#and stories of seeing him and meeting him and what his music has meant to them and all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomdragonfires · 5 months ago

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part One

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of substances and alcohol.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 10k

A/N | This is a repurposed version of an old story of mine. I sort of lost all the connection I felt to the plot somewhere along the way but now I've written some 32k words. Point is, I will complete it this time. Please be kind, this is NOT beta read and I haven't posted a fic in a long time - I'm a little rusty. Thank you!

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!

She’s swaying, with no sense of what’s happening around her.

One too many drinks. She’s never been much fun at parties, preferring to stay away from the heart of it all and slinking to the sides, sticking her back to the wall. But tonight, she drinks and she dances and she moves like she’s made of air, like it’s something she’s done for years. When she stops, her head spins for a moment before she gathers herself. As her vision clears, her eyes settle on a pair of mismatched eyes that see her.

He doesn’t look. He sees.

The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

She’s not quite sure when the feelings started. She supposes that whenever she’s with him, the air is charged with something electric, better, ready to bubble up to the surface and spill over. It’s always been there. He’s always been there. It makes sense.

She’s not quite sure when she fell in love with him. But if anyone asks, then she’d say the story goes something like this.

She and Daeron have been joined at the hip ever since she moved to the private media-haven city of King’s Landing, where the who’s who of Westeros came to live quiet, uninterrupted lives. The Targaryens were gracious enough to reward her father’s loyalty with a seat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated, and Jasper Wylde made the move to be closer to the headquarters with great haste. Viserys Targaryen appreciated his promptness and made sure to have his wife help the Wyldes feel at home. Next thing she knows, she’s seamlessly made herself at home with the Targaryen-Hightower kids.

Around the same time, their youngest son with a boyish charm steals her heart - even before she was old enough to understand what it meant to fall in love.

They’re kids when Aegon lets her stand on his toes as he guides her to take his lead. They dance clumsily, in that wholesome way that older brothers do with their sisters - he is the closest thing she has to a brother, she supposes. There is no shortage of Wylde siblings, oh no. Just that they’re all old enough to have fled the nest, while she, at the tender age of six, still stays with her father - close enough to Maegor’s Holdfast, where her friend and his family live.

Helaena sips on her juice with one hand as she watches the centipede move slowly on the back of her left hand. It is clear to anyone who sees that neither Aemond nor Daeron - sitting on either side of her - share her interest. The latter is comparatively more horrid at hiding his discomfort than the former, who even at that age, would bite his own tongue before he made Helaena feel bad.

She laughs as Aegon jokes before spinning her around, much like the princesses in her stories. He’s always been this way, jokes and all light-hearted happiness. She feels like she’s light and airy and flying as he moves her, and soon enough, despite a lack of breath, she wants Daeron to dance with her.

He’d be the prince in her stories, always. Whenever she reads those head-spinning tales of love, it is always Daeron’s face that she sees. Nobody is more bashful or shy than a little girl who gets to dance with the boy she likes.

Daeron seems unaware of the red blooming on her cheeks, laughing as both pudgy little children made their way through the hall as they danced. The sunlight falls through the windows in thin streaks and Daeron’s hair catches the light, making his hair look like it was made of molten silver. His eyes brighten up and she cannot help but smile.

They keep going round and round until she tires herself out and lands on her bum, laughing without a care in the world as Daeron plops himself next to her.

Neither of them notice Aemond watching them from afar.

They're eight years old when Lucerys Velaryon harshly tugs at her pigtails as she sits under the old oak tree on the school grounds, engrossed in her book. The playful mischief on his face isn't new, but today it stings more than usual. Before she can react, Daeron charges at him, fists flying as he ignores the football game he was a part of.

The scuffle draws the attention of everyone nearby, and she watches, heart pounding, as she begs them to stop. Normally, Luke's antics wouldn't escalate into a full-blown fight, but things have changed since that summer. The incident with Aemond, where Luke's careless shove left him with a scarred face and a damaged eye, has created an invisible line between the Targaryen-Hightower kids and their nephews.

Mr. Strong, one of their teachers, quickly intervenes, breaking up the fight. As Daeron lets go of Lucerys, his eyes find hers. "Of course, the Strong boys' grandfather would help them out," he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. It's in that moment, seeing the anger in his usually cheerful eyes, that she realizes - anger is an emotion that is so out of place on him.

Later that day, she sneaks into the infirmary with a handful of colorful band-aids, her small act of kindness in response to the cut above Daeron's brow. While his mother and sister argue in the Principal's office, she offers him the band-aids, her fingers trembling slightly. He grins, selecting the blue one with bright stars on it, and they sit together in silence, waiting for the adults to finish.

Daeron wears the band-aid for weeks, long after the cut has healed and the adhesive has started to wear off. He keeps adjusting it, ensuring it stays in place, as if it were a badge of honor. Every time he sees her, he flashes that full-toothed smile, a silent thank you for her support. It's a small gesture, but to her, it's everything.

She now knows what love is.

They’re thirteen years old when she begins resenting the girls around her - especially the ones who grow into themselves, with perfect tits and fuller bodies. Not because she’s yet to come into it herself, no.

Because Daeron looks at them longer than he ever did before.

She watches him watch them, her heart sinking each time his gaze lingers on another girl. Of all the girls, she hates Floris fucking Baratheon the most.

Floris - a senior of theirs by a year - with her perfect hair and confident walk, her infectious laugh and me-me-me personality. Daeron’s eyes follow Floris as she moves through the hallways, and it makes her blood boil. Sometimes, in the privacy of her room, she grumbles about how she hopes Floris - a perfectly nice girl - would get run over by a truck or trip and fall to her death.

She doesn’t mean it, not really.

She tries to distract herself, throwing herself into her studies and extracurricular activities. She spends more time with Helaena, who is wonderfully oblivious to the typical teenage drama, and finds solace in their quiet moments together. But every time she sees Daeron looking at Floris, the pang of jealousy returns, sharper than before.

Months pass, and she begins to notice changes in herself. Her body starts to develop, her hips widening and her chest filling out. She thought that maybe, just maybe, Daeron would start to look at her the way he looks at the other girls. But he doesn’t. His gaze doesn’t linger on her; he doesn’t see her the way he sees them.

It’s the first sign, the first painful realization, that perhaps Daeron’s feelings don’t match her own. She tries to push the thought away, but it’s persistent, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

She remembers one day in particular. It’s gym class, and she’s standing with a group of girls, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Floris is there, laughing and joking. Daeron is among them, his eyes bright as he listens to her, hanging onto her every word.

She feels a sharp pang of jealousy and looks down at herself, wondering why she isn’t enough.

As the weeks go by, her frustration grows. She tries to get Daeron’s attention, hoping he’ll notice the changes in her. She wears new clothes, styles her hair differently, even tries to engage in conversations that might interest him. But nothing works. He’s friendly and kind - he always is - but he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at Floris.

One afternoon, she’s walking home with Daeron. The sun is setting, casting a glow over the neighborhood. They talk about school, about their plans for the weekend. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s a distance she can’t bridge. She wants to tell him how she feels, how much it hurts to see him look at other girls, but the words stick in her throat.

Instead, she says, “Do you think people change?”

Daeron glances at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think so. Why?”

She shrugs, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just wondering. Sometimes I feel like I’m changing, but nobody notices.”

He stops walking and turns to face her. “I notice.”

Her heart leaps at his words, but it quickly sinks again as she realizes he means it in the same friendly, brotherly way he always has. She forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, Daeron.”

They continue walking, but the conversation feels hollow. She knows now, with a painful clarity, that no matter how much she changes, she’ll never be the one Daeron looks at with longing. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but she forces herself to accept it.

Back home, she retreats to her room, the place where she can let her guard down. She sits on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and allows herself to cry. The tears come slowly at first, then faster, a torrent of frustration and heartbreak. She wishes things were different, wishes she could make him see her the way she sees him.

As she grows older and explores her own body, the journey of self-discovery becomes a personal and intimate experience. In the quiet of her room, late at night, she begins to understand her own desires. In these private moments, her imagination often drifts to Daeron. Just as his face was the one she envisioned when she read about princes and kings, it is his face that fills her thoughts now. His warm smile, his soft eyes, and the way he laughs—all these details become a vivid part of her fantasies.

As her fingers move gently over her body, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers, she imagines his touch, his presence, and the way he might hold her. The intensity builds, her breaths becoming shallow and rapid.

The name she whispers into the silence is his.

She loves him. She hates him.

She never wants to see him again.

They’re seventeen when prom comes about.

She’s dreamt about this for years - of her in her pretty blue dress on Daeron’s arm, making their way into the room as all her classmates looked.

Only that’s not how it happens.

Floris and Daeron have been going out for years now, and it comes as no surprise that he asks her to be his date. They’re sitting at the dining table at his house as he recounts how romantic the moment was, and how happily she’d said yes. He has all but stomped over her heart by now.

It takes everything in her to not stab him with her fork. Instead, she nibbles on the chicken nuggets that Criston Cole had made for them to snack on - that’s a new development, really. Soon after the divorce, Daeron’s mum began dating the bodyguard; though he suspects they’ve been together for longer.

But Alicent Hightower smiles brighter and shines more than she ever did in Viserys Targaryen’s presence, so her children don’t find it in themselves to be angry. If anything, they’re very supportive and leave them to be.

When he turns to her with that familiar, probing smile that she loves and asks if she will be going, she murmurs Jason Lannister’s name with a casual disinterest she doesn’t fully feel. Daeron’s smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pokes and prods, clearly trying to coax a blush from her at the mention of the blonde-haired boy.

She wants to love him, but Jason Lannister simply isn’t Daeron Targaryen. No matter how charming or cute this boy - their senior by a year, a classmate of Aemond’s - might be, he can’t compete with the phantom of a dream she’s harbored for years.

She finds it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. The weight of her crushed dreams feels almost unbearable, and the cheerful tone of his voice only worsens the heartache. Unable to endure it any longer, she mutters something about needing to get some fresh air and stands up abruptly. Daeron, oblivious to her distress, casually mentions that he’s planning to meet Floris soon. The words hit her like a cold wave, and she forces a tight-lipped smile before making her way outside.

The air is cool and quiet as she walks along the gravel path, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her mind is a tumult of emotions—sadness, frustration, and a deep-seated ache that she can’t quite put into words. Absently, she kicks at a small stone, sending it skittering across the ground.

