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loliwrites · 4 months

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I. Tenacity | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, no infected here just terrible humans, mention of death, blood, and murder, mentions of hunger, diva cup appearance, talk of irregular menstrual cycles [trauma-induced menopause][epigenetics], DUBCON/NONCON [tagging ‘cause reader allows it but true enthusiastic consent is absent], brief SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, slow burn-ish, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.6k series masterlist a/n: my first go at writing something tlou-related. be gentle pls.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm. You could count the number of times your hip would be shoved into the wooden table with a high degree of certainty of when it would be over. Michael never lasted too long. Somewhere between thirty-four and thirty-seven thrusts. He was never particularly rough, and though he was never chasing to make you feel good, he was at least better than George and James – both of whom would probably be lining up after Michael was done. George seemed to last forever. Some old fart who’d gained his stamina before the world came to a screeching halt. He usually landed somewhere between sixty-two and sixty-six thrusts. The bruises he left behind always lasted the longest because of the sheer amount of times he slammed your body into whatever you were up against. A table, a railing, an old pool table with torn, dirty felt. And the worst of all was James. He may not last the longest, but he had the uncanny ability of making you feel like some depraved wild animal he was trying to break. He never took his time to make sure it wouldn’t be absolutely painful like Michael did. Nor did he have a pencil dick to make it somewhat manageable like George. He took it how he wanted it – fast, unceremonious, and always left you in a mess you’d have to clean up.

Part of you wondered if this was worth it. If the wolf was only as strong as the pack, then having a pack was supremely necessary. And though, these guys… and the group they led… weren’t the people you would’ve gone with by choice. A pack was a pack. Alone, you were an easy target for almost anything and anyone. Being together afforded you safety in numbers. Relative safety in numbers. Safe enough to have stayed alive with them for the past six years. Years that you likely wouldn’t have gotten if you’d fought them tooth and nail and went off on your own. Solitude could only get you so far. No matter how proficient you were with your rifle.

The one that lay in front of you on the table. Clean, well-oiled, with a scope affixed to the top. As Michael started to moan recklessly behind you, you thought about the meals you’d forfeited in trade for the supplies needed to keep the weapon in the best of shape. Times were tough – had been tough for a couple decades now – and a gun was a gun. It didn’t need to be clean, it just had to work. But this was no ordinary gun.

Michael came inside you with a strangled grunt and pulled out a second later. That was a relatively new twist in the routine. For years the men were careful to never finish inside you… or any of the other women in the group. Food and resources were scarce enough as it was, let alone adding little mouths to feed and take care of. But a few months back, you’d confided in some of the women that your period hadn’t been coming when you expected it to. And when time had passed and neither a baby nor your period came, you came to the conclusion you were suffering from the same fate as some of the other women. A hard life compounded. Trauma induced menopause. You weren’t sure which of the women had ratted you out. But soon enough the men had become aware of your new biological situation, and they stopped the frantic pulling out as they came. Perhaps that was for the best. Who’d want to bring a child into a world like this?

“Was that alright?” Michael asked, buckling his belt back up. His back was turned toward you as he reached for his own rifle, which he’d propped up against the wall.

You glanced over at him and pulled your pants back up your legs. Over the lofted railing, you could hear George and James mumbling to each other. “Fine,”

“Did you…?”

He finally met your eyes. Anxiety-ridden. None of the other men ever asked, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. At some point maybe it’d sink in that he should stop partaking in the act just to fit in with the boys. “No,”

His gaze averted to the floor sheepishly and he shouldered his rifle. “Guess we should get back downstairs,”

“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,”

Now you were the one to turn your back on him. Though you hoped he’d come to his senses and start to become a better man. You knew he wouldn’t. He was initiated into the system. The one George and James, and all the other men in the settlement formed. The one that meant they brought girls along on patrols so they could get their kicks and save face with the others that they were doing their due diligence in protecting the group. And you joining the group… well you turned out to be the little guardian angel for the women in the pack. Good with a gun, able to pick off infected and humans alike from a mile out. It only seemed natural that the men going out on patrols would take you with them. For that you inadvertently protected the other women from your fate.

