#anyways i've been thinking about these two ever since i read the first chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wintrwinchestr · 4 months ago

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strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places.

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks.

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again.

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you.

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up.

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear.

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms.

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now.

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump.

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside.

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive.

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones.

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been.

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch.

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen.

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive.

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female.

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him.

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs.

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears.

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.”

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole.

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them.

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time.

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so.

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.”

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway.

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget.

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another.

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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greenpurplemylove · 2 months ago

Text

What Lovers Do (PJS)♥️

→ masterlist.

→ pairings: non idol! situationship! jay x female! reader.

synopsis: There was only one thing left to do when two friends finally confess that they like each other after all the endless chasing about and beating around the bush. Though it wasn't like how it traditionally went, like on a bed or in a fancy hotel room. You and Jay knew it would be wasteful to go back to yours or his apartment, not when the view of the beach at 02:00 AM in the morning hits different.

→ genre: friends to lovers! smut, and fluff. -> now playing: Diet Pepsi, Addison Rae/Forrest Gump, Frank Ocean.

-> wc: 5,8k

warnings: SMUT, swearing, car sex, car sex by the beach, dom! jay x sub! slightly switch! reader, slight cockwarming, riding, unprotected sex (wrapeth t bef're thee tapeth t), creampie, fingering, mutual masturbation, mentions of skinny dipping and pet names (baby, pretty girl, darling).

-> A/N: after a season of midterms, a breakup and a series of procrastinations later, I've finally completed the last chapter. good news is y'all don't rly have to read part 1 dan part 2 (but if you want to, I'd say be my guest honestly) to understand what's going on in this story cause this is like smut with very little plot. this is my first smut ever so anyways I'm rly sorry if it isn't perfect, nonetheless I do hope y'all enjoy it though. much love, Cher🫶

♥️

Seeing two people being in denial that they’re actually obsessed with each other is frustrating.

Especially if those two people are practically close friends.

Take you and your friend, Park Jongseong, for example.

You’ve been friends with Park Jongseong since freshman year of college.

Maybe it was due to the fact that your friend groups were practically mushed together and that you’d more often than not end up in the same class he was taking.

With what originally started with strictly exchanging the notes you took during class, slowly melted away into long and deep texts, conversations, even playful arguments about each others pasts and interests.

But what he didn’t know was that you’ve always secretly admired him.

At first you didn’t want to think the admiration you had for him was romantic, but overtime it grew difficult for you to maintain a merely platonic admiration.

He was a nice guy you have to admit, and the fact that he was practically gorgeous made things all the more difficult for you in maintaining that so called ‘platonic’ gaze.

And it didn’t help with the fact that he was such a gentleman to you as well.

Always opened doors for you.

Paying extra attention towards you whenever you needed his help.

And always letting you order first whenever you needed to go somewhere for lunch in between classes.

Even offering to pay for your meals.

It was difficult. Very difficult, for you to not fall for him.

You find yourself looking at him from afar with rose tinted glasses, your day got a little brighter every time the two of you exchanged glances and smiles,

your heart would skip a beat every time his name was mentioned in any given situation,

and most importantly, you wanted to be near him all the time.

Naturally, you grew closer to him.

Overtime it felt strange, how you noticed his smile seemed to linger longer whenever he was looking in to you so deeply,

or how close your bodies were whenever you’d talk to him for an extended period of time.

The questions started to beckon in your head, was this his way of flirting with you?

And to answer that question. Yes, yes it was.

The reason being none other than because he has a crush on you. But being the outwardly cold person that he is, he didn’t wanted to admit that.

Cause there’s a small part of him that was a little scared you wouldn’t feel the same way he did.

He’d look at you from afar and a small smile would creep onto his face.

He would think about how pretty you looked on that day before he fell asleep at night.

And you’d be the first person that comes to his mind the moment he opens his eyes the next morning.

He would pay extra attention to the things you liked and didn’t like. Memorizing your favorite lunch order. Always saving a seat for you next to him.

Always saving an extra gum in his bag because he knows you’d sometimes forget to bring yours to class,

and that he knows you have this bad habit of chewing the cap of your pen in the middle of class whenever you forgot to bring in your gum.

Mind you he also initially wanted to keep things platonic in fear of ruining the bond you’ve pretty much grown into overtime, but it was hard to keep those feelings at bay when you’re always so close to him.

After a while of teasing, lingering smiles, and small flirtatious gestures. You both were still in denial if wether or not the feeling was mutual.

It wasn’t until one drunk night at Sunghoon’s house, where you basically made out and almost had sex with him on Sunghoon’s upstairs couch that made you realize that you both felt the same way about each other.

Well, knowing he didn’t push you away when you were practically sitting on his lap and guiding his hand up your shirt and all.

After that night you both knew you couldn’t just pretend that it never happened,

so, stupidly enough, the two of you kept on teasing each other for a little while.

Hinting bits and pieces of your private lives, purposefully making the other jealous in hopes that the other would confess first because the both of you were stubborn as hell about your feelings.

When the both of you know fully well, you would be down to fuck from dusk to dawn.

It felt like playing a chess game with Jay during those times.

A romantic, for the most parts sexual tension filled game of chess with Jay.

And yet all the games, all the strategies, plans and moves you had all up in your head with Jay has led you here.

Half naked on his lap in his car by the beach at 2 AM, with his lips messily clinging to yours.

Both of your cheeks flushed. Breaths heavy as the windows started to fog. With his hands fondling with your bare breasts.

Your arms clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as your both tongue deep into the kiss.

You both knew at one point it’ll all lead up to this.

But that never stopped either one of you from pushing the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ more and more.

From the longing stares and touches across the hallways to the private moments that had you on the edge of your seat.

All of those moments has led you here, with your body sensually placed on top of his.

“Jay.” you moaned his name softly when you felt his thumb swiping against your hardened nipples as he trailed kisses from your jaw before nipping the back of your ear.

He felt his pants getting tighter by the minute, his dick growing hard at the sound of you moaning his name.

His hands traveled lower and lower down your pants as his palms settled on your ass making you gasp silently, while his mouth travelled down to your neck.

Kissing and sucking on it feverishly as if he was pouring all of his pent up desire to you after all this time.

“So pretty for me y/n.” he whispered against your neck, leaving a light trail of hickeys down your neck as your fingers caressed the back of his hair before trailing to the hem of his shirt.

Sneakily putting your fingers below the hem just to feel his bare skin against the palm of your hand.

You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your neck as he pulled away, a playful smirk plastered onto his face as he sat up straight.

His hands trailed down to the bottom hem of his shirt but not before your hands replaced what was supposed to be his.

He looked at you surprised by your boldness as you took of his shirt, the muscles on his chest and arms contorting as you did,

feeling the tent that was forming in your panties grow wetter as you discarded his shirt to the side.

The sound of the ocean behind you long blurred into the background as he smiled up at you, caressing your thighs as he watched your every move.

Leaning back onto the chair behind him, your fingers caressed the abdomen of his chest,

feeling his chest rising and falling as his honey like skin emitted an inviting glow under the moonlight.

Your finger trailed lower and lower, from his toned stomach to the buckle of his belt,

lacing your fingers on to it.

You wanted to remove his belt from his pants, that was until his hand held yours, stopping you from going any further.

“I think I can handle that y/n.” he spoke in a sultry tone as he eyed your fingers, caressing them gently before undoing his belt.

Your hands then trailed slowly from the fabric under his belt, to the fabric that covered his prominent bulge.

Purposefully teasing him as you traced your fingers around his bulge.

His breath hitched in his throat as he leaned his head back and sighed, feeling your fingertips undressing his pants.

“I thought couples help take their partners clothes off when they’re gonna have sex?” you murmured as you flashed him a smirk.

“Oh, so we’re a couple now?” he teased, grinning at you flirtatiously.

You sighed in disbelief as you rolled your eyes.

You knew he was the type of person who’d tease from time to time, but you never thought he’d tease you at a time where you were completely vulnerable to him.

“Are you really gonna tease me at a time like this?” you whispered as your lips curl into a small sly smile while your fingers caressed his hair.

He smiled at you before he sat up straight, cupping your cheeks as he captured your lips in his.

Passion surging over you as your hands wrapped around his neck, taking his lips in deeper.

His hands soon trailed down from your body to your hips, giving it a firm squeeze before trailing his fingers to the button of your pants,

unbuttoning it and gently, stripping it off of your body as your purple lacy underwear came into view.

Pulling away from your lips, his eyes soon caught the attention of your undergarments,

pupils dilating as his fingers traced the hem of it, groaning as his eyes rolled back as your hips came down to grind on his clothed cock.

Purple. His favorite color.

Whether you intentionally wore it for him or out of pure coincidence, it made him incredibly harder than he already was before.

So hard that his pants felt uncomfortable against his now fully hardened cock.

But he knew better than to rush this moment like a casual hook up.

This was his crush. The women he’d fawn over since freshman year.

His close friend. Y/N.

He knew what you like and what you didn’t like from the back of his head,

from all the times you’ve told him stories about your casual hook ups every now and then.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t go home most nights feeling jealous of how other guys could touch you so undeservingly,

at other nights he spent dreaming of how much he could fuck you better than any other guy,

and at some nights the jealousy and all the pent up feelings he had for you brewed to such intensity that he had no other option than to fist his cock in the shower,

thinking about fucking you all to himself.

And here you finally were, on top of him; your hands gripping onto his shoulders, your cheeks flushed as you turned away rather shyly,

your bare breasts all in display for him and your soaked pussy just inches away from his clothed cock.

All for himself.

It was like a wet dream come true to him.

Lust dipped into his pupils as he caressed the band of your panties,

staring in awe at the lacy fabric at hand before setting the band aside, revealing your already drenched cunt.

He groaned at the sight of it. Wanting nothing more than to stuff your pussy full of his cock.

Feeling his dick twitch uncomfortably in his slacks, he lifted his hips as he stripped down his trousers,

feeling himself grow impatient at the sight of your slick glisten, barely an inch from his thighs.

Leaving his pants bare on the floor of his backseat before dipping his fingers in between your drenched folds.

You sighed and bit your lip as a response. Turning away rather shyly.

His fingers soon laced on to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

It felt like time had slowed as he looked at you, his mouth opened, his lips puffy, and his gaze intense as he eyed you lustfully.

He had wanted, yearned for you even for so long, and now you were finally his.

There was nothing more he could’ve asked for in this moment.

He eyed your expression as he continued rubbing your folds, eyes closed and lips swollen from all the kissing and bitting,

he gradually slid his middle finger in back and forth, but not enough to satisfy how much you wanted him to touch you.

“Jay, please,” you exhaled as you eyed the motion of his fingers, holding onto the back of the front seat for support.

He caressed you so sensually, feeling the pleasure surging at the pit of your stomach,

it drove you almost insane on top of him. “don’t tease me.”

“I won’t baby.” he cooed as his other fingers moved from your chin to your hips,

his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as your mouth opened in pleasure.

The new nickname felt foreign to your ears, but nonetheless it made your pussy throb just for him.

“Jay,” you moaned lowly, gripping onto his arm.

Dipping his finger into you, you rolled your eyes back and bit your bottom lip, gently tugging on his hair,

feeling yourself melting into his touch as your hips thrusted slowly, almost in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the seat as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, feeling his cock twitch at the sight.

His fingers went in and out deep inside you, curling at you in all the right spots as the band of your panties grew wet from your slick cascading down his fingers.

Your face flushed, hips circling his fingers like a pretty doll as he looked at how drenched his finger were from slipping in and out of your walls.

He smirked up at you, enjoy seeing his effect on you.

It made him feel in control and powerful, subtly feeding his ego,

taking pride in how easy it was to have you squirming around his fingers.

Lifting his back towards you, pressing your lips onto his into a clingy hot mess of a kiss.

Slipping another finger inside of you, you moaned into the kiss as he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside of your mouth, never giving you a moments rest.

Feeling your hardened nipples softly grazing against his collarbones, he groaned into the kiss adding to the sensation as your hips moved clockwise against his thumb on your clit.

Kissing you oh so passionately, you tugged on his hair before pulling away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting your tongues.

You were rilled up, your soft messy thrust turned precise and angled, almost as if you were waiting for the right moment to return the favor.

And you did so, as you laced your fingers onto the band of his boxers before beckoning him to lift his hips.

He raised an eyebrow at you as the tips of his lips curled, eyeing you curiously as he removed his fingers from your throbbing cunt making you whine silently,

missing the feeling of his fingers around you already as he gripped your waist.

Lifting his hips, he lets you slip your fingers onto the band of his boxers before pulling them down,

just enough to let his hardened cock sprung free from constraint.

Your eyes trailed from tip to the base of his cock, eyes dazed and mouth dry.

The mushroom tip of his dick flushed. A single thick vein trickled down from the bridge to the base of his cock.

He was definitely big.

Not the biggest you’ve ever seen, but he was definitely big enough to have your stomach doing backflips.

All the excitement and nervous tension trickled down onto your cunt, feeling the throbbing sensation swell as you held your breath in for a moment.

Licking your lips at the sight of it, you continued to strip down his pants until they were well past his ankles as he threw them off to the side.

“Like what you see?” he smirked up at you as he firmly held your waist.

“Don’t get cocky Jongseong.” you teased back, a smile creeped onto your face as you leaned closer to him before capturing your lips onto his.

He gripped your hair gently as he leaned your head to the side, deepening the kiss.

Your hands were all over his body, caressing his toned chest and washboard abs as your fingers trailed lower and lower while he sneaks his tongue back into your mouth,

letting out a groan as your thumb caressed dangerously close to the base of his cock.

The kiss soon grew rough and passionate as your tongues intertwined, his shaft grazing against your clit,

pulsating into a frenzy as his hands groped your ass, kneading them roughly all the while his nails were digging into your skin, making your breath hitch at your throat.

“Y/n.” he moaned out as he pulled away from you, feeling the pleasure coursing through out his body.

Rolling his eyes and throwing his head back onto the seat as he watched you, grinding your soaked folds onto his length.

His tip grew red as precum started to leak from his shaft.

“Shit.” he cursed lowly to himself as he eyed the sight in front of him hungrily.

The view in front of him was better than any wet dream he’s ever had of you.

Your fingers pressed against his cock as you grinded your folds against his dick.

Your slick wetting the bridge of his cock as you grind on him up and down, your other hand gripping onto his thigh for dear life as you balanced yourself on top of him.

You were insatiable.

He knew sex wasn’t a new thing for you, but never in his wildest dreams he’d see you like this with his own eyes.

A flushed mess, eyes closed, your bottom lip tucked as you held back your moans while you grind your folds against his cock,

holding yourself back from sinking fully onto his dick when he knows you so desperately want to.

So sweet yet so sinful, your moans and movements were a lingering sugar like addiction to him as he watches you slowly lose yourself on his cock.

And he hasn’t even put his dick inside you yet.

“Tell me what you want.” he whispered as his nails dug into your waist, hands moving in sync with the movement of your hips, guiding it gently as you swayed your hips in a rhythmic pace against his cock.

Your vision grew hazy as you looked at him, blinking once as your eyes were instantly set on his,

his gaze spilling with lust and desire as he looked at you through his hooded eyelids, face flushed,

his lips pink and plump as they formed an ‘o’ shape, exhaling breathlessly as he eyed you so intensely.

His fingers soon replaced yours, holding back his length against your pussy,

watching you soak the bridge of his cock with your throbbing cunt.

You couldn’t take the teasing you inflicted on him anymore, you wanted him inside of you.

You wanted, needed to feel his dick pulsating inside of you.

You needed him.

“Jongseong, please, I wanna ride your dick.” you whined breathlessly as you continued to grind on him, knowing you still wanted to be good for him despite your desperation.

He cursed at himself, your words stripped him bare into utter desire as his fingers laced on to the band of your panties,

stripping them off your body before shoving them to the side as every patience he had in his body melted away into only anticipation, lust and desire.

“Ride me then y/n,” he spoke in a sultry tone as he looked at you through his half lidded eyes, while his hand grasped onto the base of his shaft,

angling his tip onto your entrance, “I’m all yours.”

Goosebumps erupt in your skin as he spoke those words, electrifying the feeling in your stomach as you positioned his tip at your entrance,

lifting your hips, you planted your forehead against his as you slowly started sinking down onto his cock.

Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung loose at the sensation as he did the same.

It was right then and there you realized that you’ve underestimated how big he was from the outside as his cock filled you to the brim of your walls.

Stretching you out oh so heavenly as he caressed the sides of your body as an attempt to sooth you while you adjusted yourself to his length.

“Shit.” you cursed as your eyes rolled back and nails dug onto his back.

“Holy fuck, you’re taking me so good y/n.” he spoke as his hands trailed down onto your waist, eyes rolling back and mouth opened the moment you started circling your hips around his dick.

Heavy breaths and strings of moans fogged the windows as you started to slowly bounce on his cock.

His dick filling you up to the brim every time you sank down fully onto him.

The way he was stretching you out felt so heavenly, you wanted more of it. You wanted more of him.

“Shit you’re big.” you whispered in between your moans as you buried your face on the crook of his neck.

The complement fueled his ego as he smirked with pride before being cut short as he groaned, feeling you starting to clamp down on his dick.

The hands that was once your waist, trailed down onto your ass as he gripped them gently making you let out a loud moan,

as his hands started to match with the rhythm of your hips.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your drenched velvety walls soaking his dick. Feeling your slick dripping down his balls.

“Holy shit Jay fuck.” you leaned your head back as your eyes rolled back,

His head dipped down at the sight of your pussy sinking down onto his dick as you lifted your hips,

revealing the sight of his drenched cock before taking him in you again rather eagerly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good.” he groaned as he fondled with your ass making you moan his name as you continued taking in his dick like it was your last.

Where have you been all his life?

How could he have been stupid enough to not confess his feelings sooner?

A little part of him can only swirl in regret as he watches you bounce on his cock. Flushed. Dazed. And fueled with lust.

Wishing he could’ve pursued you sooner, knowing how good your slick walls felt wrapped around his dick.

“Look at me.” he whispered as you wince onto his shoulders from the overwhelming feeling of his dick stretching your walls,

picking up your pace as you moaned his name making him sigh as he relished himself on the overwhelming pleasure.

He cursed to himself before gently cupping his hand onto your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me y/n.” he whispered a little louder as you looked at his hooded eyes.

Holy fuck he’s never looked so hot.

The strands of his hair laced with sweat as his eyes pierced through them like a knife through a curtain, looking into you like you were his favorite pornstar.

His mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as groans, murmurs and profanities slipped pass his lips as you were bouncing on his dick like there was no tomorrow.

He leaned his head back against the seat, bitting his lips as he feels your slick dripping down his balls.

The occasional ‘fuck’s and ‘holy shit’s slipped pass your lips as you rolled your eyes back, head leaned back while your palms were pressed against his toned chest.

The feeling of his length filling you in and out hits you like a tidal wave as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

His hands moved to caress the sides of your body, eyeing you lustfully. “So pretty for me,”

“so fucking pretty for me.” he groaned as he fondled your breasts making you moan his name rather loudly at the already overwhelming pleasure.

Your walls clenched around him as your thrusts started to fall out of rhythm, turning sloppier by the second as your sigh and moans grew heavier.

“Tired y/n?” he asked as he cupped your cheek, receiving a weak nod from you as you bit your lip.

“That’s alright baby, I’ll take it from here.” he spoke softly as his fingers trailed to your hips, guiding you to spread your legs a little wider across the seat as you leaned forward,

feeling your chest pressed against his and his lips lingering over your ear, he started kissing and sucking on your neck,

making you close your eyes in pleasure as you succumb to the feeling of his tongue lapping against your neck.

A string of moans and profanities lingered from your lips as you felt him thrusting upwards into your pussy in a slow rhythmic pace.

You feel the air around you grew impossibly thicker as you breathed heavily.

His name slipped from your lips like a mantra, feeling his cock graze near your spot as he place open-mouth kisses against your collarbone and your fingers gripped onto his shoulders for dear life as the sound of the ocean waves creeped onto the back of your ear.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his thrusts grazed onto your spot, your hand that was on his shoulder slitted upwards onto his scalp, tugging on his hair gently as he moaned your name.

“Fuck, Jay, right there.” you moaned quietly into his ear as a small smirk creeped onto his face.

“Right there huh?” he spoke lowly in a playful, almost teasing tone. Gripping onto your hips so tightly as he thrusted onto your spot repeatedly making you cling onto his shoulder,

whimpers and loud moans of his name being the only thing leaving your lips as you no longer cared about the world outside of his car.

Though it was unlikely at this hour, if someone were to catch a glimpse of his car, they would’ve caught on to what was going on inside pretty quickly.

The car was shaking, it was almost in the middle of nowhere and the windows were fogged from the inside shut, covering the both of you from sight.

Though the both of you didn’t seem to care anyways. Too lost in each others presence to care about the world moving along outside of your own.

You nodded as you bit your lip, earning a groan from him as he leaned his head back onto the seat, fondling your ass as profanities slipped pass your lips.

“Shit, Jay!” you cursed as his thrusts grew rougher, hitting your spot over and over again, feeling the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter as he fucked you harder.

“Fuck y/n, you feel so good.” he moaned, feeling his grip on your hips tighten as you were certain that there would be bruises afterwards.

“Fuck, Jay.” you repeated his name as your nails tugged onto the blades of his shoulders. Feeling yourself growing closer to your high.

His sharp gaze pierced through the strands of his hair as his mouth hung opened and his eyebrows furrowed, completely lost in the feeling of chasing his own high.

“Tell me what you want.” he groaned lowly as his lips ghosted over your ear. The tone of his voice grew desperate and needy, almost whiny as he felt himself inching closer to his orgasm.

His words were only met with your moans and whines as he felt himself left unsatisfied.

You gasped as you felt his hand suddenly coming down onto your ass rather harshly, feeling your slick drip further down the base of his cock as a result.

“I said, tell me.” he reprimanded as his hand came down onto your ass again, but this time in between his sentences.

You feel yourself becoming flustered at his words, almost too shy to answer his lewd request.

It wasn’t until you felt his dick completely leaving your cunt that made you widen your eyes.

Whining at the loss of your orgasm.

All of a sudden, his lips latched onto your neck as he started sucking and bitting rather harshly making you let out a whine.

“Jay, don’t-” you whined as you tried to position his cock at your entrance, until his hands gripped your hips, completely halting you from reaching your high.

“I’m not letting you,” he whispered in your ear as he licked a stripe up your neck making you let out a moan. “if you don’t tell me what you want.”

At this point you were desperate. Almost too desperate to reach your high. You were willing to do whatever he wanted, just so that you can cum on his dick.

“Shit, I want you Jay.” you whispered as you caressed his toned abs, resulting in him letting out a groan.

You let out a whine as you felt his thumb caressing your slit, fueling the knot in your stomach that was bound to snap at any given moment.

“Please, wanna cum on your dick.” you practically begged, succumbing yourself to his touch.

A smirk plastered on his face as he looked up at you from your neck before positioning his cock at your entrance.

A moan left your lips as you felt his hands guiding your hips to bounce on his cock.

“Tell me again y/n, what do you want?” he asked as you moaned out his name, feeling his cock thrusting into you deeper as he synced his thrusts with your bounces.

Circling your clit faster, hitting your spot rougher and deeper, that you can only moan out in pleasure and desperation.

“Wanna cum, fuck, wanna cum on your dick Jay, please.” you whined as your high came closer and closer with each given thrust and bounce of your hips.

You yelped as his thrust grew faster, animalistic almost. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as his mouth hung opened and his eyes closed shut,

too focused on getting you to cum, too focused on the feeling of how good your pussy was clenching around his dick.

“Shit Jay, gonna cum, wanna cum on your dick.” so close, you felt so close to reaching your high as the knot in your stomach was bound to snap at any moment.

“Cum for me, cum for me y/n.” his words were your undoing. Your mouth hung opened as you feel your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave of pleasure.

Your head leaned back as you moaned out his name, back arching at the intensity of the feeling as your bounces grew sloppier and sloppier.

He sighed as he pulled himself out of you before pumping his dick in front of you, trying to reach his own orgasm.

You didn’t know what came over you as you’re hand swiped across the foggy glass before pinning both of his arms behind his head,

leaving him to look at you speechless as one of your hands trailed down onto his cock and you positioned him on top of your entrance.

”Fuck y/n, what are you doing?” he asked as he looked at you bewildered, you bend down onto his ear as you whispered to him sensually.

“Want you to cum inside me.” he can only moan at your words as his chest breathed heavily. He smiled tiredly as he looked at you.

This was definitely better than any wet dream he’s ever had of you.

"Shit y/n are you sure?" he asked as he raised his eyebrows at you, his eyes widening, second guessing your actions.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to do any-" his words were then cut off by your lips as you closed the distance between your lips and his in abandon.

"I want you to." you spoke as you pulled away, smiling softly at him making him sigh, a grin plastered on to his face.

“Go on then, don't let me stop you any longer.” he spoke softly as he moaned, eyes rolling back as he feels you sinking down onto him once more.

Your hand was still pinning his hands down as you started bouncing on his dick faster as he relished on the feeling of your pussy clenching on his dick.

“Oh fuck y/n I’m gonna cum.” he moaned out as his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck wanna paint your fucking insides so fucking bad.”

You felt so fucking incredible around him. Clenching around him in all the right places with his dick buried into your hilt.

His eyebrows knitted at the sensation. Already so close to his edge.

The feeling of you alone could make him cum.

“Cum in me then, give it to me.” The way you were already pinning him down and the way you were riding him so good was enough to make him oh so close to reaching his high,

but your words sent him over the edge as his back arched and his thrusts met your bounces.

You moaned his name rather loudly as you felt his cum filing up your pussy.

A string of curses and moans followed as you both rode out his high.

The thrusts that were once harsh and rough, soon turned sloppy as you felt his cum painting your walls.

“Shit.” you cursed as you breathed heavily, finally spent.

You settled on his lap for a moment before slipping yourself out of him, his arms guiding you to lay on top of him comfortably.

Your heavy breathes mingled with each other as he snook a glance at your cunt. You sighed as he guided you to lean back, exposing your pussy to him.

“Fuck.” he cursed as he saw a bit of his cum oozing out of you.

Using his thumb he pushed back the cum back into you, a small sigh left your lips as he did so.

“Wouldn’t want that to go to waste.” he spoke as he smiled at you. You smiled back at him as the both of you started to chuckle at your disheveled states.

“You look handsome.” you spoke as you pushed some of the strands of hair on his forehead, before cupping his cheeks as he chuckled,

the blush on his face prominent as ever post-sex.

“You look beautiful y/n.” he smiled as he hugged your waist earning a giggle from you, before taking your lips in his as the kiss soon melted into passion.

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lukesaprince · 7 months ago

Text

Rich Part 22

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. Y/n meets Anne, her Dad finds out the truth and an unexpected encounter has devastating results.

Warning: Smut, bj (the beginning of one anyway), penetration, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk. Mentions of revenge p*rn, Ethan, bad mental health. There is also a detailed account of a panic attack and negative thinking so please be mindful of this. PLEASE lmk if I've missed anything ❤️

Word count: 21k+

Author's note: Look I'll always say I'm an angst writer not an angst reader so I hope you guys enjoy reading a bit of it... At this point Rich won't be finishing up at Part 25 as expected because I just don't think I'll fit everything I want to within three more chapters so you're welcome I guess. ANYWAY happy reading muah

- Find Series Masterlist Here -

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Okay… y’ready?” Harry asked, bopping his knee anxiously.

“I’m ready.” You confirmed, smiling.

You totally weren’t ready.

This was the first meet-the-parents thing you had ever done in your life and you were fucking terrified. You didn’t want to come across as too immature or young but you also wanted to be yourself. Compared to Harry you were young and even if you had things in common, you were as Gen Z as they came and the last thing you wanted was Anne thinking you were some kid.

From what Harry told you, Anne wasn’t a judgmental person. She was a sweetheart and seemed so gentle and kind. Like your mum but without the hint of crazy. He did say Anne liked a good glass of wine, which both you and your mum enjoyed as well so that was one thing you had in common.

You were definitely overthinking it way too hard but Harry being nervous made you nervous. You just wanted her to like you. It was a lot harder meeting her for the first time via Facetime too because there wasn’t really a lot of external stimuli to chat about if things got quiet. You weren’t sharing a meal or doing an activity where the conversation could drift naturally. This all felt so formal.

Harry assured you that he’d jump in at any point it got quiet but that he didn’t think he’d need to because Anne loved to talk about anything and everything. That made you feel a bit better but you still felt like your inside matched how Harry looked on the outside. Anxious.

You didn’t really want to make it worse by talking about your own nerves, especially since Harry had been talking about it all damn day. He kept bringing it up through text and called you double what he usually did while he was at work. He was trying to appear calm and in every conversation he was making sure you were still okay with meeting his mum.

You knew that it was because he was nervous about it. Harry was practically losing sleep over it and he didn’t really understand why. He didn’t expect to be so nervous about it, especially since he wasn’t phased by your parents knowing about you two.

He just loved you so much, so fucking much, and you were one of the most important people in his life. The most important. His mum was one of the other important people and maybe that’s why he was all in knots about it.

His mum’s opinion on you mattered a great deal to him and even if it wouldn’t change how he felt about you, or whether he continued seeing you, it still mattered. She is the closest family member he has and he wants you two to get along more than anything else.

Deep down, all along all Harry ever wanted was a family. Maybe not the kids and nuclear family model, but family. He could play it off and think that meaningless hookups and money could satisfy him for the rest of his life and for a while it did. It truly did. But meeting you changed everything and now all he wanted was his family together.

He wanted a life with friends that he loved, a partner he adored who adored him back and he wanted his family back together again. Harry had two out of three of those things and now his family was the last thing he needed to tackle.

Harry knew Anne would love you because he loved you, but he was still riddled with anxiety. The cause was more than just this initial FaceTime of course, but this was one of the many things he was having a hard time dealing with. He felt blessed that he had you to support him through everything.

You placed a gentle hand on his knee, applying a little pressure so it would stop shaking. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded, grabbing your chin affectionately, “yeah, m’love. Just haven’t introduced many partners to her before. Not that any of them were nearly as important as you.”

Not that any of them were as important as you.

Oh did you fucking love this man.

“I hope she likes me” you whispered, puckering your lips against his thumb when he brushed it against your mouth.

“She will.” He assured you while smiling fondly. “What’s not to like, baby?”

“thank you…” you whispered, pecking him quickly. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He murmured, wanting to say so much more only to be interrupted by the ringing sound of his laptop. It was far easier to do FaceTime with both of you on the bigger screen and this way you wouldn’t be as squished up.

You quickly adjusted your hair over your shoulders so it laid nicely, trying not to bite away the lipgloss you applied specifically for this call. You wanted to look nice to meet Anne for the first time, even if it was via FaceTime.

The screen lit up with Anne’s gorgeous face and smile when Harry answered the call. His hand fell to your thigh immediately, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers together.

“Hi mum.” Harry greeted with a bright smile. His entire demeanor lit up when he saw her and you could visibly feel his body relax a little. You had never seen Harry interact with any family before so it was just so… nice to watch. You felt warm inside even after two words.

“Harry! Oh my gosh, your beard. It’s so lush. You look wonderful.” Anne beamed, her face bright and so warm. You had seen photos of her before, even stalked her Instagram a little to see what vibe she gave off and she was even lovelier than usual.

