your chin, “Amazing.”

He brushed his lips against yours and pressed them more firmly. You let him as you heart hammered and he pulled away as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Let’s eat,” he breathed. “Before it gets cold.”

You followed him to the table and sat on the cushion. It was difficult as your skirt rode up and you bent your legs beside you awkwardly as Ransom popped the cork. He poured the wine and you sipped at the foam. You could still feel the glow of the grigio you’d downed on the plane.

“So, did you bring your camera? Tomorrow we might go out and you can get some photos. It’s beautiful in the winter. Cold but makes warming up all the better.”

“Yeah…” You took a bite of the salad. “So, why didn’t you tell me who you were? If your age doesn’t matter, then--”

“You didn’t ask me for money. Not even when I mentioned it. Most women, I tell them who I am, they google me, and they do a poor job of tiptoeing around my checkbook.” He shrugged. “And I like you. I wanted to get to know you without everything else.”

“Get to know me?” You scoffed. “That’s what you call it?”

“My intentions were innocent. At first. I thought your pictures might make a good book and then I found one of you. Business isn’t everything.”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes, “It’s not?”

His hand snaked over to your thigh and he squeezed. He played with the fur along your skirt.

“I have enough money.” He said, “What I want isn’t so simple.”

🎁

You finished dinner and washed it down with the champagne as Ransom cleared the plates. As came back, you sat on your knees and watched him cross the room. There was a table stacked with presents in the corner. You only just noticed it as he looked it over and picked out one wrapped in gold paper.

He neared and held it out to you. You took it and ran your finger over the edge. “Your gift is in my bag,” you tried to stand and he waved you off.

“Later,” he said, “Open it.”

You slid your finger under a fold and tore. You slowly unwrapped the box; black and shiny. You crumpled the paper and dropped it on the table. You wiggled the lid off a revealed a pair of black furry cuffs. You giggled.

“Thanks,” you looked up at him.

“Stand up,” he said.

“W-Why?” You tilted your head.

“You gotta try them on,” he grinned, “Come on. Just a little bit of fun.”

“I don’t know, I never--”

“I know you didn’t come here just for steak so come on, get up.” He demanded, “And turn around.”

You bit down as you stared up at him. You wanted to laugh but the lines in his forehead warned you he was serious. He bent and took the cuffs from you and set the box aside. You stood, numb and shaky. You didn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to--

He spun you around and swept your arms behind you. You tried to pull away as he caught your left wrist in a cuff and quickly hooked the other. They closed tight around your wrists and he tugged on the link as if to test them.

You stared at the artificial flames licking at the glass. He cupped your ass and dragged his hands around to grip your hips.

“They look nice,” he purred, “Oh, baby.”

He bent and nuzzled your neck as he brought his arms around you and kneaded your tits. He pushed them up as he nibbled at your skin.

“These… are perfect,” he kissed you and teased your flesh with his teeth. “Fuck.”

He pulled down the top of your dress and bared your chest. You wriggled and he hugged your waist he kept you close.

“What are you doing, baby? Where are you going to go?” He tweaked your nipple, “Dressed like a little slut.”

“Hey,” you gasped and he retracted his hand to smack your ass.

He hushed you as his fingers crept down your thigh and he rolled up your skirt an inch at a time. “What are these?” He snapped your panties, “You don’t need those.” He pulled them below your ass and they fell to your ankles. “Let me show you what an old man does better than any kid.”

He reached around you and tickled your pelvis. He raised his head and inhaled the scent of your scalp as his hot breath glossed over your head.

“Don’t be shy now… or would you feel better with a camera?” He taunted. “Hmmm?”

“Hu--Ransom,” you uttered.

“Come on,” he forced his hand between your legs and flicked between your folds. “What did you think this was? How long did you think I’d wait?”

“No, but--” You gasped as he toyed with your clit, “Ransom.”

“Say it again,” he swirled his fingers. 

You gulped and moaned as he rubbed harder. Your legs quaked around his hand as he slid his fingers further back. You felt your arousal slicken as he spread it over your cunt and poked around your entrance. He slid a finger inside of you as he wiggled his crotch against your hands.

“Is this what you came for? Or did you want all of me?” He pushed another finger in. “You want me inside you, baby? Stretching you?”