Michael cleared his throat and started down the stairs from the loft. You bit the inside of your cheek to show yourself you could still feel something, and – BANG!

Your head flicked around toward the noise. What was left of Michael was splattered against the wall leading up the stairs. You grabbed your gun and held it poised. Looked over the lofted banister and down at the room below. George had backed up into the far corner; his arms raised in non-threatening compliance. Someone must’ve been pointing a weapon at him, but you couldn’t tell from the angle. And James, well… if it didn’t warm your heart a little bit to see him being restrained in a chokehold with a handgun to his temple. The man you could see, holding James, was tall, muscular… he had black, curly, jaw-length hair. A thick mustache. He was in all denim. And it was clean, which was the thing that caught you the most off-guard.

You lifted your gun, disregarding the scope, and looked down the barrel. James may’ve been part of your pack, but you’d thought about putting a bullet in him on a daily basis for the last eight years. And while these guys might kill you afterward, at least you’d have the brief satisfaction of knowing that you’d taken one terrible human off the face of the planet.

So there was no hesitancy when you squeezed the trigger. The round flew by the denim-clad man’s head and went straight into James’. He crumpled to the floor and the man who’d been holding him looked up in your direction, though you’d backed away enough to ensure you weren’t seen.

Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Despite two thirds of your life having been in a post-Cordyceps world, the sound and reverberation of your rifle going off right by your ear didn’t keep it from ringing. An almost concussion-like haziness emphasized by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. From down below, you could just barely hear George pleading for his life. Something about how he had a woman he loved and wanted to go home to. Strange considering he had his dick in you on most days out.

The ringing in your ears started to quiet, just in time for you to hear a footstep behind you. A heavy one. Definitely belonged to a man. But not in time for you to spin around with your rifle before finding the man already pointing his rifle at you.

“Drop it,” he commanded gruffly. A deep, gravelly voice. He was sure of himself. Confident. His tattered jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He wasn’t as clean-looking as his partner currently detaining George. Graying, brown hair, a prominent scar over his nose, a scruffiness… and yet, he still looked too put together to have been living off the land for any amount of time. You should know. God knows what you looked like had you ever taken any time in front of a mirror. If the dirtiness of your hands were any indication, you were a little worse for wear. “I said, drop it,”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you slowly bent over and placed your rifle on the floor. No sooner than you’d completed the action, he had another order for you. Kick it here and get on your knees. So you did. Nudged your most prized possession away with your foot when another BANG! rang through the old hunting lodge. Your eyes flinched shut; the nanosecond of thought that this was it. You’re dead. But then… you still felt alive. And you squinted your eyes open to evaluate. Yep, definitely still alive. No bleeding holes coming from your body, and the man still in front of you waiting for you to comply with his last order. Which you did… awkwardly. A grimace stretched over your face when you knelt down and felt your pants sticking to your thighs; Michael’s spend dripping out of you.

The muzzle of the man’s rifle never left you, “got anything else on you?”

“Knife in my front pocket,”

“Slide it over,”

You did. Quickly. Hoping that your quickness and willingness to obey him would mean he’d let you go with your tail tucked between your legs.

“You infected?”

You glared at him, “do I look infected?”

He cocked his gun and held it up in line with your head. You trained your eyes on his index finger around the trigger. Just one twitch. That’s all it’d take.

“Joel,” both you and the man… Joel… looked away from each other, and fixed your eyes on the stairs where the second one – the one you’d disregarded in order to kill James – entered the loft. “Look at her gun,” both men looked at your rifle. “I don’t think she misses very often. If she was gonna kill us, we’d already be dead.”

He went to approach you, and this time Joel spoke up. A cautious step forward, “Tommy.”

But this Tommy… he took another couple steps in your direction and handed off his rifle to Joel when he went to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes on his face, tilting your head back to keep him in your line of vision. Even if he tried something, you weren’t sure what you’d do to stop him, but at least you’d see it coming.

“I don’t think you missed me. I don’t even think you were aiming at me,”

“I wasn’t,”

A victorious smile spread across his face and he twisted around to look back at Joel, “see.” Tommy looked back down at you and set his hands on his hips. “What’s your name?”

You flicked your eyes at Joel quickly before returning them to Tommy to answer his question.