“Thanks,” Harry sheepishly responded, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He didn’t grow it out very often, at least not to the length it had gone now. It was only when he was on holiday usually. But you liked his moustache and the feeling of his facial hair between your thighs so he was more than happy to give you what you wanted. Harry liked the look too, he just preferred being cleanly shaved for work.

You were obviously more important than his job.

“And you must be y/n! Oh, you’re gorgeous.” She cooed, looking right at you, “She’s gorgeous, H.” Her eyes flicked to Harry.

“I know. Absolutely breathtaking” Harry brought your intertwined fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before setting it back down on your knee.

“Thank you.” You blushed, “it’s so nice to meet you, Anne. Harry’s told me so much about you.” You squeezed Harry’s hand, feeling like you were in some sort of job interview. You were lost for words and so nervous. You couldn’t relax even if you wanted to.

“Oh, I’m sure he has, darling.” She laughed. It was so warm and homely, much like Harry’s. “He’s such a storyteller, aren’t you, H? Always has been y’know, even as a kid. He used to dress up and perform plays for Gem and me. Oh, he was so cute!”

“Mum.” Harry scolded. Of course, it barely took a minute before she spoke about his childhood. He knew if you were all in her kitchen she’d have the photo albums out before you even arrived.

“Oh shush, you. Don’t pretend you didn’t love it. He was such a little actor. A good singer too.” Anne replied, happy to be sharing stories about her son with an actual girlfriend of his.

“Yeah he is,” you agreed, “He always leads our singing in the car.” You finished off with a giggle.

“I do not.” Harry defended.

“You so do! He always leads, Anne. Always.” You laughed, earning

“That’s not true, I sing plenty thank you very much.” Harry defended, knowing you were just riling him up when in fact your car singalongs were some of his favourite moments and a regular occurrence when you were out and about.

“Mhmm. Sure.” You teased, earning a pinch on your thigh in reprimand.

“We’ve got one of those little karaoke machines here, y/n, and every Christmas Harry used to do a singalong with all the kids. He said it was because they loved it but we all knew it was because he did.” Anne smiled fondly at the memory, but you could feel the sudden shift in the air at the mention of Christmas. Something Harry hadn’t been to for years. “Anyway, that was a while ago…” she brushed off, but you could feel the way Harry was tensed against you. “Harry tells me you’re studying? Marketing, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, giving Harry’s hand a comforting squeeze.

He wrapped his arm around your waist to hold onto you and intertwined your fingers with his other hand. It immediately made him calm down again. He wasn’t usually so sensitive but with so much going on and the possibility of him actually being at his family’s Christmas this year, it hit him a little harder than usual. It wasn’t Anne’s intention at all and Harry knew that, but it was hard to think about the years he missed.

“I’m doing a double bachelor's degree in marketing and arts. It’s my final year so I’ve only got one semester left and then I’m free. Finally.” You finished with a nervous laugh.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing You must be so proud of your achievements,” She gushed like she was proud of you and it was the first time she had ever met you. Her energy was so kind and warm, exactly how Harry described. “I remember from Harry how hard it can be to be in university. All that study and stress. You’re working as well, aren’t you?”

“Um thank you,” You tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling a little shy at her sudden praise. “And I am, yeah. I’m working at a cafe on campus a couple days a week, sometimes more depending on my workload. It can be a lot sometimes but I’m trying to make the most out of it. I’ve made really good friends and we all live close by or have classes together so I want to have as much fun as I can before it’s all over. It’s crazy how fast it’s gone already.”

“Well from what Harry’s told me, you’re smart and very capable. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She replied earnestly, “do you have plans for after graduation?”

“I’m not 100% sure yet, actually. I always had this idea of going straight into work and if I find something I’m interested in I’ll definitely go for it but I don't know… I don’t think I’m in a rush to get there. I’d like to travel for a bit, maybe take some time to figure out what I want to do. I’d like to do my masters eventually as well so I’m not sure if I want to do that before going into full-time work or work a bit then do it. I’ll see how I go, really.” you smiled sheepishly, looking at Harry briefly. His entire focus was on you and he was squeezing your waist and hand encourgagingly. “For now I just want to get good results.”

“She’s incredibly smart and talented,” Harry complimented, kissing your temple lovingly. You blushed at the show of affection, especially in front of his mum. You loved it, you really did, it was just so unfamiliar to be so open in front of family. You two hadn’t even seen your mum together yet. “Whatever she does, she’ll be amazing at.”

“I’m sure you will be, y/n.” Anne echoed, feeling her own heart burst with how affectionate Harry was being with you. She had never seen him like this with anyone before. Not since he was a young boy anyway.

“Thank you…” You whispered, smiling up at him. His gaze was so loving and so sincere. It was like you were his entire universe. You were getting way too flustered and at this point, you still hadn’t asked Anne any questions. You wanted the attention off yourself already. “And what about you, Anne? Harry told me you write children’s novels?”

“And illustrate.” She proudly added, “Oh it’s my passion…”

The phone call lasted a good hour. It was just a natural back-and-forth conversation between you all that felt so comfortable and so homely. After you finally relaxed and Harry did as well, it was easy to enjoy talking to her. Anne was so lovely and so sweet and funny, you already loved her. Archie of course got some limelight and you were able to show pictures of your family and friends and share so many details about your life.

It was only the first meeting and you felt like you were connecting well with her already. Even though Harry said he’d jump in if it got quiet, it just never did. You two were as chatty as anything and Harry barely got to speak unless he was directly addressed. It was wonderful. Anne never made your age seem like it was an issue, though you could tell she was surprised when you told her exactly how old you were.

Harry told her more about you after you agreed to meet her and showed her photos of you and all that, but at that point, you realised that he never specified how old you were. You thought he would’ve been completely honest about your age gap and for the most part, he must’ve been, but it was a little surprising to see that look on her face.

It was only fleeting and if you didn’t see her surprised reaction, you would’ve never known because her attitude didn’t change. She seemed genuine in every way, but you hoped that she didn’t have any ill feelings towards you because of your age. It would’ve been understandable of course, especially considering your mum’s reaction to Harry, but you really liked her already and you wanted her to like you back.

“Alright mum, I’ll talk to you soon.” Harry bid his goodbye.

“Bye, darling. It was so nice meeting you too, y/n. Hopefully, it isn’t too long before I get to see you in person.” Anne waved into the camera, blowing you two a kiss through the screen.

“Hopefully not.” You smiled while waving back to her “Bye, Anne.”

The screen turned black once the call ended, leaving you two (and Archie) alone again. “So… how do you think it went?” You asked after a moment of silence.

He grinned and cupped your face with both hands to look at you, “how do I think it went? Baby, you two didn’t stop talking the entire hour. I think it went perfectly.”

“Really?” You whispered, pecking his mouth before pulling back just enough so your noses were brushing together. “You think she liked me? She seemed so surprised when I told her how old I am.”

Harry nodded, “I think she loved you. I told you she would.”

“I hope so because I loved her. She was so sweet.”

“She’ll love you saying that.” Harry grinned, humming before kissing you once more. He closed his eyes while pulling away, “mmh. I love you for saying that. I love you anyway, but even more now that you love my mum.”

“And here I thought you couldn’t get more obsessed with me. All it took was impressing your mother and you’re kissing me and-”

Funny enough, it was a kiss paired with a firm hand around your throat that interrupted your words. The kiss changed from a smooth brush of your lips to something that had you whimpering and gasping for air in a matter of seconds. “I am obsessed with you.” He murmured, pulling away just enough to say the words before he kissed you again. You smiled into it and gripped his hair in a firm tug.

“Can I… can I say something that might make you more obsessed with me?” You offered, panting a little while letting your hand fall to his thigh to give it a firm squeeze.

“Impossible but I’m listening?” He grinned, leaning back against the couch. He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you towards him, hooking his hand under your knee to drag you across his lap so you were straddling him. It wasn’t meant to be sexual necessarily, just because he wanted you as close as possible.

His arms wrapped around you as soon as you were settled and he was happy to slide them under your-well his nice knit jumper you stole for the call. It didn’t seem necessary to put a bra on when you two were just spending time at home today and only your shoulders up would be shown in the call. He was able to feel the entire expanse of your bare back and how soft your skin was. It was driving him mad.

“I’ve been thinking… about London.” You swallowed thickly, a little nervous about the conversation you were about to have, “About Italy…”

It was hard to communicate properly when his hands were rubbing all over your back and sides, his fingers even grazing the sides of your breasts for a moment before returning backwards. You had been thinking about the trip intensely over the last couple of days since he first brought it up to you and all the pros and cons of going.

Your main concern was his family, but it wasn’t just that. When you two spoke about it, it was before your mum knew and there was so much uncertainty surrounding your parents. You knew you wouldn’t have been able to go on the trip without telling them about it and you couldn’t exactly do that without telling them the truth. Now that your mum knew and was happy for you… it kind of felt like that situation wasn’t a reason not to go on the trip anymore.

University was another concern but Harry was right in saying that the trip would barely overlap with your classes. Your semester ended just over a week before the trip, as did your assignments. You only had two exams and they were both luckily early on in the timetable, like even your university wanted you to go on this trip. They didn’t leave you much space for when Harry wanted to leave, barely a few days but you could manage.

As for money… Harry already offered to cover everything… multiple times. You knew that if you did end up going it was non-negotiable for him to foot the bill as he simply wouldn’t have it any other way and while the thought kind of mortified you, you also knew he only offered because he genuinely wanted to do it. Besides, even if Harry offered to pay for it all, you still wanted to have your own money and realistically… you did. With how Harry paid you for months while you dog sat for him, you had really healthy savings and while most of it was reserved for actual living and your trip at the end of the year, you could afford to spend some of it.

There were more reasons to go than not to go and you hoped that the concerns you did have could just be talked about.

“Yeah? What about it?” Harry scratched your back lightly, making goosebumps rise all over your skin until you shivered against him.

“Would you… would you still want me to go? If I could?”

“You want to come? Seriously?” His eyes widened in glee and he perked up instantly.

You laughed softly while playing with the curls at the back of his head, “I do and I can make it work with school it’s just… are you sure it’s not too soon? To… y’know, see your house and your childhood town and for us to spend an entire month together? We’ve only been together a couple of months. What if you get sick of me?”

“I’d never get sick of you.” He defended with a soft smile, hugging you close to him. “I want you to come more than anything, baby. Truly. It would make me so happy.”

“And what about your family? I want to support you and I’m happy to be there for you but I don’t want to overstep and I don’t want to… I don’t know, like, take away anything from your healing. I still think this is something you should do by yourself.”

“I understand what you’re saying, y/n and I get it.” His hands settled to your lower back in a loose hold while he maintained eye contact with you, “This is something I’ve been afraid of for years and I know I need to face it by myself but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you meeting anyone.” He flashed a soft smile, wrapping his arms properly around you. He hugged you against him, loving the feeling of having you close to him during a conversation like this. “Sure, Gem’s birthday might be off the table because who knows how that’s going to go, but I’d still love for you to meet my mum and… whoever else would be willing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back, but I’d like to think you’d be received with open arms.”

Truthfully, Harry didn’t know what to expect from his visit home. He kept in contact with some of his closest cousins and friends, but there were still those who never really forgave him for what he did to Gemma. He wasn’t sure if they’d come around after the effort he was about to put into trying to mend that relationship, but they were all loving and earnest people. Harry hoped they’d be willing to forgive him.

He was trying not to get too hopeful though.

“Even if I’m not… received with open arms, I’d understand it.” You replied softly. “I just don’t want to be one of the reasons your family doesn’t want to give you a chance, that’s all.”

If this situation was reversed and your family member was coming to visit to try and mend things, only to bring his very new and young girlfriend along with him, you’d be hesitant for sure. It was why you had no expectations to meet anyone or attend any family reunions. You were very prepared to be spending days alone and exploring the city while Harry reconnected with everyone. You had always wanted to solo travel so you actually hoped you’d be able to spend some days just walking around by yourself.

“Y/n… my sweet, sweet girl, you won’t be.” He assured, bringing his hands from under your jumper to cup your face. “There may be a chance they’re not very receptive to me, but that’ll be with or without you there…” He smiled lovingly, running his thumbs over your cheeks. His touch was an instant calm and you found yourself leaning into it heavily. “Look, I understand if you may feel a little awkward so I won’t push you to do anything, but if things are going well I don't see why you couldn’t meet everyone. I know my mum would want to have you over for dinner. Not sure if you’ll be able to get out of that. ”

You laughed softly at his comment and leaned forward to kiss him. “I’d love to meet your mum.” You declared softly, kissing him again. “Okay…” You whispered while pulling away, “I’m in.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” You echoed, nodding before squealing when Harry suddenly scooped you up from the couch.

“How ‘bout we celebrate then, hm?” He mused, kissing you between words as he very quickly made his way upstairs. You laughed a little but agreed nonetheless, kissing him as much as possible until you were lying down on his bed.

Archie had followed you upstairs with a toy in his mouth, tail wagging like you were all about to play a game until Harry quickly uttered those three words that made Archie whine like a sad puppy dog. “Harry, he’s crying.” You pouted, looking around Harry’s legs to make eye contact with the sad little boy.

“He’ll be fine.” Harry laughed, “go on, Arch, go downstairs.”

After another huff, Archie trotted off with his toy in his mouth, allowing Harry to close the bedroom door and leave you two alone. He turned back to face you, eyes dark and full of promise of what he was about to do to you. You couldn’t have been more excited.

“I can’t believe we’re finally christening your bed.” You teased, pushing your sweatpants down your legs until they got caught around your ankles. Harry was quick to help you and pulled them off the rest of the way.

“Mhmm. It’s been way too long, baby… Still want to get my box of toys out, though. I’ve got a paddle and pink rope with your name on it.” He smirked, dumping your sweatpants onto the floor before pulling off his hoodie and shirt in one go.

“When I sleep over. Please, when I sleep over…” you murmured, sitting up so Harry could pull your-his knit jumper off to join the growing pile on the floor. He quickly shoved his pants off before settling between your thighs and joining your mouths in a messy heated kiss.

You’d never get sick of kissing him, not when it felt like an explosion in your belly and a tingling all over your body. Just a single peck had you completely swooning and you’d happily make out with him for hours without doing anything else.

Though knowing you two… it always turned into something else. Something more.

“Baby there’s so many things I need to do to you. Just need time and privacy so I can make you scream as loud as I fucking want.” His words were low and rumbly, partly disappearing into the seam of your mouth because he just couldn’t part from your lips long enough to get a full sentence out. The fact that he used ‘need’ instead of ‘want’ drove you up the fucking wall and you were suddenly more desperate than ever to touch him.

“I’d do anything for that… anything…” You gasped, digging your fingers into his shoulders. His body was so big and heavy over you and you could already feel how hard he was pressed against you. Long and thick and all yours. Sometimes you had to pinch yourself when you thought about being with someone like Harry.

“Mmh, I know you would.” He hummed, beginning to kiss along your jaw down to your neck. “Bet you’d beg for it too, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…” You nodded breathlessly, pulling his mouth back to yours by cupping his jaw in both hands. With a little hook of your neck and a very clear ‘lay down’ mumbled into Harry’s mouth, he let you turn your bodies so he was against the bed and you were straddling him.

“I love seeing you like this” Harry murmured, watching you adjust so you were kneeling between his legs instead of sitting on top of him. You smiled at the compliment and ran your hands over his chest, digging your nails into his skin ever so slightly so he groaned and squeezed your waist.

“I love seeing you like this” You replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love kissing you…” you continued, peppering kisses all over his chest and down to his abs, “...kissing your body, your tattoos…”

Harry sighed above you, sliding his hand through your hair to sweep it across to one shoulder so it wasn’t covering your face. Every gentle touch of your lips against him had his entire body clenching with need. He knew you could feel it too.

You took your time running your mouth and tongue over his body, tracing his tattoos and the contours of his muscles. There was just something so fucking sexy about having full access to him like this, of being able to touch and kiss wherever you liked. And you had time, you could take as much time in kissing him and touching him and making him cum in your mouth.

As far as your parents knew, you were out with Lucy for the night. You weren’t particularly sure if your mum believed your lie when you walked out the door after dropping your things off, but you didn’t really pay too much attention to it when your call with Anne was on your mind. There was a change in your schedule this week which allowed you to sleep at your childhood home midweek for once and you took it immediately. Being away from home was harder than ever now that you and Harry were seeing each other and you were getting a bit homesick.

You loved living by yourself, but you missed the moments you used to have with your parents. Your nightly Netflix binges with your mum and cooking with your dad. It was why you loved to come home and why you tried to spend as much time here as possible. Now that Harry was in the picture… well your homesickness was for him as well as your family.

It always got bad towards the end of the semester too and you were feeling it extra hard this time. You were run down and tired and pushed to your absolute limit and all you wanted to do was go home and be a kid again. Nowadays all you wanted was to curl into Harry’s arms and forget all your responsibilities existed.

Oh… and you absolutely wanted to do this…

“Especially love these ones…” you continued, kissing over his right fern tattoo before pressing your tongue flat against the leaves. “And biting here…” licking a trail up to his hip, you very happily bit down on the spot right above his waistband before starting to work on making a small hickey there.

“Shit…” Harry breathed, clenching his jaw. His fingers tightened in your hair, trying to control every cell in his body that wanted to take control of the situation. Your teasing was torturous and his cock was so goddamn sore he didn’t think he’d even be able to last a full minute once you got your mouth on him. At least he hoped that’s where this was going. However, he really did not care as long as you were just touching him in some capacity.

“Wanna know what I really love, though?” You asked, looking directly up at him while tucking your fingers into the waistband of his tight briefs. His cock was pressing angrily against the soft material and all you wanted to do was get your mouth on it.

“What’s that?”

“Tasting your cock…” you reached down and licked along his length through his underwear, loving the way his filthy moan echoed around the room. “Can I? Please…”

“Fuck… of course you can.” Harry swallowed thickly, almost trembling when you found his tip and sucked ever so gently on it. “Shit baby… take me out.”

Right as you were about to free his cock and finally taste him, the sound of Harry’s doorbell echoed outside his bedroom door. He had an intercom system upstairs and in his kitchen so the sound was always loudest in those two areas. Archie’s barking followed the ringing soon after and you could hear the distinct sound of him jumping around near the front door.

“Who the fuck would be here right now?” Harry cursed, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Just ignore it. We’re busy.” You shrugged, licking him through his briefs again. You were a big fan of ignoring the door and your phone when you didn’t want to speak with someone but if there was one thing you noticed about your parents and well… Harry’s generation was that they were incapable of putting their phone on silent.

Harry shuddered and hissed at your hot tongue against his cock and soon the door was the last thing on his mind. “You’re right… you’re right. For the love of god, please continue baby.” He practically pleaded, almost coming at the dazed-doe expression you had on your face. It looked like you were almost enjoying this more than him. Almost.

You got back to it and kissed along his skin as you pulled his boxers down, following the waistband with your mouth until your lips brushed against the very base of him. His fingers tightened in your hair the further down his length you got until you had licked a trail from his base right to his tip.

But then the doorbell rang again, just as you were about to pull his underwear completely down his thighs.

“Fuck. This better be fucking important” Harry cursed again, reluctantly letting go of your hair. You made a noise of indignation and pulled his boxers back up for him before making space so he could get up from the bed. You flopped onto your back, looking at him with straight annoyance at the fact he was taking his cock away from you. “I’ll be right back, y/n. Right back.” He promised, reaching down to peck your mouth. “I’m just going to see who it is, okay?”

All Harry had to do was walk a little down his hallway where the intercom was and he could speak to whoever was at the gate. He could do it from his phone too but he left that downstairs and there was no way he was walking all the way down there with a sore cock just to turn away whoever was trying to sell him something.

“Hurry upppp.” You complained, already impatient with him leaving you.

“Just be patient, y/n.” Harry tutted, trying not to show how dizzy he was by how eager you were to suck him off. You could give him head every day or once a month and he’d be as eager and grateful for it every single time. There was just something about enthusiastic head that drove Harry up the fucking wall.

Harry adjusted his cock in his boxers before pressing the video button to see who was at his gate and when the clear image popped up, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Uhh… y/n?”

“Yeah?” you called back, staring up at the ceiling while clenching and unclenching the duvet in your hands to try and distract yourself from how horny you were.

“It’s your mum.”

“What!?” You shot up from the bed immediately, looking at him wide-eyed. “What the hell is she doing here?”

It was an immediate cause of panic for the two of you, like you were two teenagers being caught having sex after your parents came home too early. But neither of you were teenagers and you were in the privacy of your own home. Well, Harry’s home.

“I don’t know! What do I do?” Even Harry was panicking, mostly at the loss of his time with you but also because he had no idea what your mum wanted. As bad as it was, he hadn’t spoken to her properly since she found out about you two. He hadn’t seen her due to his work schedule and he didn’t really feel right going over for a cup of tea to talk about your relationship without you being present.

“Just answer it, I don’t know!?”

“Okay… shit. Okay.” Harry cleared his throat before pressing the call button to speak to your mum, “Hi Jules, everything alright?”

“Is my daughter in there?”

You pressed your hands to your face and groaned into them, already recognising the slight tinge of drunkenness in her voice. Even through the intercom, you could identify the one, potentially one and a half glasses of wine she had.

“I know she’s there, Harry, so I suggest you let me in so we can all chat.” Jules continued.

Harry looked back at you and took his finger off the button, giving you a look that basically asked, ‘so what should I do?’.

“Well we don’t exactly have a choice, do we? I can’t lie to her again.”

“I’ll be right down, Jules.”

Barely two minutes later you were opening the front door and letting your mum into Harry’s house. It was possibly the weirdest situation you had ever been in and you didn’t have the slightest idea why she'd be here.

“Mum, what are you doing here? You can’t just show up like this!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms when her eyes landed on Harry’s knit sweater. Both of you were in a severe rush to get your clothes back on and you opted to greet her so he’d have a little more time to sort himself out. He was as hard as anything upstairs and there was no way he was coming back down without trying to get rid of it.

“I can and I will. You lied to me, y/n. I thought telling me about you two was so you wouldn’t lie.”

“I couldn’t exactly openly say that I’m spending the afternoon with Harry, could I? You’re being so weird about us still and Dad doesn’t even know.”

“That’s why I’m here. I can’t keep it a secret anymore! You know how dad is, every time he flashes those puppy eyes or makes me dinner I’m ready to spill everything. He knows I’m hiding something. You two need to tell him and-” she stopped herself abruptly, “where even is Harry? This is for all of us to talk about not just you and me. He hasn’t even come to talk to me too, by the way. Just so you know.”

“I apologise for that,” Harry interjected, making himself known as he walked down the stairs to join you two. He seemed settled enough and far more nonchalant than you were. You still felt and probably looked all flushed and nervous.

It wasn’t every day your mum interrupted you about to give your boyfriend a fucking blowjob. Hiding where you were was for that exact reason. Because she simply couldn’t deal with you two being alone in his house yet and you knew it.

“I haven’t seen you since y/n told me you knew and I felt it was important for all of us to discuss it together. I wasn’t avoiding you by any means, Jules.” He flashed that smooth buttery smile as he stood beside you, resting his hand on your lower back. “Should I put the kettle on? Or would you rather have a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?”

You had never been more grateful for Harry’s effortless ability to charm women. In a second your mum went from alarmed and ready to tell Harry off to calm and pliant. Part of you fucking hated it, the other was glad she wasn’t giving you that panicked look anymore.

Barely five minutes later all three of you were sitting on Harry’s dining table with wines in hand. The atmosphere felt like something you had to fight your way through just to breathe. It was awkward and a little tense, something you hoped it wouldn’t be after your mum gave her support to your relationship. But she was clearly upset that he hadn’t spoken to her.

It was understandable to a degree but at the same time, if Harry was a boy your age she wouldn’t want to grill him so fucking hard. She’d probably call your relationship cute and sweet and ask questions about his family and any siblings.

Instead, she was asking him the same questions she asked you already, trying to watch with her own eyes whether Harry was earnest and truthful about his affection for you. The wine she drank drove her questions, none thankfully which were about your sex life. She had no problems asking Harry if he worried about dying at 70 and leaving you young at 50 years old, though, which wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have.

“Mum. Seriously, what are these questions? If he was my age would you ask that?” You scolded, getting a headache. She had no ill intentions of course and she only wanted the best for you, but the way she was grilling Harry was killing you.

“I want to know if he’s seriously thought about it, y/n. That’s all.” Mum defended. “Have you thought about it?”

Truthfully, until she asked the question the thought had never crossed your mind. Now, you were definitely going to think about it.

“It’s okay, y/n. She’s just worried as any mother should be.” Harry tried to assure you, bringing your intertwined fingers to his mouth to kiss the back of your hand. He hid it well, but even Harry was taken aback by her questioning and it took a lot to surprise him. He flashed a calm smile before turning to your mum, “I think about our future every day, Jules, and I don’t take it lightly. I just want to make y/n happy. That’s all I want. If I give her 2 years, 5 years, 40 years of happiness I’ll be happy.”

The thought of that made you giddy. Not the idea of your relationship being limited to two years, but knowing that this could be the rest of your life.

“Hm.” Your mum responded, sipping her wine. “Okay, well I know where you live so any problems and I know where to find you.”

“Yes, you do.” Harry chuckled, resting his arm on the back of your chair. His fingers found your hair and he fiddled with it in his fingers. It was hard for either of you to forget what was so rudely interrupted earlier.

Your mum’s eyes drifted to his fingers playing with your hair and you could see the soften of fondness drift in her expression. All she wanted was to make sure you were okay and happy and while her grilling may have annoyed you, you knew it was because she loved you and nothing else. Harry wasn’t a twenty-something-year-old, he was 17 years older than you so your mum had every right to make sure he was treating you well. Especially since you were neighbours for years.

“Well I’m happy,” Mum finished off her glass and stood up from the table, “now you two are coming for dinner. I’ll give you half an hour and you better make sure you look more put together than you do now.”

“Mum-” you tried to interject, standing abruptly from the table as well.

“No. You need to tell your dad. I can’t keep this a secret any longer and neither should you two.” She looked at Harry briefly, but you both knew that this whole situation fell on your shoulders.

You looked down at Harry who was already looking up at you. He nodded gently, reading the question from your one look. Standing up, he squeezed your shoulder before letting his hand fall to your waist.

“We’ll be there. It’ll be nice to finally have everything out in the open.” He squeezed your waist, trying to ease some of the anxiety clawing its way up your throat. You nodded and pressed your hand to his lower back, fisting his hoodie.

“We’ll see you then, mum.”

Neither you nor Harry could relax once she left. There was no going back to what was interrupted so all you could do was go back upstairs to clean up a little better, which really was just brushing your hair and Harry changing into something a little nicer. You were going to stay in his jumper and your sweats because it was the only clothes you had, but Harry wasn’t one to show up in a sweat set for dinner with your parents, especially when it was such a heavy evening.

You just hoped that your dad wasn’t going to explode. That he’d have a reaction calm enough that you’d be able to discuss it all without anyone yelling. Your dad was kind and generous and he loved you more than anything, but he was also protective. Fiercely protective. The first time you were hurt by a boy as a young teen he almost went to that boy's house to confront him and it wasn’t to have a chat.

Him and Harry were… friendly but not exceptionally close. You always found it a little odd that Harry never wanted to become friends with anyone in the neighbourhood, even when he had common interests with them. Both Harry and your dad liked golf and soccer and yet they never did more than a casual chat over the fence or at a barbecue Harry only attended once in a blue moon.

Now… you were grateful for the distance Harry kept because it meant their relationship was pleasant but not close enough for there to be some sort of loyalty. There was no betrayal for dating someone a bit younger than your parents. No sides where your dad could feel offended for you dating a friend of his.

Still, there was no prediction of what his reaction would be.

“Mum, dad! We’re here!” You called through the house as you both walked towards the living area. Harry held your hand tightly, walking closely beside you until you entered kitchen. Once you were in view of your parents he let go of your hand as per what you two agreed. You wanted to settle into dinner before you said anything to your dad, so for now you had to act like you just went over to visit him and your mum extended the invitation for dinner.

“Hey pumpkin,” Dad greeted immediately, leaving his pot on the stove unattended while he approached you immediately for a hug. “How are you? Missed you.” He squeezed.

“‘M good. Tired. How was work?” You hugged him back, smiling at the feeling of him kissing the top of your head while he released you from the hug.

“Same old, P.” He shrugged, squeezing your shoulder before moving onto Harry. “Harry, mate. How are you? ” Tim greeted with a wide grin, extending his hand for Harry to shake until they went into one of those quick bro hugs. “Glad you could join us!”

“‘Course, thank you so much for having me.” Harry smiled back.

Dad was as happy as anything with Harry being present, especially after Harry offered one of the more expensive wine bottles from his collection as a gift. They got into immediate conversation while Dad got back to cooking and Harry joined him. He offered his help and wound up pouring Mum and you a glass of that expensive wine each. Your mum definitely didn’t need it, but you sure as hell did.

It was such a nice domestic scene to watch. The way Harry so effortlessly conversed with your parents and made himself at home in your kitchen to help out was fucking sexy, that’s what it was. Your mum and you were able to just sit at the island bench and watch while your partners did all the work, which is exactly how it was when it was just you and Harry. Of course, only three of you in the room knew the truth, but even so, there was no akwardness or tension in the air.

You were sure that would change once your dad found out, but your mum was as happy as anything and she did know. It was like the conversation you had barely an hour ago settled all the nerves in her stomach. That or she was in her happy place watching dad cook so having Harry easily join into that arrangement made it easier for her to like him.

“Maybe I am a fan of Harry because not only do I get to look at one, but two very sexy men in the kitchen.” Mum whispered to you before exploding in a fit of drunk giggles. You gasped but joined her in her laughter, happy that she was able to joke and relax… even if it was a little weird for her to call your boyfriend sexy.

“What are you two giggling about?” Harry mused, sipping his wine through a smile while looking directly at you.

“It’s better if you don’t know, mate. My wife has a habit of objectifying men.” Dad joked, turning around with the pot of gnocchi to serve it into the bowls Harry got out for him.

“I do not! That’s slander. Defamation.” Mum defended.

“Well, I’m flattered.” Harry laughed while grabbing the bottle of wine to offer a refill, “Y/n, would you like some more?”

Truthfully it was hard for you to concentrate on anything being said because if there was one thing your mother did get right, it was that Harry was a sexy man. You had never felt the loss of your interruption more than now. His navy sweater was pushed up to his elbows and he had one hand pressed to the bench while the held the bottle in the other. All you could focus on was his tattooed forearm and the veins in his hand. He was ringless as you two were relaxing after he got home from work and there wasn’t much point putting them back on when he wanted his knuckles deep inside you at some point during the night.

The absence of his rings did nothing to diminish his attractiveness though because somehow the missing pieces allowed your eyes to focus on his veins instead. The way they made his arm look stronger and his fingers longer… how they tensed and protruded when he gripped your thigh or your throat. All you could fucking think about was him wrapping that same veiny hand around his cock to guide it to your mouth or pussy.

Jesus…

“y/n?”

“Hm?” You blinked, suddenly coming back into focus, “Oh, um yeah. Yes please.”

You sat a little taller and slid your glass towards Harry, finding a cheeky fucking smirk on his face. He said nothing, but you could read everything in his expression. Harry pressed his tongue against his cheek while pouring your wine, focused on the way you bit down on your bottom lip. It was an anxious habit you had since before you two even became friends and was one of the first things he noticed about you that drove him crazy.