The stone makes a sharp, clinking sound as it collides with a metallic object. Startled, she looks up to see the stone has hit Aemond’s motorbike - the pompous prick even gave it a name: Vhagar. The sound of the impact echoes in the stillness, and her heart skips a beat as she sees a shadowy figure emerge from behind the bike.

It’s Aemond; he’s preparing the motorbike to take with him to university at Oldtown - where she and Daeron will soon follow, with their long-term plans to go to college together. His face, illuminated by the faint light, is a mixture of annoyance that turns into something unreadable. She quickly murmurs a shaky “sorry” before the swell of emotions becomes too much. Her eyes well up with tears she’s been desperately trying to hold back.

He’s curious, but he doesn’t ask why she’s crying. He simply watches her walk away.

Hours later, when Floris Baratheon drives to their house in one of her father’s cars, he sees his brother kiss the girl like she’s the very air he needs to breathe.

Now, he knows what’s happened.

Nothing goes to plan.

Far from it, really.

In all her dreams of prom, she always imagined that she’d dance the night away with Daeron, empowered by all the spiked drinks she knows she’ll love to have. They’ll keep spinning as they did when they were kids, until they’d slow down in tiredness and he’d lean in and kiss all her teenage heartbreak away.

Instead, she sits with both her legs on the same side on Vhagar, with Aemond Targaryen.

Wrong, it’s all gone wrong.

Her dress is blue and pretty and all that she hoped it’d be, but by the Gods, she wants nothing but to shred it to pieces and never see it again. The neon lights of the diner sign that he’s parked under buzzes and she hates the sound. She’s got coffee in her hands, and she holds onto the cup tight as she lets the warmth seep through her. She’s put on his jacket, and it smells like cigarettes. He’s got her bracelet in his pocket, allowing for the wounds on her wrist to breathe.

He’s leaning on the motorbike right next to her, and she chances a look at him. She wonders what she’d have done, what would have happened to her, if he hadn’t been around. She thanks the Gods that he was.

He lifts the cigarette onto his lips and she sees his bloodied knuckles. She clocks the blood on his shirt and the red stains on his signet ring, one that his father gave him when he turned eighteen. She can’t bear to look at the red any longer; she can’t look at any of it without hearing the sounds of him punching Jason Lannister to near death.

“You could have killed him,” she says. Her voice is devoid of any emotions. She speaks like she’s simply inquiring about the weather.

“He’d have deserved it.” The smoke billows, fades, goes into the air.

He flexes his free hand over his thighs and she lets out a long sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“Wylde.” The anger at her denial is obvious, but he doesn’t push. His mismatched pair of blue and violet eyes flare like never before, but she knows Aemond. She knows he simply wants her to not lie, even if she’s not ready to say anything. “Where was Daeron? He’s always with you like a lost dog, isn’t he?”

She can’t blame Daeron for choosing to spend the night with his date. She won’t blame Floris for keeping him all to herself - she’d do the same thing if he was hers. She can’t blame them at all, but she can’t bring herself to stop the bitterness from making its way. “Busy shagging his date, I think,” she spits out.

“Hm.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

She hates the idea of having to explain to anyone at all what had happened. How Jason had his hands up the skirts of her dress, how she kept nodding no, how he continued despite her saying no a hundred times over. She remembers how he’d pressed her hands against the wall, her charm bracelet poking and prodding and searing as it pressed into her skin and drew blood. All of a sudden, she can’t breathe.

She grips the cup tighter, causing the coffee to spill into her hands and it stains the sleeves of his pristine leather jacket too and the tears fall and there’s nothing she can do and she’d helpless again and-

“Wylde.”

“Don’t tell.” She all but chokes the words out, and hopes and prays that he’ll listen.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a time, the city moving silently in the twilight as they take it in. Neither of them says a word, and she finishes her coffee in peace. She notices the steel - Valyrian steel, she thinks - bracelet on his right wrist too. When had he begun wearing all this?

“Your mum won’t like it if she finds out you’ve been smoking, you know.”

“What mum doesn’t know…” he says, the sentence left incomplete for her to get that she isn’t to say a word about any of this.

“Okay.”

Many moments of welcome silence pass, and then she hops off the seat of the bike. The message is clear: she’s ready to be taken home.

The engine hums to life beneath her as they merge into the stream of twilight traffic. She wraps her arms around him, feeling the coarse texture of his leather jacket beneath her fingertips. With each breath he takes, his back expands and contracts, a rhythm that grounds her in the present. The bike vibrates gently, its mechanical purr harmonizing with the distant murmur of the city.

The air is thick with the scent of motor oil, mingling with the subtle aroma of leather and something uniquely him. She breathes it in deeply, letting it fill her senses as the city lights stretch out into the dusk. The streets are bathed in the golden glow of street lamps, their light flickering through the trees that line the boulevard.

As they weave through traffic, the sounds of the city become white noise. The hum of engines, the distant chatter of pedestrians, and the occasional blare of a car horn create a backdrop that feels almost surreal. She leans into him, her cheek pressing against his back, feeling the solid reassurance of his presence.

The wind tousles her hair, cool against her skin, as they take a turn onto a quieter street. The city fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic click of the bike’s gears and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. She closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be fully immersed in the sensations—the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them.

They soon stop at her house, and she steps down. He glances back at her, his eyes shadowed with concern. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her face. She sees the struggle in his eyes, the words that he cannot bring himself to say. His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's about to speak but then thinking better of it.

She meets his gaze, her own eyes softening with understanding. Despite the fear still rippling through her, she offers him a small, reassuring smile. “I'm okay,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the city's din. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch.

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes search hers, silently asking if she’s truly alright. She says nothing, simply leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, the gesture full of gratitude and something deeper, something she doesn’t dare name. He won’t mind; it’s just a thank you for being there, she tells herself.

He watches her as she steps back, his gaze following her movements. She pulls his jacket tighter around herself, feeling the comforting weight of it, the lingering scent of him enveloping her. As he revs the engine and rides off into the night, she watches the trail of smoke he leaves behind, her heart full and heavy all at once. The jacket feels like a hug, as though he’s the one holding her, even from afar.

When she goes to bed that night, her dreams are tinged with shades of violet and blue.

Her bracelet, one that he’d gently removed and kept in his trouser pocket doesn’t cross her mind at all. Not once.

She doesn’t see much of Daeron anymore.

She stops visiting Maegor’s Holdfast, though she does show up for Sunday lunch at Alicent Hightower’s insistence. She steps into the house as Criston welcomes her, sunny smiles and easy disposition making her welcome. She momentarily forgets why she’d stopped coming- how Daeron didn’t bother with spending a single moment with her at the prom that he knew she was at, how he’d not bothered to check in afterward. She never even got a chance to tell him herself what Jason had tried to do.

He’s still in the dark about it all, acting like nothing’s gone wrong when she’s slowly removed herself from his orbit. It means Aemond hasn’t told anyone, just as he’d promised.

She looks over Criston Cole’s shoulder and sees Floris Baratheon laughing with Daeron and Alicent, and her scowl deepens immediately.

When the raven haired senior sees her, she comes to her with a kind smile and an outstretched arm that takes her into a hug immediately.

She’s grown weary of strangers touching her since that night, but she holds her own.

The bitterness that engulfs her at Floris Baratheon welcoming her to a house that has essentially been her second home all her life, never quite goes away.

Her feet shuffles and she cancels out all the noise as she absentmindedly makes up bullshit excuses for her absence. She’s seated at the table between Aemond and Helaena, who’d come back home from university to visit for the weekend. The conversation flows smoothly as the juice she has a lot of - the sun is sweltering and she can’t bring herself to eat.

She won’t blame how nauseatingly happy the two of them sitting opposite her are. That has nothing to do with her appetite.

She’s learnt to make her peace with it, how she’d never be the girl that he’d want to be with. She’s content with being his best friend, but lately it seems as though she isn’t even half of that to him. She’s learnt to live her own life without him, but it hurtles her backward and her feet tapping becomes incessant as she watches him break her heart with his next words.

“Floris is going to KLU this summer, I think I’m gonna go too, next year.”

And just like that, their childhood dream of attending college together’s been broken, and it seems as though he doesn’t care one bit.

He looks at her like she’s the only person that exists in his world - she may as well be, at this point - and her anger knows no bounds. She wants to dash out the door and go to her room and take down all her Oldtown University posters and damn it all, damn it all to hell-

Aemond’s hand settles and presses into her thigh, keeping her from tapping her foot any further.

Everyone else at the table seems oblivious to her growing annoyance.

Her eyes meet his and he moves his head, almost as if he is warning her to stay put - but it is calming too, at the same time. She heeds him and somewhere along the way, the hand on her thigh is taken away. She misses the warmth of it, weirdly so.

She leaves with half hearted goodbyes and buries herself in the sheets in her room. An entire tub of icecream is swiftly eaten up as she holds her book in the other hand, willing herself not to cry.

He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve her tears-

The bell rings, and the head housemaid of Rain House swiftly makes it to her room and knocks on the door. “It’s Master Daeron for you, miss,” she says, her voice laced with a slight Essosi accent that she still holds onto after years. Her grip on the book is frightening, her knuckles going white.

She walks down in careful, slow steps - her legs feel like jelly as she makes the descent on the staircase.

She takes a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, as she finally reaches the bottom of the staircase. Daeron stands there, looking unsure and nervous. The sight of him stirs a whirlwind of emotions within her—anger, hurt, betrayal. She steels herself, determined to say everything that’s been building up inside her.

"Why are you here?" she asks, her voice colder than she intends.

"I... I wanted to talk," he says softly, trying to meet her gaze.

"Talk?" she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Now you want to talk? After everything?"

He takes a step forward, but she steps back, putting more distance between them. "I've been busy with—"

"Busy?" she interrupts, her voice rising. "Busy ignoring me? Busy replacing me with Floris? Busy planning a future that doesn't include me?"

"That's not fair," he protests, looking pained. "Floris is my girlfriend, and—"

"And what? That means I don't matter anymore? That our friendship doesn't matter?" Her voice is shaking now, the floodgates of her emotions bursting open. "We had plans, Daeron! We were going to go to Oldtown University together. We talked about it for years. And now you're just throwing it all away for her, a girl you’ve known for what, two minutes?"