You groaned as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit. He rocked his hand and cried out. Your legs cramped as your feet curled in the high stilettos.

“It doesn’t really matter what you came for,” he pushed on your shoulder until you bent forward. He caught the middle of the cuffs and held you like that. “I’m gonna get what I want.”

You closed your eyes and whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. You quivered and he spanked you before he withdrew his hand entirely. You felt him fumbling behind you as you shook your head. As you had been since you met him, you were off-balance. You couldn’t decide if what he wanted was what you wanted too.

You felt a prod along your ass. He brushed his tip down your cheek and poked between your legs. He wetted himself on your folds and pushed along your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, grunting as he sank past his tip. Deeper and deeper until you threw your head up and moaned. He filled you completely; painfully and delightfully.

“Yeah, you want me.” He hissed as he thrust and jerked your body. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

You hummed as he moved against you, your shoulders straining as he tugged on the cuffs.

“Say it. Say you want to be mine.”

“Ah,” you moaned, “I want-- to-- I-- I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, baby,” he snarled, “All mine. Aren’t you?”

“Y-y-yes,” your eyes rolled back as he sped up.

He rammed into you so hard your legs buckled. He growled and followed you down. He bent you over the table as swept the bucket and vase out of the way. He got to his knees as he pinned you over the top and crushed your hips against the edge. Your cheek was hot against the cool table as he jolted you.

“Mine,” he grunted, “Baby, all mine…”

He rutted into you as his voice mingled with yours. You whimpered as your legs tingled and your core bloomed. You let out a feral whine as you came, convulsing beneath him as he gripped the table above your shoulder. 

“You want me.” He rasped, “You want me to cum in you.”

“I-I-I…” You twisted your hands as you struggled to think; struggled to do more than murmur wildly.

“Fuck.” He swore and you felt him burst. 

He slowed as he slapped the table and when he stilled, he held himself over you and his breath sent a shudder through you. He sat back on his knees and slid out of you. His cum spilled down your thigh and you slumped down against him. He pinched the velvet bunched around our waist.

“You got more gifts to open, baby,” he slapped your ass as he stood, “You think you can keep up with an old man like me?”

[serpenteve]

I'm having the horrible realization that Aleksander never actually did any serious wooing of Alina in the books. It's all just Alina her self being horny attracted to him. But this is supposedly???? His grand scheme???? Of manipulation???? Implications! It seems like the girls in these books wasn't the only one slut shamed. I'm- ☠

Leigh wrote a man sexy and captivating and said "it's his fault, actually, that Alina got a crush on him. He shouldn't of.... uh.." Flips through papers. "Ah, had such pretty eyes."

Okay! 👀Yes, we are finally doing this!

I'm flipping through my copy of Shadow & Bone and noting down all the interactions between the Darkling and Alina which I've put in chronological order beneath the cut.

First of all, the Darkling and Alina are only alone together in about a handful of scenes. Most of the time, the are surrounded by other Grisha or Baghra or are in a public place. A lot of the Darkling's actions and words are clouded by Alina's own insecurities. She constantly voices how she feels like she's not good enough, not pretty enough, not strong enough and he takes it in stride and gently encourages and placates her. There are a few lies he does tell her (that the Black Heretic was his ancestor, that he wants to destroy the Fold, and he doesn't know what Baghra's power is, etc) but if we extrapolate the trajectory of her ill-fated romance arc, I think even book!Darkling would have told Alina about his real plans if she seemed like she'd accept them.

A lot of speculation has been made about the Darkling's seduction of Alina and honestly???? Aleksander literally just exists and Alina is thirsting for him because she's desperately looking for validation and re-assurance. I initially head-canoned his first kiss by the lake as being pure calculation and the kiss at the Winter Fete being 100% accidental (because Dark Lord Sasha played himself lmao) but on this re-read, I don't even know anymore. He already came close to almost kissing her after they have a tender moment, catches himself and then immediately leaves before he can catch feelings. Then when they share another tender moment at the lake, he kisses her and then is surprised by it and before he can really process it, Ivan comes by to cockblock.