Now all he wanted to do was reach against the bench and tug your lip free to correct the behaviour. Seeing you be so enthusiastic at the mention of rope and toys had him going fucking crazy and now it was all he could think about. Having you bent over against his bed while he spanked you or spread wide and tied up for him so he could overstimulate you with a vibrator.

He was fucked. His cock was still sore as he couldn’t exactly nut one out with your mum downstairs and his mind was dizzy just at the sight of you sitting there all cozy in his sweater. You were makeup free and flushed from wine and it was one of his favourite sights. He loved you in anything really, or nothing at all, but being in your kitchen with your parents and cooking together and enjoying wine like it was a normal occurrence stirred something in him.

It stroked that box inside of him that yearned for a family. The box you had cracked open and kept open just by being you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, suddenly aching for his touch. You just wanted to cuddle into him or hold his hand or anything.

“You’re welcome, love.” He smiled, moving onto your mum.

“Alright, dinner’s served. Pumpkin would you mind taking these to the table?” Dad motioned to the bowl of freshly grated parmesan and the salt and pepper shakers. You nodded and grabbed the items, tucking the shakers under your arm so you could carry your wine over to the table at the same time.

Soon Dad and Harry brought the bowls of gnocchi over to the table and you were all happily chatting away. Your mum made a very strategic play of ensuring Harry sat beside you, which was quite easy when she clung to your dad like they just started dating.

Their affection was one thing you always admired about them. Even after all this time they still hugged and kissed and showed those quiet displays of affection. A peck on the cheek or holding her chair out before she even had an opportunity to sit down in it. Cracking pepper over her food without even needing to be asked because he knew she liked it. A hand on the small of her back and him carrying her shopping bags like the thought of her lifting a single finger even in an activity she enjoyed was torturous.

It was why you found the small gestures Harry did so much more gratifying than any big ones. The every day little things he did, possibly without even thinking about them that just made you feel special and important. His good morning texts and check-ins to ask if you had eaten or drank water, which you always forgot to do in your heavy study grinds. The daily goodnight phone calls where he asked about your day, which yeah sure, bare minimum, but he just treated you like you were the most important thing on the planet.

It was why you were so head over heels in love with him.

“Dad, I have to tell you something.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out, really. Not in the middle of everyone enjoying their gnocchi anyway but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to talk about it after dinner so if anything went pear shaped at the very least your food wasn’t ruined, but the more you thought about it the more anxious you got and you didn’t want to put it off any longer.

“Okay…” Dad’s eyes flicked to Harry briefly and you could see the look of concern flash in his eyes. “Everything okay, y/n?”

“Yes. Yes everythings fine I just…” This time it was your turn to look at Harry, whose gaze was soft and adoring. He immediately stopped eating to gave his full attention to you and found your fingers underneath the table for support. “I’m seeing someone.”

Your dad’s eyes widened in surprise and he was quick to look at your mum, “Oh wow. Wow. Did you know about this?”

She nodded, “Yes. Not for long though.”

“Okay… shit, okay. First boyfriend, I hope. Unless you hid another relationship from me?” His tone was light and you just coughed out an uneasy laugh in response.

“Nope. First one, Dad.”

Harry tried to hide his amusement by rubbing his spare hand over his mouth. He made brief eye contact with Jules across the table who shared a similar expression. Hers was also laced with stress, but she flashed him a smile anyway.

“Well that’s fantastic.” Dad declared, spooning another scoop of his gnocchi into his mouth. “Who is he? Do I know him?...” He spoke between chews, “Is he that boy from your birthday last year? Y’know the one I didn’t like?”

“Um no not him, but you do know him. He’s really kind and funny… even plays golf like you do.” You chuckled at the way your dad’s eyes seemed to light up at that information. The entire time you spoke Harry kept his hand in yours and smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand. “He’s sweet and has a dog-”

“You love dogs.” Dad pointed out, to which you nodded with a smile.

“I do. He treats me really well and… well, I’m really happy with him Dad. Really happy.”

“That’s all I want for you, pumpkin, you know that.” Dad smiled at you fondly, sipping his wine. “So who is he, then? Better not be one of my boys.” He referred to his company, hoping it wasn’t one of the idiots he had working for him. They were good on the tools but for the most part had no fucking idea how to treat a woman. His daughter especially.

“It’s Harry.”

You just had to say it. You had built up his character in hopes to make a smooth introduction, but all that happened when you brought your intertwined fingers up onto the table was dead fucking silence. The mood disappeared instantly and a whirlwind of emotions circulated in the air. Dad didn’t say anything, Harry didn’t say anything, no one said anything.

“Dad?” You swallowed thickly after what felt like an eternity of silence, watching his eyes flick between your face, Harry’s face then your held hands on the table.

“You’re lying. This is a joke right?” Dad laughed, suddenly standing from the table. “This is just some stupid joke for tiktak or facebook or whatever, right?”

“No… Dad, it’s not a trick. I’m not lying to you.” You stood from the table, pressing your hands to the top of it to keep you steady. His immediate reaction freaked you out and you weren’t sure where it was going to go from here.

“Y/n, he’s double your age. Are you serious!?” He snapped, jaw clenched.

“I am. I am serious.”

“And you knew about this?” His head whipped to your mum, “You knew she was dating him and let it happen?” Mum didn’t get a chance to respond before he was looking back at you, eyes showing just how hurt and angry he was about your relationship. “Y/n. My office. Now.”

He had never spoken down at you like that before. Even as a child your dad was always gentle and corrected behavior rather than yelled to tell you off. He always heard you out, always. When you wanted to move away for school he was so damn against it because he thought it was a waste when there were good schools, even better ones closer by. But he listened to you and your reasoning.

He hadn’t even given you an opportunity to reason with him yet.

“No.” You shook your head, watching his eyes widen in surprise at your clear disagreement. “You have always given me the benefit of the doubt, dad. Always. Just let me talk and explain. Please.”

“This is ridiculous.” Dad spat, running his hand through his hair in utter disbelief of what was going on.

“Tim, please. I’ve listened to both of them and I think you should too.” This time it was your mum’s turn to step in. She put a gentle hand on his arm and you could visibly see the way your dad started to calm down a little bit. “She’s happy.” Her tone grew soft, as did her eyes.

“Please, Dad.”

Your Dad looked over to you, then to Harry then back to you like you were his final destination. You flashed a pleading look, one he had never resisted before. It was like the cogs were visibly turning in his head and there was another long pause before he grabbed the half-opened bottle of wine on the table and filled his glass to the brim.

He collapsed down in his chair and chugged half the glass then placed it back down on the table. You looked over at Harry and you both excganhed a look of both concern and confusion, not really sure where this was going to go.

“Alright, y/n. I’m listening.”

You spent the next half hour explaining everything. You wanted to be as honest as possible about your relationship without exposing the entire truth because you didn’t really need him knowing that you and Harry hooked up for weeks before dating. All he needed to know was that there was attraction there but you didn’t want to start anything because of the many reasons there were. And that part was the truth.

And he genuinely listened. His initial shock and disagreement for it had faded away a little bit and he was actually able to listen and ask questions and try and understand what you two had going on. You could kind of tell that everything you said just didn’t click with him, but he wasn’t reacting that way. For the most part his grilling was towards Harry and while part of you was happy to be out of the firing line, the other was worried that Harry was in it.

“So her age isn’t some weird kink of yours?”

“Dad!” you scolded, slowly sinking down into your chair. It was like your parents had no filter. That or they just didn’t care about boundaries or how things came across.

“It’s okay, y/n.” Harry assured you, just like he did when your mum asked her death questions. Mum seemed to go worst case scenario with everything while your dad automatically assumed everyone was out to get you. It was an only child thing. “No, Tim, it isn’t. Y/n is the youngest woman I’ve ever dated in comparison to myself, yes, but that isn’t the reason I love her. In the beginning it was actually one of the reasons I didn’t want to pursue things with her but as we became friends… I realised that we had so much in common that it was hard to ignore how I felt about her. I think I knew from the moment things changed that she was different to any other woman I’ve met. There are infinite reasons I love her and care for her.”

It was question and answer just like that, and every single time Harry was able to provide some answer that had you absolutely swooning over him. Even the most awkward just fucked questions, Harry had no reaction to them. Nothing phased him. It was like he had prepared answers for everything that might come his way.

“Okay, I’ve heard you two so now I think you should hear me.” Dad clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

You went to protest his opinion but he quickly shut you down and glared at you. “Ah.” He tutted before continuing to speak. “I don’t think this is a good idea because he’s just too old for you, pumpkin. You two can love each other and have fun and think that this is forever, but you’re not realistic and I don’t think it’ll work in the long run. For kids, for life experiences, for everything. Your age gap will always dictate everything you do and I don’t want that for you.”

Harry grabbed your hand under the table and squeezed it tight, providing comfort you so desperately needed. Every word your dad said was just hurting you more and more. If your mum could see the potential in your relationship, why couldn’t he?

“I know you two don’t need my blessing and you’ll just keep seeing each other anyway, but I can’t agree with it.” Dad shook his head and stood up suddenly, “You’re happiness is my happiness, y/n so I won’t stay in the way, but don’t expect anything more from me than the bare minimum. Understand?”

You just nodded, a little at loss for words. It wasn’t the worst outcome in the world, but it also wasn’t the best. Your dreams of everyone getting along suddenly seemed so far away. Dad looked at you like you were still his sun, moon and stars but when he looked at Harry… it was like he hated him. A solid unwavering dislike that lasted generations and all it took was him finding out Harry was a whole lot more than your neighbour.

To think less than an hour ago your Dad and Harry were laughing like they were best friends and now… they were practically strangers.

“I understand your hesitation but I want you to know that I’d never hurt your daughter. This is the most serious I have ever been in my life about anyone and I hope one day you can see that.” Harry stood up from the table as well, extending his hand across your cold, forgotten food as a gesture of good will to your Dad.

But all Dad did was look down at Harry’s olive branch then back up at his face. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. I have work in the morning.”

Harry’s hand fell to his side but he didn’t look deterred at all. If this situation was in reverse and this was Harry’s family… you’d be in tears. Dad bid goodnight to your mum as he usually did then rounded the table to hug you too. It was brief and distant enough to make your heart ache. Still, he whispered an ‘I love you’ before leaving the room without another look at Harry.

“Well…” Mum announced, grabbing the second bottle of wine that emerged on the table sometime during your discussion to pour herself another glass. She clearly wasn’t going to work tomorrow. Luckily her husband was her business partner. She took a happy sip and looked at both you and Harry over the rim. “I don’t know about you two but I think that went a lot better than I expected.”

You knew she was right, but it didn’t really feel that way.

“He’ll come around.” Harry shrugged, starting to stack the dishes so he could take them to the kitchen. “In time.”

Yeah… in time.

“Mr. Styles, you’ve got a visitor.” Sharon opened his office door, peaking in just enough for him to see her face.

He replied without looking up, focused on the document in front of him. “Who? I’ve got an appointment with Niall in 10.”

“Y/n? She said you’ll make time for her.”

Yeah fucking right he was going to make time for her. His eyes snapped to hers quickly and she could see how his irritation had disappeared into thin air.

“Do you want me to bring her in?” She continued, pointing behind her.

Trying to hide his excitement, he set his pen down and quickly stood up, buttoning up his suit jacket. “No. I’ll go and get her.”

She had a mischievous smile playing on her lips and flashed a knowing look to her boss, someone she managed to create a pleasant working relationship with.

“She must be special for you to go get her yourself.” There was a slight tease in her tone as she walked alongside Harry down the hall to where you were standing in the small waiting lounge. You hadn’t been back since that day Harry took you to Pleasing. You had often met in the city for lunch but never at his office. This time you wanted to surprise him.

“What did I tell you about speculating about my personal life?” His tone was humorous, but Sharon knew he was being serious.

“Right. Sorry. You just never have anyone visit.”

“I’m kidding, Sharon. She’s very special. She’s the love of my life.”

A soft smile played on her lips. Harry was a serious guy basically all the time. Seeing him look so happy was a nice change. She had noticed that he seemed happier recently too and more relaxed at work than usual. “Let me know if you need anything cancelled.”

“Thank you.” His thanks was brief, a murmur like he didn’t mean the words because there you were sitting all pretty on one of the sofas scrolling away at your phone. You had one of the tote bags Harry bought you beside you and it looked full to the brim. It was one of the bags you two had matching, as were the pair of gazelles on your feet. You saw them in an ad online and told Harry how much you liked them and he was quick to order you a pair. You didn’t show them to him so he’d buy them for you but he liked to spoil you. They were cheap and Harry quite liked the look of them as well so he decided to buy himself a pair too.

You always got so shy when he bought you something, always grateful. When he asked you why you got like that, you explained it wasn’t the item, but the thought behind it. He noticed everything to the point you were convinced he was writing notes or had tabs on your browser history because he was always showing up with something you made a passing comment about.

Even the very same shoes you had on your feet. He showed up to his routine night at your house wearing his and was like a giddy kid giving you the box with your own pair in it.

“Oh my god, you got the shoes! They look so good on you.” You beamed, eyes immediately drawn to his feet. They were the third thing you noticed about him. After his pretty face, his pretty mouth and those black joggers he wore when he wanted to be super comfy. They always managed to turn you on a crazy amount.

Harry knew that too of course.

“I got you a pair too.” He smiled widely, practically throwing his overnight bags on your bed so he could open one of them to take out the shoe box. You thought you were bad with the amount of shit you took with you on your sleepovers, but no, Harry was just as bad. Worse even. He had some comfy clothes stashed at your place but if he was staying a weekend he always brought multiple outfit options and his entire stash of toiletries.

It was sexy. You felt like a rich housewife when you laid on your bed watching him get dressed while he asked for your opinion on everything.

“You didn’t!” Your mouth gaped in shock, grabbing onto the shoe box to open it. You didn’t expect to find the exact same pair as Harry’s inside, but it was a pleasant surprise to find that he had gone out and bought matching shoes for you two. It was possibly the cutest thing ever. “Matching shoes?” You smiled, looking up at him from the box.

He suddenly appeared very shy, like the very idea of being one of those couples who had matching clothes and outfits was a stupid idea. A sheepish expression flashed over his face and he tucked his hands behind his back like a dog tucked their tail between their legs. “Yeah… but if you don’t like them I can return them. Or even if you don’t like the colour we can swap th-”

You interrupted him by chucking the box on your bed and pulling his face down to yours to give him a big thank-you kiss. “I love them.” You assured him before kissing him again. He smiled into it, wrapping his arms around your body to lean back and lift you off the floor until your tippy toes skimmed the rug. “Thanks for being the best sugar daddy ever.”

Harry’s laugh broke the kiss while he set you back down on the floor. “Does that mean I get sugar in return then? Since I bought you shoes and dinner.” He let his hands crawl down to your ass, squeezing your cheeks through your leggings with both hands.

“Fuck off.” You hit his chest, trying to act like you didn’t want to give him sugar when in reality you had been waiting to see him all day in hopes he was horny. He usually was. “I’m not an object. You can’t buy me.”

“I can’t?” He raised a brow, “I saw you look at my cock the moment I walked in, y/n. Had you in the palm of my hand just because I wore the sweatpants you like.” Harry had this cocky shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to hit him. Because he was right. All it took was a simple pair of (expensive) sweatpants and you were ready to spread your legs for him. And he brought shoes and dinner? Maybe you could be bought.

Who were you kidding, you definitely could be bought.

“You’re annoying.” You huffed, grabbing the collar of his to pull him in for a kiss. It only lasted a second before you pulled back, rolling your eyes at the pure look of satisfaction on his face. “Just because you’re right this time doesn’t mean you’re right all the time.”

“No?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, using his hands on your ass so he could pick you up and set you down on the bed. “You want to test that theory?”

You watched as he smoothly shoved all his belongings (and your shoes) off the bed before taking his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. He grabbed the back of both collars near his neck to do so and fuck. You never understood why it was so sexy when men removed their shirts like that and yet it had you sweating.

“I’m up for some experimentation...”

The sight of you standing from the sofa broke him free from the memory, which was probably best because you were wearing those jeans that made your ass look incredible and the memory associated to them was heading down a reverse cowgirl lane. He didn’t exactly want to be getting hard in the middle of his office.

“Hi.” You beamed, quickly tucking your phone into your back pocket and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Hi…” Harry beamed, immediately drawing you in for a tight hug. You smiled into it, careful not to get makeup on his expensive suit. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have classes today?” He asked, pulling back while letting his hands rest on your hips.

“I skipped.” You shrugged, “It was just a lecture anyway and I wanted to finish work off at home. I wanted to surprise you too.” You smiled softly, resting your hands on his chest.

“I’m so happy you’re here, baby. Truly.” he squeezed your hips, biting down on his bottom lip as his expression turned almost painful. “But Niall will be here in five minutes... I can cancel, though. I will cancel.”

“About that…” you looked away for a moment, making brief eye contact with a random girl at her desk who seemed far more interested in you and Harry than her work. “I’m Niall.”

“Since when?” He shot back, laughing softly. “No. Seriously. Since when?”

“Stop.” You protested, poking his chest at his teasing. “I wanted to make sure we had time and… well it was kind of fun, actually.” You admitted, watching his eyes twinkle at your admission, “I even called pretending to be his assistant.”

Harry laughed loudly, head tilting back in that gorgeous wide smile that you adored of his. His happiness seemed to capture the attention of anyone nearby and you suddenly felt quite overwhelmed with all the eyes on you two. You didn’t particularly dress up to see him and compared to everyone else in their business attire, you looked extremely casual and young.

“You could’ve just texted me, baby. I would’ve made time for you.”

He was so free with his affection for you. So willing to show you off. He wasn’t hiding that you two were a couple or even toning anything down. It made you feel so special. So important.

It felt so free knowing that your parents knew about him. Even if Dad was pretty against it, mum was happy for you. She was happy that you finally found someone who you deemed worthy to date you and who made you happy and one was better than none.

You were just so scared to tell them about the trip. Knowing that your mum was willing to accept your relationship made the whole world of difference but your anxiety was at an all time high. Now that everything was in the open, it felt like you two could move on to the next stage of your relationship as well as the next steps Harry had to take with his family situation. While it was his family and a problem that existed before you two even met, you were going to be there on the trip for him in whatever capacity he needed.

You didn’t want to get involved because families could be so messy and it truly wasn’t your place, but you wanted to support him. You were going to support him.

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” You replied in a ‘duh’ tone before widening your tote bag to show him its contents. “See. I brought sushi for lunch.”

After everything he’s been doing for you to get ready for your trip, you felt like it was a nice gesture to bring him lunch as a bit of a thank you. It wasn’t the end of your gratitude and not the first thank you, but it was a start. Harry was even going as far as offering his credit card to you for any pre-trip shopping as well as a designated shopping day to buy you anything you may need. He knew you well enough to know you were already looking for new dresses and swimsuits and options on options for clothing and wanted to cover all of it. He bought you things he thought you’d like (or selfishly just because he wanted to see you in them) and had already sat through a clothing haul and it had barely been a week since he booked your flight.

He just loved to spend his money on you. It was almost a turn-on for him to see you enjoy the fruits of his labour. A dress he thought you’d look pretty in or a pair of shoes you had your eye on. He liked to keep your belly full and your heart happy and wanted nothing more than for you to be taken care of in any way. It wasn’t to diminish your hard work or make you feel like you couldn’t afford the things you wanted, just because he fucking loved you more than anything.

You felt a little bad that he was covering the trip, especially since your flight was booked much later than it should’ve been and ended up being quite pricey (not that he let you know the exact price anyway) but you could also tell that Harry was happy to pay for it. He showed genuine pleasure and excitement for it and there wasn’t a hint of him that felt apprehension or like you somehow owed him for the trip. He was happy that you were joining him, no matter the cost.

You used that happiness of his to try and not feel as guilty for the trip. When you told your friends about it they thought you were crazy for ever feeling guilty in the first place. Before you two even started sleeping together, you’d fantasise about having a rich man buy you nice things and take you wherever you wanted and now that it was actually happening, you felt anxious about it.

But you wanted to enjoy it and you obviously would when you were in the Italian sun with a spritz in one hand and an ice cream in the other… you just needed to give back a little. You had your eye on a nice shirt for him and already started researching restaurants to go to in Italy that you could treat him to. You promised yourself you’d take him to one fancy, romantic dinner and what better place than the home to pizza and gelato?

Harry’s eyes beamed literal hearts as he squeezed your hips and leaned in to kiss you. It was a little unexpected since Harry was very particular about his job and you two were in the middle of his office, but it was a good unexpected. It was gentle, innocent, a loving peck before he pulled back and smiled down at you.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You blushed, not really used to the amount of PDA you two were doing right now.

“Come on.” He nudged, smirking at your shy reaction. “We’ll go eat in my office.”

He let you walk slightly ahead of him but kept his hand on your lower back to guide you to the right place. Last time you were here you didn’t get inside his office so you had no idea where you were going.

“Can’t believe you’re here. I missed you.” He murmured, shutting the door behind you two and then immediately grabbing your face to kiss you properly. A peck simply wasn’t enough. After the full-on week you two had, he had missed this. Missed you. He hated when things were complicated and spending time with you like a normal couple was his favourite thing in the world.

“I missed you too.” You giggled, clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket while kissing him multiple times. He smiled into the kiss and kissed a few kisses down your jaw to your neck. A pretty little pant whimpered into his ear and that’s when he had to stop himself before he got too ahead of himself.

“Come on, baby. Sit next to me.” He smiled, grabbing your bag from you and setting it down on his desk. “How’s your day been?”

“Boring.” You groaned, watching him beeline to one of the arm chairs in front of his desk so he could drag it beside his wheely chair, “I finished one of my smaller assignments last night and today I worked on one of my final ones. It’s literally due next week and worth like 40% of my grade and I feel like I’ll never get it done in time. I’ve barely studied for my exams either and I just feel so shit. I’m over it.” You whined out the complaint, feeling like your head was going to explode.

You had so many things on your mind at once, it was hard to keept track of it all. There was so much left to do for your trip but you barely had any time for it all and you still needed to deep clean your apartment before you left. Most of your clothes were there, but you had so much at your parents’ too that you needed to go through and they didn’t even know about the trip yet. You felt like you were going to be in such a rush towards the end.

Luckily Harry had taken care of practically all the travel essentials, so all you needed to worry about was packing. It still felt like a mammoth of a task when you were swamped with everything else going on in your life.

“I know it’s hard, baby but you’re doing so well,” Harry praised, pulling his nice chair out for you to sit down. “You’ve been working so hard and you’re so close,” he let you sit down before pushing the chair in for you before sitting down beside you, “You just have to stick it out a bit more. It’s only two weeks.”

“I know.” You sighed, helping him to unpack the food you bought from your tote bag. “Everything’s happening so fast, I just feel so unprepared.”

“Well you’ve got me to help, okay? So just focus on your studies and I’ll help you with everything else. We’ve got time and all the important things are taken care of. I’ll help you clean your place and pack and whatever else you need. Don’t stress.” He assured you, giving you a comforting squeeze on your knee.

“Thank you,” You smiled, squeezing his chin to bring him in for a quick peck before you looked at the array of trays and small bites you grabbed to share with him. It was what you usually did when you went out to eat so you two could try a little bit of everything. “My mum called too…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… she was talking about you again. It’s all she talks about and she’s always asking if I’ve seen you recently. I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s jealous I see you more than her.” You laughed.

“I keep bumping into her on my morning runs more than usual. I have a feeling its on purpose.” Harry laughed in return.

“Yeah that sounds like her…”

“And your dad?” He nudged your shoulder, “I haven’t seen him since we had dinner. Is he coming around to the idea of us yet?”

“He is. Sort of. I don’t know, Harry, he seems a bit distant towards me. We usually call every couple of days and he’s still doing it but it… feels different. I haven’t even told them about the trip and I don’t want to put it off but I feel like he’ll be really upset.”

“You haven’t told them yet?” Harry blinked, “Y/n we spoke about this. You were meant to tell them over the weekend.” He sighed, almost like he was disappointed in you. You both agreed that you had to tell them sooner rather than later. You wanted to give your dad a few days to process your relationship before telling him because you couldn’t really leave it any longer than that.

It was just shit timing. The trip was coming so fast and your parents found out about you two so close to when you were leaving. Way too close.

“I know. I know.” You replied, groaning a little. “It’s just shit timing.”

“I know, y/n, and they might be upset about it but we leave in two weeks. You need to tell them.” He stressed. You hated when he spoke to you like that. It wasn’t rude or condescending in any way but you could tell he was a little annoyed about it. He had every right to be because this was something you had to do and you didn’t want to fight about it or start anything unnecessarily when you were in the wrong.

You also just didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“I hate when you’re right. It’s annoying.” You sighed, trying to lighten the mood by laughing softly. Harry knew this was a conversation that didn’t end here, but he could sense your reluctance in it all. He was happy to entertain a small break from it, but it seriously was something that had to be dealt with.

“Well I get it from my mum so if I’m annoying so is she.” Harry smirked, expertly picking up a piece of sashimi with his chopsticks before popping it into his mouth.

“No, never! Anne is like a ray of sunshine. She can be right whenever she wants”

“And I can’t ?” He laughed, “that seems unfair.”

Harry wasn’t sure why the sound of his mother’s name on your lips made his heart beat so goddamn fast, but he nearly dropped the sushi from his mouth at how casual and normal it was. He loved it. Adored it. He hoped that you two meeting in person would be as successful as it was via Zoom.

Harry also hoped that her concerns for your relationship would disappear once you two were face to face. You’d have ample opportunity to spend time together on your trip and he hoped that it would solidify what you two had. The future you two had.

Anne’s concerns were valid and Harry knew that it was something that would come up time and time again with everyone that met you.

“She’s just so… young. She’s a gorgeous girl and so sweet, I can see why you like her but are you being realistic? I just don’t want you getting hurt, H,” Anne sighed through the phone, “Young women want to be free and I just don’t want you two to get a year, two years in and you’re ready to slow down while she’s just getting started. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

“I love her, Mum and if anything her age has been better for me. I feel like I'm enjoying my life in a way that’s completely different from when I was single. I’m learning so many things and so is she. It hasn’t been easy by any means, but it’s working.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“I saw she’s wearing my necklace too,” She continued after a beat of silence, “She must mean a lot to you.”

“She does, mum. She means everything to me. I can’t explain it but I just know she’s my forever.”

“Well it’s nice to see you so happy. It’s been a long time since you’ve smiled so much. I missed it.”

“I missed it too.”

“You’re just saying it’s unfair because I’m on her side and not yours.” You grinned, breaking him free from his daze.

“If this is going to be another Archie situation where my mother loves you more than me…” he waved his chopsticks towards you, making you giggle.

“Oh it absolutely will be. I’ve been texting her y’know. We follow each other on Instagram now.”

“You’re kidding.” He gawked, all wide eyed.

“Nope. When she found out I was coming to England she was so excited.”

“Yeah I’m sure. You’re her favourite and she’s only known you for a week.” Harry sighed dramatically, eliciting a little shove of his arm. He grinned and squished your face to draw you in for a kiss, loving the way he could taste and feel every emotion you two were feeling in that moment. Words could lie but a kiss never could.

“I’m serious though, y/n...” He murmured against your lips before pulling away while keeping his hand on your jaw. His thumb brushed against your cheek, caressing your soft skin. “You need to tell them tonight.”

“I’m scared.” You whispered. “I’m going either way, obviously, but I’m so worried they’ll be really upset with me. You know I hate upsetting them.”

“I know baby, I get it.” Harry dropped his hand from your cheek and relaxed back to his chair. “The timing is shit and I know if this trip was in a couple of months it would be easier for them to handle, but this is your life, y/n. We’ve done nothing wrong by going on a trip and I’m sure if they can accept our relationship, they can deal with a holiday. You’re an adult and so am I.”

“Maybe you’re right...”

“Baby all we did was fall in love.” He sensed your apprehension and wanted to try and convince you otherwise. He tipped your chin towards him so you were looking at him before grabbing both of your hands in his. “Your dad might not be happy with us dating or going overseas or any of it but I can make him understand. I know deep down that all he wants is for you to be happy and… I can prove that to him. You’re important to me, y/n. The most important person in my life.” He reached out to fiddle with the little pearls around your neck. Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling all kinds of nervous at his words. “If I were a father, all I’d want for my little girl is to know she was being loved and cared for. That she’s happy. No matter who she’s dating.”

Harry wasn’t sure where it came from, putting himself in the role of a father. He could’ve phrased it in a different way, in any other way and yet it felt so right to imagine himself like that. Barely three months into being in a relationship with you and he somehow felt different about everything.

It scared the hell out of him.

“I am happy. I am.” Your eyes softened, glossing over ever so slightly. You squeezed his hand in both of yours,. “And I know you’re right. I just want us to skip to the good part where we’re together with our families, y’know. I loved meeting your mum and even just having dinner with you and my parents was amazing… before I opened my mouth.” You laughed softly but it was over before it even started because you just found yourself overcome with so much emotion. Through everything, Harry never failed to know what to say or how to make you feel better. It sometimes felt like he had a read on you before you even knew what you were feeling. “I just want us to be happy.” You whispered, reaching up to cup his face, “I love you so much Harry. I’ve never felt like this, ever. You’re my person. I want everyone to know that.”

You’re my person.

You’re. My. Person.

Harry repeated the phrase in his mind over and over, nearly bursting at the seams with how much love he felt towards you. You were his person too. Through and through. From the moment he met you he just knew there was something different about you which is why he was always drawn to you. And now he had the words for it.

You were his person.

Harry cupped your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss, one that expressed every single emotion he felt for you. He could taste the sushi and soy sauce on your lips but he couldn’t care less. He was happy and the boring day he was having suddenly turned into the best day.

“You’re my person too.” He breathed, panting slightly from how long the kiss had gone. “Have been from the moment I met you. I just didn’t know it.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was something about Harry being romantic and professing his affection that got you so unbelievably riled up, you couldn’t contain it. You couldn’t switch it off and while you could pretend it wasn’t happening or ignore the fact you already had a heartbeat between your legs, you didn’t want to.

Things were left so unfinished the other night and you always did wonder what it would be like to be bent over Harry’s desk…

“Harry I mean this so seriously, if you keep talking like that….” You breathed, watching the way his heart-eyes heated up and turned into something dark and smoldering.

“What?” He grinned, cocking his head. “If I keep talking like that ‘what’?”

He was teasing you, trying to coax you into admitting what he already knew you wanted.

“I won’t be able to stop myself…”

“Then don’t” Harry smirked, letting one hand slide down to loop around your neck so he could pull you in to kiss him again. You whimpered softly into his mouth, cupping his jaw while practically melting into his touch. Your other hand fell to his thigh, squeezing it in your palm while your mouths molded together in a kiss so intense your body was floating.

Were you really going to have sex right here?

Yeah. Fuck it.

“Baby.” He groaned against your mouth, forcing himself to pull away from you. Your chest was rising and falling quickly and all he wanted to do was get a handful of your breasts. To tug at your pebbled nipples that he could see so fucking clearly due to the soft cups of the bra you were wearing. At this point he knew exactIy what your tits looked like in all different types of bras.

Stifling back a moan, he slid his hand back up to cup your cheek while running his thumb over your mouth. Your lips were swollen, all pink and pretty and so delicious it was almost painful to not dive back in and kiss you. “We need to stop if you don’t want things to go further.”