"It's not like that," he tries to explain, but she cuts him off again.

"Not like that? You didn't even tell me! I had to hear it at the table, like I'm some stranger! You made me feel like I don't matter, like I'm just... second best."

"You're not second best," he insists, looking desperate.

"Then why do I feel like it?" she yells. "You’ve been treating me like I'm nothing! Do you know what it's like to be ignored by your best friend? To feel like you're losing the one person who meant everything to you?"

"Please, just listen—"

"No, you listen!" she screams, her eyes blazing with fury. "Jason Lannister... he... he fucking tried to rape me at prom." Her voice cracks, the memory of that night overwhelming her. "Aemond found me. Of all people, Aemond saved me. And where were you? With Floris, having the time of your life, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in hell."

She knows it’s wrong to blame him. What happened that night had nothing to do with him, but she can’t help herself. The floodgates are open after years of quiet, and she is on a roll.

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn't let him. "You promised we'd go to college together, you promised we'd always be there for each other. And now you're breaking that promise for her. You're betraying our friendship for someone you've known for a fraction of the time you've known me."

"I didn't know," he whispers, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't know about Jason. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" she echoes, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't undo the pain you've caused. I hate you, Daeron. I hate you for making me feel worthless, for betraying our friendship, for everything." He steps back, stunned by her words, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the weight of her anger and his guilt hanging heavily in the air.

If she says any more, she may tell him she’s been in love with him all this time and embarrass herself further.

"I fucking hate you," she says, her voice icy and final.

He looks ethereal even in his sadness, and she hates herself for thinking about how beautiful he looks even then.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closes it, a quiet apology dying on his lips. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. As the door closes behind him, she collapses on the staircase, tears streaming down her face, the enormity of her outburst sinking in.

The days that follow blur together in a haze of bitterness and exhaustion. She clings to Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon, doing her best to go about her business without causing a stir. She avoids Daeron at all costs. The pitying, sad look he gives her from afar makes her consider forgiving him, but then Floris Baratheon sits right next to him and his attention is stolen. In those moments, she remembers why they fought in the first place.

“I’m sorry about you and Daeron,” Ellyn says one afternoon. “Floris said you had a fight and don’t speak to each other anymore.”

“Floris says, huh?”

“She is my sister, you know.”

“Hm.”

She never lets these conversations go on for too long, cutting them short before the pain seeps through her facade.

In truth, though, she’s tired of holding onto her grudges. She deserves to be a little hateful, but she’s never been the type to be angry for too long. But she’s not a Septa either, not quite as forgiving. This half-in, half-out approach exhausts her more than she wants to admit. Each day feels like a battle, her energy sapped by the effort of maintaining her cold indifference.

Summer break comes soon, and with it, the promise of rest and a new year of school that would follow. She doesn’t call her father - Jasper Wylde is often on trips for work that she never asks about. Summers used to be filled with laughter and adventure when her mother was alive, but there hasn’t been much joy in the house since her passing. So she wallows, feeling the oppressive weight of solitude and grief.

Usually, she’d spend her summers with the Targaryens. Alicent never minded having her around and even loved entertaining her like her own child. The Targaryen household was a second home, a sanctuary filled with warmth and belonging. But she’s got her pride, and she won’t go now. Not after everything that’s happened.

The Targaryens often retreated to their summer house in Oldtown, where the Hightowers lived. The memories of those summer vacations flood her mind, making her want to double down and cry. She recalls the grand manor with its sprawling gardens, the scent of salt in the air from the Sunset Sea, and the endless days of sun-drenched bliss.

They’d spend hours lounging by the pool, with lemonade and cold treats while the children splashed and played. Evenings were filled with elegant dinners under the stars, laughter echoing through the hallways, and the comfort of a family that, despite their flaws, loved deeply and fiercely. She’d felt like she belonged there, like she was part of something bigger than herself.

But now, those memories are tainted by the ache of loss and betrayal. She’s haunted by the image of Daeron and Floris, their laughter and closeness a stark contrast to her own loneliness. The joy she once felt in the Targaryen household now feels like a cruel reminder of what she’s lost.

She tries to distract herself, diving into books and mindless TV shows, but nothing can truly drown out the emptiness inside her. The isolation gnaws at her, a constant, nagging pain that she can’t shake off. She misses the days when she could simply be herself, without the heavy cloak of anger and sorrow weighing her down. She misses the carefree summers, the feeling of being loved and wanted.

Tears often come unbidden, hot and angry, as she lies in bed at night. She curses herself for caring so much, for letting him cut her so deeply. She tells herself she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him or anyone else, but the ache in her chest tells a different story.

He’s just some boy, she tells herself. But she’s also quick to fight her own words: He’s more, more, more.

She wishes she could turn back time, to before everything fell apart. To when Daeron was her best friend, her confidant, her rock. When her mother’s laughter filled the house and summers were something to look forward to. But those days are gone, and she’s left to navigate the wreckage on her own.

Her heart feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved pain. She’s tired of being angry, tired of feeling like she’s fighting a losing battle. But the hurt is too deep, the wounds too fresh. So she puts on a brave face, holds her head high, and tries to move forward, even though every step feels like she’s walking through quicksand.

She sits on her bed, staring blankly at the pages of a book she isn't truly reading. Her mind is far away, lost in a whirlpool of memories and pain. The house is eerily silent, amplifying her loneliness. She feels as if she’s adrift in a vast ocean, with no shore in sight. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, but she ignores it, knowing it's probably another call from her father that she won't answer.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door startles her. She wipes away the tears that have been silently streaming down her face and tries to compose herself.

"Come in," she calls out, her voice weak as she expects the house help to call her for food.

The door opens and Aemond steps in, holding a box. His presence is a mix of comfort and awkwardness, as if he's not sure how to approach her in this state.

"Cole made Tiramisu," Aemond says softly, holding out the box. "Mum asked Daeron to bring it to you or call you over, but he rambled on about how you’re angry at him and won’t speak to him."

Her room is a blend of organized chaos and personal touches. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with novels, textbooks, and sketchbooks. A stack of half-read books sit on her nightstand, and her art supplies are scattered across a small desk in the corner. Posters of Oldtown University adorn the walls. A few framed photos of her and her mother and happier times with the Targaryens are interspersed among her drawings.

Aemond walks slowly, his eyes taking in the details. He runs his fingers lightly over the spines of the books, glancing at the titles. He pauses by her desk, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through a few pages. He sets it down gently and moves to the posters, studying them as if trying to understand what they mean to her.

"Your father called this morning," Aemond continues, his voice gentle. "Your staff picked up and said you’re here, but you refuse to pick up his calls. He practically begged Mum to send someone to check in on you. He’s worried."

She sighs, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. "I don’t want to talk to him. Or anyone, really."

Aemond places the box on her bedside table and sits down next to her, his expression one of genuine concern as the mattress dips. He doesn’t look at her directly at first, his eyes wandering over the room as he gathers his thoughts.

"You don't have to talk if you don’t want to. But you can’t shut everyone out forever."

She looks at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I’m just so tired, Aemond. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of being angry and hurt."

His gaze finally settles on her, and for the first time, he sees her, well and proper. She’s not quite sure how to feel about it all.

He passes the box to her wordlessly, and she picks up the spoon on top of it before holding the box with her other hand.

She looks down at her full hands, not quite being able to summon the courage to look him in the eye. "I just... I don’t know how to move on from this. It’s like everything is falling apart, and I can’t fix it."

“Eat,” he demands. So she does. She smiles at how good it is.

“So Criston’s been cooking a lot, huh? He’s gonna put all the kitchen staff at your house out of business.”

“Yes, from bodyguard to personal chef. Quite the promotion,” he says, but there is a soft smile that follows. “He makes mum happy.”

“Good. She deserves that.”

She extends a full spoon to him, but he declines with a shake of his head. Neither of them say anything, and she continues to eat. The silence is deafening but comfortable by all accounts. The only sounds are the soft clinking of her spoon against the box and the distant hum of life outside her room.

Aemond shifts slightly, making himself comfortable on the edge of her bed. He watches her with a quiet intensity, his presence a steady, grounding force. He’s never been one to fill silence with meaningless words.

His eyes wander around the room again. He notices a framed photo on her nightstand, half-hidden behind a stack of books. It’s a picture of her with Daeron, taken during one of those sun-drenched summer vacations. They’re both smiling, their faces bright with happiness.

She sees his pity, and she chooses to ignore it.

Her expression hardens for a moment, then softens into something more reflective. She sets down the Tiramisu and reaches for the picture, moving across him. She chooses to not focus on how warm his breath is on her as she moves, instead focusing on her fingers tracing the edges of the frame.

"Do you remember this day?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nods. "Two years ago?"

She sighs, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow in her eyes. "I miss it. I miss how simple everything was." I miss when I felt wanted.

“Hm.”

Turning her gaze to Aemond, she finds herself filled with a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you for coming, Aemond," she says softly. "I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to be here with me until you actually did."

He lets out a noiseless, subtle chuckle - as is his habit. She continues, feeling overwhelmed by how thankful she is. "I’ve pushed everyone away. I thought it was easier to deal with everything on my own. But now... I’m just so grateful that you came.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, the weight of her grief and anger easing with each passing moment. She feels a sense of clarity she hasn’t felt in a long time. Her head feels heavy, however - she leans on his shoulder, and he lets her.

Somewhere along the way, their hands entwined had been left to rest on her thigh. She doesn’t give it much thought apart from how warm her hand is in his hold.

Almost an hour later, they stand in the living room as he readies himself to leave. She looks out the window and sees Vhagar parked outside, and she quickly remembers. Darting to her room, she comes back with his jacket from the other night. She wordlessly hands it to him, and he smiles by the corner of his lips as he puts it back on.

“When do you leave for Oldtown?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“So this is goodbye then?”

“Only for a time, I think. Or have you changed your mind about Oldtown now that-”

“Daeron’s ditched me?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing to not extend her invitation for a pity party.

“I haven’t given it much thought lately. I probably should. I just… college was an experience that we were going to take on together, you know? I never thought of what it would be like if I had to do it alone.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll learn. Just… not right now. I’m just going to lick my wounds for a bit.”

He begins scratching at his cuticles and she grabs the hint. “You should get going. Lots of packing to do, I bet?”

“The staff took care of it.”

Of course they did. He’ll never have to lift a finger, silver- haired Targaryen prince that he is.