Like, even Leigh (as much as she has shit on this ship) said at one point that the Darkling has strong feelings for Alina, even if he may not necessarily quantify them as love. So looking back, I don't read anything the Darkling did as manipulative seduction. He obviously lied about some stuff and wasn't transparent about his real plans for the Fold, but as a military commander who sees Alina as an opportunity for a coup, it makes sense that he'd play that a little close to the chest---especially when Alina has proved to be wary of his powers and has a very black-and-white sense of morality. If anything, this is less "the Darkling seduced Alina to manipulate her into being used!!11" and more "local dark lord tried to encourage his protege and accidentally caught feelings and it was a mASSIVE FUCKING INCONVENIENCE TO HIS EVIL PLANS"

But you know who does slut-shame Alina a lot? Baghra. Seriously, Baghra makes Alina feel like shit for her crush on the Darkling numerous times. She has all these lines:

"You want to be [his pet]...Don’t bother lying to me. You’re like all the rest. I saw the way you looked at him."

"Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?"

"Foolish girl." (After Alina shamefully admits the Darkling might come to her that night)

At one point Baghra creeps on Alina and the Darkling's interactions and even though literally nothing happens between them and when the Darkling leaves, Alina catches Baghra giving her a snooty look. ("For no reason at all, I blushed")

She is determined to shame Alina for her feelings and make her feel like a lovesick idiot for daring to crush on him and this is in addition to all the slut-shaming Mal does. The narrative revealing the Darkling is the bad guy all along while leaving Alina no compelling arc to discover this on her own feels very much like Leigh hitting us all with Baghra's stick, like "Foolish girls! You thought he cared about Alina just because he has a sexy jawline??? HAHA HE LIED YOU SLUTS"

Scenes with Alina and the Darkling in Book 1

Their first scene together is in the Grisha tent. Based on Alina's description of him, she already thinks he's hot as barely any other character in this godforsaken series gets so many descriptions of their grey/smoke/slate/quartz eyes as Aleksander does 😏

The next time they're together he saves her life. Alina is traumatized from seeing a man sliced in half and the Darkling instructs her to keep her eyes on him instead. She is disturbed that he killed the person about to murder her and this aversion seems incredibly contrived and arbitrary on behalf of the author. It's almost like she wants Alina to be vindicated and shamed for not trusting her initial bigotry against him or something 🤔The Darkling admits even he can make mistakes and then he touches the back of Alina's neck (with some secret Heartrender/Healer abilities?) and she falls asleep riding on his horse.

They spend the next few days traveling. Alina notes that the Darkling hasn't spoken to her (probably because he's focused on getting her to the Little Palace without any more assassination attempts) but Alina is a paranoid she's offended him somehow. Again, this is just Alina's insecurity painting a narrative that simply doesn't exist based on what actually happened so far.

They exchange a few words by the stream and Alina fishes for pity points by saying she's ugly and can't possibly be Grisha. Aleksander appears 100% done with her stupidity and says she doesn't understand but he's not in the mood to explain at the moment and walks off ☠️

Alina joins the Darkling and his men for a meal. She notes that the grouse they've killed is meager shared meal but that the Darkling doesn't want to put his men in danger by sending them out to hunt in the forest at night 😌He also sits on the floor to eat like they do and he doesn't take more than the regular portion than they do 😌. Sorry, how is this man the most ~evil~ wizard on the planet? He is obviously a good and fair commander and beloved by the Grisha.

Alina has been checking Aleksander out the entire time so when he catches her, he walks over to talk. He fishes around for information on what Alina has heard about him. He seems sad when Alina mentions she has heard that Darklings are born without souls, though not surprised. He then spins the story about the Black Heretic being his ancestor and how the Fold was a mistake and how every Darkling since then has tried to undo it and how Alina is "the first glimmer of hope" he's had in a long time.

Because Alina is still on that "Grisha are unnatural monsters" agenda, she asks him about the Cut and he explains it but she's still distrubed. He asks her if it would have been better if he used a sword and she replies: "I don't know". The Darkling gets offended and leaves. Alina tries to convince herself she can't have possibly hurt his feelings (because Darklings don't have souls or feelings?) and then feels paranoid that she's failed some secret test. Yeah, the test you failed is called "empathy", Alina 🙄

Two days later, they arrive at Os Alta. Aleksander roasts the Grand Palace as the ugliest effing building he's ever seen. He leaves immediately after dumping Alina at the Little Palace and Alina actually seethes that he isn't paying more attention to her? I understand that it's overwhelming to go to a brand new place, but Alina expecting him to constantly hold her hand and explain everything to her after she basically insulted him is a bit strange.