“Who says I don’t want things to go further?” you breathed, grabbing onto his spare hand to bring it up to your chest. Your hand pressed over his until he squeezed a good handful of your breast, running his finger over your hard nipple. Shit. “Please.”

“Go lock the door.” He murmured, standing up quickly out of his chair while shrugging off his suit jacket.

You beelined to the door, thankful for the big oak doors Harry’s position afforded him. It didn’t mean you had total privacy. Walls were thin and he had huge glass windows on one side of the office. Anyone could see you two and someone could most definitely hear you.

Which is why you had to be quiet and quick.

Harry met you halfway, crossing the floor in three quick strides to grab your face and kiss you again. Everything was happening so quickly. You were unbuttoning his pants and pulling his dress shirt out of his pants while he guided you backwards towards the small couch he had against one wall. Harry would’ve liked to bend you over his desk, but it was covered in your uneaten sushi and he had a feeling both of you would be starving after your quick fuck.

He almost couldn’t believe it was happening until he remembered all the moments you two practiced exhibitionism before. In his pool, his car and on the boat during your weekend away. He had no doubt it would happen again, most likely at Pleasing where you two could really explore all the things you wanted to.

Harry sat back on the couch, keeping your mouths connected while he undid your jeans button and zipper. It was such an effort wearing jeans and you suddenly regretted wearing pants at all. You quickly made a mental note to wear something easier to remove if you were ever visiting Harry for ‘lunch’ again.

“Why did I have to wear jeans?” You groaned, helping him shove them down your legs to quicken the process before you stepped out of them.

“Don’t wear pants next time.” He breathed, grabbing the back of your thighs to guide you down to straddle him.

“I won’t.” You agreed desperately, threading your fingers through his hair while kissing him to try and keep yourself quiet. You could feel the hard length of his cock the moment you straddled him, all long and thick. You could hardly wait to get him inside you, not when he had said such romantic things and looked so fucking hot in his suit.

There was something so sexy about his workwear and now that you were straddling him in nothing but your sneakers, underwear and t shirt and he was still practically fully dressed… it had never been hotter.

“You’re so hard.” You murmured, tilting your head back to gasp as he grinded your pussy against his cock.

His fingers were dug so hard into your ass you knew you’d be feeling the touch for days. He’d probably come over straight from work and fuck you again, making it known how hot he finds the fresh bruises on your pretty skin. Then he’d take nice care of you and massage your skin, rub cream into the marks and kiss you everywhere until you were reduced to a sleepy mess.

“And you’re so wet. Did telling you I love you really turn you on this much?” Harry smirked, nipping at your neck. He tucked his work pants down to his thighs when he sat down on the couch so you wouldn’t make a mess of them and he was glad he did so. You were soaked. A sticky mess that had fully soaked through both your underwear and his until his cock felt warm with your arousal.

“I like to be romanced.” You smiled, nipping at his bottom lip. “Being sentimental gets me wet, what can I say?”

“Yeah? Maybe I need to do it more often then.” He murmured, pushing your t shirt up until it bunched over your tits. He cupped one of them, keeping firm eye contact with you while running his thumb over your nipple until he pushed the thin lace material of your bra down to expose it. “Tell you how my heart skips a beat when I see you. How fairies are born when you laugh?”

He was only teasing, but there was nothing teasing about the way he wrapped his mouth around your nipple and sucked, tugging at it between his teeth until you were holding back a loud moan. That was torture. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I? You’re saying that you don’t feel your pretty cunt flutter when I tell you how my life would be incomplete without you?” He cocked his head, watching the way your eyes glazed over as he continued grinding you over his dick. You could already feel that tingle in your belly and it had barely been two minutes of grinding on him. “Or would you prefer I tell you how badly I need to pump you full of my cum? How you’re a needy little slut for begging me to fuck you right here when anyone could walk in on us?”

And he felt it. He felt the way you clenched against him. How the heartbeat between your legs increased at the first few words of degradation.

“That I love you more for it…” He had this shit eating grin on his face and was happy to nip at your nipple and grind your clit against him until you were a poor tense little thing on top of him. “That did it, didn’t it, baby?”

“I need your cock. Please.” You whispered, dragging his head from your breast upwards so you could kiss him again. He smirked into your mouth and lifted your hips off him, making you rest on your knees instead of his lap so he could untuck his cock from his briefs.

The moment his cock was free he dragged you back down and dipped his fingers between your bodies to nudge your underwear to the side so he had free access to you. “Y’want my fingers?” He offered, knowing it would sting to take him with no prep. Harry knew you liked that, but he also couldn’t assume it’s what you wanted.

The haste shake of your head was all he needed to guide his cock to your entrance, making sure to muffle your quiet whimper by his own mouth while letting you take lead and drop down at your own pace. You had no issues being quiet by yourself. You could make yourself cum dozens of times and barely moan so no one would hear and yet the second you were with Harry all you wanted to do was make noise.

Maybe it was because he always encouraged it. That he loved the way you moaned his name and screamed for him. Or maybe it was because no vibrator or dildo could compare to the feeling of his hard cock splitting you open. The way his veins felt going inside you and how it was attached to the hottest man on the planet.

Your vibrator didn’t wrap its arms around you and your dildo certainly didn’t kiss you filthily and grab your ass to encourage you to take it. They didn’t grab your hips and bounce you or wrap their mouths around your nipples to deliver that bite of pain Harry knew would get you off quicker.

Because this was a quickie and the moment you had his entire cock deep inside you Harry was pulling out all the tricks to get you to finish quicker. He had no issues orgasming fast, nor did he have issues holding himself back to make it last longer. But you… he needed you to finish first when he was inside you and that wouldn’t change just because you two were having a quickie.

“Shit. Shit, Harry.” You gasped, rocking your hips back and forth to grind his cock against your g-spot. With every back and forth movement, your clit rubbed against the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock, the material of his boxers adding extra friction that hit you so much harder than usual.

“I know. I know. Being so good for me. Y’ride me so fucking well, baby.” He whispered, fisting the hair at the back of your head to kiss you again.

It was all gasps and slapping skin and sloppy kisses that were way too loud. If anyone came close to the door they’d know exactly what you were doing but neither of you seemed to care. You were both just trying to reach your highs while keeping your moans to a minimum.

What never stopped though was his filthy fucking dirty talk. Right in your ear when he kissed your neck and rumbled into your mouth when your lips brushed together while you two tried to catch your breaths. It was why you finished so fast. Why your first orgasm tumbled over you barely two minutes into riding him, then a second under two minutes after. Everything about the situation was so hot and you were so beyond turned on it felt easy for your body to respond to every touch and every word. Every utter of I love you.

You severely underestimated the ability for those three little words to cause so much love and so much arousal all at once.

“You’re unbelievable.” Harry breathed out a laugh while tucking himself back into his boxers, watching you hastily pull your jeans back on.

“Me? You’re the one telling me fairies are born when I laugh. In the middle of sex too.” You laughed, running your fingers through your hair.

“I wasn’t exactly lying.” He flirted, grabbing your chin with a cheesy smile before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You repeated earnestly.

“Did that make you wet?” He asked, already expecting the roll of your eyes.

“You’re an idiot. Now sit back down, I’m going to go pee and clean up quickly.” You poked his chest and went to grab your phone then walked to the door.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mock saluted, returning in his chair by the time you unlocked the office door. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

“Yeah. We passed it on the way to your office. Now don’t eat everything.”

“You better hurry up then.” He teased, shoving a piece of a california roll into his mouth. You rolled your eyes again and left his office, shutting the door behind you on your way out.

Harry’s office was the last door at the end of a hallway. There were a few closed offices on the way, then the bathrooms were closest to the waiting area. It was a short walk, barely 20m between you and your destination which was a blessing considering the cold cum slowly soaking into your undewear. A quick wipe with a tissue wasn’t enough with the amount of cum he filled you with. Which was why it never occurred to you that you’d run into anyone you knew.

You knew there was a possibility, given Harry worked with his friends and… Ethan, but it just didn’t cross your mind because they all worked in different areas and you were a little preoccupied with the mess between your legs. Their jobs overlapped but the only reason they spent so much time together was because they were friends. Otherwise the overlaps could be handled by a third party.

Wednesday’s were Harry’s meeting heavy days and often the day he chose to work at home. They were usually via zoom anyway which is why you chose today to come visit him. He’d be busy with meetings and you booked a slot. You knew he was avoiding any work with Ethan and when it couldn’t be avoided, Harry would get someone else to deal with it.

As bad as it sounded… you were just trying to forget about it all. Or at the very least deal with what happened without dwelling on it. You had shut it out of your mind, ignoring the big part of you that wanted him to pay for what he did. You knew it was a bad coping mechanism but it was better than dwelling on the fact that you couldn’t get him on any charges. With the way he did everything there was no paper trail or evidence so you couldn’t exactly do anything without it being a he-say, she-say situation.

You trusted that Harry was still devising a way to get him out of your lives for good, but for now you were just focusing on working on your relationship supporting him when he had a particularly rough Ethan day. It wasn’t a long term solution by any means, but you couldn’t exactly do anything about it. You had the pictures and he was leaving you alone, that was good enough.

So when you were distracted replying to a message on your phone and a body was distracted by a folder in their hand, you didn’t see them until your shoulders bumped.

“Oh my god, I’m so so-” The words got caught in your throat, eyes widening at the sight of Ethan in front of you.

“No worries babe, should’ve looked where I was-” he replied on autopilot until he actually looked at you and an arrogant pig-like expression morphed onto his face. “Well if it isn’t little y/n. What brings you here?”

In a split second time seemed to freeze. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t hear. Suddenly the world around you was blurring into fuzzy shapes and black dots. All you could think about was the intimate photos he had of you for weeks. How he had a list of people with copies, most who probably saw them and how he probably got off to them and got off on the fact that Harry was reduced to nothing and had to pay thousands of dollars just to protect you. To get you back.

You weren’t even sure Ethan knew that you and Harry were together, but you knew damn well he revelled in the fact you two had to break up. That he ruined your relationship.

But you couldn’t say any of that even if you wanted to because the world was starting to close around you and you felt this pressure on your chest that became suffocating. It was like air ceased to exist and you feared that if you didn’t get away from him you’d die on the ground right at his feet.

You said nothing and ran past him, ignoring his confused ‘what the fuck?’ that you somehow felt rattling in every corner of your brain. Stumbling, you shoved your way into the women’s bathroom and headed straight to a stall so you could sit down.

You barely made it, collapsing onto the closed toilet seat so you wouldn’t pass out. Your whole body was trembling and it was like you were burning from the inside while simultaneously freezing all over. You had never experienced anything like it and even though you were trying to control your breathing, trying so fucking hard, nothing was working.

With every breath the air became thinner, every tremble you sweat harder. All you could think about was your naked body being in the hands of a stranger, someone who had no permission or right and willingly paid to view you in your most vulnerable state. You couldn’t get it out of your head or your heart or your body.

You were panicking.

And then you felt it, a brief moment of fresh air and crystal clear vision before your lungs closed again. There was a commotion outside the bathroom, two muffled voices that made no sense to you. Then a second later the door was slamming open and you recognised the voice of your lover in his own panic.

“Y/n? Baby where are you?”

You tried to open your mouth and yell out to him but all that came out was a muffled gasp. It didn’t matter whether you yelled to him or not though because he was slamming each stall door open until he found you and when he did he fell to his knees in front of you, right on the dirty bathroom floor. But he didn’t care, not one fucking bit when you were sitting on the toilet looking like you were about to die.

“Oh god, baby. Look at me. Just look at me, okay?” He soothed, cupping your face to try and get your eyes to focus on him.

He knew exactly what was happening. He didn’t know why or how exactly but he figured it had something to do with the bastard he passed on the way to find you. Right now though, none of that mattered. Not when you were having a full blown panic attack right in front of him for the first time in your life. You must’ve been so scared and being scared and panicked was only going to make it worse. He knew that.

“Sharon, I need water.” He called over his shoulder. “And a towel please and you need to make sure no one comes in here, okay?”

You heard her muffled reply before he was looking right at you again. “Look at me, y/n. Come on.” He encouraged, running his thumbs over your cheeks. You finally looked at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Good girl. That’s it. It’s okay. It’s okay, y/n. You’re safe and nothings going to happen to you, okay? I’m right here.” Shit. “I’m right here.”

“It’s… I can’t-I can’t breathe.” You whimpered, clawing at your own chest to articulate how horrible you were feeling.

“I know. I know but it’s okay. You’re okay.” His voice was so calm, so steady. You appreciated that. He gently took your hands in his so you wouldn’t hurt yourself and cradled them so his chest. Using one to keep them there, he used the other to grab the back of your neck gently to pull you forward so your foreheads were pressed together. “Just breathe with me, okay? Try and match my breathing.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You protested, closing your eyes while a pitiful whimper slipped in the small space separating your mouths. You panted desperately, breathing through your small cries while hugging onto his body in hopes that his warmth and calm presence would help you.

“I know it’s hard, but you can do it. Just try, baby. You can do it.” He was trying to encourage you and stay calm. The last thing you needed was feeling any stress or panic from him because that would just make the entire situation worse. But god it was so fucking hard. Feeling your body tremble and watching your pretty face in so much pain was horrible. But he had to stay strong and he just wanted to get you better so he could take you home. It was his only concern.

“Deep breath in, y/n. In… out…”

Harry closed his eyes for a single moment, collecting himself before opening them again to watch you while he guided your breathing again. He kept his tone soft and even, guiding you through it until you seemed to be breathing easier. Your trembling started to cease and you were no longer a stiff board in his arms. You were able to relax into his touch, slumping against him with your forehead on his shirt.

“That’s it. You did so well, baby. Love you so much.” He soothed, letting his lips brush against your head while he ran his hands over your back.

You didn’t respond, but he took how pliant you were becoming in his arms as a good sign. The bathroom door swung open a moment later and Sharon was rushing in with a plastic cup of water and a damp hand towel. She passed them to Harry and wordlessly left once Harry thanked her to guard the door to give you two some privacy.

“Here…” Harry nudged your chin, “Can you drink this?” He held your chin in a gentle grip, feeling like his heart was going to shatter just at the sight of your teary eyes and puffy cheeks. You grabbed the cup from him and started to take shaky sips from it, closing your eyes when he grabbed the damp towel to dab your face.

The two of you remained like that for a while. You weren’t exactly sure how long. Harry just kept rubbing your back and using the cool temperature of the towel to try and calm your splotchy skin. You didn’t say anything and neither did Harry, but even if you wanted to, you had nothing to say. Your mind was blank and if anything… all you wanted to do was go home.

You had never felt so emotionally drained and numb all at the same time. It was like all your compartmentalisation and bad coping skills had suddenly given way and let everything in all at once. There was so much going on in your brain that it all cancelled each other out until you felt absolutely nothing but pure exhaustion and… anger. You were tired and angry and numb and everything was so fucking confusing you didn’t know what was what, just that you were over it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked softly, speaking the first words for what felt like an hour. You weren’t sure why it jarred you so much to hear him ask that but you took that as a sign that you needed to go home. You didn’t want to be in this office any longer than you had to be and as bad as it was… you didn’t want to be near Harry either.

You went from needing him and feeling like his presence and his calm was the only way you could breathe to feeling suffocated just by being near him. You didn’t understand it when it wasn’t his fault but somehow felt like he was the one to blame. It was unfair.

It was also unfair to have photos taken of you in your most vulnerable state then be threatened with them. It was unfair to have your boyfriend work with the man who did that to you and suffer no consequences for his actions. Even if Harry did have a plan, you just didn’t fucking understand how he could stand being in the same building as him.

The last thing you wanted was saying something you’d regret because your mind wasn’t clear so it felt like the right decision to go home by yourself, even if you already knew Harry would want to drive you and make sure you got home alright.

“No… um, no I don’t think so.” You shook your head and pressed your hand to the wall of the stall to help you stand up. Your legs were cramped and shaky from being sat down for so long and the rest of you felt like you had a 50kg weight tied to every muscle in your body.

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he quickly stood up as well. There was a switch in your demeanor that he didn’t like. A distant, almost… cold shift that he had only seen in the very beginning of your relationship when he fucked everything up. But he hadn’t done anything so to see you become so withdrawn sent alarm bells ringing everywhere.

“That’s okay, you don’t… you don’t have to.” Harry exhaled a deep breath and squeezed the towel in his hand, “I know it’s hard but it is good to talk about it. I’m here when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, crushing the plastic cup in your hand. The sound echoed around the bathroom and it felt entirely too loud for how intense the situation was.

Harry attempted to reach out and give you a comforting squeeze on your arm but was only met with rejection when you shifted your shoulder back to avoid it. You could see the flash of hurt cross his eyes and the way his brows knitted even closer together, but he didn’t dare comment on it. Harry knew how sensitive someone could be after a panic attack so he tried to not take it personally and viewed it as a mistake on his behalf.

But you let him hold you for what felt like forever. You just collapsed in his arms until you could breathe again… still, he had gone through panic attacks and he knew that everyone reacted differently. You could come out of it in the worst mental state and the last thing he wanted was giving you too much space and something happening because of it.

“I’m just going to wash my hands.” The moment you slid past him and out of the stall, you immediately felt a sense of relief from not being so confined anymore. You scratched at your chest a little while watching him join you at the basin beside you to wash his hands as well.

“I’ll drive you home, y/n. I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Harry spoke softly, looking directly at you while scrubbing his hands with the soap.

“I actually think it’s better if I am… alone.” You cleared your throat and walked to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands. Your back was towards him but you could feel his stare on your back. “I parked at the station so the train will be fine. I think I just need some time alone, if that’s okay?”

“Are you sure? You’ve never had a panic attack before, y/n. I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you all by yourself. At least let me drive you.” Harry offered, trying to be encouraging without too pushy. But it was really fucking hard because every moment you withdrew from him was another moment he felt himself start to panic at what was going on with you. He had no idea what was running through your head and there was no way for him to find out unless you told him yourself.

“I’m fine, Harry. Really.” You sighed, turning around to face him. He looked so… sad. Helpless almost. “I just need to walk it off, okay?”

With a firm nod, Harry reluctantly backed down. It was the last thing on the entire planet that he wanted but what choice did he have?

“Okay. Just…” he inhaled a ragged breath and stepped towards you. Harry wanted to touch you so badly, even just a pinky looped to yours but he stopped himself just before his fingers grazed the back of your hand. “Let me walk you out at least. Please.”

Even though your chest was still clammy, your lungs didn’t feel like they were at full capacity yet and you just didn’t want him to walk you anywhere, you still agreed. He had done so much for you, more than you felt like you deserved. The least you could do was let him walk you out the building.

The walk to get your things and go downstairs was painfully awkward. Thankfully Sharon had warded off the bathroom and hallway so there was no one lingering around, including Ethan but that did very little to dispel how uncomfortable you were. It hadn’t felt like this for months and there wasn’t a single moment since you two started dating where you didn’t want to be around him.

It was a sick feeling, one that just mixed in with your need to go home and die in your bed. Unfortunately, you knew that once you had a shower and cried some more, you’d be pushing it all away again to focus on your assignment. It was cruel.

“Text me when you get home?” Harry asked, voice full of hope. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you adjusted your tote bag on your shoulder. The street was full and busy of the usual lunch rush, all the corporate men and women off to buy an overpriced sandwich or go to their favourite hole-in-a-wall restaurant for takeaway.

You two could’ve been going to your favourite japanese cafe for a coffee right now to walk off your food comas, but instead your nice romantic lunch had turned into something ugly. It felt like it was all your fault and yet somehow your brain was blaming Harry.

Again, even if you didn’t want to agree, you did. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, cool. Thank you?” Harry wasn’t sure what to do or say. He was at a loss.

There was nothing about this situation that felt normal or even was normal. He didn’t feel like he could kiss you or even hug you goodbye. It felt like the end of an awkward first date where the polite thing to do was hug goodbye even if neither party wanted to. But Harry did want to. He wanted to follow you right now to make sure you got home okay. That you were okay.

“Bye Harry.” You opted to make the painful goodbye, feeling sick to your stomach at the entire day. You felt dirty and sticky and the complete normalcy of everyone around you just going about their day was kiling you a little bit inside.

“Right… um, okay. Goodbye, y/n. Thank you for lunch.”

It was formal and ugly and all you could do in response was mutter another goodbye and flash him the saddest most pitiful smile you could muster before turning around to walk in the direction of the closest train station.

And just like that, Harry watched you walk away.

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months ago

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mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

#mxtx svsss #svsss au #scum villian self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #disciple shen yuan #scum villain #svsss #*points at SQQ/SY* i want him to go nuts. as a treat. let him crumble just a little over the stress of his fate and the stress of survival #and the stress of having a lack of autonomy over a handful of his decisions. starry craves angst and she craves a very specific SQQ angst #he was a number 1 hater back in the day and lbr being a hater takes energyyyy. ive heard that this man was the BIGGEST hater i wanna #see him rip a man to shreds with nothing but his tongue and a voice that could cut marble clean in half. skin a man alive sqq you deserve i #*mortal kombat voice* FINISH HIM #i love without-a-cure but unfortunately i dont think SQQ would be able to have WAC and also survive in the abyss.#the succubi nest that adopted him tried seducing him at first. it didn't work. but he did somehow charm them with his cringefail ways #so now they have a brand new mortal big/little brother to dote on. SQQ is frankly delighted to learn all about succubi culture that doesnt #revolve around sex. he makes quite a few friends/allies in the abyss because of his pure fascination and unbiased desire to learn about #demonic culture and all the different niches and nuances of it across species. he's still going insane tho. like that's not stopping.#there's a single LBH pov chapter in the fic and its frankly so unhinged it was fantastic. he's so possessive. he straight up goes:#'oh SQQ isnt gonna be the next peak lord. he's ascending to heaven with me when i do :)' when Sha Hualing (also peak lord) told him that he #couldn't keep his disciple in the bamboo house all the time. what was SQQ gonna do when LBH ascends and he becomes the new peak lord?#gosh that first chapter is rotating around in my mind so bad. LBH was SO unwell. like losing his actual shit over SQQ near the edge.#i so want to write a oneshot abt this where SQQ is also in hysterics (albeit over slightly diff reasons) and tells LBH on his knees:#'this disciple deeply apologizes to his shizun. for he will not be ascending to the heavens with him.' right before he falls into the abyss #this au being disciple SY is for shits and giggles but i can also see it happening for regular SQQ bc 'fuck it im a dead man either way'#frothing at the mouth at this idea also being a SY-is-SJ au too. for the extra angst of SQQ trying to bear the weight of multiple lives on #his shoulders and trying to figure out what is real and what isn't and if he's meant to suffer in all of his lives no matter what he does.#not once in his life has he ever been free to do what he likes has he? self-hatred to the max. he's going mad. poor boy :]

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manicpixiefelix · 1 year ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut

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beybaldes · 1 year ago

Text

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Roy Kent × Fem!Reader

word count: 9.8k

summary: jamie tartt once told you Roy needed someone to show him it was okay to be soft; Roy has found that person in you

content warning: spoilers for the plot of 'the couple next door' by Shari Lapena, tooth rotting fluff with the whole Kent bloodline and the Richmond boys, neither reader nor Roy has parents because I said so, allusions to smut but basically non written.

masterlist

a/n: this is technically a part 2 to my fic ‘it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know’ but can 100% be read as a standalone fic!! Thank you for all the love on the first part I acc can’t believe the amount of love and support it received 🥲🥲

"Hey, hot stuff." Your hands came to rest against Roy's shoulders, squeezing, then moving slowly across his collar bones and down his chest, coming to rest connected just above his heart. A featherlight kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear, and then another behind his ear, followed by a trail of quick kisses down his neck until your face was buried in the crook of it. "How's your book?"

"Fucking great." Roy answered back, voice low and mellow, maintaining the peaceful atmosphere in your living room.

Ever since you'd moved in together a year and a half ago, your entire house had become a sanctuary for the two of you. Roy's new position as manager made it so that even though you worked together, you saw much less of each other during the workday - mainly because it wasn't at his leisure to go in and out of your office all day any more. Even if you did spend every minute of every day around each other, you knew you could never get sick of Roy; you'd become quite the experts at communicating how you were feeling and what you were thinking, especially since every time he tried to keep you out, you would figure it out anyway.

"I mean, I've had my theories throughout about who did it, but I'd never have guessed this." Roy missed your touch as soon as you let go of him, reaching out so that he could hold your hand in his tightly while you walked around the couch to take a seat by his side. "I thought surely, what, with the husband having the affair he did it - and I was half right, the husband staged the kidnapping."

"I knew something was up with him!" You gasped, wrapping your arms around Roy's waist as you curled into his side, the hand that had just been holding yours pulling his blanket to cover your lap then moving to rest across your shoulders. "How was the husband involved? He didn't hurt the baby did he?" He used the palm of his hand to press your head against his chest, tucking your hair back behind your ear and then moving his hand to rest against your bicep, scratching his fingers gently into the exposed flesh there. "Oh my god, he didn't, like, get rid of it so he could be with the neighbour did he?"

"Slow down, slow down," Roy shushed, folding the corner of the page he was on, something so close to the end of the book you could count the pages if you tried. He pressed a chaste, warm kiss to the crown of your head, placing the book down beside him on the couch. "Let me explain, Angel." Roy's other hand, now free from holding the book, cradled your chin gently, tilting your head up so he could press a tender kiss to your lips. "So Anne's dad-"

Another gasp slipped past your lips. More then anything, you wanted to let Roy explain the plot of what he'd been reading, but his nightly updates had kept you on the edge of your seat. Despite not having read a single page, apart from the 2 chapters you read aloud to Roy earlier in the week when he was feeling a little under the weather, you were completely and utterly enthralled; desperate to know how it ended. Besides, this daily discussion was the highlight of your days. No matter how good or bad your day had been, if you'd gone out of your way to ignore each other or talked nonstop: Roy still talked and you still listened. "What did Anne's dad have to do with it?"

"You'll see." He chastised, pressing a kiss to the tip-of your nose before continuing with his explanation. "Marco assists in kidnapping the baby, why? Because his business is going out of money and he plans on faking a ransom note for asking for the exact amount of money he needs to pay up to save his business." Roy slid his hand under the blanket, pulling your legs up and into his lap as you brought your head up from against his chest. Threading your fingers through his hair, you looked at him confused. "Anne's parents are rich, remember? But they won't give him the money so he stages this kidnapping to force them to pay the ransom."

"No." You gasped, you hand clapping against your mouth. "Why wouldn't they give their son in law the money? They do know it directly affects their daughter and grand-daughter, right?"

"They won't give him the money because they don't like him, so get this, the guy who convinced Marco to stage the kidnapping was hired by Anne's dad." Roy laughed at the gasp you let out, you completely enthralled with the story and him completely enthralled with you. He always was. "Anne's dad staged the whole thing because he wanted Anne and Marco to split up. And just when you think everything's okay because they got the baby back; Anne murders the neighbour because she had been having an affair - with Anne’s dad.”

You were practically jumping in your seat.

Sometimes you wish you had the same amount of patience as Roy so you could actually sit down and read with him. Most of the time, however, you were more then happy to listen to him passionately talk you through what he was reading, were happy to watch that wonderful smile you loved so much curl onto his lips.

"But!"

"But-" you repeated after Roy, pressing a kiss to his cheek, urging him to hurry up with his ending; you were waiting to hear it.

"But, Anne doesn't remember killing the neighbour, so there is this whole unreliable light cast on the whole story; it might not have even happened!" Roy expected to find you staring at him in shock, some commentary on what you think happened on the tip of your tongue, but it never came.

Instead, he found you staring at him with complete adoration, like you'd watched him mould the galaxies in his hands, hang the stars in the sky and spin the world on his fingernails. To you, he did, he really did. You leant forward a little, using the hand that you'd tangled in Roy's hair to pull him closer to you so that you could press your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tender, something that Roy, ever intense, had really come to enjoy through out your relationship; you brought out this entirely different side to him that he wasn't even sure existed until he met you.

"I love you." You murmured against his lips, going in for another quick peck before you pulled away, gracing him with the sight of a smile. "I love how passionate you get when talking about the stuff you love, and that smile - ugh that smile, Roy - you're killing me here."

Roy was certain he was doing the right thing. So certain, in fact, that he'd bought the ring the day you got together: Phoebe's accusation in your living room that you were getting married telling him everything he needed to know. The life Roy had dreamed of was right before him, all he had to do now was take it. "Marry me."

"What?" The hand that had began to caress his cheek as you kissed and the hand in his hair stilled; your entire body stilled in fact, and as quickly as he'd become confident enough to ask the question, he'd become nervous again.

"Fuck, what I meant was; will you marry me?" Roy shuffled underneath you, pulling out a ring box from somewhere behind him, though you weren't sure where considering you knew his pyjama bottoms didn't have pockets. "I'm not the kind of guy for a big speech thing, but I wish I was because you fucking deserve that kind of thing. You deserve a lot more then I can ever give you, actually, and yet you still love me day in and day fucking out. I'll admit, sometimes I don't get why you do."

"Roy..." You whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as you moved both of your hands to cradle his face.

"But you do. And I'd truly, really, be the luckiest man in the world, if you would marry grumpy, old me." Tears had formed in Roy's own eyes, the pair of you totally overwhelmed by the intimate and tender moment. You'd never been more in love with Roy then right now. "Please fucking say yes, I'm an absolute mess without you"

"Yes, please." You whispered, hands still cradling Roy's face even though your eyes remained on the ring in front of you. It was as if he'd peeked inside your brain and made the perfect ring; it was simple yet elegant and entirely you, it was really perfect. This time, you answered louder. "Please, yes."

You pulled Roy's face to you, pressing a firm and hot kiss to his lips. You let your hands leave his face, sliding up and over his cheekbones until you reached his hair, twisting your fingers into it and pulling him even tighter against you, deepening the kiss as you did. "A million times yes, Roy, yes, yes, yes." Tears had begun to freely flow down your cheeks, though there was not an ounce of sadness to them. You were insurmountably happy - over the fucking moon. "I'd say yes in every fucking language in the world if I could. I love you Roy." You bit your lip back between your teeth, trying to contain your smile since your cheeks burned. "Mrs Kent." A giggle slipped past your lips. "That's me."

"Fuck yeah, that's you." Roy growled, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to your lips. His grip in your hair allowed him to tilt your head back slightly, giving him the perfect angle to push his tongue past your lips with a tug of his hand on your hair. If he had already put the ring on your finger, he'd have picked you up and taken you to bed then and there with the moan you let out. "Now, Mrs Kent, you going to let me put this ring on your fucking finger or what?"

~*~

You were thankful Roy had proposed on a Friday night; not only because that meant you didn't have to worry about how late he kept you up or how quickly you needed to regain the ability to walk straight, but because it gave you the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday to figure out how to tell your friends. Phoebe and Molly were coming over for dinner later that night, but you had a slight feeling you weren't actually going to have to say anything to them - you had no doubt Roy had consulted Molly over it, and Phoebe, well, you just knew she'd pick up on it the second she saw you.

"C'mere." Roy groaned beside you, not giving you the chance to move yourself before he was wrapping one arm around your waist and the other under your thigh. He slid you across the bed with ease, years of training still paying off despite the fact he hadn't played on a pitch in nearly 4 years now. Placing the leg he'd grabbed over his own leg, he pulled you flush against him, chest pressed to chest. "Good morning, Angel, sleep good?"

Roy's voice had a deeper edge then usual to it in the morning. "Always do when I'm with you, Handsome." You purred, gently scratching your fingers against his chest. "Although I've got this awful kink in my neck, must’ve slept funny."