“You’re with the other settlement?”

“I wouldn’t call them a settlement,” your eyes flicked over to Joel when he clicked his tongue on his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Nomads, at best,”

“And at worst?” Joel barked.

Your eyebrows lifted quickly in contemplation before… “a bunch’a assholes,”

Another wide grin broke out over Tommy’s face. “You got a family or a partner in that bunch of assholes?” He waited for a verbal response but you only shook your head. “We’ll take her back with us. She might be able to give us some answers about our friends we’ve been seeing on patrol.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They made you walk while they sat easily atop their horses. Some kind of cruel twist of fate that your own gun was turned on you the whole time. Joel made sure of that. Based on the way the sun fell toward the horizon, you figured you’d all been an hour and a half walk south of their settlement. Which as you neared the large wooden gates, seemed to be more like a QZ than some random encampment. And judging by the way the two men bickered, you assumed they were brothers. Only siblings could piss each other off like that and not take it personally. How lucky, you thought, that after all this time, they still had each other.

When you did near the enormous gates, Tommy left you behind with Joel. A precarious position. His face remained stoic the entire time, muzzle of the gun pointed at you… didn’t even answer when you asked if his horse had a name. You thought about goading him into an argument for the fun of it. Maybe he named his horse Princess. Or Spike. But Tommy interrupted again, riding up with a handful of others and even a dog. It growled and snarled in your direction, and you weren’t sure why, but you glanced back up at Joel to see if his expression had changed. Maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if he didn’t look like there was something you should be nervous about.

To your surprise, he was already staring at you. Upon meeting your gaze, he nodded once and jut his chin in the direction of the dog. “S’gonna sniff you. See if you’re infected. If not, like you say, nothin’ll happen.”

“If I am?” You cocked your head back toward the snarling animal.

“It’ll probably just take your leg off or somethin’,”

“Any chance this dog fucks up?”

“Probably not,”

And it didn’t. Thankfully. Hopefully this meant they’d trust explicitly that you indeed weren’t infected. They seemed to trust their trained animal enough to let you inside their settlement. Jackson, they called it. You’d never heard of it. Never heard of any rumblings of a massive commune. And yet…. It was gorgeous. Nice buildings, string lights, stables, a bar, dining hall, and in the distance, what seemed to look like a large, sweeping neighborhood.

Tommy had joined up with a woman: Maria. They kissed and spoke fondly to each other, so you assumed they were partners. Both walked ahead of you, while Joel remained at your rear. You figured with your rifle still pointed at you. Everyone stopped what they were doing when you passed by. All staring to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Would you be joining them permanently? Would they kill you? You asked yourself the same questions.

Your feet had stopped moving but you didn’t notice until you felt the muzzle of your rifle press against your upper back. Joel jabbed the metal against your back again, growing antsier with the fact that your gaze had settled on a teenager in the distance. She was staring at you, too. A fact that seemed to make Joel even more aggravated. He mumbled his annoyance to you and you got moving again, walking up the boarded steps into the dining hall.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They treated you better than you expected. Hell, better than your group would’ve treated someone they didn’t know. They set a big glass of water in front of you with a heaping plate of vegetables, chicken, and fresh bread. The water was one of the biggest surprises. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t have to boil water before drinking it. Maybe when you were still with your parents. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Tommy and Maria shared glances like they weren’t sure what you were going to tell them. Considering no one else joined you, you figured these three (or a combination) held a great deal of power in the settlement. Joel, however, looked pissed that this was even happening at all. That he hadn’t just shot you on sight back at the hunting lodge. It was pretty easy to ignore him. You’d spent the better half of your time on earth ignoring men just like him. But then the questions started coming and you figured all this kindness came at a price. They wanted to know everything. So you didn’t hold back. Maybe if you were open and frank with them, they’d let you stay here. They wouldn’t make you go back to those awful people.

Told them that you’d been with that group for the last eight years. And in those eight years, they hadn’t really expanded their numbers by any considerable amount. That they hovered somewhere between forty-four and sixty-two people -- including the three that had been killed today – and that about two thirds of them were men. You even told them about how you’d become a sort of fun novelty for the men. That they brought you along on their scouts because you were better than anyone with a rifle. Once they got their rocks off by watching you down game a mile off, they got their rocks off again, fucking you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand the weight and pressure.