The next time Alina sees the Darkling, they are scheduled to appear before the King and Queen. The demonstration is a surprise for Alina and Aleksander's lack of transparency of what's expected of her means she's forced to rely on him and trust his instincts. This might be his underhanded way of getting Alina to see that she can trust him; that he will not make her look like a failure or humiliate her; that they are in this together and it will only work if she trusts him.

After the demonstration, Genya and the Darkling trash the monarchy for a bit (Alina is horrified) and then the Darkling orders Genya to get a black kefta for Alina, to which Alina infamously wants a blue one. The Darkling doesn't really put up much of a fight, merely wanting to know why. Alina decides he doesn't approve of her choosing blue and wonders to Genya if he's angry.

After Alina's first day, the Darkling calls her to his quarters to ask her how her day was. Alina is surprised that this is all he wanted to know because she was paranoid he was going to torture her??? She says: "Why shouldn't I be afraid of you?...You can cut people in half. I think it's fair to be a little intimidated." If the Darkling is offended or angry about this, he doesn't show it and merely indulges her. He notes that she has a habit of running her hand across a scar on her palm and asks her about it, tracing the scar himself. Alina gets distracted by his touch but manages to answer his questions: she got the scar at Keramzin, Mal is also an orphan, he is good at tracking. He shows her a secret passage back to her rooms to avoid the main hall.

Alina starts her training and at one point laments that the Darkling is rarely at the Little Palace and when he is, he never speaks to her or barely looks her way and she is convinced it's because she's a failure and can't summon light on her own. It could also be because, you know, he's the commander of the Second Army and is usually seen in talks with other military advisors and the fact that Alina kinda lowkey insulted him with her wariness about his powers???

The next time they are together, Alina interrupts him and Baghra arguing. He politely asks her how she is. Baghra antagonizes her. The Darkling defends her. They talk about amplifiers and because Baghra is being a snarky little shit about it, they take their conversation outside.

Aleksander complains about how annoying his mom is and then asks Alina what stories she's heard about Morozova's herd. At one point he laughs for the first time and Alina practically creams her pants at the sound. Alina expresses her concerns that she can't summon any light and the Darkling says he's not worried and it will happen when it happens and worse case scenario, it will happen once she has the stag. They have a quiet intimate moment, gazing softly into each other's eyes and then suddenly Aleksander realizes he's catching feelings and steps back suddenly like "GoodLuckWithYourLessonsOKayBYE". Baghra watches this interaction from her hut and gives Alina a slut-shaming look.

Alina eventually does learn to summon light on her own. Baghra gives her grief about how it's not enough. The Darkling shows up during one of these lessons and says as much. Alina says she's useless. The Darkling corrects her (“I don't think you're useless, Alina....No Grisha is powerful enough to face the Fold. Not even me”) and then he apologizes for letting her down ("I've asked you to trust me and I haven't delivered"). He wonders if his mother is right and he's crazy to hunt the stag. They have a nice bonding moment, Aleksander lies about Baghra's power, and then he asks if Alina would think him crazy for still wanting to find the stag. She asks why he cares what she thinks, he seems genuinely surprised himself that he cares. Then he kisses her. He seems not to have meant to kiss her because then Ivan shows up for his 5 o'clock shift of cockblocking and the Darkling immediately pretends like nothing happened and walks away with him. Like dude is acting like a fucking dork who's allergic to feelings at this point. I should note here that Alina practically has an orgasm from how giddy she is about this moment. She can barely think of anything else.

The next time they're together, it's at the Winter Fete. They do their demonstration and Alina accidentally reveals her insecurities about how he had kissed her and then disappeared. He responds, "Did you really think I was done with you?" and then they enjoy some steamy kisses and thigh grabbing in an empty room before a random round of Grisha show up for their 6 o'clock shift of cockblocking. Aleksander is annoyed at his own attraction to Alina. He asks if he can come to her that night but Alina doesn't get a chance to respond.

and then the Darklina romance arc falls off a giant cliff and dies a terrible death 😭😭😭