"I can think of a few other kinks you've got." Roy murmured against your shoulder, pressing open mouthed kissed along it and up your neck. When he nipped at the sensitive skin just under your ear, you pushed yourself away from him, not out of want, but out of necessity.

"We've got guests in a few hours, remember?"

"I can do a lot in an hour alone." Given how late the two of you had been up doing things, you'd slept in till lunch, but that didn't make the sound of sleepy and slow morning sex with Roy any less appealing. God, the thought of it alone had you wanting to cancel everything ever and stay here forever.

"Hmm, that you can do." Pulling his head out of the crook of your neck, you pressed a kiss to his lips, tangling your hands into Roy's hair and trying impossibly hard to get even closer to him. "Show me what you got, coach."

A growl rolled out of Roy's throat and he was quick to get started on his own assault of your lips, fully using the position he'd pulled you into to his advantage.

~*~

After everything the two of you spent your early afternoon doing, you only had 2 hours to make sure everything was ready for when Molly and Phoebe showed up, and since your cooking skills ended at turkey dinosaurs and pizza, you left most of the work down to Roy. He let you help prepare ingredients, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand guiding your hand to cut things a specific way. But when the time came to actually cook the meal, he guided you out of the kitchen, encouraging you to go and get ready with a soft kiss; one to your cheek and another to your temple.

When you'd showered and gotten ready, you made it your turn to kick Roy out of the kitchen, promising not to touch anything unless he asked you to. You made sure to set the table all nice and proper for Phoebe and Molly's arrival, still slightly starstruck by the actual use of the dining table and not just eating dinner on your couch like you'd become so accustomed to before you and Roy moved in together. Sometimes though, especially when Phoebe stayed over, you'd all eat dinner together on the sofa, spy kids playing in the background, for old times sake. And before you knew it, you'd heard the knock at the door.

Swinging the door open, you knelt down immediately, sweeping Phoebe into your arms and hugging her tightly. With her head tucked in between your shoulder and neck, you stuck out your left hand at Molly, wriggling your ring finger enthusiastically. Phoebe squealed your name, wrapping her little arms tightly around your neck; even though you'd seen her two days ago when you picked her up from school, she still missed you as much as if she hadn't seen you for a million years.

As you went to stand back up, phoebe kept her grip on your neck, a silent plea for you to pick her up. Even at 9 years old, she still loved being paraded around in your arms, taking full advantage of your love for her and her love of being close to you. You pulled Molly into the house by the hand, kicking the door shut with your foot and leading them to the kitchen, where Roy was finishing up dinner.

"Hi, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe opted to stay in your arms instead of wiggling out of them to give Roy a 'hello' hug, knowing he was busy cooking and shouldn't be interrupted.

"Hey Phoebe, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes, okay? Why don't you go and grab your phoebe mug from your room before we all sit down?" When you and Roy moved in together, it was a unanimous decision that Phoebe needed her own room in your house; and when you were moving her things from Roy and your separate houses into your new house you got her a 'phoebe mug' as a housewarming gift. It was a bright pink ceramic mug, her name written once by you on the front and once by Roy on the back - it was the only thing she would drink out of when she was at your house.

The second phoebe had slipped out of the room, you turned to Molly with a squeal, the two of you grabbing tightly onto each other and jumping around the kitchen. Roy watched fondly as the two of you gushed over the ring Molly had already seen a thousand times. She took your hand in hers, running her finger over the ring with a featherlight touch, tears filling her waterline. Molly grabbed your hand and pulled it over her shoulder, hugging you again, though this time more tenderly, more teary-eyed.

"I'd say welcome to the family, but I think you've been a part of it since the day you met Phoebe." Tears began to fill your own eyes at the words she whispered against the shell of your ear. "You make him so happy, so, so happy, and that's all I could ever want for Roy. It's all I ever way for you." Molly pulled away from the hug, wiping her thumb under your eye as your tears threatened to spill over. "He loves you. We all do. I love you."

"I love you too, Molly." Just as quickly as she'd pushed you away, you pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly as though it would convey everything you were feeling. It did.

At the sound of feet running down your hallway, Molly jumped away from you, quickly wiping at her own eyes before turning to face her little girl. She gently took the mug from her hands and passed it to you, ushering her to the dining table while you and Roy plated up.

"What did she say to you?" Roy asked, knocking his hip against yours as he he started putting food into each plate.

You pulled Phoebe's favourite cordial off your shelf, pouring some in then moving past Roy to get to the sink to dilute it. "Nothing." He couldn't see the smile that formed on your face as you thought on what your future sister in law had said to you moments prior. "Just that she loves me, she loves you. That she's happy for us."

Roy wrapped an arm around you from behind as he came to join you at the sink, leaning past you to put his cooking tongs in. "I can't wait to see Phoebe's reaction." Roy murmured against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss there then spinning you around to face him. "She absolutely adores you. She's gonna be over the fucking moon."

"Not more over the moon then me." You pressed another kiss to his lips, making sure to keep the cordial far away from you and Roy incase it spilled.

Roy turned his back on you, picking up two of the bigger plates. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh really?" You asked, picking up the final big plate and Phoebe's smaller own. "I get to marry the love of my life and be officially related to some of the people I love the most. I think I win."

"We'll see." With one last kiss the two of you headed towards the dining table, all four of you tucking into dinner and telling each other about your weeks like clockwork; though you and Roy refrained from one pretty big event till after dinner.

When your food was all finished, you'd given Phoebe a bigger bowl of ice cream then usual, immediately prompting her to be suspicious. "Either I've been really good at school this week, or you guys have done something really bad."

"It's not like that Pheeb's, we're actually celebrating." Phoebe's head perked up at that as she mentally checked it wasn't anyone's birthday, or 'uncles day,' or Mother's Day, or 'future aunties day' (as she'd dubbed it) and she'd forgotten. When she ruled that she definitely hadn't forgotten anything, she turned to you in wait.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Me and your uncle Roy-"

"Holy shit." Smiles crept on all three of your faces as Phoebe pieced it together in her mind. "Are you getting married? Please tell me you're getting married?"

"Are getting married." As you brought your ring adorned hand up for her to see, Phoebe burst into tears, jumping off of her seat and running around to the other side of the table where you and Roy sat. She was quick to climb into Roy's lap, wrapping one arm around each of your knecks to pull you into a hug.

"This is the best day of my life." She whispered, her words coming out in a whine as she tried desperately hard to keep her tears in. "Do I get to be a flower girl?"

"Of course you get to be the flower girl, what kind of fucking question is that?" Roy scolded though a smile remained on his face, you wouldn't have anyone one else as your flower girl. Your niece was barely walking and besides, not that you'd ever admit it with them present, but you much preferred Phoebe to any blood relative you had.

Phoebe's face turned into a frown at Roy's words. "You owe me £1, uncle Roy."

"After the S-bomb you dropped before? I think we're even."

~*~

When Monday rolled around, you were extremely nervous. It wasn't that you thought any of the people at Nelson road would react badly to your engagement, you knew non of them would, you were nervous in the way you are at 8 years old on Christmas Eve - in a giddy way when you can't wait for what you feel to be shared.

You'd come up with a plan in bed the night before - announce it to Beard first, then to the boys, and then you'd make your way up to Rebecca's office to announce it to her, Higgins and Keeley (who'd you thankfully knew would be at the dog track this morning for a meeting).

To execute step 1 with no interruptions, you made sure to arrive an hour earlier to work then you usually would - knowing that Beard liked to show up early and the boys would show up as close to practice as they could get away with. Just as you expected, Beard was alone in the office, only a couple of other people in the building at all, making for an easy entrance.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you two showing up earlier then you ever have in the 5 years I've known you." Beard asked, his feet perched high up on his desk and an open book dropped against his chest.

"I needed to ask you something, actually." Roy wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, silently encouraging you to ask what you wanted to ask.

"Fire away, Katniss."

"I actually wanted to ask, um, well, if you'd walk me down the aisle?"

Beard stilled, then took a shaky breath, then stilled again. He slowly picked up the book from his chest, dog-eared the page and swung his feet down from his desk, standing and crossing the room so that he could stand in front of you. "You, you-" Another shaky breath. "You want me? Me? To walk you down the aisle?"

"Yeah. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a father and-"

Beard pulled you into a hug, something he'd never done before, and tentatively wrapped his arms under yours, pinning you against him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and though you'd never been a big fan of the scent, you found right now that you'd happily bask in it forever. "Yes, of course I will, it'd be an honour."

No further words were exchanged between the two of you until he pulled away, quickly wiping at his eyes before turning to Roy with a scowl. "I can fight, just so you know." He took a step closer to him, and you swore you'd never seen Roy so afraid as when Beard stuck a firm finger in his chest. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." Then he retreated to his chair, picking up his book and replacing it against his chest. "So when were you thinking? I always thing spring is the best time for a wedding."

The three of you discussed everything from what date you were thinking to ideal song choices while you waited for the changing room to fill up, wanting to make sure everyone had arrived before you shared the news. When Roy had done his 6th head count and found everyone had arrived, he nodded towards the door, asking if you were ready to go and tell everyone. You nodded, letting Roy lead the way and hanging in the doorway of the coaches office until Beard was at your side.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know. He's never hurt me once, I don't think he's going to start now."

Beard folded his arms across his chest then nudged you gently in the side as the the two of you came to stand next to Roy, him shouting 'whistle,' silencing the changing room. "Hey, that's what dads are for."

"Before I start, someone grab Nate and Will from the boot room." Jamie, being closest to the boot room, dashed in and right back out, Will and Nate right behind him. "Right. Angel, the floor is yours."

You thanked Roy before turning back to the boys, all of them waiting anxiously as they waited to see what you had to say that was so important Roy had even called Will and Nate out. "I need to know if you're all available next June - we're talking the end of June, early July." Thankfully, your job at Richmond often required planning things far in advance, even if far in advance was a year away, so no one expected anything as you started to speak. "I know it's the off season but I need you all here, in Richmond. Especially Colin."

"Why especially me?" Colin asked, one hand nervously wringing the other.

"Because I absolutely refuse to get married if my man of honour won't be able to make it."

The whole changing room erupted into a chorus of gasps, quickly followed by cheers and players and kitmen alike swarming you and Roy with hugs and cries of congratulations - which, for once, he actually entertained.

Colin was the first to reach for you to pull you into a hug, his hands shaking as he did. "You really want me to be your man of honour? At your wedding?"

"Of course I do, Col." It didn't get any less tearful asking people to be apart of your wedding. "Your my best friend. I love you." No sooner then Colin had pulled you into another hug had you been torn out of it, by a very excited Jamie.

"I can't fucking believe it me. Well, I can actually, but I also can't." He pulled you in for an even tighter hug then Colin had, probably down to the fact he had more excitement then nerves coursing through his system. "Feels like yesterday me and Phoebe were sat on your couch convincing you Roy did love you, and now look at yous."

"Will Phoebe be at the wedding?" Isaac had spun you out of Jamie's hold and into his, keeping one arm around your shoulder as he spoke to you. "Cause I don't want to be the only person eating the turkey dinosaurs; there will be turkey dinosaurs right?"

"Of course there will be, Isaac." Will pulled you out from under Isaac's arm and into a sweet, although brief, hug. "Right? Otherwise I might have to RSVP no."

"Im sure it can be arranged, what, with all of Roy's footballer money." The two laughed at your words, though a certain footballer turned coach found them more amusing.

"All my footballer money, huh?"

"I hope the fact I'm only marrying you for your money doesn't make you want to call off the wedding." You teased, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Roy's neck.

He pressed a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, ignoring the teasing shouts and cheers from his team. "Hmm, you're lucky you're cute." Roy pressed another kiss to your lips, paying no mind to the curious stares of the team around him. Though when they began to linger for a minute too long, he pulled away from you with a sigh. "Right, 50 laps, all of you." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "Now!"

Roy intertwined his fingers with yours, waving a goodbye to Beard but promising to be back before the boys had finished their 50 laps.

Keeley had reacted just how you expected her to - with many screams and squeals and a tight hug that nearly knocked you off the ground. Rebecca and Higgins were much more reserved in their responses but each offered a hug and a congratulation's to the happy couple. Roy kept your fingers intertwined the whole time, squeezing your hand tight each time someone reached out for a hug but putting up with their love otherwise.

You couldn't wait to marry him.

~*~

Knowing that the off season would start around the beginning of June, you'd decided early on the last week of June was the perfect time for the two of you to get married. And while the end of June was still a month and a half away, you were seriously considering calling the wedding off.

When you'd found out you were pregnant in February, you knew you had to keep it a close secret until you'd finished the first trimester, just incase anything happened to you or the baby, and each week since you'd found out you kept swearing to yourself you were going to tell Roy. You still hadn't. Which brought you to right now, where you were crying on the floor of your ensuite bathroom at the dead of night, at just over 12 weeks pregnant and a baby bump beginning to show.

Given the cold weather of early spring you'd kept it hidden pretty well so far, but with the progressively warmer weather, it was getting harder and harder to hide. Above that, you were now very much aware that since the baby bump had appeared, it was only going to get bigger - and you were in absolute tears over wether or not you were still going to fit into the outfit you'd picked. While your choice of outfit for your wedding wasn't anything extravagant, it made you feel extremely pretty, and hugged you in just the right way - it wouldn't if you were four months pregnant and with a baby bump that you felt was the size of Saturn.

One particularly loud sob had you clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping and praying to anything out there that Roy hadn't heard you. You didn't want him stressing, especially when you were crying over trivial things considering the life you'd always dreamed was within your grasp.

Roy's eyes blinked open though he wasn't entirely sure why, however, when he rolled over and attempted to wrap his arms around you, he was met with cold and empty sheets. The cool feel of the sheets beneath his fingers had him shooting awake; clearly you'd been out of bed a while, and considering it was pushing 2am, his first thought was that you were sick. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

Slowly, he made his way towards your en-suite bathroom, rubbing at his eyes to get him to wake up quicker. Pushing the door open, his entire being froze at the sight of you crying on the bathroom floor, him immediately falling to the ground next to you and pulling you into his lap. One hand brushed your hair out of your face while the other cupped the back of your head, pressing it into the crook of his neck. "It's okay Angel, I'm here, I'm here."

It took Roy roughly 15 minutes of rocking you gently in his arms and whispering soothing words into your hair before your sobs calmed down enough that you could talk without your words turning into a whimper. "C'mon Angel, talk to me." The way Roy oh so gently cradled your face had tears springing to your eyes again. "Or is it about me? Do you want me to call Molly? I'm sure she wouldn't mind-"

"No, it's about me." A fresh set of tears were rolling down your cheeks, but the heaving sobs that had been coming from your chest before ceased. "It's me, I've ruined everything."

"Angel..."

"I just wanted to wear a nice fucking outfit on my wedding day, and I can't, and its making me so sad it's stupid." Roy's thumb continuously wiped at the tears that were furiously running down your cheeks. "And it makes me even more sad because, because, I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm sad over something stupid like what I can wear."

"It's not stupid, Angel face." Roy murmured against your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin familiar and comforting. "Nothings stupid if it makes you so upset. Just talk me through it, yeah? Why can't you wear what you picked? Did it get damaged or something?"

"No, no, it's fine, it's just- it won't fit me anymore." Roy pressed a kiss to your temple, immediately spouting words of reassurance that it would still fit you and if it didn't he'd hire the best tailor in the world to make it fit and that regardless, you'd look incredibly beautiful no matter what you wore. You shook your head gently. "It's not that Roy, it's, I'm-"

You readjusted yourself in Roy's lap, turning so that your legs were either side of his, caging him in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking down at the bump you could just see through one of Roy's old jerseys you'd fallen asleep in, while you avoided his concerned gaze. "It's not going to fit me anymore, because I'm pregnant, Roy."

Silence filled the bathroom.

When you finally gained the courage to look up at Roy, tears were pooled in his eyes, that wonderful smile of his making the most tender appearance you'd ever seen. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, mumbling the two words over, and over, and over again. "You're pregnant."

Before you could ask Roy if he was okay, he was pressing his lips to yours, allowing the tears to fall from his eyes though without the noise of a sob. He simply kissed you over, and over, and over again, only pulling away when he could no longer contain the smile that what pulling at his lips. Your hands cradled his cheeks, wiping away each tear gently with the pad of your thumb. "I can't believe I'm crying." He scoffed, though didn't move away from to ur touch as you continued to wipe away his tears.

"If it makes you feel any better, I find the vulnerability of it incredibly hot."

One of Roy's hands moved from the side of your thighs to cup your cheek, pushing hair back behind your ear as a watery smile took over his face.

"You know," Roy paused, tenderly running his fingers up and down the side of your neck as his hand slipped down from your cheek to hold you there. "If you'd come to me 5 years ago, back when Ted and Beard first started, and told me in 5 years time I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of? And, with the gorgeous woman from the office outside the changing rooms? I would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off." After a moments thought, he added. "I probably wouldn't have let anyone get close enough to me to tell me that in the first place, to be honest."

"Look how far you've come." You mused, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of Roy's neck as his tears slowly stopped. "Some might say that I've made you go soft.”

Roy laughed, head tilted back against the bathroom wall as he was prevented from throwing it back further. The tilt of his head upwards granted you the perfect position to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled at you softly, bringing his hand forward from the side of your neck so that he could cup your jaw. "To be loved, is to be changed." He hummed, his chest tightening as tears filled your eyes once more.

"I love you, Roy." You whispered, as though even saying it would break the sincerity of the words slipping from your lips. Although you'd said them a thousand times, it was like Roy was hearing it for the first time all over again. "Like I really, really love you Roy." Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. "So much... so much so that I feel like I'm never going to be able to express it enough, like if I don't get it out of me, I might die."

Roy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, sliding his hand back up your jaw and under your ear, tangling his fingers in the hair there. "I love you too, more then i ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.” Roy leaned in for another kiss then pulled away with a smirk as you ground yourself into him. "Want me to show you how much I love you, yeah?"

"Definitely."

Roy put his hands back to their original place under your thighs, slowly moving the two of you from your position on the bathroom floor to standing once more. When he was standing, you held in his arms with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you continued the clash of tongue and teeth you'd started moments again. However, before he could get started on showing you just how much he loved you, you leaned away from him, eyes running over his whole face. "You might have to hold off on doing that thing with your hips, y'know, because of the baby."

"I'll stop doing that when the doctor tells me to stop."

~*~

Fortunately for you, at your next check up the following Thursday, the doctor gave you the all clear - on the health of the baby and the fact Roy could continue working magic with his hips. Considering you were nearly 14 weeks along, the ultrasound technician had offered to let you know the gender of the baby, but both you and Roy had agreed that you didn't want to know. You so seriously didn't want anyone to know, in fact, that Roy made a show of ripping up the envelope that contained the baby's gender right in front of the ultrasound technician after she offered it out to you; her suggestion of a gender reveal dying on her tongue.

Roy had been nothing but attentive since he'd found out; moving at your beck and call even more then normal, so much so that people around Nelson road were beginning to notice.

"Alright, what's going on?" The second Roy left your office, Isaac, Colin and Will crowed into the room, locking the door behind them. If you weren’t such a veteran of their shenanigans, you'd be getting concerned. "Are you dying?"

"Why would I be dying?" You asked, clicking the email you'd been writing closed, giving the three lads your undivided attention.

"Roy's been following you, like, more then usual though." Isaac stated, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Weird, innit."

Before you could question what they found weird about you talking to and hanging around your fiancé, Will stepped forward, his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets. "You're pregnant, right? I'm like 80% sure you're pregnant."

Your hand came to rest against the small bump you'd concealed under your Richmond sweater.

"Holy fuck boyo." Colin gasped, smacking his hand into Will's chest. "She is. How did you know?"

"She's glowing." Isaac and Colin tilted their heads in sync while their gaze remained directly on you, as though they were trying to see what Will saw. When it appeared they couldn't, Will let out a sigh, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't know; maybe it's the lighting."

Silence took over your small office space, the four of you alternating between staring at each other and the hand that rested against your stomach.

"Angel, you got-" Roy paused at the sight before him, scanning the room with a pointed glare. While Isaac had had the sense to lock the main door to your office when he started his interrogation, it had seemed he had forgotten to lock the connecting door from your office into the changing rooms. You'd never been more thankful to be in an office with two doors. After a few more seconds of assessment, he seethed out a "Fuck! Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?"

All three lads nodded in silence, scurrying from the room after a particularly harsh glare from Roy had told them they had overstayed their welcome in your office. As your head fell into your hands due to the stress of it all, Roy crossed the room, slipping his fingers into your hair and scratching gently at your scalp. "They're not going to tell anyone, Angel, don't stress."

"But, what-"

"No buts, or what if's, or anything." Roy chastised, pulling your head out of your hands and crouching down to meet you at eye level. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "We tell everyone when you're ready. And if that's after the wedding, then that's after the wedding." Roy pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "And that's that."

You let out a long sigh, weight lifted from your shoulders at Roy's gentle touch and soothing words. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice."

~*~

You were too scared to put your outfit on. After almost 10 months of planning every detail and waking up to see your engagement ring on your finger, you were finally getting to be Mrs Kent. And you were too scared to go out there and get dressed.

When Will, Colin and Isaac found out you were pregnant, it was on accident, but going out there, before your man of honour, bridesmaids, Phoebe and Beard to put on your outfit would be intentionally revealing your baby bump. It was so stupid, you thought, to be this worried about something that would make people happy - that would make you and Roy happy. But a small part of you just wanted things to work out how you'd planned then in your head; like being able to wear what you'd picked to marry the love of your life.

However, you wanted to get married to Roy more then you cared about keeping the baby a secret.

Everyone gasped as you walked into the main part of the hotel room. You'd forgone a dressing gown in favour of getting ready in the comfort of pyjama shorts and one of Roy's old jerseys, wanting to have a part of him with you even though you wouldn't see him the night before the wedding.

Roy had actually wanted to forgo the traditional 'no seeing the bride bullshit,' him in favour of spending every second he could get with you, but Keeley and Jamie had convinced him it would make that moment of you walking down the aisle all the more special. Though as you walked into the room, you'd wished more then anything you'd convinced Keeley to let him stay with you. All you wanted was his hand in yours as you did this.

All eyes fell to the shadow of a baby bump that could be seen through the loose material of Roy's jersey; it was the one he wore at his very first Richmond match, Kent printed and worn proudly on the back. No one moved or even dared to breath.

"Surprise?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but the tense silence and feel of everyone's eyes on you had you shying away from your friends and family in a way you'd never done before. "I'm pregnant!"

Molly was the first to move, crossing the length of the room and pulling you into an embrace. "I love you." She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm going to be an auntie." Within seconds the remaining people in the room swarmed you into one big group hug. Each of Colin, Keeley, Rebecca and Beard whispered congratulations to you, telling you just how beautiful you looked and how excited they were to see you walk down the aisle. Phoebe, however, pulled the funniest face at you, her brow tense in the spitting image of Roy.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Phoebe had magically broke the tension of the room, smiles all around as Molly and Keeley ushered you back to the other side of the door, helping you into your outfit and making sure your hair stayed in the way you'd styled it when you got changed. Fully dressed and feeling yourself, you stepped back into the main room with newfound confidence.

You were going to marry Roy - Roy who updated you on his book every night and valued your opinion on it, who still brought you lunch everyday at work, who was willing to hold you on the bathroom floor at 3am when he should've been sleeping, who made you feel like you were the only person in a room that mattered - and you couldn't be more excited.

Colin held your hand the entire drive from the hotel and the whole way from the car to the church doors. Only two pieces of wood separated you from everything you'd ever wanted. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek and wished you luck before heading inside, leaving just you and Beard outside the building.

"You nervous?" He asked, moving his hand so that it rested lovingly on the small of your back.

"It's Roy." Roy always made you nervous. From the smile that had you weak in the knees when he actually decided to show it, to the butterflies the simple movement of his fingers against your skin caused; Roy had you swooning every time he looked at you. "I can't wait to get in there."

"Can you wait a second?" Ted Lasso was stood behind you, hands bashfully tucked into suit pants pockets.

"Ted." You gasped, opening your arms but not leaving Beard's side. The American rushed towards you, scooping you into a tender hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it..."

"Well, you know how Roy is, stubborn, hard-headed," Ted had aged a little since you last saw him on English soil, but he still held that quintessential ted spirit to him; even though he looked a lot more tired then you ever remembered him being. "Will do anything for the people he loves. Even if that's calling someone everyday for 8 months straight and convincing them to clear their calendar."

Roy who called one of your favourite people daily until he convinced them to make time to come to your wedding despite the fact they'd have to fly halfway across the world to attend.

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ted." He pressed a kiss to your temple, unwrapping himself from you and flattening out the front of his suit.

"I'll see you in there." Ted walked to the doors Colin had entered through moments ago, stopping and turning back to you at the last second. "You look beautiful by the way, you're practically glowing." With a knowing wink, Ted slipped through the doors, finding the way to his seat to wait for the ceremony to begin.

"Well, I think we're really ready now." You mused, linking your arm though Beard's. When you turned to flash a smile at him, you saw eyes filled with fondness, tears threatening to cloud his vision if he thought about the scene before him for too long. "Aren't we Willis?"

"Lets go, sweetheart." The pet name struck you to your core, your hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance. There was no one else you'd want to walk you down the aisle. "You're getting married!"

The ceremony ran perfectly. Willis walked you down the aisle and handed you off to Roy after whispering what you were certain was a threat in his ear. Tears brimmed Roy's waterline the whole ceremony, but they didn't spill over under you were pronounced husband and wife. No one commented on the tears that ran down Roy's cheeks, and you didn't think anyone was ever going to bring it up; a mutual understanding settling over the room that the Roy Kent that stood at the alter wasn't Roy Kent football sensation, but that he was Roy Kent, loving husband.

All those years ago Jamie had been completely and utterly right, all Roy needed was someone to show him it was okay to be soft. Thankfully, he had found that in you.

~*~

"Nell, go back to sleep baby, daddy's here."

Roy had his back turned to you as he rocked Penelope in his arms, murmuring some song that you couldn't quite make out under his breath to help her get back to sleep. In the 4 weeks since Penelope - or 'Nell' as Roy had lovingly started calling her - had been born, Roy had more then proved himself to be the amazing dad you knew he would be. Though he'd voiced his worries about not being a good dad several times throughout your pregnancy, each time you'd soothed away the worry; scratching your fingers against his scalp and reminding him of everything he'd ever done for Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the most excited to meet the baby, begging her mum to let her come over every single day after school so that she could spend time with her newborn cousin (even though that time was mostly spent with Phoebe in your lap with Nell in hers).

The Boys at Nelson Road came in for a close second when it came to being excited to meet the baby. Will, Colin and Isaac had made it their duty to show up to you and Roy's house every day after training when you were 7 months along in order to paint the babies nursery and build all the furniture that you'd bought.

They were even worse when you went into labour.

Roy had called Beard to let him know the two of you wouldn't be able to make it to work that Tuesday, and Beard loaded up the coach for a group trip to Richmond's hospital. You had the whole of AFC Richmond crowded in the waiting room, arms filled with stuffed animals, balloons and flowers. Jamie had charmed up the nurse who you were charged to, convincing him to let all of the players into your room at once. While most of the team fawned over the baby, gave you their best wishes then made their way back to the coach, Colin, Isaac, and Will asked to hold her, tears filling their eyes as they took in the sight of the tiny baby.

"She's beautiful." Colin whispered, lightly running the tip of his finger up and down her button nose. "With your parents, you're going to be the coolest kid ever. And Uncle Colin is going to make sure of it."

"You know," Will whispered, stiff as a board as he held Penelope on his arms, scared to even breath less it hurt the baby. "I remember that day I saw you with Phoebe in Tesco, and I told you I didn't realise you were a mum." Roy shot you a confused glance, reminding you you'd never actually filled him in on your trip to the supermarket that day with Phoebe. "And now you are one. It almost doesn't feel real."

"I've never held a baby before." Isaac admitted, the most relaxed holding her despite his inexperience. "It's weird, innit. Like, this baby I'm holding right now started out nothing and now she's real and alive and in my arms…Spooky."

Jamie, however, you practically had to force to hold Nell; and even then he was scared shitless. When you managed to convince him to take a seat on your hospital bed, he seemed less tense about holding her, but the ever present crease in his brow told you otherwise. "She looks just like you."

"She's got Roy's nose, and I bet she'll have his eyebrows too."

Jamie's eyes never left the baby, even as the other boys slipped out of the room with one last goodbye and a promise to come and visit Nell again when you got sent home.

"Ask us what her full name is." Roy kicked Jamie's foot, finally snapping his attention away from the newborn.

"You what?”

Apparently, he hadn't been listening, the tender tone to Roy's voice leaving as soon as it had arrived. "I said ask us what her full name is, fuckhead."

Jamie didn't ask you, he wasn't sure he could get the words out without choking up, the suggestion of the question springing tears to his eyes.

"Her full name is Penelope Jamie Kent." You hadn't seen Jamie so upset since Roy dragged him into your office, sobs wracking his body, two years ago before the journey up north to play against Manchester City at the Etihad.

He pulled Nell closer to his chest, hugging her as best as you could hold a baby, then passed her to Beard, pulling Roy in for the tightest hug you'd ever seen the two share. When Jamie came to hug you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear; "You've made Grandad go all soft." And after a brief pause. "The rest of us too."

Beard didn't stay long after Jamie left, knowing the coach was only waiting on him to return to training. He muttered something under his breath, pressed a kiss to Nell's head and then handed her back to you, pressing a kiss to yours. "Jamie’s right. Spitting image of you. Though I do agree she has Roy's nose."

"I hope she gets his smile." You quietly confessed, not missing the way Roy's lips curled up into the wonderful smile you loved so much. "We got something for you." Roy pulled out a gift bag from next to your 'we need to go to the hospital the baby is coming' bag and handed it to his fellow coach. Beard waisted no time opening the gift, a soft smile curling on his lips as he pulled out the mug, 'worlds best grandad' printed on the front and a Richmond crest printed on the back. "I love you...dad."

A tear silently ran down Beard' cheek but he didn't wipe it away, pulling you and the baby in for a group hug. After a tight squeeze, he opened up his arms, a silent invite for Roy to join. He did so without question, thanking Willis for everything.

Beard had used the mug at Nelson Road everyday since.

Nell had made a total of 3 visits so far to Nelson Road; every Thursday afternoon being the day you'd come to the dog track with her and disrupt afternoon training so that the boys could fawn over her as an end of the week treat. Tomorrow would be her 4th visit, and yet, Roy had been the one to wake up and tend to her when he'd have to be up in a few hours to coach Jamie and you could essentially sleep in until 12 and still be on time.

As he put Nell back inside her cot, you wrapped your arms around his waist and slid them up and under the front of his t-shirt. "You're such a good dad, Roy."

"Only cause you make me a good dad." He turned around in your hold, your hands now up the back of his shirt, his arms now over your shoulders/

"That doesn't even make sense." You countered, resting your chin against his chest so that you could look at him. Roy took the opportunity to press a slow and tender kiss to your lips.

"Fuck off, it totally does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

At a whine from Nell, the two of you fell silent, not wanting to wake her after Roy had just put her back to sleep.

"She know it makes sense." The two of your were looking down at Nell's tony from where she slept soundly in the crib.

"She's only agreeing cause it's you." You lowered your chin so that the side of your head rested against Roy's chest, giving you a better look at your beautiful baby girl. "She's a total daddy's girl already, you know."