“Economics, huh? And then an MBA along with an internship at one of Targaryen Consolidated’s major divisions before your father puts you in one of the high chairs?”

He blushes at how predictable his path seems to her.

“If it counts for anything, I feel like you were made for this. Born for this.”

He nods, letting her words of affirmation wash over him as he finally makes a move. “You take care of yourself, yeah?” He murmurs, his lips warm against her brow as she stands, basking in his welcome warmth.

He withdraws too quickly for her liking.

Once again, she watches him ride the motorbike away from her as she stands on her front porch.

He'll miss her when he goes.

The realization strikes him with the force of the cold wind that stings his cheeks as he rides. It’s a sharp, undeniable truth that cuts through his thoughts, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He had come to return her bracelet, a simple task with a clear objective. He should have done it when she’d returned his jacket. Yet, standing before her, seeing the familiar glint in her eyes and the way her hair framed her face, he found himself unable to follow through.

The bracelet's weight was a physical discomfort, pressing against his leg as if to remind him of her.

Perhaps that’s why he chooses to take it with him to university too.

Months later, she doesn’t know what to expect when she bumps into Daeron at the library - but it’s certainly not this.

It’s not quite bumping, to be honest. She’s off in the corner studying, the same corner that they used to share. It seemed that he still favored the same table, because he came to it too, only to freeze in her presence.

Neither of them says a word until he weakly mumbles.

“Hey.”

She gulps and quickly stands, the awkwardness pervading her very senses as she - for the first time in her entire life - feels uncomfortably clueless around him. “I was just leav-”

He’s quick to cage her, and her breath is knocked out. She remembers a time when she’d have killed to be this close to him.

“You’re not going anywhere till we talk.”

She’s tilting her head to the side in a defeated motion but he does not deter, so she sighs and gives in.

How bad could it possibly be?

They’re on the sidewalk, walking together but as strangers - a stark contrast to how it used to be. The reminder is sharp as a horrid pain shoots through her skull, a dull headache forming at the thought of all that has happened coming back. Her hands clutch onto the straps of her backpack tighter than ever before, knuckles going white.

She buys them their drinks as he gets what used to be their regular table at Nightblooms, the quaint cafe near the school that she loves. His Sunspearino and her King’s Landing Iced Tea are cold in her hands as she takes them over to the table. She pushes his glass to him wordlessly as he mutters his thanks.

She absentmindedly stirs with her straw, eyes trained on the floor. The awkwardness is seemingly never ending, but he’s always been quite the seamless crowd puller.

“How have you been?”

Her nod is all over the place as she focuses on the wall behind him, and he sighs. “Seriously, how long is it going to be like this?”

Her nose flares at his apparent impatience - what did he expect?

“I know you. I know you. You’re not the kind to be angry for long. So why are you being like this with me?”

She still says nothing, now sipping on her drink as she looks out the window, watching the herd of vehicles passing by. She counts two green cars before he continues.

“I miss you. I miss… my best friend.”

There it is. The words she’s hated her entire life.

“You seemed to be doing fine without me earlier.” She’s bitter and it’s pointless, she knows. She’s perhaps even taking it a bit far. But she feels the way she feels and there’s little she can do to make it go away.

“I made a mistake. I am sorry for it. Do you really not want to forgive me?”

She shouldn’t. She hates how he treated her. She hates how he left her behind. She hates how after all this time, he can still pull her in like nothing’s happened. She hates him, him, him-

Most of all, she hates how little it takes to get her to forgive him.

She hates how much she misses him too.

“I was in love with you, you know.” The words tumble out before she can even make sense of what she’s saying.

And there it was.

She’s dreamt of saying this to him a hundred different ways - not one of her dreams involved them seated across each other like this, with her barely holding onto her sanity.

It takes all of her patience to not pull her hair out right then.

“I know.”

Words are usually wind, but these are a boot-clad foot; they threaten to crush the life out of her with each moment that passes.

“I asked him why he never said anything, and he said he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Hm.” She hears the sound of a lighter click on the other end, and she knows he’s smoking. She can picture him clearly. His black t-shirt, hair in a slick man bun, his leather jacket probably slung to the side or left haphazardly on his bed on a throw. The smoke would billow out in small puffs as he flexes his knuckles like he always does.

“And then we just… I don’t know. Just sort of sat there for a bit. “

“Hm.”

“We didn’t say much after. I was much too embarrassed to continue and he seemed tired as well. Just finished our drinks and he insisted on walking me home.”

For what seems like a long moment, Aemond says nothing. The silence stretches between them, but it's not uncomfortable. She can hear him exhale slowly and there's the soft rustle of his jacket as he shifts. She knows Aemond is there, just taking his time to process everything. The distant hum of the city is barely noticeable against the rhythm of his steady breathing, the occasional flex of his knuckles making a soft, almost imperceptible pop.

She stretches on her own bed before shifting to her side and finally asks, “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice softer now. There's a pause before he continues, “Are you… do you still have feelings for him?”

Her breath catches slightly. She hasn’t been asked this directly, not ever. “It hasn’t completely gone away,” she admits. “There’s always going to be something there. But no, not quite as I used to.”

He hums again, and she imagines him taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him. “Good. Maybe it’s time to focus on other things. Other people.”

She smiles at his gentle nudge. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Speaking of other people, have you made any new friends at university? Meet anyone interesting?”

Aemond hesitates, and she can almost hear him weighing his words. “Yeah, a few people.”

She grins, sensing an opportunity. “Anyone special?”

He’s silent for a beat too long. “Hm...”

“Is that a yes?” Her excitement is barely concealed.

“Perhaps.”

Her grin widens. “Oh, come on, Aemond. You can’t just say ‘perhaps’ and leave it at that. Tell me!”

He sighs, and she can tell he’s trying not to smile. “There’s someone, but it’s nothing serious.”

Her curiosity piqued, she presses on. “What’s their name?”

“No.”

She laughs, teasing him. “Give me something!”

“Hm.”

“Just a hint?”

“No.”

She pouts, though she knows he can’t see it. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Nothing much to say. It’s… too soon.”

He’s never been one to divulge at her insistence, but she can’t resist one last playful prod. “Fine, but you owe me details eventually.”

“Maybe,” he says, his tone somewhat lighter than before.

She smiles, feeling closer to him despite the distance. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

She can’t see him, and he’s quite far away - but she’s convinced he’s smiling, in that arrogant, self assured way that he always does.

She’s two months away from completing school for good when her acceptance to Oldtown arrives.

She’s under no illusions about any of it. She may be smart and have great grades, but it is her family’s faint traces of aristocracy and their connections to the businesses of some of the greatest families of Westeros that makes the stick fall in her favor.

She’ll just have to make sure she’s worth it.

I’m in, see you in 3 months, she texts him. The waving ellipsis forms in his chat almost instantly, and she knows he’s happy for her.

Congratulations . Happy for you.

Moving away for university and starting fresh is her only motivation to keep going, she finds. The idea of a clean slate is too enticing for her own good, but she cannot help it. She is excited at the thought of Oldtown - the architecture, the weather, the libraries and the cafes can only be much more beautiful now than when she saw it all as a baby on vacation.

And there’s Aemond too.

There are many happy things to look out for. But as months pass and the time to leave dawns closer , there’s simpler pleasures - like her father being back in the city to see her graduate.

The graduation ceremony at the Visenya Targaryen Memorial School unfolds with all the grandeur one might expect from such an exclusive institution. Nestled amidst meticulously manicured gardens, the school buildings stand tall. Ivy-clad stone walls, expansive lawns, and ornate iron gates contribute to the atmosphere as some of the most prestigious and richest families assemble to see their children mark their first major milestone.

Students clad in crisp white dresses and tailored suits gather in anticipation. The scent of blooming roses mingles with the soft murmur of excited chatter, creating an air of expectant joy. The girls’ dresses, delicately embroidered and paired with modest pearls, and the boys’ sharp suits, complete with silk ties make them all look perfectly ready to step into their generational wealth.

The ceremony takes place in a grand marquee set up on the main lawn, its white canopy fluttering gently in the breeze. Inside, rows of elegant wooden chairs are adorned with satin ribbons, and an aisle carpeted in red velvet leads to a stage draped in the school’s colors. The stage itself is framed by two grand, blossoming floral arrangements.

"You look so much like your mother in certain lights," he says softly, kissing her good luck on the cheek before taking his place among the other parents. He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear before he goes.

The Targaryens, of course, occupy the front-row seats, a privilege owed to their immense donations to the school, their status as the wealthiest family in the country and the name on the school gates. However, Criston is notably absent from their midst, instead seated among the other parents. An image must be maintained, and hell would break loose before Alicent Hightower is seen in public with the man who was once her bodyguard, especially in the company of Viserys.

She feels a pang of sympathy for Alicent; Criston spent far more time with Daeron than Viserys ever did and deserves to be at the front more than his father. The politics of appearance, however, dictate otherwise.

Helaena has come back to watch her brother graduate. Having begun her master's in microbiology at Oldtown, she is soon planning to go into research. Aegon and Aemond, however, are off on a trip. Despite his absence, Aemond sends her a text, offering his wishes and congratulations. The text is followed by a drunk jumble of letters that she manages to decipher as ‘Thank fuck you’re done with school,” which she assumes is from Aegon.

The graduates are called to the stage one by one, their names echoing through the marquee, accompanied by held back and dignified applause. When her name is finally announced, she takes a deep breath and walks up the aisle, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. She receives her diploma with a graceful nod, her gaze briefly meeting Headmaster Strong’s in a moment of shared respect.

As she returns to her seat, she catches her father's eye, his expression beaming with pride. She also notices Daeron watching her, having already received his diploma. The fleeting glance between them doesn’t make her angry or tired anymore, and she knows a conversation between them is due.

After the ceremony, she mingles with her classmates, posing for pictures with Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon. As the photographer captures their smiles, she catches sight of Daeron across the lawn. He stands with his hands on Floris' waist, speaking animatedly to Borros Baratheon and his wife. They look happy, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter.

The crowd around them seems to blur as she and Daeron finally walk towards each other. She notes the easy way Daeron holds Floris, and a surprising realization dawns on her: she doesn't care as much anymore. Perhaps this is what closure feels like, or maybe she's simply over him. The certainty eludes her, but the weight on her heart feels lighter.