Joel looked down at his lap at that. Avoided your eyes. You took it to mean that he knew what that was like. Maybe he did the same.

You shrugged and pushed the remnants of food around on your plate. Eight years was a long time to endure that type of treatment. You told them as much.

“You don’t have loyalty to anyone in the other group?” Maria asked, probing.

“She shot one of her own guys today. Doesn’t have loyalty to anyone,”

Everyone’s heads turned to Joel. He’d since leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly. The gun that had been pointed at you now lay on the opposite end of the table. You thought you saw indignance in his eyes. Disdain for you and the plight he perceived you to be on. Scorched earth. Loyal to no one but yourself. Maybe that was true. Maybe you’d evolved to become highly selective in where to lay your loyalty.

“He wasn’t my guy,” you spat in Joel’s direction. It might as well have been just the two of you in the room. “He was the guy that killed my parents. So fuck him,”

It was hard to tell what they thought of you. Tommy was the only one who smiled freely. Maria saved hers for Tommy. And Joel didn’t smile at all. There was no talk of a plan or a future. No conversation about what was to become of you. All they told you as you wandered from the main street and down one cul-de-sac road lined with houses was that they didn’t allow anyone to have weapons in town. All firearms stayed at the armory.

That conversation ended as they stopped in front of a small one story cottage. It was dark and rickety, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom who you were to be put into the arms of. If the house was any indication, probably some horribly untidy mess of a man. Maybe it’d be the type of man you’d wished you’d have your gun around for.

Maria, Tommy, and Joel led you inside that dark, rickety cottage. Unlocked the door and flicked the lights on as they entered the living room. You kept your eyes and ears alert. Your awareness might be the only upperhand you had in sensing danger here. But you heard nothing. You saw nothing. There wasn’t another soul in this house waiting to attack. It was just you and the three who’d brought you here. They didn’t offer an explanation. Joel just stood back and eyed your every move carefully while Maria handed you a little stack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tube toothpaste, and a small cardboard box that held something you’d never heard of before: a diva cup.

You looked up to give her an apprehensive glance but found that she was already giving you one. It was a look you’d seen before. When you’d talked yourself into joining that other group all those years ago. It was the look the women had given you before they realized you were about to become their saving grace. She turned away from you and gave Tommy a peck on her way out; not even bothering to acknowledge Joel.

There was a part of you that admired her. For the amount of power she clearly wielded over not only these two men, but seemingly the entire commune. And the other part of you was scared of her. She reminded you of your mother. A strong, domineering type who knew how to control the men around her. You figured if the outbreak hadn’t happened and humans didn’t devolve before your very eyes, you might’ve become the same type of woman. The type who could keep her men in line with a look. The type whose men would’ve quivered at the look you’d shot them.

The front door shut behind Maria in the same moment Tommy was handing you a key. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the cold, smooth metal. It had been decades since you held one like it. Surely even before the outbreak, people just didn’t hand over keys to houses for nothing.

“You can stay in Jackson for a month on a little trial run–”

“Probation,” Joel interrupted.

Both you and Tommy flicked your eyes at him. While Tommy looked annoyed, you actually smiled. Somehow Joel’s bluntness was growing to be comforting.

“Jesus, Joel,”

He shrugged, “S’call it what it is. Probation to see if she’s a problem and we gotta send ‘er packin’,”

“Appreciate you both not shootin’ me,” you said, you voice sounding hoarse. You cleared your throat and shook your head absently; a small smile passing over your lips, “would’ve put a damper on my day.”

Tommy grinned though his brother looked unamused at your effort of levity. “Someone’ll come ‘round tomorrow morning around seven-thirty to bring you to the greenhouse. Teach you the workflow down there.” Then off your confused look, he smiled again, heading for the door, “if you’re gonna live in the community, you gotta help out.”

Joel turned his back on you to follow his brother, and you were quick on their heels, “what about my gun? I mean, does everyone have their own gun at the armory, or…”

“It’s a commune. We share,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he tugged the front door back open. He and Joel stepped through the threshold, but your voice stopped them.