"Gets that from her mother." Roy paused after he spoke, realising quickly that his words hadn't made much sense or come out in the way he intended. "I meant, she's a total me, girl. Like she loves me a lot because you love me a lot. Fuck."

"I knew what you meant, handsome."

Roy quirked his eyebrow at your response. "You did huh?" He swept you off your feet, literally, carrying you back to your bedroom with a slip in his step.

You hand slapped against his bicep, a gasp slipping from your lips as your pieced together Roy's words paired with his suggestive tone and that glint in his eye. "The doctor said no sex for 6 weeks, Roy."

"No penetrative sex for six weeks." Roy clarified, laying you down on the mused bedsheets and kissing his way down your form; starting with scrapes of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck, all the way down to the thick skin of your thighs. "The guy said nothing about oral."

an : thanks for reading this far *mwah* I love you <33 I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please feel free to send in a request for Roy or Jamie I'd love to write it!!!

#roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #ted lasso x reader

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lil-frenchfri77 · 3 months ago

Text

Begin Again Chapter 3

Summary: Ever since Bella came back to Forks things between y/n and her boys have been different. Embry and Quil stopped answering phone calls and texts, they’ve even been avoiding her everytime she shows up at their house. So y/n does the only thing she can think to do, she latches onto Jacob just like Bella, and when he starts acting like Embry and Quil did, she makes the decision to not put so much effort into a friendship that is clearly one sided. But what happens one day when Sam’s pack is in town at the same time as y/n and her new friends and two certain boys imprint on their former best friend? And what happens when a former best friend doesn’t feel the same way?

Authors note: Ahhhhh!!!! Chapter 3 is finally here. So sorry about the wait, I've been dealing with job issues and have been too exhausted to write anything. Anyways here it is, hope everyone likes it. Also that you to everyone who has like, commented, and/or reposted my work. I never expected to get this much attention and I am absolutely blown away.

(Still not Beta read)

Also shout out to my cousin Jehna for telling me that this was good enough to post!

Embry Call x Fem!Swan!Reader x Quil Ateara

Slight Stiles Stlinski x Reader

Chapter 2 | Master list | Chapter 4

Lunch with Stiles was really good. He had you cracking up the whole time, and all of his attention was solely focused on you. The incident from earlier, long forgotten from both of your minds.

This definitely was one of the best days you have had lately. It was good to feel like someone only wanted to be with you. You hadn't felt like this in a long time and you liked all the attention you were getting from him.

Your conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Both of you pulled your phone out to check who was calling. It was your phone ringing and it was your dad on the other line. You excused yourself from the table to take the call.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” You answered.

“Hey sweetheart, where are you?”

“I'm at the diner with Stiles, why? Is something wrong?” you had told your dad that you were going to be out shopping but not that you were going to eat lunch, so it made sense that he was calling to check in.

“No, everything is alright. I was just wondering where you are. You’ve been out longer than I expected, but since you're already eating lunch I just wanted to know what you want for dinner? Or if you’ll be home for dinner?” He explained himself. You knew he didn't want to seem like the overbearing dad who needed to know your specific location 24/7. But he was a cop so it was in his nature to want to know where you are.

“I should be home for dinner, but I don't really know right now. I can call you later once me and Stiles are done eating.” The offer was the best you could do right now. Your dad seemed pleased with this and bid you a farewell before hanging up.

You walked back into the diner to see Stiles sitting on his phone texting someone. You snuck up behind him and placed your hands over his eyes, leaded down by his ear and whispered “Guess who?”

He laughed and hummed, reaching up to grab your wrists. “Ummmmm, is it Scott?”

“Oooo, so close.” You pulled your hands away from his eyes and sat back down in front of him. “It’s just me. No Scott.”

“Awe man, I really thought you were Scott.”

“Well I can go get your boyfriend if you’d like?” You teased him. Smiling when his face scrunched up at the mention of Scott being his boyfriend.

“Ew don't even joke about that.” Stiles fake wretched onto the table, “Honestly though, you wouldn't even be the first person to say that to either of us.”

It was odd, the unbridled joy you got from teasing Stiles. He didn't seem to have an issue with it either and oftentimes added onto it. But there was always something missing. You didn't realize it until now, after seeing Embry and Quil again old feelings have begun to resurface.

You weren't going to let this dampen your mood though. The time you spent with Stiles was time you were going to cherish. No matter how you felt about Embry and Quil.

You and Stiles didn’t make it home until a few hours later. It was around 6pm when you walked through your front door, Stiles in tow with his arms full of your shopping bags. After lunch you two decided to go back into town and buy a few more things. A few things then turned into 20 things which then turned into too many to count and Stiles had to pull you away and back to your car.

The whole way to your house he was making fun of you and the fact that you couldn’t stop buying things that were “pretty and would go so well with this outfit”. There was nothing you could do but sit there and take it. Laughing along with him even though it was at your own expense.

When you two made it into the door you were greeted by your dad and Bella sitting on the couch. They turned around to look at you, four eyes widening as they caught sight of all the bags in your hands. You give them a sheepish smile as Stiles sets down the bags in his hands. He waved at your sister and gave a nervous smile to your dad.

“Hi, Mr. Swan. Sorry for keeping y/n out for so long. I tried to pull her away a few times but she kept seeing something that caught her eye. I think it took about 7 tries to get her to stop buying things and get her into the car.” Stiles huffs out a laugh as he relays too much information to your dad.

You elbow him in the side and give him a look that says, ‘dude? Really?’ while slightly shaking your tilted head at him. Your dad knew you had a shopping problem sometimes, but that didn't mean he needed to hear more about it. It was kind of embarrassing that you couldn’t control yourself occasionally.��

“It’s alright, I think we all know that trying to get y/n to stop shopping isn’t possible.” Charlie laughed along. He had only met Stiles a few times but he liked that he was getting you out of your shell again. “But I reckon it’s time for you to head home. I’m sure your dad wants you home now.”

“Yea, of course.” Stiles turns to look at you, “so, i'll see you at school on Monday?”

“Obviously. I’ll walk you to your car.” You and Stiles head out to his Jeep. You stop on the driver's side and he leans an arm against the car as he stares at you. “So, are you just going to stand there or are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled wide before leaning his head in and placing a soft kiss on your lips. It was amazing, until you came to grips with the fact that this isn’t how you imagined your first kiss at all. He wasn’t the person you always thought you would kiss for the first time. And now you couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Embry or Quil. As much as you wanted the thoughts out of your head you couldn't shake them.

You pulled away with a small smile on your face, masking your newfound epiphany. This understanding of your emotions was something you would need to keep to yourself so you could fully understand it before doing anything.

His ears lit up a light pink as he pulled back and opened his door. He whispered a small goodbye and got into the car, shutting the door, and driving off.

You walked back into your house to see your dad and Bella still looking at you. “What?” you asked defensively, turning to grab all your bags and take them to your room.

“Nothing, you just seem happy. Happier than you have in a while.” your dad spoke up. Bella hummed in agreement, watching you with an odd look on her face. Like she could almost sense your inner turmoil.

“I am.” It was a definitive answer. It couldn't be argued with and that's how you wanted to keep it

The next morning, you woke to texts from Stiles and Jacob. Stiles was talking about how he liked kissing you and he wanted to talk to you about how you felt. Jacob was asking if you were still coming with him to the movies with Bella and Mike.

You chose not to answer Stiles yet, you didn't know exactly what you would say anyways. So you figured no response was better than a half-assed excuse as to why you couldn't talk right now. You still didn't know how you felt about it.

The only answer you could give Jacob was a simple yes. Letting him know that you would still be going with them. He hadn't told you what you were going to see yet so you figured you might as well wait until you get to the theater to know.

You didn't have anything planned for the day until then so you just lounged around in your room. Not feeling like getting up and going downstairs.

Time passed by quicker than you thought it would and before you knew it it was 6pm and you needed to start getting dressed. You threw on whatever was the closest and comfiest looking, grabbed your purse and headed out of your room to go see if Bella was ready. She was already set and waiting for you on the couch when you came down.

The two walked out of your house, Bella sending a quick text to your dad that said you were going to be going to a movie, and headed to your cars. It had been decided that you were going to go pick Jacob up and Bella is going to head over to the theater and meet up with Mike.

Driving to get Jacob was peaceful. The sun was just starting to set over the trees, casting a gorgeous orangish-pink glow over everything. It didn't take very long to get to Jake’s house and when you arrived you supposed it would be quicker to just honk your horn at his house than to get out, knock on the door, wait for him to come out, and then both of you get back into your car.

What you weren't expecting was for his front door to come wildly swinging open with Jacob stomping out, an angry/irritated expression on his face. He seemed to be raising his voice in response to whatever was being said to him from inside. It was even more shocking when Embry and Quil came rushing out after Jacob, pleading looks on their faces as they seemed to be begging Jacob for something.

They stopped in their tracks as they caught sight of you through the windshield of your car. You were faintly able to hear Jacob say something along the lines of “want anything to do with you right now”. He ended what he was saying by ripping the passenger door open and slamming it shut.

You turned to face him with a worried expression, he refused to even glance back in your direction, so you took that as your sign to back out of his driveway and take off down the road. Leaving two crestfallen boys on Jacob's porch, slowly shrinking in your rearview mirror.

The journey to the theater was taken in silence, you didn't want to push Jacob any more than the boys already had. So you let him sit there and talk when he was ready. Which didn't look as if it was going to happen until you pulled your car into a parking spot and shut off the engine.

Just as you were about to open your door and get out Jacob spoke up for the first time.

“They were asking me about you.” He said, and you were absolutely dumbfounded. “When I told them that if they wanted to know anything about you then they had to ask you, they started begging me to tell them things. They wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Oh.” it sounded dumb but it was the only thing you could think to say. You mean, how were you supposed to react to that? It's been almost three and a half months since they had last spoken to you.

“I got so angry. I've never been that mad before. It’s like I was a different person when I yelled at them before I got in the car.” He seemed so sad about it now. Like he truly hadn’t meant to snap at them like that.

“Jake, I know that they were your best friends once too. I’m sorry that you had to do that on my behalf. But thank you. I understand that you feel bad, but it’s really amazing knowing that you stuck up for me like that.” You reached a hand over and gripped one of his. You didn't want to make him feel worse but you really did want him to know that you were grateful. Just as you were going to retract your hand from his, he grasped your fingers in an iron tight hold.

The two of you just relaxed there for a little bit, sitting in each other's company. Eventually he drew his hand away and opened his door, rushing around the car to open your door.

The absolute tension radiating off of Bella, Jacob, and Mike in the theater was so palpable you could cut it with a butter knife. So when Bella got up to leave early you didn't protest and followed right after her. Everyone had been acting weird but Jacob especially. When you all made it back out to the theater foyer Mike looks like he is about to puke.

Jacob, for some reason starts to act super hostile towards Mike and almost decides to hurt him. You are able to get him to calm down enough to notice the sheen of sweat covering his face and neck. Reaching a hand up to his forehead, you can physically feel how warm he is. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to stand.

“Hey, he’s burning up. I’m just going to take him home.” you announced to the other two. Before anyone else could even get a word in, you're dragging Jacob out of the theater behind you. Stuffing him into the car and zooming down the road to get him back to his dad.

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x y/n #twilight saga #twilight imagine #embry call x reader #embry call imagine #quil ateara x reader #quil ateara imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

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obislittleone · 1 year ago

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 year ago

Text

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Three

Summary: You feel guilty about having a night out and hope to cover up your tracks as best you can Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Yändere, smut, explicit language pretty much it lol a/n: I hope you guys like it! I'm literally horrible at writing smut but I wanted to show another side to how things can be with him sometimes (I'm saying him because I'm not gonna spoil it when you can just read it lol) regardless hope this doesn't disappoint 🫢 Requested by @kkusadmirer 💜

"Girl who was that?" Rae asks, when she walk over to my side of the bar after Jungkook left.

"His name is Jungkook and honestly I don't really know much about him. He caught me off guard and was asking me a bunch of questions that I didn't really think to ask him any" I say, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You think he's cute don't you?" she asks taking note of my shyer demeanor while thinking about him.

"He is attractive and dreamy but I'm married" I say flashing the ring at her in a similar fashion as I had done with Jungkook. "Dreamy? Really?" she teases, snorting at my description. "I'm sorry okay he's the first nice guy I've actually talked to in a while since my husband and I got married" I say, resting my elbows on the bar and throwing my face in my hands.

"From what I heard, doesn't really sound like he's all that good of a husband" she says, not bothering to spare my feelings. "He's not that bad" I mumble, scarcely believing my words with every effort I put in to defend him.

"If you've gotta say it like that after only two people have said otherwise I don't really think you've got much going for you" she says setting a glass of water in front of me, already seeing signs of a need to stop drinking for the night.

"I mean, he's all I've ever known. He was my first serious boyfriend, my first everything if I'm being honest. We met in college and really hit it off and everything just felt right. After we graduated he asked me to marry him and it felt like a fairy tale ending you know?" I say, swirling around the ice in my cup in an effort to avoid her gaze.

"Sounds like it didn't turn out the way you thought it was going to though" she says, clearly feeling sorry for me.

"Things between us are fine" I say sitting back up and clearing my throat before taking a drink of water to hopefully help me swallow down this lump in my throat. Getting a reality check from two perfect strangers with them only knowing the tip of the iceberg of my marriage has been hard to accept to say the least.

"What's his name anyways? I might've seen him before if he likes to go out sometimes" she asks, coming back over with a pitcher to fill up my water, encouraging me to drink more.

"Taehyung, well Tae for short" I say, hoping and praying that the name won't ring a bell. "Got a picture of him?" she asks, leaning in closer when I pull out my phone. "Shit" she says under her breath as soon as she sees him.

"What?" I ask pulling it back as though her words had stung me. "He's come here a few times with some friends of his. They're one of the rowdier groups that comes by so we've had to kick them out on occasion" she says clearing her throat at the end, almost as if she's trying to hold something back.

"If you know anything else about him please tell me" I implore, refusing to be in the dark about this if she knows. "He's gone 'home' with a few girls here" she says putting home in quotes since he's obviously never brought them back to our place. "Do you know how many?" I ask, knowing that I really don't want to know the answer.

"I've lost track..." she answers, hating that she had to be the one to reveal this to me. "Did you know?" she asks with her brows pinched together. "That he's been sleeping around? Yeah, I know" I say taking a big gulp of my water as if it were the solution to this fucked up life I'm living.

"Why haven't you left?" she asks, genuinely concerned. "He's my husband" I say with glossy eyes but then clear my throat again to hopefully curb these emotions. "And? He's a dick" she says, continuing with her efforts to never pull punches. "You don't know him like I do" I say, standing up and grabbing my purse to go.