"Congratulations," she says, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“You too.”

“So, KLU?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, uhm… I am happy for you, you know?”

“I know. You never had it in you to be angry for long at me.”

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or wring his neck for making her feel taken for granted. She chooses to smile instead.

“I think it’ll be good for us,” she says. “This time away.”

“Suppose so. Guess we’ll have quite a few stories to tell when we meet again.”

Floris’ laugh is distinctly light and they hear it from where they stand. “You’re happy.”

“I think so,” he says. She doesn’t know what to make of his uncertainty.

“Last chance to come with me to Oldtown,” she chuckles, a brazen attempt at a joke.

He chuckles. “Are we laughing about this now?” The sound of a camera clicking them makes them both turn. It is Helaena with her polaroid camera, and they’re both quick to swarm her to take a look at what she’s captured.

The visual slowly comes to life as she shakes the ever loving life out of the photo. Daeron is laughing with his head up to the sky, and she’s slowly chuckling with the back of her hand covering her mouth, her eyes looking at him.

It’s almost as if they’re best friends again.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST No tag list. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

334 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 11 months ago

Text

Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!

Word Count: 12.7k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.

After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.

You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.

Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.

And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.

You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.

The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.

But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.

So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.

Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.

You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.

Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.

But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.

The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.

Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.

And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.

You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.

When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.

Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.

“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”

You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”

“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”

“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”

As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.

“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”

“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”

You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”

But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.

When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.

“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.

You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”

She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”

You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.

“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”

He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.

The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.

And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.

Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.

It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.

You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.

It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.

“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”

The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”

If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?

The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.

Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.

You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.

“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”

The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.

She was still a bitch, though.

“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.

“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”

You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.

“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”

You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.

When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”

Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.

And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.

Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.

You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.

It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.

You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.

But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”

Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.

Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.

“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.

“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.

Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.

“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“

“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.

You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.

“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“

“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”

You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.

“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“

“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.

She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”

She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”

You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”

He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”

You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”

“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”

You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”

Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”

There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.

You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.

But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.

So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”

“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.

She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.

“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.

“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”

Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”

You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”

Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.

You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.

Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”

You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.

“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.

“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”

“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.

You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”

You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”

“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”

He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”

When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”

He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”

“And did you move?”

He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”

You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.

The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.

You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.

“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”

You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”

Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”

“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”

He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”

You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.

The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.

“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”

“Why did you stay there for so long?”

“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.

He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”

You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”

Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”

You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”

Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.

It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.

While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.

“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.

“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”

His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.

“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.

Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”

You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”

You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.

“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.

“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”

“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.

“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.

“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“

“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.

“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”

You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.

The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.

“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”

Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”

Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”

Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.

“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.

“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.

Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.

Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.

“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”

Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.

You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.

“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”

You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”

He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”

“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”

Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.

“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”

The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.

“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”

You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.

Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”

You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”

“I like hearing that.”

You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.

It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.

“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”

You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.

He shook his head, “No.”

You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”

You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”

“What did you think you’d find?”

“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”

The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.

“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”

“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”

You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.

At last. At last.

You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…

It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.

Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours

You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.

He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”

His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.

“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”

He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”

You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.

“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”

You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”

That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take your clothes off.”

You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…

You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.

When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”

You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.

Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.

“On the bed, Y/n.”

You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”

That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.

“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.

But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.

“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”

You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”

You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”

He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.

The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.

And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.

It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.

You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.

Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.

And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.

He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.

His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.

“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.

Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.

And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.

Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.

When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.

You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.

You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”

“But you ate me out. I should at least–“

“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.

You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”

You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.

“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.

“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.

“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”

You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.

“Please fuck me!” You whined.

Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.

Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.

You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.

He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.

Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.

He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.

“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.

“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.

“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.

Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.

Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.

When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.

“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.

“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”

“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.

“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.

His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.

When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.

But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.

He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.

“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.

You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.

His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.

Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.

“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”

You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…

Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.

He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”

You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”

In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”

He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”

You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.

“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”

You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”

“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.

Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”

You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.

Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.

“There it is! Fuck!” Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.

“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”

You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.

He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.

It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.

He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.

You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.

“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.

Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.

When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”

You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.

He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”

You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.

“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”

You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.

So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.

Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.

The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.

The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”

He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.

“Hello?”

You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?

“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”

You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”

You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.

Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”

You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”

You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”

You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”

He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”

Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”

He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”

You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”

You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.

It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @theastrologie @sassamanda77 @princessaxoxo @eiffelmezarry @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu

427 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 1 year ago

Text

ollie bearman x crawford!reader

the instagram story was subtle enough. or, at least, so you thought.

ollie didn't seem to agree.

it was a video of you in the newly bought sundress you'd decided to wear to the sprint race today; twirling around in your hotel room, the geotag of "silverstone circuit" in the top right corner. but none of this is what ollie cares about: it's the choice of background music.

they say home is where the heart is, but god i love the english. you know i love a london boy…

the poor boy nearly had a heart attack when he saw it in the paddock. he thought it was super obvious; "i love a london boy" could only mean one thing.

your relationship with ollie is still secret from everyone, including your brother, to ensure that people won't get involved in your private business. besides, once the news is out even in just the racing world, you know it will spread and get big in no time; that's the way it usually is with formula drivers. especially fan-favorites like ollie. so, for the moment, you've decided to just enjoy wherever this takes you, without caring what anyone else thinks. but now, he's scared you've blown it.

your instagram account is on private, so you aren't afraid of fans snooping around and seeing it. but still, it worries ollie; your brother follows you, and that is much worse than fans, he reckons. when you first started going out, you thought it would be natural to tell your twin brother about it, considering the fact that ollie is one of his best friends – but ollie disagreed. the whole dating your best friend's sibling-thing never went well in the movies, and that's all he had to go after.

the song echoes in his brain all morning. during the driver meeting, his pre-race briefings, even as he watches the f3 sprint. he likes my american smile like a child when our eyes meet; darling, i fancy you. all morning leading up to the race, he's distracted and can't think of anything else, though his mechanics and engineers think he's just focused on the race ahead of him. ollie needs some kind of closure, and it isn't until he spots you walking down the f2 paddock that he finds an opportunity.

it's not long before ollie is supposed to get into his car that he sees you on your way to the dams garage. the sundress you showed off in your instagram story looks even better in the real world, and he can't help but swoon at the sight of your smile lighting up the paddock just as much as the sun. he snaps out of it just in time, because when you walk past the prema garage, he swoops out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in.

"ollie-" is all you can get out because now he's pulling you along with him so fast that you can barely even keep up. you manage to nod and greet a few of the prema workers on your way – most people recognize you as jak's sister since you spent a lot of time in the paddock with them last year – but soon, ollie has managed to find you a secluded corner far in the back with no one around.

you rest one hand on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, looking up at your boyfriend with pinched eyebrows. "you..." he starts, letting out a sigh. "your story on instagram..."

"what about it?"

you weren't usually one to tease him, so he assumes you are actually sincere in your current confusion. the thought of your story may have been etched into his mind for the last few hours and the reason behind his displeasure might be totally clear in his head – but you never were one to read thoughts, which he sometimes forgets. "jak is going to know."

you don't look any less confused by now, which makes ollie feel even more impatient. "why would he know?"

"the song choice. london boy, really? it's so obvious." he pauses for a moment. "you can't do that."

his words are meant as a warning, but the smile on his lips tells a whole other story. no matter how scared he is that your brother will find out that you've been hiding this relationship from him, he can't stop himself from finding it just a bit amusing. and with the way that you're still watching him with such an innocent look and your other hand is also reaching for his shoulder, there's no way he can hold back a grin.

"sweetheart, it's one of the most popular songs out right now. in the entire world. no one will even bat an eye. plus," you tilt your head. "i'm an american girl in england, so london boy is an obvious choice."

"you could've chosen so many other songs about england, but you had to choose that one?"

the chuckle leaves your throat instantly. "you're not even a london boy, ollie."

he knows he's lost. he knows he's just worrying about nothing, he knows there's a much bigger risk that someone finds out about you being here with him in the prema garage than jak connecting the dots from just your story. but he can't give up just yet.

"i'll forgive you. but on one condition," he says, and you immediately nod at him. "give me a kiss. for good luck."

there's not even a second of hesitation before you get onto your tippy toes, reaching up to him. your lips are pressed onto his once, then twice, then thrice. you're both smiling into it, and his hands cup your cheeks, holding you close when you part for the last time.

"you know," he starts, thumbs drawing circles into your cheeks. "i fancy you."

the giggle that leaves your lips is like music to his ears. did he actually study the song? "oh, oliver," you say, trying to pull off your most british accent. "darling, i fancy you, too."

576 notes · View notes

sillyannlynn · 1 year ago

Text

LIAR - FELIX CATTON

PAIRING: felix catton x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, pure angst

WORDS: 1,3k

WARNINGS: death (only mentioned), heartbroken reader, abuse, alcoholism, lies, felix is stupid, toxic relationship, ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO SORRY FOR ABY MISTAKES.

Felix never understood why she never said anything about her father. He asked about him many times, but she always found a way to change a topic or acted like she didn't hear his question.

“I just don't wanna talk about it, Felix” she said as they were driving to her family house.

The girl saw that something was odd with her best friend, since he came back with Oliver from Liverpool the previous day.

“Why?” he pushed, but didn't answer for a longer moment.

“Ask my mum about it” she said finally, when he parked at the driveway. The girl didn't wait for him and left the car to open the door and step in. Felix locked the car and ran after her to see her hugging a woman, whom she looked alike.

“Hello” he said awkwardly standing in front of them.

“Ah, mama! This is Felix, been telling you about him” she announced and grabbed him by hand, so he stepped close to them.

“Nice to meet you, young man, I've heard plenty of stories about you” the woman said, smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you too” he replied and grabbed her for a hug.

“Go to the living room, kids, I'll make the tea” her mother announced and the girl took Felix to the room.

“Is that you?” he asked, pointing at the photo on the shelf, next to the books.

“Oh, yeah, it's little her” the woman said, as she entered the room. “This was taken at her first music competition” she added, making her daughter red. “She won it, I'm still so proud of her.”

“You didn't tell me you were taking part in competitions?” Felix turned around to his friend.

“You never asked,” she answered and stood up from the couch. “Then we were karting with girls” she said, while showing the photo of her at the karting track next to a kart.

“Oh, and this one is from the Grand Prix two years ago, when you were a marshall,” her mother cooed, pointing at another photo.

“I told you about that,” the girl reminded Felix, making him laugh. Yes, she had told him about it one time. “Come on, I'll show you around” she said and grabbed him by hand and took him upstairs.

“Your room?” he asked, watching her open the door.

“Yeah, welcome to my kingdom” she said and let him in.

“Yeah, it's definitely your room,” Felix laughed. He could see that she was the owner of it. The books that she's been telling him about, the film posters she told him she had watched, the Formula 1 related things - everything that was in that room was her.

“What happened yesterday?” the girl asked, when they were lying on her bed for a while. The bed was small, 90x200 centimeters and his legs were sticking out of it. He found this funny and was laughing until she asked.

“He's a, um” he started, not sure if he wanted her to know that. But she never lied to him, right? She wouldn't do that like Oliver did. She would never. “He lied to me. To all of us” he said finally.

The girl looked at Felix, not understanding what he meant. She saw how they were treating each other the previous day, but she didn't ask since he came to her room and started kissing her, banning her and himself from talking till breakfast.

“What has he done?” she asked and raised her head. She was worried about him. He was her best friend, her other half and she was really jealous of Oliver for the whole time, which Farleigh found hilarious and was making jokes about it to Felix when she wasn't around. And Farleigh liked her more, if he had to choose between her and Oliver who was better for his cousin, he would choose her without hesitation. She was normal in his opinion, not a liar like Oliver.

The girl loved Felix. She gave him her whole heart. But he didn't see it. His heart didn't belong to her, but her heart belonged to him. And it hurt her a lot.

She tried to leave him, for her own good, but she couldn't. He was so magnetic, so majestic that she just couldn't leave him.

Farleigh and her own friends saw how she felt and how Felix was blind about it. Farleigh tried, he really tried to do something but his cousin was as if he didn't have eyes and couldn't see anything about her.

Farleigh told her he felt sorry for her and that she should really leave him for her own good and that he knew it was hard, but she still couldn't. And Farleigh saw it.

Gosh, she spent the whole vacation with him and Venetia because Felix was always with Oliver and he seemed like she wasn't there until yesterday. She was his second choice and she knew it.

So she decided that it would be her last try to cut contact with him. For her own good.

“Felix, I'm not coming back to Saltburn with you” she announced, when he stopped talking about that liar.

He was shocked. Why would she say that? What has gone wrong?

“What? No, no, no, you're coming back” he replied, feeling betrayed.

“Mama said that the great-grandma is feeling worse and worse, Felix, I can't be not around her” she said the half of the truth. This was one of the two reasons she wanted to stay at home. “I can't do that to her,” she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes.

He would understand, right?

“I can drive you at any time here, I promise, just come back with me” he assured her and grabbed her face in his hands gently. “You can just leave me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Felix, you don't understand” she shook her head, as he made everything about himself. “I can't leave her now, I don't know how much time she has left,” she added. “You should stay for tonight and go back home tomorrow, it's getting dark” she said and he only agreed.

He didn't want to leave her, especially now.

During the night, Felix was walking through the house and looking for the water. He stood in the kitchen and saw his friend’s mother looking for something in the cabinet.

“Good evening” he mumbled and she answered. He got the water and stood for a moment. He had a battle inside if he should ask about that. And his curiosity won, so he asked: “I'm sorry for being rude, but anytime I asked your daughter about the father she never answered and recently she told me to ask you about him, so could you tell me something?”

“Oh, he was, let's say, not a good person” the woman started and sat on the chair. “I completely understand why she doesn't want to talk about him. She has some kind of trauma and she used to go to therapy, when she was younger” at these words he furrowed his brow. “He was an alcoholic and violent towards us, so you know” she stopped talking, not knowing what to add more. “Oh, and when he died it really hit her, even though she didn't talk with him for years.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through this,” he said and wanted to hug the woman. He would never have thought that something like this happened to his best friend.

“It's okay now, young man, don't worry” she said and hugged him. “She's doing great,” she assured him.

He felt so stupid. He was such a dick for her sometimes.

Now he wanted only to make it up to her.

So when he was leaving he promised the girl that he was going to do everything for her, because she deserved it.

But he broke the promise. He never had done that, because he died and left her alone, without making anything up to her.

He was such a liar.

masterlist

#discopaddock #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fanfic #felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton fluff #felix catton angst #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn angst #saltburn fluff

496 notes · View notes

inkedinserendipity · 1 month ago

Text

oh my god, y'all. oh my god. moana 2 spoilers under the cut.

i am just?? i am speechless. i am literally still collecting my thoughts. right now i am just a mess of glee and relief and joy at watching that movie. the first movie meant so much to me!! and the most important part of it to me was the friendship between maui and moana, and i am so proud of the sequel for how they did that relationship right. i was stunned honestly by how faithful they were to what drove the first movie - maui coming to respect and care about this mortal, and moana caring about him and turn.

the first thing he does when he hears the gods are threatening moana is go no, this is between me and him! this isn't about her! don't even talk to me about the way he dove into the ocean after her!! without hesitation, even after he just lost his hook and his powers! (especially after the way he reacted to that exact same thing in the first movie, but in this one, instead of lashing out, instead of even pausing to think about it, he just goes in after her.) the panic in his voice when he finds heihei and demands, oh hell, where's moana. the way he mourned - god, that broke my heart. that was palpable. that was tangible. the song, aue, aue....

fuck me. FUCK me. if me from six years ago could've seen this, i would've been overjoyed. i'm tearing up now, even thinking about it. this story that i cared about so deeply has been continued with so much respect to what spoke the most to me.

the callbacks made me so freaking happy too! the mini-maui being just as much of a little shit, keeping score, the oar and the hook, oh and MOANA'S OAR becoming the symbol of her divinity? i lost my freaking mind! that was so good! and her ancestors - her grandmother, tala - being the one who ushered her into divinity - was so fucking good. we tell the stories of our elders in a never-ending chain. you could see it happen! in the symbol of te fiti, the swirl of people who gathered around her to bring her back to life!

the tie between community killed me too. how in the beginning of the movie, the meeting in motunui featured just moana and her father - and then toward the end, the structure was full of people.

i have so many more thoughts, about the musical callbacks, the refrains from the first movie (and, candidly, a number of critiques about the new characters and the strange pacing and lackluster and plot and weird music choices - basically everything but the friendship between our leading duo, tbh), but this was just...my heart is so full. i am so glad i got to see this movie. younger seren, you would've fucking loved this.

106 notes · View notes

impactrueno · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I really love your comics, and art in general! Your Hey Arnold and Simpsons stuff was fire, and I've been loving your Beetlejuice comics (Lydia and Juice's falling out got me tearing up lmao) As far as your Beetleverse comics go - idk if this is something you've mentioned somewhere - I know they're probably meant to be, like, separate canons and stuff, but if they were to take place in the same kinda "timeline", what would the order of events be?

Does CartoonLydia meeting older MovieLydia - a Lydia who's had some really negative experiences with MovieBJ and preaches that ToonLydia SHOULD NOT trust ToonBJ - have any impact on her getting fed up with her BJ and breaking it off with him?

Again, thank you for making these comics - they're dope as hell, and I'm excited for what comes next!

thank you so much!

the beetleverse comics are just a "what if" where we pull each duo out of their respective canons (unceremoniously) and force them to be in their little white void enclosure that i made for them lol

so the events in the story i'm currently doing haven't been influenced by any of that. but if they were to take place in the same timeline, it'd happen some time before the end of the show (maybe even before season 4,) and i think movie lyds telling her to be wary of toon bj would make her doubt herself and her beej for a moment, but then would be proven wrong or realize that movie lydia was wrong about him. and this would not make sense in a real life situation (in fact, it would be concerning) but here's the thing:

something i've found interesting to think about with the beetleverse comics is that each duo operates on different logic. movie lydia is closer to real life logic aka "why the hell are you letting this child hang around so closely with this weird old man" but cartoon bj and lyds work under saturday morning cartoon logic, meaning none of the things movie lydia is fearing would ever happen, because it's a show for kids. so in their little universe, cartoon lydia is perfectly safe with her beej, who as we all know would sooner die all over again than to cause her any harm, so she has nothing to fear. they'll just be best friends forever (with a few bumps along the road of course) and that's it. movie lydia can't even wrap her head around that.

now going back to the current story of them 30 years later; i'm still writing them under cartoon logic for the most part, but with a bit more realistic flavor. so their relationship is still too weird to happen in real life, only now we're seeing the consequences of the friction between them that was already there in the cartoon, and he can't joke his way out of this one or have silly incidental music and sound effects to lessen the blow. movie lydia's warnings wouldn't have had much of an effect on them because this was something that was going to happen either way, and cartoon lydia's problem with bj was never "you're a creepy old man why are you obsessed with me" (real life logic) and more so "you're supposed to be my best friend in the whole world but all i do is babysit you and solve your problems for you while you try to scam some sucker out of their money and i've had it" (cartoon logic)

i hope all that makes sense lol

#beetleposting

71 notes · View notes

cherrysolo · 4 days ago

Note

hi my love!! ARGH. I LOVED THE CALL IT WHAT U WANT FIC OMG OMG OMG !! <33 my favorite song in rep is new year's day!! so underrated.. how about u hehe i love u so much i hope u had an amazing day at school!! <33

luigi with a swiftie girlfriend headcanons!

I’m possibly the most annoying mutual ever bc I relate everything back to taylor, but I thought of this cute idea! so I hope u all enjoy :)

you and lu had begin dating and he quickly learned you LOVED taylor swift.

he obviously heard her hits like 22, shake it off, and love story. he wasn’t born yesterday! he wasn’t a huge fan tho

you were always playing her music. I mean ALWAYS. while driving, walking to class, studying, working out etc etc

you having to explain “Taylor’s version”and what “eras” mean

“so he stole all of her music???” lu would actually be so intrigued with you explaining all of the lore. everything that happened with kayne, scooter, even all of her exes.