"Just, be careful okay?" she implores, placing her hand on top of mine before I get too far. "I will" I say and give her a sad smile before walking out and waiting for the cab I called a few moments ago.

~~~~~~

Walking into the house I'm relieved to see that Taehyung is no where to be found, the lights still having been turned off from when I had locked up.

Taking off my shoes, I quickly put them in the closet in an effort to quickly cover my tracks and I run into the bedroom soon after that. I take off my clothes and throw them into the washer to again avoid any suspicions because I don't want him even remotely knowing that I managed to leave the house on my own again.

Walking into the bathroom to take a shower as well I see that somehow some of the makeup I had applied rubbed off and I was unknowingly sporting one of the hickeys Taehyung had left. I look at it in the mirror a bit closer, starting to wonder how long it's been showing. 'Did Jungkook see it?' I question, really hoping the answer is no even though he knows I'm married, it's not something I want to show off.

It could've been worse though, he could've seen the other bruises I have that clearly show evidence of much more than just rough sex. 'How would he have reacted? Would he have said something?' I continue, asking myself question after question, soon starting to regret my decisions of going out tonight.

Did I have a good time? Sure. But it doesn't make up for the amount of fear and guilt I'm going to feel if Taehyung finds out. Will he do something? Will he get angry? Will he leave? Knowing him he would accuse me of cheating on him even though I'm the one who confirmed my suspicions.

He, like Rae is someone that doesn't pull punches literally and figuratively. It's something that I've leaned to live with, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey" I hear him say softly while opening the bathroom door, scaring me and not even realizing how lost in thought I had been. To the point of not even realizing that he had gotten home.

"Hi" I say timidly, not knowing what his next move might be.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he questions in a mischievous tone, already taking his shirt off. I open the glass door as a way to invite him in and I hold out my hand waiting for him, knowing I really have no choice in the matter.

"Hi beautiful" he says after getting in, placing his hands on my hips and leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips. I sigh into the kiss, thankful he's back home again and showing his softer side to me again, clearly trying to make up for how we had left things the last time we saw each other.

"I missed you" he says in a husky voice leaning down further to place a few open mouthed kisses on my neck marking me again, no doubt to make up for the ones that had started to fade. "Missed you" I say through a breathy tone then my breath hitches moments later when he bites down on my shoulder.

"You smell so sweet baby" he says running his nose along the length of my neck before making his way back up to kissing me. "It's my" *kiss* "new" *kiss* "body wash" I say, trying my best to answer but he purposefully works against me, loving the struggle I put up.

"I like it. Buy it again for me when you run out okay? I want my pretty wife smelling like this all the time" he says before flipping me around and pressing my chest agains the wall.

"You gonna be good and let me take you in here?" he asks grinding his dick against my ass making my breath pick up, not expecting this drastic change in behavior. I nod my head with my cheek against the tiles. He presses his chest flush up against my back, pushing me up against the wall even harder, making my chest feel sore as my nipples rub up against the cool surface, making me whine from the sensation.

"Aw look at you, so needy and ready to be full" he say, leaning back a bit and running his finger along my slit, feeling how I'm already clenching around nothing and dripping with arousal as the water falls on my back in a steady stream. "Fuck you look so hot right now" he says looking at my face and dragging his eyes down my figure before spreading my legs a bit and making moves to put it in.

"Wait" I whimper. "Don't worry, you can take it" he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder before sliding the tip in and making me take in a sharp breath at the intrusion, him continuing to push himself further and further inside until he's bottomed out.

He enjoys the feeling of my walls spasming around him as I feel the burn from trying to get used to him again. It isn't like this often, he usually loves to take his time prepping and teasing me until I'm begging for more but he had an almost urgency to be inside me this time.

"Fuck" he says as he starts to move in and out of me, watching the way my ass moves with every thrust and is addicted to the moans that come from me naturally, being caught off guard by all of this and not expecting this to happen tonight.

"Feels s-so good" I say, clawing at the walls for something to hold onto, knowing there's nothing there for me. He takes notice and he places his hands on top of mine, thrusting in and out with only his own hips supporting mine as he growls in my ear.

"Been dying to fuck this pretty little cunt all day. Then I come home and you're in the shower making it so easy for me to just slip it in, practically begging for my cock" he says as he slows down his thrust but puts more force behind each one.

"Isn't that right? You just want to be good for me and take it, let me have my way with you" he says pulling out and flipping me around, enjoying the dick drunk look on my face. He lifts one of my legs up and wraps it around his waist, pounding into me harder making me grab onto his neck and pull him in for a kiss, silencing my moans, making him swallow them as he coaxes more and more out of me.

"S-shit" he stutters and tells me to jump, wrapping my other leg around his waist as well so he can thrust into me harder. I clench around him when he wraps his mouth around one of my sensitive buds, hard and begging for stimulating.

"Fuck, more" I whine, desperately needing release. "You wanna cum?" he taunts, letting go of my throbbing bud with a pop. "Tae please" I moan digging my nails into his shoulders. He groans at the feeling and grips onto my waist digging his fingers into them, no doubt leaving bruises.

Giving me a few more thrusts he has my eyes rolling back and my toes curling as my orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks with him still fucking into me, helping me ride it out before he cums a couple minutes later.

Slipping out and sliding me down the wall and back on my feet he leans up against me while our breathing mixes with the sound of the water still falling all around us. He places a few soft kisses on my shoulder before pushing off the wall and placing both of his hands on my cheek, kissing me softly, helping me slowly come back down and leaving my my mind foggy and drunk on him.

"I love you" he says when he breaks apart from my lips. "I love you too" I smile, humming in contentment and feeling so good, loving that despite everything he loves me no matter what.

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sacchiri · 10 months ago

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I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

#hellsing #integra hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #i'm too lazy to do this for all the volumes #unless someone REALLY wants to see them for some reason but i doubt it

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thebadjoe · 3 months ago

Text

BAD JOE'S DRDT CH.2 CRIME SOLVING THEORY PART 6

Wow! It's been a long while, but it's finally here! DRDT Chapter 2 is back with part 2 starting since more than a week ago!

...Oh? What's that? There's some reveals that is damaging my theory and I should get to fixing? Awwww, man.... what a drag.... I am so doomed... nanchatte!

Anyways, hi! It's me, the dude who makes-overly-complex-and-ridiculously-long-theories-in-the-hopes-of-trying-to-solve-the-murder-case-that-not-many-people-agree-with-for-more-reasons-than-my-theory's-word-count. (Okay, the last part about the reasons is probably not true... yet!)

I am back yet again with some more updates regarding my theory.

NOOOOO!!! NOT AGAIN!!! PLEASE, I DON'T WANNA READ ANOTHER GODDAMN DICTIONARY LENGTH OF A THEORY POST!!!!

Woah! Calm down, imaginary self that is under the impression that some people were way too overwhelmed by my latest part of the theory post! You have nothing to worry about!

It would be silly of me to rewrite all of it again with some small changes. I will of course link up my part 5 later as source of reference, but really, all I'm gonna be doing here today is point out the newest problems with my theory ever since episode 12 and 13 and give my personal thoughts on those.

Also, to make sure that people hasn't forgotten what I've been all about since the beginning, I will do a short recap of my theory, displaying only what's most relevant to the murder case.

Besides, ain't no way I'm writing something this long ever again (except for maybe trying to solve the future chapters, but that's a matter for the far future).

With that said, I feel obliged to point out that this is spoilers for the fangan Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2, up until episode 13.

With that out of the way, let's get to it!

Hey look! I still remember how to use that show more button again, hurray! (I'm really sorry again to @1moreff-creator and everyone else who's been reading my very first posts last year that didn't have a show more button)

So, first things first, I'd like to apologize in advance because as amazing the episode 12 and 13 were, I will not be doing a reaction post of said episodes. I think I'm just too lazy to actually display my whole stream of consciousness through two whole videos and I think it is safe to say that practically all of us had a very similar reaction to those episodes.

What was the common reaction, you may ask? Well, it's simple, really... it went something like... OMG, THIS IS SO FUCKING HYPE! OMG!!! THAT WAS SO INSANE!!! THE DRAMA!!! DAVID BEING DAVID!!! THE LEVI REVEAL!!! THE FLASHBACK PART 2 SCENE!!! OMG, WHAT IS EDEN DOING?!! AREI IS HOLDING DAVID'S HANDS?! WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT THE MURDER METHODS?!?! OMG, SO GOOD!!!

...right? Yeah! I thought so! :D

Although I may not be showing proper and precise reactions to these episodes, if you're interested, I'd definitly recommend reading @venus-is-thinking 's, reactions on episode 12 and episode 13, @1moreff-creator 's reactions on episode 12 and episode 13 and @accirax 's reactions on episode 12 and episode 13. They're pretty good reads (and no, I'm not just saying this because they all believe that Eden is the culprit, I swear!).

And for those who are totally blind or new to my shenanigans, yes, I do believe that Eden is the culprit behind this murder case.

There is indeed a few problems that arose ever since the latest episodes, so to make sure that everyone is up to speed with what I'm gonna be talking about, I'm now going to be doing a short recap of the events, according to me.

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THE RECAP

DAY 1 : The day where everyone receives their mixed up secrets and explore the second floor. DAY 2 : The day where the attempted murder on Ace happened. DAY 3 : The day where Whit suggests David to chill for the evening in the relaxation room. DAY 4 : The day (morning) of the body discovery announcement.

Ever since Arei bullied Eden who then cried and exited the playground on DAY 2, that was what triggered Eden to decide to commit murder for the sake of escaping this hellish killing game. Knowing that her secret is that she kissed a girl, I deduced that she's probably trying to escape because she misses her beloved dearly.

So while she was off screen during most of that day, she spent time making plans for the murder set up and narrative, which is why she decided to share Arturo's secret (as seen in the flashback).

During the evening of DAY 2, Ace was working out in the gym, then he hears a conversation happening between David and Arei in the relax room. The conversation that Ace was quietly listening to did not happen in the evening of DAY 3, but rather the evening of DAY 2. Ace lied about when he was listening to that conversation.

At some point during the conversation or perhaps even after the conversation, Eden sneaks up on Ace and knocks him out with the turpentine that anyone could've gotten access to that day. Ace is Eden's chosen murder victim.

Sometime later, Eden eitheir used a letter or called out Arei's name to lure her into the playground or somewhere close to knock her unconscious with that very same turpentine. She then moves Arei's body into the relaxation room to lock her up inside because of the specific nighttime rules regarding that room.

Eden also brought old spares of clothing to cover Arei's body to make sure she doesn't get stained with starch from the water misting formula from the relaxation room.

During the night of DAY 2, she prepares the murder mechanism in the gym with some needed tools from the storage room and some wire that she took out from possibly a grandfather clock that she may have in her dorm. I deduced it as such because of Whit's description of everyone's dorms being suited to their needs.

I also deduced that there is actually a switch to turn on and off the fans, which is important since the attempted murder involved the fans. As Eden finished setting it up, as she was about to clear up with evidence, she heard someone using the elevator.

She hid in the dress up room, then Nico enters the second floor, looking for Ace to kill him. As Nico explores the gym, Teruko shortly enters the elevator to get to the second floor as well.

Teruko, looking for her spares, runs into Eden, who was hidden in the dress up room. After some talk, they heard a loud noise coming from the gym, which they both take a look inside.

Upon seeing this mess of a crime, Eden realised that her murder plan failed and that she needs to come up with a plan B really quick. So while she is taking time to "process this emotionally", Teruko was investigating.

Eden finally comes up with a plan B and figured that she needed to get her hands on the roll of tape ASAP. She managed to do so with a sleight of hand when Ace "suddenly wakes up", knocking Eden out of the way, distracting Teruko in the process.

Later that night, Eden proceeds with her plan B by making a murder mechanism in the playground. She also took the rope from the storage room. Once it's all properly set up, all's left was waiting for the relaxation to unlock at 8:00 AM on DAY 3.

In the morning of DAY 3, she retrieves Arei's unconscious body and proceeds with murdering Arei. Then, she proceeds to conceal the body somewhat behind the curtains in the relaxation room. She also grabs her glove, her monopad and the necessary materials in the dress up room for the next step of her plan.

She spends the rest of the morning to prepare her disguise trick. Then during lunchtime, Eden spends a short amount of time disguised as Arei to hide the actual time of death.

Once lunchtime is over, she returns to eitheir her or Arei's dorm to remove the disguise, spend time cleaning up, relax, power nap, etc. Then, during the evening of DAY 3, she spends time with Hu to fabricate her perfect alibi.

Later that evening, David explores the relaxation room. That's when he notices something wrong with the room and becomes the first person to discover Arei's dead body.

For some personal reasons, David brings the body back into the playground and hangs it by the swingset. Eitheir he or Eden (earlier in the morning) balls up the clothes and hides it in the closet of the dress-up room. Then, in the morning of DAY 4, David grabs everyone's attention to the fact that Arei is missing right before the secrets reveal. Then fast forward a bit, then we get the BDA of Arei

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

And there ya go, that's my recap regarding how I believe the murder case happened. Pretty short, eh?

HELL NO!!! THAT WAS STILL PRETTY LONG!!! AHHHHH!!!!

Eh... I guess I couldn't really make it that shorter, my bad! If I tried to make it any shorter than that, it would've been extremely confusing.

Ah! Speaking of which, if you're confused in the sense that it feels like none of this should work at all, and there's a lot of contradictions and whatnot, then I would heavily recommend reading my actual theory post. I am not going to spend time refuting with people in the comments about points I've already pointed out in my previous post.

However, if there are things that are unclear to you, things that you do not understand and want to know what I'm talking about, please, feel free to ask away! I will help in any way I can.

With that out the way, I guess I can now start with pointing out the pr-

HAH! THERE IS A MAJOR ISSUE WITH YOUR THEORY!!! BASED ON EPISODE 12, THE MURDER COULD'VE ONLY HAPPENED IN THE MORNING OF DAY 4 BECAUSE OF THE BODY SWING! YOU'RE DONE FOR!

Ah... yeah... that! Of course! That's not a problem!

!!!

Let's talk about it first, shall we? :D

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AREI'S BODY SWING : CONFIRMED TIME OF DEATH???

I'd like to come clean with something, everyone. Ever since I came up with the theory that murder happened at a totally unexpected time, there was something that was constantly bothering me.

That's right, I was very well aware of the body swing happening during the BDA ever since the beginning.

HUH?! Then all this time, you wrote all of this despite knowing that?!

Correct! I'm really sorry about that, but please, understand that I had a very good reason for it. For you see... everytime I saw it, I was often under the impression that this was simply an eerie effect / animation, to give a more dramatic intensity towards the BDA, without meaning anything. I legit thought it could be a thing, I swear!

But despite all that... I couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. Deep down, I felt like that maybe there was an actual meaning to it, maybe it was an actual clue that I shouldn't disregard. But I figured that because of my theory beliefs, then it would be rather unlikely that it would be used as evidence.

But alas, I was wrong about that. The body swing plays a very important rule in determining what happened in this murder case. I cannot deny that fact, especially since Teruko brought it up, plain as day. Despite it seeming like it damages my theory, I'm thankful that the dev finally cleared that little doubt I had since then.

Then you admit it, the murder actually happened in the mor-

Oh, not so fast! Let's not jump to conclusions just yet, alright? Arei's body swinging by the swing set doesn't quite exactly prove that the murder occured during the morning of DAY 4. The body swing only proves that someone messed with the body by the swingset.

W-What?! That doesn't make sense! The murder clearly happened in the morning of DAY 4!

Nuh-uh, not quite. You believe it clearly happened in the morning because that's what the cast concluded on top of Charles pointing out that the culprit could've clearly fake the time of death by saving the fishes for later.

But unless we have decisive evidence that the murder happened in the morning, we can't be 100% sure that the murder happened in the morning of DAY 4.

From the looks of it, you just seem very desperate, if you ask me.

At first, when episode 12 released, I kind of was... up until I figured out a fairly logical solution to it. That's right! I have a way to explain who made the body swing and why.

You're not going to suggest that David did all of what he supposedly did in the evening of DAY 3, but instead in the morning of DAY 4, right?!

Nope! Not at all. Disregarding the facts that it wouldn't really make sense and that he'd have to move the body out of the relax room anyways before nighttime (because of the water misting rules), David actually has an alibi in the morning of DAY 4.

(As does Veronika too as she was with them in the cafeteria)

With all of these reasons mentioned above, as much as I initially wanted to make it somehow possible that David came back to the crime scene to mess with the body somehow, it just isn't possible.

So instead, someone else did it.

Then out with it already, you staller! Who is it?!

There is only one possible candidate that would make the most sense in that scenario : Eden. Eden is the person who messed with Arei's body in the morning of DAY 4.

WHHAAAAT?!?! WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT?! THAT'S SO RISKY!

That's what I initially thought at first, not gonna lie. But then... something hit me : Eden doesn't have an alibi for the morning of DAY 4 eitheir.

I thought that there would be absolutely no need for Eden to come back to the crime scene a certain short amount of time before the BDA, so instead, I needed to reverse my way of thinking.

What could she possibly aim to do that would prompt her to come back to the crime scene last minute?

Considering the facts (based on my theory, mind you) that she killed Arei in the morning of DAY 3, hid the body somewhere in the relaxation room, built up an evening to night alibi with Hu and that David was the first person to discover it during the evening, there is a simple explanation behind it.

Arei's BDA was meant to be triggered much earlier than the morning of DAY 4. The original intent behind this whole scheme was to have the BDA trigger during the evening of DAY 3.

That doesn't make sense!

No, that's wrong! It does make a whole lot of sense. Think about it. Let's say you were a participant in this killing game and were in David's shoes during the evening of DAY 3... you come across a dead body in the relaxation, what would you do?

!!!

That's right, you wouldn't just mess with the body and move it somewhere else, now would you? Aside from freaking out, the most natural and human thing to do would be to gather help.

If it were anyone else than David who discovered the body in that exact scenario, they would cry out for help, tell everyone that they found Arei dead inside the relaxation room, which would then result in a body discovery announcement.

But what if the person who found the body were to personally ask for Hu's and Eden's help, wouldn't that ruin her plan since it wouldn't trigger the BDA?

There's an easy solution to that. Eden could've simply decided to find more people to share the news to meet up with the corpse. This wouldn't ruin her plan in the slightest.

Quite the opposite, actually. If the body were to be discovered and trigger the BDA during the evening, it would solidify her air tight alibi even further as she wouldn't have any possible timeframe to commit murder in the evening as she was spending time with her friend Hu.

Ugh, so what? It didn't really happen anyways because of David being David! That doesn't change anything!

Actually, it does change things considerably. If you put yourself in the culprit's perspective where the whole intent was to have the body discovery happen in the evening of DAY 3 and that during the whole night, nothing happened, you would certainly find that very strange.

The culprit would be clearly confused, yet really curious to find out what even happened.

Couldn't she have taken a look much later during the night?

Perhaps, but she figured it would've been pointless. The reason why is that if she thought that nobody found the body, then the body would've still remained hidden in the relaxation room which would then be currently locked away because of the water misting.

So instead of checking it out during the late night of DAY 3, Eden decided to investigate during the very early morning of DAY 4, sometime past 7:30 AM.

But the relaxation room is still locked up until 8:00 AM! Why not wait until then?

It's simple! She just wanted to be there a little bit in advance to make sure she can enter the room as early as possible. And so... while she is waiting for the relaxation room to unlock, she probably figured that she should take a look around the other rooms, why not?

And thus, that leads to Eden finding the body being hung by the swingset, alongside fishes scattered around the floor for some reason.

To reconfirm, I still believe that David is the first person who discovered Arei's dead body in the relaxation room and that he's responsible for hanging her body alongside placing those fishes by the playground.

Okay, Eden discovers that the body has been moved to the playground? What now? Everything's already in place, so what could she possibly do with the dead body?

Well, since the BDA was not triggered on the evening of DAY 3, she figured that she may as well put Arei's monopad back into the corpse's pockets.

But what about her missing glove? Why didn't she return that as well if she wanted to return her monopad?

That's a good point, that's for sure. But there are two easy fixes to this counter argument. First one being that she simply forgot about the gloves. No one's really perfect, after all. She was so concerned about the body not being discovered yet that this completly slipped her mind.

The second fix would be that it would've been way too risky to try to retrieve the glove. Maybe initially, Eden, after she removed her disguise, she placed the clothes and the glove back into Arei's dorm. So if she wanted to retrieve the glove, she'd have to return to Arei's room, unlocking it with a monopad that isn't her own.

Would she really risk that again after making this much progress without getting caught so far? Like imagine if she tried to take that risk one last time only to get caught, that would be quite the devastating result, wouldn't it?

Ok, fine. Nevermind the gloves. Is that all she did?

Pretty much, yeah. She returned the monopad back into her pockets, which moved the body somewhat.

...

Well, it's also possible that she tripped and moved the body even more by accident. Or perhaps she felt like she was in such a hurry to avoid getting found out that she accidently bumped into Arei's dead body.

...Are you kidding me? There's no way that's gonna be enough to move the body for this long!

Well... maybe her being there at exactly 7:30 AM is not the exact time. She could've been there a couple minutes before 8:00 AM, which could make this possible.

But that's ridiculous! There's no way Eden is strong enough to make the body swing that way. To make the body swing for a good amount of time, she'd need more than just accidently bumping into the body! It needs considerable force.

And I'll stop you there. If you've read my last theory post, you should know by now that I'm a firm believer that because it's a work of fiction, anything that seems unlikely can become possible.

The main thing we should take from Arei's body swinging during the BDA is that at some point in time during the morning, someone messed with the body, proving that someone was there during the morning of DAY 4.

And there you go, that's my whole explanation as to how Arei's body was swinging during the BDA that doesn't necessarily mean that the murder occured during that exact morning.

If you're not quite convinced yet, there is a certain part of my theory that begins to make a lot more logical sense with this solution in mind. Take a look at this!

Thanks to the solution I suggested, these two lines become a lot more fitting to my updated theory. Here's why!

If Eden were to explore and find the body hanging by the swing set during the morning of DAY 4, she would know that at least 1 person found the body, but not who exactly.

Because of Whit's silly comment, Eden immediatly thought of the body in the playground and jumped to the worst conclusion : Whit is the person who found the body first.

So if they were to open the door to the playground, the BDA would not trigger since Eden is the culprit. So in a moment of panic, Eden uttered : "Teruko, wait--".

It is still pretty much the same as what I had in mind according to the previous part of my theory post, except that it works a whole lot better now that Eden personally saw the actual state of the dead body in the morning of DAY 4.

So there you have it. This seemingly major problem for my theory actually turned out to be very beneficial for my theory after all! Ah, the joys of making logical sounding deductions! My theory should be saf-

HAH! YOU THINK YOUR THEORY IS SAFE FROM HARM YET?! WRONG!!!! IN EPISODE 13, THEY ACTUALLY SHOWED HOW THE MURDER MECHANISM WORKED! NOT ONLY IS EDEN TOO WEAK TO OPERATE IT, BUT THEY PUT FISH WATER INSIDE THOSE JUGS! SINCE THEY REVEALED THAT MURDER METHOD, IT HAS TO BE THE SOLUTION. YOUR THEORY IS RUINED! GOOD DAY SIR!

Oh, you mean this?

Oh no, this murder mechanism is different from mine and this one requires a certain amount of strength that Eden possibly doesn't have! And the fishes! Since they brought it up, then there's no way my theory can work! Whatever shall I do??? It's joever.... just kidding!

I don't mean to alarm you guys, but the current proposed murder mechanism idea actually has flaws. Let's talk some more about the murder mechanism in the playground, shall we? :)

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TERUKO'S CURRENT MURDER MECHANISM IDEA : RIGHT OR WRONG???

Before I get into it, I'd like to remind everyone that just because we've been shown how the murder may have been done for the first time means that's how it actually happened. Let's not forget that they spent so much time arguing and discussing about the secrets that they barely ever talked about the murder case in itself.

So if anything, episode 13 is practically just them beginning their actual work! Mistakes are bound to happen. We shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. Besides, there is actually a problem with this murder mechanism.

I'll present it to you in pictures to show you what I'm talking about.

The taped up wrists. This was practically the decisive proof that this wasn't a suicide nor could it have been an assisted suicide. So now that they've introduced a murder mechanism in an actual episode... what's actually the point of the taped wrists in that scenario?

If the culprit used exactly this kind of murder mechanism, then there would be absolutely no need to tape up her wrists together.

Maybe it was to stop Arei from trying to struggle?

Nope. If that was the case, we would've seen much more signs of struggle coming from Arei. There may be scuffs on the ground, but there's absolutely no other form of injury on Arei aside from her broken neck.

Well, I saw a theory where the accomplice was Levi and he could've easily overpower her!

(I believe that was something that @1moreff-creator theorized, if I recall? At least, that was the theory pre part 2)

It used to be borderline possible, but not this time anymore! Thanks to the first two episodes of part 2 of chapter 2, it seems extremely unlikely that Levi wanted to work with the culprit as an accomplice.

Not only because of what we find out regarding his secret, what kind of character he is, but also because of something he said in episode 12.

I don't know about you, but this doesn't look like something an accomplice would say at all, right? If the culprit was someone who didn't have an alibi in the evening, it would be a different story, but the most fitting theory for having Levi work as an accomplice is to work for Eden, who happens to have an alibi in the evening as you already know.

So since we gotta take Levi out of the equation, then we don't really have much other possible candidates who could've easily overpower Arei to the point where taping up her wrists would've helped better on that regard.

Therefore, the most logical solution would be that Arei was knocked unconscious with the turpentine. But since that's the most likely scenario, then what's up with the taped wrists?

If the taped wrists weren't used to prevent any remote chance for Arei to try to get out of this situation, then it must've been used as part of the murder mechanism.

But since the murder mechanism as shown by Teruko doesn't explain the taped up wrists whatsoever, then this becomes a discrepancy. Therefore, that can't be quite the correct answer to solving the how this murder mechanism works.

And since this murder mechanism idea is flawed, it also means that there's no guarantee that the jugs contained fish water inside, they could've simply gathered water somewhere else or perhaps there jugs were already filled with clean water to begin with.

Because this murder mechanism idea is flawed, there's no guarantee that the culprit used this method which required some unknown amount of strength, but an amount of strength regardless (unless the author wants to pass it off as anyone could've done it since it's easier to do it by spinning it, I'm not sure).

Because of that flaw, my theory isn't affected by the murder mechanism idea that Teruko suggested since there is no guarantee that this is the correct answer.

So yeah, there's no problem whatsoever! Also, as far as I'm aware, since the release of the latest episodes, I have a very logically sound reason to explain the taped up wrists as shown in part 5 of my theory.

To give you a small reminder, it was for something like this!

(Whole murder mechanism not properly shown in the drawing because I'm lazy as heck, but just take a close attention to the arms)

By having Arei's arms go between the pillars of the seasaw, you can make it so that she can't get out of it by taping her wrists together, which plays an important role in the murder mechanism. Not going to elaborate further, if you want to know more, you gotta read the big post right there!

And there you have it! Those were the two main concerns that could've negatively affect my theory, but fortunately for me, it doesn't. In fact, it supports it even more than before.

Especially regarding the David / Arei conversation flashback (shown from David's memory's perspective). This conversation told us a lot more between these two, do you know what that means?

That's right! It means that Ace is full of shit! There's no way he didn't hear anything else. The only way he could've not hear anything else is if he gets snuck up from behind and gets knocked out with the turpentine, but it could've easily simply been Ace witholding that information to make David look more suspicious.

Therefore, if he lied about this, he could've also easily lied about when he actually overheard that conversation for his own selfish gains!

There's also a few couple other points that could further support my theory, but I don't feel like going over every single little detail as of now. I mainly wanted to solve these two issues and nothing else.

So, DRDTers, I need to ask you the following : Do you still believe that I am delusional with this overly complex theory of mine? :)

Thanks for reading another one of my big posts, as usual!

Edit : Go read the finale of my theory next, it's worth it!

#drdt #drdt spoilers #drdt theory #drdt solve #danganronpa despair time #I can't believe I'm doing this again #Can't wait to see what's gonna happen in episode 14 #I remain undaunted

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eirenical · 2 months ago

Text

Like Father, Unlike Son (3168 words) by eirenical

Written for the @mysteriouslotuscasebookweek prompts "Role Reversal" (Day 2) and "Grief" (Day 4).

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In the wake of Shan Gudao's return, Li Lianhua is left broken and listless, nothing like his usual self. Fang Duobing is willing to do anything to bring him back, even if it means pretending, just for one night, to be someone he's not... someone he hopes he'll never become.

The yard was silent, the kind of silence that descends in the wake of a storm. Fang Duobing would have filled that space with noise, laughter, anything but this quiet stillness that Shan Gudao had left in his wake. But Li Lianhua stood barely two steps away, holding himself so very carefully, as though too large a breath might break every bone in his rib cage.

~Li Xiangyi is, indeed, a joke.~

Fang Duobing's first instinct had been to defend, to deny, to wipe those words from existence the moment Li Lianhua had spoken them. But Li Lianhua had been standing oh so carefully then, too, as though some part of him had already broken beyond repair, and a harsh word could wipe him from existence along with his words. Fang Duobing wondered, for the first time, if he was finally, truly, seeing Li Xiangyi before him—or what little was left of him after first his shixiong's death and then the battle at the Eastern Sea had taken everything from him. For the first time, he began to see what might have driven him to put himself away so thoroughly and become Li Lianhua. Faced with what he'd been faced with, Fang Duobing might have done the same.

Gently, he said, "He's gone. Why don't we go inside?"

Li Lianhua didn't answer, simply turned back the way they'd come from and took one shuffling step after another. At the threshold, he stumbled, foot catching on the raised doorway when he didn't lift it high enough. Fang Duobing caught him, gripping his arm above the elbow and pulling him close to keep him upright.

His body was shaking, a fine tremor that Fang Duobing hadn't been able to see but could feel now that they were pressed so close. "Li Lianhua?"

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Tags, detailed warnings, and notes below the cut.

November 4, 2024: At this point, I think I just need to accept the fact that my niche in this fandom is "fucked up and ill-advised sex that probably at least hints at Daohua somewhere in the background." 😅 Anyway, ever since I saw the scene where Shan Gudao reveals himself to Fang Duobing and Li Lianhua, I've wanted to write a fic where Li Lianhua turns to Fang Duobing for some very ill-advised comfort after that and lets himself pretend, just this once, that Fang Duobing is actually Shan Gudao. Brain decided today was the day? Enjoy? 😁👍👍

Fic Warnings: This is a little bit of a YMMV situation. The sex that happens in this fic is 100% consensual on both sides, but Fang Duobing is essentially role playing as his father and there is ZERO negotiation before that happens and, knowing Li Lianhua, they're not going to discuss it afterwards, either. Fang Duobing does have a little bit of a frantic moment where he's basically thinking "…this is kind of fucked up, isn't it? Maybe we should talk about it first? OK, never mind, lower brain just took over and made the decision for me." But he's still very much on board with what's going on and they both enjoy it in the end. But this is some VERY tangled relationship shit going on and if that squicks you, you might want to give this one a miss.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 莲花楼 | Mysterious Lotus Casebook (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Fang Duobing, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi

Additional Tags: mentions of - Freeform, Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi - Freeform, Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi - Freeform, Past, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi/Shan Gudao - Freeform, Under-negotiated Kink, Light BDSM, Sexual Roleplay, Unrequited Love, Established Relationship, Episode Related, episode 32, Missing Scene, Trauma, Dealing with Trauma in Less Than Healthy Ways, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, ill-advised sex, Healing Sex, (...yes it's the same sex; make of that what you will XD), Mysterious Lotus Casebook Week 2024

#mysterious lotus casebook #mlcweek24 #eirenical.fic #mlcb fanfic #fanghua #fang duobing #li lianhua #li xiangyi #fang duobing x li lianhua #rating: e

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 10 days ago

Note

Would it possible if you can write a Lost boys(poly if your comfy with it) with a Carrie!Reader (2013 ver) who like, is bullied severely at school, crappy parents and discovers they have telekinesis. they run into the lost boys on the boardwalk, hangs out with them and stuff? But they don’t tell them the bullying or anything about their home life because reasons(make some up if you want lol) or their powers until they run into their bullies in a empty part of the beach and they terrorize them and they snap? And the boys watch and fall in love and kick their feet and twirl their hair? David wants them to turn now even more (falling in love aside) because ✨Power✨ Dwayne wants them because ✨Safety✨ Paul wants them to turn because ✨Sexy✨ and Marko because ✨Crazy✨. Basically their dream girl who is as soft as silk but a lil fucked up?🥺🥺🥺

Also how’s your day been? How you living? You drink water today?

Hi! Yes, this would absolutely be possible! First off, I have to say, I am so sorry for the incredibly long wait. I was busy with work (multiple jobs and only 7 days a week aren't an easy thing to combine with free time), and I prioritised finishing Changes. But now that Changes is finished and all the chapters are written, I finally have time for this request because I've read this several times now and I just think it is so much fun! Anyway, I hope you'll forgive me for not writing this sooner and that you like what I've written! Have a nice day/night/holidays!💜

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

The alley was silent. Three bodies laid on the ground, blood splattered everywhere from the ground to the walls on both sides. One body, a female no older than twenty, came without a head. Or at least, it used to have a head, but what was left of it was barely recognisable as such. There were two male bodies, one twisted and turned as if it were moulded in clay, the other drained as if all liquid inside the body spontaneously decided to evaporate.

Needless to say, it was a mess.

I stood between those three bodies, not knowing what to do. In all honesty, I was still not entirely sure about what happened. One second, they began to call me names - again, like they always did - and the second I felt my anger flare up and poof - there they were gone. Dead. I shook my head as I stared at the blood, unable to keep a single tear from falling down my face.

I blinked, a small frown on my forehead. I was terrified. Not of what scene laid before me, but because of what had happened. I had done this, and I didn't know how. I had killed them, somehow.

"That's quite a mess."

I jumped, turning around. My heart was beating in my throat as I saw David, Marko, Paul, and Dwayne standing behind me. I frowned slightly. It was the closed off side of the alley, so if they'd walked past me, I would have noticed it, right?

"We flew," was Dwaynes answer to my questioning look. I nodded, remembering how they'd told me what they were a while ago.

I had known the boys for quite some time now, running into them once while they were in the videostore. Marko had just grabbed the tape I wanted, talking - well, there's no other way to put it - shit about it. When I had asked for the tape, he had refused to give it to me, instead opting to give me a better alternative. He had been right. Where I had initially wanted to see a B movie called Zombies from Mars, he had given me Return of the Living Dead. It was awesome. The next night, I searched for them on the boardwalk to thank him for the suggestion, and they invited me to hang out with them. Ever since I did so, every night, whenever I could. I told them everything, I was closer to them than anyone else I knew. Well, everything - i couldn't help but chew the inside of my cheek. I had never told them about being bullied. It felt silly when I hung out with them. It was silly when I could deal with it. It was calling names, being pushed into the showers, locked inside rooms, and losing my lunch sometimes - it could have been worse. Some other kids in school were bullied worse, and they didn't complain, so why would I?

"What happened here?" Paul asked as he looked at the bodies.

"I don't know," I said quietly, my voice weaker than I'd liked, "I got angry and then they were just like that."

"They bothered you?" Marko gave me a pointed look, and I knew that I had no choice but to be truthful now.

"They bullied me."

"Bullied? Why did you never say anything?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, not looking at Marko, "it felt silly, and I could handle it."

"Yeah, that much is obvious," David answered, a sly grin on his face. "Has this ever happened before?"

I shook my head. "It scares me. I just killed three people and didn't even notice it."

"Just a regular night for us, am I right?" Paul chuckled, earning himself some glares. "Sure, it's a shock that it happened, but honestly, Babe," he grinned, "it is kind of hot."

"I killed someone, Paul."

"So? We do too."

"And you're certain you've never done anything like this before?" Marko asked, and once again, I shook my head.

"If you can do this without practice..."

"Practice? This was an accident, I don't even know how it happened or -"

I stopped when I felt myself panic, and slowly but surely, I saw the droplets of blood rising from the ground, floating in the air. I stared at it with wide eyes. "Am I doing this?"

"Yeah," Dwayne appeared behind me, taking my hand in his. "Calm down, alright? You're fine, and you're going to stay fine."

"I don't understand..."

"You're telekinetic," Marko grinned, "you could burn this whole town to the ground if you wanted without lifting a single finger."

"I- I don't think I want that?"

"But you could!"

I couldn't help but smile a watery smile at that. "Why are you four not freaked out?"

"Vampire." Was all David said as he looked at me. "Which you could still become, the offers still up."

"I don't know..."

"As a vampire it would be easier to control your powers."

"And we'd be able to keep you safer if they get out of control."

I sighed, looking between David and Dwayne, not knowing what to do.

"But what if I loose control and hurt you? Any of you?"

"You won't," Marko answered, "besides, I never shied away from a bit of pain."

I blushed, shaking my head. "You're incorrigible."

"You know it," he grinned. "You should go home, well clean this up for you."

"I- i can't really go back home, my parents, they are eh-"

"I meant the cave."

"What?" I frowned, looking at Marko and then at Paul and the others.

"You'll live with us," Paul said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're one of us," David said, his voice holding more kindness than I'd heard before, "so come with us."

I smiled softly, nodding as I let David and Dwayne lead me away from the crime scene. Paul and Marko stayed behind, cleaning up the bodies and the blood, neither of them minding the sight of it.

"Pretty damn cool, this power of theirs," Marko grinned, as he swept some brain matter off the wall.

"Definitely. Makes you wonder what else they could do with this gift," he chuckled with a smirk, causing Marko to roll his eyes.

#the lost boys #tlb #marko #the lost boys 1987 #david #paul #dwayne #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (22/23)

Chapter summary: Natasha finally reaches out with a way for you to earn her forgiveness; You assess where you are in your own journey of discovering who you are without Wanda.

Chapter word count: 9.2k+ | Warnings: Angst | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: It's not the end--yet. Enjoy! :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-three

Twenty-Two

The night before the Cup-off, you’re helping Wanda to round off all the final preparations for the competition when you finally receive a text you’ve been anticipating for the past several weeks.

Natasha’s message is laconic and straight to the point. And she’s using a different number too.

Meet me in 30 minutes at our usual spot - Nat

Upon reading the message, it hits you right away that this is the only chance you’ll ever get to talk to your best friend again. You glance at Wanda who seems engrossed in a pile of notebooks, scribbling and revising her ideas with fervor. You approach her, lightly tapping her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey, I... I've got to go,” you say, your voice small and reluctant.

Wanda turns to face you, her brows stitching together in confusion. “Go? Now? What's going on?”

“It’s Nat,” is all you get to say before Wanda is nodding in full understanding. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. She knows how much you've been waiting for this. Truthfully, she's slightly apprehensive about how this conversation could unfold. And although she’s laid all her cards for you, she’s afraid that Natasha might say something that would change your mind about her.

Wanda anxiously chews on her lip. This isn't the time for her to act selfishly. “Alright, just be careful, okay?”

In response, you kiss her quickly before heading out.

The walk to your usual spot is shorter than you remember, or maybe your thoughts are just too consumed by the prospect of seeing your best friend after weeks of begging her to talk to you.

You reach the small, familiar park where you've shared countless moments with Natasha. You find her sitting on the same bench where you used to sit together during your college days. Seeing her there, waiting for you, fills you with a pang of nostalgia. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.

“Nat,” you greet, the nickname rolling off your tongue as if it hasn't been weeks since you last said it to her face. Her response is a silent nod, an invitation to sit beside her. Despite the clear tension, you sit anyway, waiting for her to speak first. This is her show, her rules. You're just here to listen.

“Y/N,” Natasha starts, her voice steady. There's a calculated calmness about her, which is so distinctly Natasha that it makes your heart ache a little. “It's been awhile.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Inhaling deeply, she continues, her emerald eyes piercing into yours. “I’m aware of what you're hoping to achieve here. But I need you to understand that this might not go as you think it will.”

“I know that, Nat.” you say.