“babe, your outfit is so folklore coded,” you’d tell him. “I’m literally wearing a grey shirt what does that even mean?” 🤦‍♀️

you guys would have debates on her becoming a billionaire. and lu would sarcastically say “yeah she’s a billionaire because of your overconsumption babe,” bc he KNEW how much merch you owned, he thought it was a waste. but alas, it made you happy!

the time finally came around for the eras tour, he wasn’t the type to spend lots of money, but he dug into his savings to get you the best tickets.

going to philly eras was the best day of your life, and even though at times lu didn’t understand it, he loved seeing you happy.

your fit made you feel like a princess, wearing a black sparkly dress, cowboy books, and gems in your hair!

lu wore the infamous shirt that says “karma” cause yk? karma is my boyfriend?

he actually thought it was hilarious, he felt so giddy knowing he was apart of the swiftie club now.

when taylor finally appears on stage, he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at you.

the way your face lights up, eyes welling with tears. he has never seen anything more beautiful than you during this moment.

he looks over at you, puts an arm around your shoulder, and places a kiss on your forehead.

you were so glad you were experiencing the lover era with your lover ;)

an hour in, lu had to sit down to take a break, he had no clue the concert was over three hours!

he genuinely didn’t know where you got all this energy from, screaming the lyrics, dancing, and screaming???

he had never seen you cry more when you got your surprise songs.

“ Gold Rush" and "Come Back...Be Here" shocked you into orbit because these songs reminded you of lu!

his eyes awkwardly meeting yours during vigilante shit… his face slowly reddened.

after the concert, on the walk back to the car, you pull luigi into a huge hug, not caring that you are both sweaty on this summer night.

“thank you lu, I don’t think you know how much this night meant to me. my two favourite people.” you vulnerably tell him no matter how cheesy it sounds.

“yeah I’m obviously your second favourite,” he sarcastically snips back at you laughing.

you giggle, knowing how lucky you truly are.

idc how cheesy this is, I enjoyed making it! hehe<3

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x yn #free luigi #the adjuster #ceo shooting #deny defend depose #fanfiction

55 notes · View notes

nocreativityfornames · 2 years ago

Text

Random Obey Me! Headcanons Part 2

During the first year of the exchange program and when MC couldn't fend for themselves yet, the only way they were allowed out of the house "alone" was with Cerberus accompanying them. And when I tell you the hellhound did an amazing job at protecting them… all it took was a slightly off-putting stare at MC for it to send back the most terrifying glare and loud growl at the demon eyeing them. These outings of theirs once resulted in a pretty infamous picture going viral, where MC was mindlessly buying ice cream at a stall while Cerberus was beside them giving off the most ominous aura as all its heads glared at someone off-screen. You can imagine all the memes that came from it.

When Satan was a baby he used to have constant nightmares about the war and would always wake up screaming and crying, waking up everyone with him. Because of this Lucifer would have to stay up at ungodly hours of the night trying everything he could to calm him down, having to rock the tiny demon in his arms for hours around the corridors till he eventually went back to sleep. At some point Diavolo suggested that he read for Satan, as it was a less energy-draining method. And although Lucifer didn't really see the point given that Satan was a baby and couldn't even understand words yet, he gave it a shot anyway. It ended up working, to both his relief and surprise.

When Mammon first realized he could both understand and tell crows what to do he thought he was going insane. And the brothers were all sure he was lying when he first told them of his ability, having to see firsthand Mammon order around an army of crows as if it was nothing. They were definitely left speechless that day.

Asmo has a podcast where he mainly talks with other famous influencers from the Devildom and demons in the fashion or music industry. All the brothers participated in an episode at some point, and so did MC, the Purgatory Hall crew, and Diavolo.

If MC has a similar clothing style to Mammon's, he'll let them have the clothes he doesn't use anymore. And there's a TON of them, since he buys so many just out of greed and never bothers wearing them more than two or three times.

A few months into the exchange program Diavolo came up with an idea to have the whole gang ( HoL, Purgatory Hall, and the Demon Lord's Castle ) meet up monthly to hang out, have dinner together, etc. It was another way he found to strengthen the bonds between everyone, and no one was allowed to miss it. In the beginning it was a chore to participate but now everyone gets excited when the end of the month starts coming around and they can meet again.

This one time when the brothers were all drunk playing stupid games together they decided that whoever ended up last would have to get an embarrassing tattoo of whatever the others chose. Belphie lost, and to this day the brothers still crack up whenever they catch a glimpse of the small tattoo on his rib that reads "baby of the family". Belphie always gets pissy about it, making them tease him even more.

(lesson 16 spoilers) I went into more detail about this in another post but I believe MC also carries memories from the Celestial War because of their connection to Lilith. And this is something that brings them closer to Satan, since as mentioned before, he also has memories of that time but from Lucifer's perspective. Aka, trauma bonding ✨

Following the tattoo headcanon, Belphie definitely lied to MC about the rib tattoo at first since they didn't couldn't understand Infernal and didn't know what it said. Man 100% told them it meant something else and made up some deep story behind it to make himself look cool or whatever. But it all came crumbling down when everyone went on a trip to the beach and the brothers brought up his "adorable tattoo". He never felt so embarrassed in his life.

Ever since finding out about pride month, Asmo made it into a thing to visit the human realm every year to celebrate it by going to the biggest parade happening that year. And he always drags the brothers with him, making sure to pick outfits for Belphie, Beel, and Lucifer since none of them know how to "dress properly for pride." He just can't let what happened the first time they went happen again, with everyone at the parade wearing colorful and beautifully elaborate clothing while these 3 looked completely out of place ( Lucifer was wearing a full black suit, just so you have an idea. So yeah, he was sticking out in the crowd like crazy ).

As a joke, every time Father's Day comes up the characters go around giving Lucifer, Barbatos, and Simeon shitty gifts and wishing them "Happy Father's Day". But not Beel, who even though knows everyone's doing it for a bit, still gives them a genuine gift and a sincere smile every time. Because let's be honest, these three deserve some actual acknowledgment for raising their troublesome children-not-children. ( Fun fact: Diavolo gives Barbatos both a gag gift and an actual one, and Luke gives Simeon a gift while trying to make it seem like he's just doing it for the joke, though it's obvious he means it. )

Long ago when anime wasn't a thing yet Levi used to be obsessed with marine life. He had extensive knowledge of it and would be pulling random ocean facts out of nowhere and leaving everyone confused. And he absolutely loved sharks, like, you know those people that'll go into great detail to explain why our perception of sharks is fucked and they're actually sweethearts? Yup, that was Levi. Also, if you said your favorite animals were dolphins? Oh, you'd be seeing the most disgusted look show up on his face. ( He'd too explain that dolphins are evil and why you shouldn't like them at all, completely ruining your view of them )

Since Asmo, Beel, and Levi are represented by cold-blooded animals ( a scorpion, a fly, and a serpent ) I headcanon that they can't generate a lot of body heat and touching their skin when it's cold would feel like coming in contact with freezing ice and definitely not the move if you're looking for warmth. Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, and Belphie though? These 4 become MC's personal heaters when winter comes around, and you better bet they're demanding cuddles from all of them ( cold-blooded gang be jealous as fuck of this ).

Solomon puts weird shit on what he cooks on purpose just to fuck with everyone. His grandpa ass finds it absolutely hilarious how everyone tries to keep him away from the kitchen at all costs while simultaneously doing everything to avoid outright saying his cooking is terrible because they don't want to hurt his feelings. Because come on, how does a man who's lived this long on his own not know how to cook? He can follow strict instructions to make the weirdest potions ever but not a recipe to make a simple dinner? Nah, I don't buy it. He definitely knows how to cook and does a decent job at making food for himself when he wants to.

989 notes · View notes

ghost-bison · 4 months ago

Text

Doctor Who: 1x08 The Satan Pit (2006) / 60th anniversary special 2/3 Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

I frankly love that parallel. One scene taken out of each of the two RTD eras.

First there's the colour palettes. You can see that they're polar opposites. RTD era1 was warm all the time as talked about in this post (which I love dearly, I keep referencing it in my posts), and then we have RTD era2, which has a more modern-looking, colder palette for science fiction.

But it's also a directing choice for the mood I think, cause on the one hand, we have Rose who, we all know, would even give up on seeing her mum again if it meant she got to spend the rest of her life with the Doctor (quite like Donna back in series 4 actually, who was very prompt to say she was going to travel with Ten forever). On the other hand we have Donna in 2023 who's now got a daughter and a husband and who hadn't even planned on doing a trip with the Doctor in the first place, let alone at the edge of the universe. I mean, they were just supposed to go see Wilfred! On one side we have Ten who's slowly recovering from the trauma of the Time War and falling in love for the first time in a while and re-learning that he deserves to be loved, too. On the other side we have Fourteen who, just as Donna put it, is "staggering", and as Fifteen said, is "running on fumes". He's got FOUR regenerations worth of trauma on Ten who was already struggling as it was with one (since the Time War I mean. Maybe two if we count Nine, cause who knows what he's been through between his regeneration and meeting Rose). Fourteen went through losing Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory, River, Clara, Bill, and he went through Pandorica, billions of years imprisoned by the Time Lords in his own personal hell, finding out about the Timeless Child, etc... and now, on top of everything, he's got to deal face to face with the guilt of what he did to Donna as she's been given back to him. Anyway, it's dark, when you think about it. No wonder the colours are so much colder in Wild Blue Yonder.

Then there's the music. In The Satan Pit, the soundtrack, The Impossible Planet, has a mystical quality to it. It's slightly creepy (I mean, it IS an episode about Satan), but it's mostly mysterious. Ten and Rose are only 500 years away from home. But in Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen and Donna are 100 TRILLION YEARS away from home. The soundtrack from that scene, The Edge of Creation, isn't just mysterious, it's eerie and ethereal and perfectly encompasses what it would feel like to stand somewhere so impossibly alien it has become supernatural (if you can't tell I am obsessed with that track and episode lmao).

I love the contrast between Rose and Donna and the questions they ask. Rose's question is cute, she's like "I've seen it in films, is that it?", it stems from a place of curiosity, like she doesn't really realize the deep shit that they're in. She's just a kid. Whereas Donna's question, it stems from a place of dread: "Where's the light?". It almost has a "The Licked Hand" quality to it (if you don't know that story: the girl is scared, she puts her hand under the bed, her dog licks it. She goes into the bathroom, finds her dog dead in the tub, and written in its blood are the words 'humans can lick too').