“Do you?” she retorts with a humorless laugh. “Because I'm not sure you understand how much you've hurt my sister.”

Her pain and anger is as palpable as the day she told you you weren’t friends anymore–they simmer, beneath the facade of indifference that she’s practiced so well.

“Maybe I do,” you say.

“What?” Natasha asks sharply, as if daring you to elaborate.

“I do understand how she feels. Which is why I know there’s nothing I can do to atone for–”

“You really are shameless, you know that?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, though you know your words are but a hollow echo, unable to mend the broken pieces.

“For what?” Natasha counters, her eyes glossy under the dying daylight. “For betraying her? For breaking her heart? Or for being too cowardly to face what you've done?”

“For all of it,” you whisper, hardening your jaw to hold back the torrent of emotions ready to consume you. “And for the fact that I can't undo any of it.”

A single tear rolls down Natasha's cheek, and something constricts in your chest, knowing that Natasha rarely shows her emotions, let alone cry in front of anyone.

You thought you understood before, but you didn’t. Not until this moment. The hurt you've caused is not just a concept, it's tangible, it's real, and for the first time, you truly see it.

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the sincerity of your regret reflected in your eyes.

For a moment, silence descends upon you both, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl and the rustling of the wind through the leaves.

“Does she know you're sorry?” Natasha finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She...she does,” you say, letting out a ragged breath. “The last time I saw Yelena... I told her how sorry I was. But she...she told me she doesn't know if she can ever forgive me.”

This revelation takes Natasha by surprise. “She talked to you?” She manages to ask after a beat.

“Yes,” you blink at her curiously. “She hasn't spoken to you?”

Natasha slowly shakes her head. “Not recently,” she says, her voice faint. “She left the state. She's living in Chicago now.”

The information crashes into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“Chicago?” you parrot back, the city's name tasting foreign on your tongue. Yelena had moved states without you having any clue about it, intensifying the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“I found out through a fucking note,” Natasha divulges with a grim expression.

“I... I didn't know,” you stammer, an overwhelming feeling of regret washing over you. “I didn't realize it had gotten that bad.”

Her gaze returns to the park in front of you, her voice almost swallowed by the wind when she speaks, “It did. It really did.”

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the apology feeling more potent this time. It extends beyond Natasha, reaching out to Yelena and even to yourself. A regret for the distress you've caused, for the trust you've broken, for the chasm your actions have carved between all of you.

“Stop apologizing. It’s starting to annoy me.”

You clump your mouth shut. Judging from the way this conversation is unfolding, it's abundantly clear that a friendly parting at the end is off the table.

Your teeth begin to chatter as the last vestiges of sunlight dip below the horizon.

“Why couldn't we have moved this conversation to a more sheltered spot?” you grumble, observing the misty puffs of your breath evaporate into the frigid air.

Natasha merely shrugs, an almost sinister glint in her eyes. “Maybe I wanted to punish you a little,” she quips nonchalantly. She seems unaffected by the low temperature, hardened by her work which often requires resilience in less-than-ideal conditions.

Your reply is a tight-lipped smile, a pitiful attempt to make light of her response. The cold might be bearable for her, but you can't help but feel the chill seeping into your bones, much like the icy silence that follows her words.

It's quiet, too quiet, the silence pressing down around you both.

What now?

“I wish...” you start, but the sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. You wish for so many things. To turn back time, to change your actions, to see Yelena's face light up the way it used to. But more than anything, you wish for forgiveness–from Yelena, from Natasha, from yourself.

But none of that matters because you don’t wish you weren’t with Wanda now. She’s the only one anchoring you to this reality, having so much of yourself stripped away.

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice sharp as the frosty air. “Just...don’t.”

And then, a moment later Natasha rises and starts walking in circles in front of you. You look at her with a bewildered expression, curious to see what she’s up to.

“But maybe there’s something…” she trails off, still following an invisible pattern on the ground as she keeps walking, avoiding your eyes.

“Something…?”

“Maybe there’s a way for me to believe that you’re not making another big mistake in your life.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

Instead of answering, she finally looks up to you and asks, “Are you with Wanda now?”

You hesitate for a moment, and then slowly nod.

With a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, Natasha lets out a laugh that is more of a scoff. There's a sharpness to it that feels pointed, almost a jab. Her lips curl into a smirk that's too pleased, too knowing.

“I don’t even know why I expected anything else,” Natasha mumbles to herself. “And is it worth it?” she asks, her voice laced with bitterness. “Worth enough to risk our friendship, to break Yelena's heart?”

“Nat,” you start, watching her carefully, “What's this about? What are you implying?”

She takes a second to reply, staring at the darkening sky as if it holds the answers she needs. When she finally speaks, her words come out with a certain steeliness.

“I need to see it,” she declares, her gaze finally finding yours. “I need to see that this...whatever it is between you and Wanda, that it’s real, that it’s worth something. Worth losing Yelena and me, and everyone else who’s ever cared about you.”

The color drains from your face as she continues speaking, a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you where she's going with this.

“And there’s something else,” she continues, her eyes narrowing. “I need to know that Wanda, the woman who had the audacity to cheat on you once, isn't going to do it again. That she’s not just playing you, and this isn't just her running from guilt or looking for comfort.”

“Nat,” you swallow hard, a tight knot of unease building up in your chest. “What are you asking?”

“I want you to stay away from Wanda for a year,” she says, her voice cold and unwavering. Her eyes challenge you, and the heavy demand sends a chill down your spine.

It seems overbearing, even slightly irrational, and she's aware of it. She understands how it might paint her as controlling, perhaps even bordering on the brink of madness. But if this is the price for her forgiveness, if this is the means for you to earn her acceptance of you and Wanda, then so be it.

For you, it’s almost suffocating. A year without Wanda seems daunting, an insurmountable task. But as you watch Natasha, her face stern, her posture unyielding, you understand that this is her version of justice, her way of testing the strength of your conviction. It's a tall order, but if it's the road to mending the fractures between you, then it's a path you're ready to consider.

It takes your breath away, as if the winter air has been sucked from your lungs. “A year?”

She nods, her expression unwavering. “If, after a year, you both still choose each other... if Wanda has remained loyal to you in that time, then I’ll know it’s real. Then I can start to consider the possibility that what you've sacrificed for this might not have been in vain.”

“Why would you ask me this?” your voice breaks as a lone tear trickles down your cheek, cold and sharp against your skin in the harsh winter. But Natasha remains unmoved by your visible distress, her chin held high in defiance.

“Because, it's the only way I can even think about forgiving you,” she surmises. “It’s the only way I can ensure you're not just making another colossal mistake. And more than anything, it's my way of trying to protect you... from yourself.”

“Protection? Is that what you're calling this?” you hiss at her, anger and bitterness lacing your words. “You want to take away someone who means the world to me? You expect me to believe that you're doing this for my sake, but all I see is you trying to make me as miserable and alone as possible!”

Your breaths coming out in ragged puffs against the frigid air. For a moment, Natasha looks taken aback by your outburst. Then, her expression hardens once again, her green eyes meeting yours with an unwavering resolve.

“I don't expect you to understand,” she says, her voice cold. “But if you truly care about Wanda as much as you claim, you would take this chance to prove it. Not just to me, but to yourself as well.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense.”

“Am I not?” Natasha fires back, her eyes flashing, her smirk carrying an edge of dissent. “Then answer me this, Y/N. Who are you without Wanda?”

“Who am I without Wanda?” You echo her question, your voice dripping with sarcasm, as if the very idea is preposterous. But then the reality of the question hits you like a ton of bricks. You repeat it, softer, almost a whisper, as the world seems to stand still around you. “Who am I without Wanda?”

It's as if she's pulled the ground from under your feet and you're free-falling, grappling for something solid to hold on to.

“Yes, Y/N. Who are you? Tell me,” Natasha urges, her voice relentless, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“I…” you begin, your voice faltering. You're the head of a finance department in a multimillion-dollar company. You earn a sizable income. You are the subject of envy among your male colleagues. You reside in a luxurious apartment in Manhattan. You're–

And yet, none of these achievements feel like they define you.

None of these accolades hold meaning without Wanda. You recall how you had yearned for those promotions, how they were a part of a bigger plan–a plan for a life with Wanda, a shared dream of starting a family. Every milestone, every victory was not just yours, it was hers too. All those achievements were built around the scaffolding of your shared love.

But everything crumbled when your marriage fell apart.

“And that's exactly why you need this,” Natasha tells you after a long period of silence that you didn’t even notice. Her tone is not condescending, but matter-of-fact, devoid of any satisfaction that she might have been right. “You've become so wrapped up in her that you've forgotten who you are. You need to figure that out, Y/N. You need to know who you are, independently, before you can be with her.”

Natasha then takes a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing. “I talked to Wanda a few weeks ago,” she discloses, and you look up at her in surprise. “She insists that she loves you. And it's possible that she's being honest... or maybe she's trying to convince herself that she does. But do you trust her, Y/N? Can you look me in the eye, right here, right now, and tell me without a shadow of doubt that you believe her?”

Your eyes search Natasha's, looking for signs of manipulation or deceit, but find none. Her question continues to echo in your mind, forcing you to confront something you'd rather not face. It's taunting, almost, making you look deep within yourself for the truth.

You think back to your conversations with Wanda, her promises of love, her regretful apologies. You recall the yearning in her eyes, the vulnerability in her voice, but also the uncertainty, the hesitance. You think about your sessions with Calliope. Each one of them ends in the same way, with you tasked to ruminate over your feelings, to introspect. There's never a concrete conclusion, only a carousel of thoughts that keeps turning, prompting you to understand your emotions better.

There's the constant feeling of jealousy. Random bouts of suspicion, an itch to check her phone, and look into her emails. None of this tells you that you trust Wanda.

“I... I want to,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “But I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

For a moment, there's a heavy silence, punctuated only by your quiet sobs. Then, Natasha moves. She takes a seat beside you again, bridging the space you've unconsciously put between yourselves. She hesitates for a second, as if unsure whether she's crossing a line, before finally placing an arm gently around your back in a silent show of support.

Her touch is unexpected, but it brings a certain level of comfort. In that moment, you realize that, despite everything, Natasha still cares.

“What if I lose her?” you voice your biggest fear.

A year–where anything can happen. It’s sailing into the seas without a compass. It’s essentially letting go and letting fate take over.

“If she truly loves you, she'll wait,” Natasha responds simply. “And if she doesn't... well, then maybe she isn't the one for you after all.”

That stings. But the words resonate within you.

“Take the year, Y/N,” Natasha says softly, her fingers digging slightly into your back as if she can get you to listen more with the action. “Figure yourself out. Prove to me, to yourself, and to Wanda, that you can be someone beyond the prison of your love for the woman who doesn’t even deserve it.”

"If I choose to do this," you say, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Where does that leave us? Can we ever be friends again?”

Natasha is quiet for a moment, mulling over your question.

“This isn't about securing our friendship, or winning me over. It's not a trade-off.” she says.

“Then what is it?” you ask, your face crumpling as another dam breaks within you.

Her eyes seem to plead with you, even as her words keep their distance. “This is about you earning my trust back, not about bargaining for our friendship. This is about you finding a way back to your old self. Your happiness seems so intertwined with Wanda that it feels like you're not whole without her. But ask yourself this, Y/N, can you really be happy constantly doubting? Always second-guessing the sincerity of her love for you?”

“Think about it,” she says quietly. “That's all I'm asking, Y/N. Think about it. Really think about where you are right now. Who you are. What you need. And then decide.”

When you find your way back to Wanda, the look on your face immediately sets off alarm bells.

“Hey, what's wrong?” she asks immediately, pulling you inside the café where the air is much warmer. She touches your skin and lets out a small gasp, “You're freezing!” she exclaims. With a concerned frown, she cups your neck, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your skin as she gently nudges you to look at her.

In a flurry of movement, Wanda dashes to the backroom to crank up the heater. Returning to your side, she carefully unzips your jacket, before wrapping herself around you in an attempt to share her body heat.

“Y/N?” she implores, her eyes searching the faraway look in yours, willing you to come back to the present. After a moment, you blink several times, as if waking from a dream. Finally, your gaze sharpens, landing on Wanda.

“Wands,” you utter, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling them gently. Leaning in, you plant a tender kiss on her nose, grounding yourself in the moment with her.

“Did something happen with Natasha?” Wanda asks. She tries to steady her heartbeat, fearing what your answer might be.

You shake your head and give her a soft smile, your thumb grazing over her worried brow as you commit to memory every line that time and laughter have carved on her face, and then her eyes–a universe within their own right, trapped in forest green orbs that sheltered you for so long.

“We just said our goodbyes.”

“I'm sorry,” Wanda returns quietly, her concern deepening with each passing moment.

With another shake of your head and an effort to keep the mood light, you divert the conversation. “Let's get back to work for your competition, okay? You're going to do great tomorrow.”

***

Bryant Park is alive with anticipation.

The air is saturated with the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and resonates with the buzz of conversation and laughter. Coffee enthusiasts and competitors alike have gathered here for the highly anticipated annual coffee showdown.

Your mouth waters at the prospect of tasting these unique and innovative creations crafted by the city's finest experts.

Wanda's booth, unpretentious yet warmly welcoming, serves as the focal point of your day. You, alongside Agatha, have dedicated your time to help her meticulously manage every aspect, while Peter holds down the fort at the cafe.

Wanda’s choice of beans–the ones you'd brought back for her from LA, single-origin and carefully sourced from a quaint little town in Northern Japan–was being used to craft three different offerings: a piping hot brew, a refreshingly cold variant, and an innovative ice-blended concoction.

Beside you, Wanda is a portrait of contained chaos. Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and excitement, dart around incessantly, taking in the hustle and bustle of the competition. Her hand, icy and trembling, has been clutching yours in a vice-like grip for the past hour. You return the pressure every so often, your thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in a silent bid to soothe her nerves.

“You got this, okay?” you assure her.

She gives you a quick, nervous nod but can't find the words to say anything. You let out a small chuckle, amused at how wound up she is. Despite her being a rookie in this competition, you've got no doubts she'll come out with a win. After a while, she mutters about needing to take a walk and stretch her legs. You nod, understanding her need for a bit of personal space, and secretly grateful for the chance to give your hand, which had been squeezed relentlessly, a break.

In the sea of people, you spot a familiar face–Valkyrie, her broad smile as conspicuous as ever. Her sudden appearance grates on your nerves. It seems she's always present at these occasions, enough to make you wonder if she's on a perpetual campaign trail.

“Running for mayor, Valkyrie?” you can't help but quip as you approach her, your tone laced with annoyance.

Her amused chuckle does nothing to soften the expression on your face. “Believe it or not, I'm not everywhere by choice," she responds, flashing her camera at you. "I'm a photographer, remember? These events are part of my job.”

She says it as though it's a fact you should already be aware of, which only fuels your annoyance further.

“I wasn't aware of that,” you shoot back, frowning at the lens pointed at you.

“Look,Y/N, no hard feelings,” Valkyrie says after she snaps a picture of your scowl. “I wasn't in on all the drama. Wanda gave me the rundown, though. Honestly, I'd probably be jealous of me, too.”

You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms over your chest. “What exactly did Wanda tell you?”

“That you two were married? And you cut her loose after she screwed up? That's kinda harsh, don't you think?”

“Well, you don't have a clue about the things we went through,” you retort rather defensively.

“Perhaps I don't. But I know a thing or two about loss,” Valkyrie counters, removing her gloves to show you her left hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Take a closer look,” she directs, pushing her hand further in front of your nose. Intrigued, you lean in and catch sight of a faint impression on her finger–evidence of a ring once worn.

She used to be married?

As if reading your thoughts, Valkyrie offers a short explanation, “He died four years ago. It was cancer.”

Your retort dies in your throat. Oh.

After an awkward silence, you manage to stutter out, “I... I'm sorry.”

Valkyrie's smile has a quality that makes you perceive her in a new way. “Time passes,” she says. "People move forward, or they try to, at least."

She puts her gloves back on and readjusts her camera. “Wanda's a good person. And she's gone through a lot too. Be kind to her, okay? She deserves it.”

It’s an advice to be expected from someone on the outside looking in, but it’s also an advice that despite its simplicity, is actually very important and essential in every kind of relationship.

Before you can think of a response, Wanda returns to your side.

“Oh, hey, Val!” Wanda greets, throwing a brief hug around Valkyrie.

Valkyrie gives her a nod before asking, “How about a quick photo, while we wait for the results?”

You can't remember the last time you and Wanda posed for a photo together. There's an awkward moment before you position your hand around her waist, her own arms finding a comfortable place around your neck.

She presses her cheek against yours, her grin so broad it nudges your own expression into a smile. You make a mental note to ask Valkyrie for a copy later.

“Wanda, they’re about to announce the winners!” Agatha pushes through the crowd to reach you both, her face alight with anticipation.

Your heart pounds in your chest as everyone gathers around the stage, the chatter and noise dimming down into a sea of murmurs and excited whispers. The host takes their time, going through the runner ups and then the third place. As each name is announced and it’s not Wanda, your hope dwindles, thinking she may not have placed at all. Wanda recognizes some of them as owners of more-known cafes in her neighborhood.

And then, the host announces the second place winner.

“Second Chances cafe!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and claps, and you find yourself grinning ear to ear as she looks at you in shock and disbelief. Agatha gives a whoop, her arms flying into the air in celebration.

With an excited flush in her cheeks, Wanda takes the stage, her eyes never leaving yours. She accepts the plaque and cradles it with gentle hands, the glow of pride in her eyes enough to make your heart squeeze. As she turns to the crowd, she raises her hand, her fingers wiggling in a modest wave. The crowd roars in response, their cheers echoing in the open park.

Wanda, second place in her first ever coffee showdown, and with a flavor she put together herself. It's like something out of a dream.

But the dream turns a little sour when you notice the many people coming up to her, showering her with praise, and more than a few of them seeming overly friendly.

You see people congratulating her as she steps off the stage, handing her flowers and gift baskets, everyone eager to talk to her, to share in her moment of triumph. They are complete strangers, all drawn to her like moths to a flame.

And as you watch, you see them–people flirting with her. Wanda, for her part, remains gracious and kind, her smile never wavering as she laughs at their jokes and thanks them for their praise.

But something about it makes your skin crawl, makes your hands clench into fists at your side. It isn’t just the jealousy, although that’s a large part of it. It’s the fear, the unshakeable insecurity that even after all you’ve been through, you could still lose her to someone else.

With every laugh she shares, every hand she shakes, the knot in your stomach tightens. You try to shake it off, reminding you that this is the very thing you’re both working on: trust. But as you see the ease with which she interacts with others, the memory of her infidelity looms larger in your mind.

Instead of confronting your feelings, you let them stew, let them build into an almost obsessive preoccupation with the thought of losing Wanda to someone else. It's a spiral you can't seem to pull yourself out of, a cycle of fear and uncertainty that you're trapped in. So, you stay in the background, your eyes locked onto her figure as she laughs and smiles with people who are not you, your mind racing with endless possibilities and outcomes.

It’s a terrible, consuming feeling.

You should be happy for her. You are. But there's a voice in the back of your head whispering things you don't want to hear, insecurities you don't want to address, and fears you don't want to confront.

Yet they're all there, unavoidable in the wake of her success and the admiration she’s receiving from everyone.

When Wanda finally manages to extricate herself from the crowd and return to you, Natasha's words are already resounding deafeningly in your mind.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda's voice breaks into your thoughts, the warmth in her eyes replaced with concern as she notices your distant expression. You force a smile onto your face, trying to push away the question that’s been haunting you:

Who are you, truly, without her?

“Everything's great,” you assure her, trying to sound more convincing than you feel. Wanda's forehead creases in doubt, but she doesn't push it further. Instead, she takes your hand, holds onto you in case you drift off somewhere she can’t follow.

Her touch is meant to be soothing, but all it does is remind you of Natasha's challenge and another question pops into your mind:

Will you even survive if she breaks you the second time around?

As you're tucking yourself under the covers, you hear Wanda's voice call out to you, “Hey, Y/N,” causing you to peek out from the duvet.

“Yes?”

“Remember the assignment Calliope gave us? The...uh, eye-gazing thing?” She sounds slightly bashful mentioning it.

Your eyebrows raise in remembrance. “Oh, right,” you murmur, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Do you want to do it now?”

Wanda nods, her eyes already softening in preparation for the exercise. She situates herself across from you, the both of you sitting cross-legged on the large bed. The room is silent except for Sparky’s soft snores coming from the foot of the bed.

You grab your watch and check with Wanda, “Five minutes?”

As soon as she gives her go signal, you press ‘start’ on your watch.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly leave your body, calming your nerves. You lock your gaze with Wanda's, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has come to a standstill.

The first few moments are awkward, and both of you giggle, breaking the silence. But soon, you both fall into a serene silence, eyes never leaving each other. You focus on her eyes, noting the flecks of different hues, the way her eyelashes curl, and how her eyes crinkle when she tries to suppress a smile.

“Are we required not to talk?” Wanda asks in a hushed tone, as if she’ll be reprimanded for it.

You respond with a shake of your head, biting back any words that threaten to slip out. Instead of talking, you allow yourself to reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, all the while keeping your eyes locked with Wanda’s.

Wanda, understanding the unspoken agreement, begins to mirror your actions. Her fingers, gentle and warm, trace the line of your jaw. The simple, intimate gesture draws a soft breath from you, and in response, your hand comes up to cradle her cheek, thumb lightly brushing her skin.

The air between you two becomes charged, filled with an intimacy that words could never capture. Her touch is feather-light, but it ignites a slow burn in your core, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact.

Despite the lack of words, it's the most profound conversation you've had in a while, a connection so deep that it renders words meaningless.

You let yourself get lost in her eyes.

‘Getting lost in one’s eyes’–it’s something you’ve only read in books, a cliche found in romance novels that doesn’t really translate in reality’s fast-paced nature. But with this exercise, you discover that it’s possible.

Time begins to slow as you swim further in those emerald pools, familiarizing yourself with what’s inside. You’re hyper aware of what you’re seeing, and focus all your emotions on the task at hand.

But as you delve deeper, a painful realization begins to take shape: your entire purpose revolves around her, with not a sliver of it left for yourself.

Wanda does the same, and it allows her to see something else behind the look of adoration in them. She sees your insecurities. Your fears. But most of all she sees your love for her, the true magnitude of it. Wanda isn't sure what to make of all this, not just yet. Maybe this exercise isn't about finding answers, but rather about observation, about exposure. It's about having faith in each other, trusting that whatever you reveal, whatever pieces of yourselves you lay bare, won’t be dismissed or exploited.

As the final seconds of the five-minute mark wind down, Wanda gently leans in, allowing her forehead to rest against yours.

The last tick of the timer goes unnoticed, lost in the shared warmth between your foreheads. Neither of you makes a move to disengage from the connection, the outside world seemingly forgotten for now.

“Five minutes…” Wanda murmurs softly, more to herself than to you, as though astonished by how much could be conveyed in such a brief span. Her hand, previously resting on your cheek, moves to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

Wanda leans in abruptly, her lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss. It's frantic, bordering on reckless, and for a split second, you fear she's glimpsed the war you’re waging with yourself. Her hands cup your face, her fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer, deeper into the moment.

You respond instinctively, the depth of her kiss stirring a response from within you. Your hands fall on her waist, your nails digging into her flesh. Her shirt has ridden up, and you explore the new expanse of smooth skin available to you, causing goosebumps to rise on Wanda’s skin as she feels the heat of your palm against her hardening nipples.

“W-We should stop,” Wanda manages to utter but it ends in a yelp as you tweak her peaks with purpose.

“Why?” you breathe out against her ear.

“C-Can’t have sex. Doctor’s orders…” Wanda's words falter as she arches her neck, giving way to your lips and tongue as you move your assaults there.

The words are like a bucket of ice-cold water, and a sigh of frustration escapes your lips.

“Right.”

You pull back, extracting yourself from the tangle of limbs and heated desire that Wanda has become. Your body screams in protest, a physical ache that leaves you breathless.

Wanda looks up at you with understanding in her eyes. "I know it's hard," she says, her fingers lightly tracing patterns over the exposed skin of your arm. Your eyes, in a moment of weakness, stray to her panties and see the undeniable evidence of her arousal soaking her underwear. You suppress a groan, flopping back onto the bed to keep your impulses in check. Wanda follows suit and lies on her side, facing you.

Nodding, you swallow down the lump in your throat. “It is,” you admit. You let out a deep sigh, pushing away the longing that threatens to consume you. “But it's necessary,” you add, meeting her gaze head-on. Your fingers trace the line of her jaw, your touch light yet full of promise.

“Seems like my dreams will have to pick up where we left off,” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

With a tender laugh, she moves closer to you, resting her head on your chest. “By all means, darling,” she whispers against your skin. “Even in dreams, I belong to you.”

Will Wanda still belong to you a year later?

***

“I’ve been thinking…”

Calliope pays close attention to your thoughtful expression as you search your words.

“Wanda, she's done some amazing things this past year...and all without me by her side,” you say evenly, staring out of her office window. You seem lost in thought, like you're on the verge of an important realization. Patiently, Calliope waits, letting you take your time to reveal them.

A moment of silence follows your confession, you continue gazing out the window.

“And how does that make you feel?” Calliope gently prompts when it becomes clear that you won't say anything else on your own.

A deep sigh escapes you as you finally return your gaze to your therapist. “Freeing, in a way–yet kind of sad too,” you confess. “I mean, I'm glad. Wanda's strength... her independence. It's one of the things I love about her. But realizing that she doesn't necessarily need me... it's a strange feeling.”

Calliope steeples her fingers together; She wants to tread lightly, to guide you to self-realization without imposing her interpretations onto your experiences.

“I sense that Wanda not ‘necessarily needing’ you is a point of contention for you. Is that right?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose you could put it that way,” you say, offering her a sad smile.

“Would you mind going into that a bit further, Y/N?” Calliope requests, her tone open and nonjudgmental.

“Yeah, sure,” you begin hesitantly, letting out a small sigh. “I guess you could say... It's like I'm jealous, in a way. It's odd, I know. But when I see her now, how far she's come, the woman she's become since... everything... I can't help but compare it to my own progress.”

“See, I only feel like I truly came back to myself after we reconciled, like I returned to a safe and comfortable cocoon. But Wanda...She's been out there, growing, learning, becoming this incredible person. It's like she's soared to these incredible heights, and I'm still stuck in the same place, trying to catch up.”

You let out a small, hollow chuckle at the irony of your next concern. “And yeah, there's the whole issue of trust. I forgave her for what she did, or at least, I'm trying to. But now I find myself questioning whether I'm good enough for her. I wonder if she deserves someone better, someone who isn't so... diminutive.”

“Feeling 'less than' can be incredibly difficult, especially after experiencing betrayal,” she starts gently. “And it's natural to wonder if the person you love deserves better. But let me remind you, Y/N, that you are not responsible for determining what Wanda deserves or doesn't. Only she can decide that.”

Calliope’s eyes soften as she pauses, letting you absorb her words.

“As for feeling 'diminutive'... Everyone grows at their own pace. Wanda has had her own journey, and you've had yours. There's no definitive timeline or checklist for growth and healing. You are not less valuable or worthy because you perceive yourself as behind her in some way,” she tells you.

The words she speaks should be appeasing, but they just feel empty to you. They're meant to inspire, to motivate, to help, but they don't reach you. They seem to be directed at someone other than the conflicted individual you've become. The detachment is disconcerting, leaving you feeling even more adrift.

With a sigh, you say, “Something happened recently.”

Calliope adjusts the glasses perched on her nose. “Tell me more.”

“Remember Nat? My best friend and Yelena’s sister? She finally talked to me. She, uh, made a suggestion,” you say, shuffling your feet on the carpeted floor. “She thinks my struggles might be more about me than my relationship with Wanda. She suggested I take a year off. To separate from Wanda, to rediscover who I am on my own.”

Calliope leans back in her chair, taking a moment to consider your words before responding.

“That's a drastic step,” she acknowledges, her tone neutral. “It's a valid suggestion and one that's often employed in cases where codependency has taken root. As a therapist, I can tell you that taking a step back from a relationship to focus on personal growth can indeed help provide perspective, allow for self-reflection, and foster personal development.”

Her eyes lock onto yours, steady and compassionate. “However,” she continues, “It's a decision you'd have to make with careful consideration. It's not just about time and distance–it's about what you do with that time and how you utilize that distance. Self-discovery requires active engagement. It's not something that just happens.”

You nod in understanding. You haven’t gotten around to thinking about how you will fill that gap year. And it just amplifies Natasha’s belief that you don’t know who you are or what to do with yourself when left to your own devices.

“What's your instinct telling you, Y/N?” Calliope inquires, taking off her glasses as if to put aside her professional role and connect with you on a more personal level, like a trusted confidant. “Do you feel that taking this time apart from Wanda could help you rediscover who you are outside of your relationship with her?”

You've been so entwined with Wanda for so long, the thought of detaching yourself from her feels like extracting your own heart. A year from her feels more permanent than when you divorced her because you’re not angry this time.

“I don't know…” you admit, your voice becoming thick with emotions. You look down at your hands, flexing them nervously. “Part of me thinks it could help, because… Because it’s getting worse.”

“What is?”

“This… nagging feeling,” you say. “That… That I have to look at her phone, to read all her messages,” you confess, the words leaving your lips in a whisper.Your eyes remain lowered, and your hands betray a subtle tremor as you push forward. “I haven't looked because I can't bring myself to ask Wanda for her permission, and I can't figure out her passcode. And the feeling of jealousy is more frequent now, and it’s not me.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you bare your deepest insecurities to Calliope. The fear of invading Wanda's privacy conflicts with your need for reassurance, for a confirmation that your trust is not misplaced.

Your confession flows naturally, “I've been under this impression that I need to watch her every move. Yet, I can't shake off the fear that I might overlook something and end up being blindsided again.” There's a pause, followed by a humorless chuckle. “And who am I in all of this mess? If Natasha asked me that question now…” You give a disappointed shake of your head, “I'd probably answer with ‘a bundle of jealousy and insecurity.’”

“I see how that’s extremely difficult for you, Y/N,” she says simply. “You're trying to find out who you are, while at the same time dealing with trust issues. It's like you're walking on a tightrope.”

Tiredness washing over you, you merely hum in agreement, your inner conflict sapping the energy out of you.

“Have you talked to Wanda about this?” Calliope probes, trying to keep the conversation going despite your evident weariness.

“I haven't yet. I'm afraid... I don't want to hurt her, it feels like I've given her false hope.”

“Before you finalize any decision, it would be fair to talk to Wanda. Allow her to give her insights. It's not just about making a decision, it's about including her in the process,” Calliope says. “If you feel that you have already made a decision, tell her before you set any plans in motion. Wanda cares deeply for you and she will understand, no matter what decision you make.”

That's the first piece of advice she's given this session that resonates with you.

“What do you think I should do?” you find yourself asking. The idea of having someone else make this critical decision is temptingly easier. You know how she’s going to respond, but out of desperation, you ask her anyway.

Calliope shakes her head, offering you a knowing smile.

“Have faith in yourself, in your ability to make the right decisions,” she says.

You bite your lip in resignation. “Can I still come to you for guidance, no matter what I choose in the end?”

“Absolutely,” Calliope nods, seeing the answer to your question in your own eyes before you can even realize it. “We're lucky to live in a time where help can be reached in many ways. As long as you want my help, I'll be here for you.”

***

New Year’s Eve passes by in a blur of fireworks, wine and dancing with Wanda in the kitchen, and the next couple of days slowly settles back to its usual rhythm. The city of Manhattan, once draped in holiday cheer with twinkling lights and a towering Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, slips back into its usual attire.

The days following the celebration return to their familiar tempo, like a song falling back into its regular beat after an energetic chorus. Street vendors replace holiday markets, and the regular hum of traffic replaces carols and festive laughter.

As the first week of January wraps up, you and Wanda find yourselves back in Calliope's office. The session is spent mostly reflecting on your holiday experiences and discussing the eye-gazing exercise Calliope assigned you both. Wanda's vivid storytelling about your LA trip takes center stage, and you find it challenging to stay engaged in the conversation.

Time seems to slip through your fingers, and before you know it, Wanda's thanking Calliope for the session, and it's time to leave. Despite your quiet demeanor throughout, Calliope doesn't prod you for it. She seems to understand where your thoughts were wandering. The short nod she gives you before you could leave tells you one thing: Talk to Wanda.

Wanda, on the other hand, hasn't overlooked your frequent distant gazes, seemingly lost in your own world. She hasn't missed the way your eyes fleetingly dart to her buzzing phone, filled with messages from her customers and suppliers, as you wait for dinner to be ready. She notices your attentive ears whenever she's on the phone, not making any attempt to have private conversations away from you. She picks up on the tension in your features when you're out together, and an admirer's gaze lingers on her for a tad too long.

She can't help but notice the way you're always a little bit on edge. It makes her wonder if you’re genuinely content with how things are. If you’re happy with her. If this is really working for you.

But then, behind closed doors, it’s paradise.

Because when the lights are out, and it's just the two of you, your name is the only one she knows, the only one she calls out into the quiet of the night.

***

Finally, on a quiet Saturday morning, you wake up before Wanda. You watch her sleep, peaceful and untroubled, and you decide–today is the day.

Taking a deep breath, you gently nudge her awake. She stirs, blinking sleepily at you, and you give her a soft smile.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your fingers gently combing through her hair. Wanda snuggles further into the pillow, attempting to shield her eyes from the morning light. For a while, you let her be, savoring the peaceful moment as long as you can.

“Wanda, we need to talk.”

Your voice carries a certain tone that instantly cuts through her sleepiness, washing away the last traces of sleep from Wanda’s eyes. She shifts slightly, propping herself up, her eyes now fully focused on you.

“Alright,” she says, her voice a hushed whisper.

You run your fingers through your hair nervously, leaning against the headboard with your back turned to her. She watches you intently, and you feel the weight of her gaze as you gather your thoughts. Inhaling deeply, you finally speak, your voice soft and almost trembling.

“When Natasha came to see me, it wasn’t just to say our goodbyes,” you begin, feeling Wanda's breath hitch slightly. Her lack of surprise indicates that she's sensed there's been more to it. She's been waiting patiently for you to share what's been troubling you, and now she can connect the dots.

Something had changed after the day you spoke with Natasha.

She shifts closer, an instinctual pull towards you for comfort. You don't resist, opening your arm for her so she could tuck herself into the curve of your body, her head finding its familiar resting place against your chest.

“She, uh, made a suggestion that at first sounded fucking ridiculous to me," you say with an empty laugh. “She thinks maybe I–maybe I need some time. To figure things out...about myself, by myself.”

Wanda's hold on you becomes firmer, drawing you in as if she could meld you both into one. The added pressure makes the looming conversation even harder to continue.

“She believes it might be good for me–and, well, us–to take a break. A year apart from each other, to rediscover who I am on my own,” you say and glance down, hoping to catch Wanda's eyes, but you find her eyes tightly shut as if your words have physically wounded her.

There's a pause. A long, deafening silence that you're not sure you can stand for much longer. But when Wanda finally speaks, her voice is calm, and there's a strange kind of acceptance in her eyes when she opens them.

“And what do you think?” she asks softly.

“I... I don't know, Wands,” you confess, the nickname slipping out unintentionally as you feel the cracks in your resolve. “I love you, more than anything. But I also... I also feel lost. And I hate this feeling, this...paranoia...jealousy... It's not me. At least, I don't want it to be me.”

You sense a faint nod from Wanda, drawing a small measure of comfort from her understanding.

“Before I make any decision, I wanted to talk to you,” you say, finally lifting your gaze to meet hers again. “I…” you trail off as you watch a glimmer form in her eyes.

“Wands, what are you thinking?” you ask.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against yours. “I've noticed,” she admits, her voice so soft it's almost a whisper. “I've seen how you've been pulling away, getting lost in your thoughts. I just... I hoped it was a phase. But even if it were, it hurts to see you like this.”

You nod, your vision becoming a little blurry. This is harder than you thought it would be.

“Have you reconciled with Natasha?” she suddenly asks.

You shake your head no.

Wanda sighs deeply, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards into a deeper frown. “You remember when we first bumped into each other after our divorce, right?” she starts, shifting closer again as she closes her eyes once more. “I was so determined to win you back. But we both know that didn't end up well. I crashed, you left, and I was alone for the first time in a long while.”

Pausing, she takes a moment to recall everything. “Of course, I missed you. But the thing is, after some time, my perspective changed. I wasn't exactly happy, but I found a sense of contentment. I felt... steady, you know?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “Then I reached out to you again, for Sparky. Seeing you, talking to you, it made the dormant feelings I had for you flutter back to life. But things were different this time. I'd had some time to really work on myself, to define my identity outside of…you. Beyond just wanting you and being guilty of what I did. I learned so much about myself during that time.”

Wanda pauses, her gaze becoming misty, the emotions she'd been holding back threatening to spill over.

“And maybe,” she hesitates, her voice becoming thick with tears, “Maybe that's what you need too.”

You stare at the ceiling in silence, the enormity of her words sinking in. Your chest is tight, and your head is spinning.

“Is that what you want?” you ask. It would be easier if this is what Wanda wants.

“I want you to be happy,” Wanda whispers through a cascade of tears and trembling lips. “No, I need you to be happy.”

You look at her, taking in the raw emotion etched on her face. The tears streaming down her cheeks make your heart constrict with a pain more acute than you thought possible.

“You mean so much to me, Wanda,” you choke out as your own eyes begin to sting. “I need to be certain that I'm not only holding onto you because I'm afraid of being alone... or afraid of who I am without you.”

Wanda shifts, her fingers coming up to touch your face. “We're in this together, aren't we?”

The thought of being without Wanda, even if it's for your own self-improvement, leaves an acrid taste in your mouth. It feels so wrong, and yet, it may be what's necessary for you to find your footing again.

“Yes, but this is something I need to figure out on my own. For us,” you emphasize. “For me.”

She looks away for a moment, struggling with her own emotions. “I want to support you,” she starts, “But the thought of losing you, even for a little while, scares me.”

You swallow hard, your heart heavy. “I know. It terrifies me too. But I need to do this so we can have a chance at a future where I'm not always second-guessing and doubting.”

Wanda bites her lip, thinking. After what feels like hours, she finally speaks, “Whatever you decide, just... promise me one thing?”

You nod, urging her to continue.

“That you'll come back to me. No matter what you find or how you change, always come back to me,” she says. “And I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for you.”

“One year,” you whisper as your face becomes wet with tears. No contact. No calls, no emails, no texts. No checking up on each other online.

Total disconnection.

“A year later, on this day,” Wanda nods despite herself. “We’ll meet again at Second Chances.” Her lips twitch into a tentative, poignant smile, alluding to the deeper sentiment that the name of her coffee shop embodies.

Wanda's tear feels warm against your thumb as you gently wipe it away. You're both quiet for a while, the room filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and the muted ticking of a nearby clock. The decision has been made, the terms agreed upon, and now there is nothing left but to savor these final moments of togetherness.

“Can we... can we just hold each other?” you ask quietly. It's a small comfort, but right now, it's everything. You need to feel her close to you, to memorize the feel of her body against yours before you part ways.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. She needs more than just that.

“Touch me,” she breathes, her words melting into your mouth as she captures your lips in a feverish kiss. “Let me give you everything,” she implores, her hands finding yours in the darkness as her eyes fall shut.

Complying with her heartfelt request, you gently ease her back onto the mattress, your bodies tangled together in a dance as old as time.

And then, in what feels like the mere flutter of a heartbeat, it's a year later.

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