Then, finally, there's the order in which things have been done: in The Satan Pit, Rose remarks they're "a long way from home". Ten takes a long look at her, and seeing that she seems a bit scared, he explains to her how long it would take to get home. In Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen first explains to Donna how long it would take to get home, and only THEN, he takes a long look at her, and finally Donna says "that's my family, over there". It parallels Rose's sentence in the sense that they both talk about home and how far away it is, but they use different words for it with a different meaning behind. Donna is more specific on what she'll be returning to when it's over (her family), whereas Rose, who isn't as grounded as her, just says "home" (which, for her, probably just means the place she grew up). I also love the contrast between Rose's "a long way" and Donna's "over there". The first implies foreign, the second implies close enough to see. What's interesting about this bit is Donna is further away from home than Rose is, geographically speaking. But for Rose, Home is actually the Doctor, just him, so she has no problem saying she's "a long way from home" since she doesn't mean it in the same way Donna would. So for Donna, when she says "over there", it's because the Home she's talking about is closer to her heart, and she's probably trying to reassure herself that she'll see her family again (I used to do something like that when I was in primary school, I'd travel all the way back to my house in my head to kiss my parents on the cheek because I was so homesick).

So that's that I guess

113 notes · View notes

kanguin · 2 months ago

Text

Ideal show:

Slow paced adult audience portal fantasy anime where a shutin dies in an accident, unfulfilled, unaware of who he really is, but is reincarnated into a fantasy world with a demon king situation. Standard fare. However, instead of getting going right away, the protagonist stays depressed and doesn't even attempt to start the quest he was given until he meets a high energy local adventurer lady, and through helping out with a sudden incident in town, protag and the adventurer form the first true friendship he's ever had. He finds her attractive, but doesn't say as much, as it he quickly finds out via a run in with her ex that she's a lesbian. Turns out, this magical world is enthusiastically and normalizing-ly accepting of queer people, and that actually comforts him greatly for some reason, even though he's pretty sure he's a straight guy; must just be happy for the people here.

His new friend encourages the him to go on and start the quest to defeat the demon king. It's a long journey, and will take years, but if he's prophesied to be the hero, then he's the only one who can do it. There's just one problem, the one prophesied to kill the demon king is a woman. Surely then he must have just misheard, clearly he must have been summoned to HELP the hero, which while disappointing and less glamorous, eases the burden somewhat. So the two gear up for their journey, and the protagonist purchases a magical item from a shop, a bracelet said to help the wearer reach their true potential. If that potential is heroism, it helps you build muscle and strengthens your bones. If that potential is music, your dexterity and fine motor skills slowly improve. Whatever change needs to be made, will be made. So surely, if a nobody like protag is taking to help defeat the demon king, that will be necessary.

The two set off, heading through more and more difficult areas as their quest takes them toward the heart of evil. Slowly but surely, protag gets stronger and faster, hell this bracelet is even smoothing out his skin. With his friend's help, protag slowly catches up to her, but not before she advances further. His adventurer friend has flings from time to time, but this doesn't really bother him, he's just happy she's happy. However the adventurer is getting confused, because she's certain she's not into men, but sometimes the light catches her friend's eyes, or glows off his hair, and she feels... Funny.

As time passes, protag's hair gets longer, from many uncut months, but it's also getting denser and more voluminous, and his hand, despite getting stronger wielding shields and swords, are also getting softer. Maybe the bracelet is trying to sighal to him to live a quiet life? But hey his stomach's getting flatter, even if it's all just shifting down to his thighs. Eh, must be there to build muscle, right?

(more under cut, this started out as a simple wishlist of ideas but ballooned into a full vague framework of a story)

But slowly, this new world challenges the protagonist on facts he took for granted. He meets people who were born one way, only to find they would rather be another, and starts to question what it even means to be a man, or if it even meant the same thing to him as other men. It means nothing to him though... Slowly, he stops trying to prove his manliness at times, and just, wants to be himself. But he's starting to question who he even is; new experiences keep making the protagonist think back to their old life, and reanalyze some things they never gave any time of day. Suddenly they're relating less and less to men, and really, truly feeling happy in the company of women. Perhaps it's just because men bullied them?

Meanwhile, the protagonist is looking... Prettier? And smiling when they see themself in the mirror? They're normally a sad snarker, but their adventurer friend is starting to be thrown off guard by their genuine joy along the journey. And... Kind of attractive, but holy shit what??? They're a guy, she doesn't swing that way, no way.

By the time they're halfway to the demon king's castle, they're greeted at a tavern as two "young ladies". Which throws the two of them for a loop, because clearly there's only one girl here, right there. Sure, the protag is pretty androgenous, always have been, so the mistake is easy to make, but... Wait have they always been androgynous? No they were clearly just some out of shape guy when they got here, why would getting in shape from a magic bracelet make that less defined. And that's when the two remembered.

The bracelet works off of the true self, the full potential of a person.

The two get a room at the in and realize they NEED to talk about what this means. The adventurer is excited, but protag is just confused. The adventurer shouts in joy that protag must be destined to ge a girl, that's why the prophecy seemed off. In a panic, protag checks their pants... Okay little buddy is still there. This, however, makes their friend crack up laughing. She's in hysterics at why they think becoming a girl means that would change. Sure, most girls have a vulva, she has one she says, but not all girls do. And if your truest, most ideal self still has a dick, there's no reason it would go anywhere.

Sure, they've been happier lately, and no longer hate seeing their face in mirrors, but do they really see themself as a girl? Wait, they've not really been referring to themself as a guy in a while, and somewhere along the line "he/him" just got dropped without them even noticing. Why does this suddenly put a lot of things from the past into context? Why does that feel like a weight off their increasingly heavier chest? Changes like this, so gradual you don't even notice, so right they just feel natural... maybe this is what they needed. Maybe this is what they've always wanted. Maybe when they arrived in this world, they weren't exactly the hero of legend, but maybe... maybe they want to become her?

This introspection greatly relieves their friend, who had grinned and bared that she must have stumbled into the responsibility, but never truly felt right taking the chosen hero's role just because of a little gender incongruence. Then again, everything about the backwards, if technologically advanced, world her friend came from makes sense why they just assumed it must be her instead.

When the pair got back on the road again, the two adventurers were working in better sync than ever. The friend native to this world started peppering in feminine terms when talking to and about the protagonist. She'd comment on "her" hair, ask a blacksmith to repair (and adjust) "this fine lady's armor". When the terms would hit a nerve, she'd back off, but slowly, the terminology started to make the protag smile sheepishly.

The protagonist wasn't the only one who was changing, of course. While both were becoming more skilled adventurers as they took on bigger and bigger missions, the more seasoned of the two found herself sitting closer on benches to her friend, stealing glances at night when they brush strands of hair out of their face, having to look away when the tent curtain isn't fully closed when the protagonist starts changing... Oh my god she's into her. Them. Whatever. At least protag isn't a guy after all?

The two of them pick up other party members along the way; some stay for a while, some leave, but by just after halfway there they're a pretty consistent team of four, and the other two are certain there's something between the co-leaders, but hell if they're going to poke that hornet's nest of drama, they have to hear the two of them fretting fruitlessly to themselves when the other isn't around as is.

2 years into the journey, and just looking at the protagonist, there's no clue she could have ever been mistaken for a man. Mere months from the demon king's castle, and she's gone from a joke the hordes can't take seriously to a fearsome warrior you don't approach, lest she strike you down with her blade or her crossbow-wielding situationship takes you out first.

Despite all the battlefield confidence, however, the protagonist and her oldest companion in this world still rest at a stalemate, where each have formed a wall of excuses for why they shouldn't approach the other about how they feel. Fighting is easy, navigating feelings is complicated, especially when the circumstances today are different from when they first met years ago. The demon king is mere months away, the party is ready to take him on, but that's bizarrely ever the topic of conversation. The mage and cleric find it not only amusing, but also reassuring, as if navigating complex social barriers is their biggest concern, then they're probably going to be just fine.

That is, it's funny until it's gone on for 3 years, the captain's a clueless virgin, the co-captain stopped having hookups over a year ago, and both are pent up to high heaven.

Then one day, just before they get to the demon castle, the impending threat cracks the surface of the tension, and the protagonist confesses to her companion, even though she knows her friend only dates women, she just has to confess. To this, her friend calls her an idiot for not realizing that isn't an issue, it hasn't been for a long time. She does reciprocate those feelings though, she was just worried the protagonist had long ago written her off as an option after she made it clear she wasn't into men, even though things had changed. In relief, the two laugh, sob, and hug, before pulling away into a long overdue kiss.

The party, newly resolved of tension, gathers their materials, and lays absolute shit into the demon king. The three years that it took to get here had honed all of them into fine warriors, but most of all the protagonist's bracelet had made her into the perfect weapon to slay the evil tyrant. With a decisive slash, the absolute evil that had plagued this land was now without his head, and the hordes of his armies that witnessed this cowered in fear of their defeat.

It would take many more years before the rest of his forces in the land outside the path the party cleared were stamped out, but the root had been thoroughly ripped out and the land could heal and rebuild without threat of absolute destruction for once in many millennia. The protagonist and her "best friend" would go on to get married, and after a few more years helping stamp out the dark army's remnants, the two would settle down in a small town, open a shop, and most of all be happy.

Maybe they stay monogamous, maybe they find a third person they both fall in love with. Maybe they eventually open the relationship but have each other as their anchors they always come home to. Maybe just the one from the magical world originally goes back to hookups on the side with her wife's blessing. I don't care how it's handled (though shirking monogamy in a story is always welcome), but I need a story like this put to animation in my lifetime. Maybe I might write my own story off this framework someday, fleshed out into a full narrative with actual names and locations, but if something like this gets put into production, which is a pipe dream I know, I would truly die happy. I love portal fantasies and their opportunity to explore a world unlike ours, and the opportunity for fish-out-of-water tales that help the protagonist grow into a better version of themself bring me so much joy. So to take this genre that is so often male wish fulfillment, and make it something that reflects my fantasies as a queer trans feminine person, it would just make me so happy.

I hope what I wrote is enjoyable by anyone who reads this, and I sincerely hope I don't have to mute this post from terf backlash or something. If you got to the end here, thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart.

#fantasy #isekai #short story #creative writing #kanguin original #trans #transgender #transfem #trans girl #trans woman

83 notes · View notes

messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 1 year ago

Text

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #jjk toge #jjk toge inumaki #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki x reader smut #toge inumaki fluff #fluff #toge inumaki x fem!reader #reader has a hearing curse #deaf reader

393 notes · View notes