“It’s just that… I’d rather not be here and have my gun, than be here and have someone else usin’ it. I appreciate what you’re doin’, and your helping me out, but… to me, staying in Jackson isn’t worth havin’ someone else use my weapon,”

“It’ll be safe,”

Tommy’s voice rang clear and sure, trying to reassure you of something. What, you weren’t certain. But he continued on his way, and only once he stepped off the small porch, did you realize that Joel had momentarily kept himself frozen in place. By your front door, staring you down. You started to shrink back beneath his gaze, unable to discern what it was trying to convey to you. Anger. Resentment. Disappointment. The door nearly concealed you entirely before Joel got his bearings again and descended the porch steps and jogged to keep pace with Tommy again.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The whole thing was weird. All of it. Jackson was an anomaly and the more you tried to make yourself at home, the weirder it got. The house they’d just given you was definitely a pre-outbreak build. It was obvious. Some of the other houses on the block looked new. You imagined they’d smell new. Not your cottage. Scuffed up wood floors. Cracks in the paint and drywall. Even the wood-burning stove. And when you looked out the front window, out at the street, you saw children. Walking by themselves. Joking around. Not nearly on edge or high alert. In fact, you dared to say that they looked like they were having fun.

You’d only been ten when the world came crashing down around you. Fun ripped out from right under your feet. The homestead you’d grown up on – climbing trees, playing hide and seek, shooting down Coke cans – once a safe place to be a kid, had quickly become something to be defended. As you found out many moons later, to the death.

At ten, there wasn’t anything to rebuild in the new world. You hadn’t had any worldly possessions to hang onto. When money became obsolete, it didn’t matter because you’d never had any. Perhaps in a bank somewhere, stuffed away in a savings account that no longer held any weight. Nor did you need the money to get by in life these days. You’d heard tales of the QZ’s from people who’d come from them. Escaped from them. They had a new type of currency. Not the kind you used to have. The green paper money with a bunch of old dudes on the front. The kind your family burned sometime in the winter of 2006 when the first freeze took over and you were sure you’d never get back to the old normal.

And that was what made Jackson the weirdest. It was the closest to ‘old normal’ you’d seen in over two decades. A whole town. Village. Commune, they’d called it. A formal education had stopped young, so the only awareness of anything commune related came from a book your father had about the Bolshevik’s October Revolution. And if you were being honest, it didn’t sound too good. But on top of that, how were you supposed to rebuild now? Maria had been kind enough to give you a few things, but there wasn’t wood for the wood-burning stove. And the electricity might’ve been working, but there wasn’t any food in the fridge. No sides of deer cut up and stored in a chest freezer. How were you supposed to get that in a commune? Did they have money? Did they barter? And either way, you had no money to give and nothing to barter. So how exactly were you supposed to get on in life?

Face up, staring at the ceiling, you laid in bed willing yourself to go to sleep. You’d gone to bed hungry before. More times than you could count. But usually those nights were accompanied by a dirt floor, extreme cold, the threat of being hunted. A million other things to keep your mind off of the fact that your stomach was growling. There wasn’t any of that in Jackson. Everything was quiet, almost eerily so. You were warm. And even though the mattress wasn’t the comfiest of things, it sure as hell beat the floor. With all these little luxuries, it was hard to ignore the hunger.

But even if you had been asleep, you’re sure you would’ve been woken by the footsteps on your old, rickety porch. None of the wood planks laid exactly right. All creaking with age and rot. Much like the world, you thought. Plus you couldn’t remember a night’s sleep that wasn’t disturbed by panic or anxiety, or just plain fear. Probably hadn’t had a peaceful night like that since before the outbreak. Now that creaking on your porch made you jump up and scurry into the corner of your bedroom. Into the shadows. Praying you’d had your rifle. Cursing the idea that you’d stay here without it.

The creaking came and went in a steady procession. Four footsteps. A pause. Another four footsteps. On and on for a few minutes. Long enough for you to have gained your courage again. Long enough for you to have crawled to the front room and peek through the window. Long enough for you to see Joel Miller ambling back and forth on the porch, stacking pieces of wood, conveniently chopped to fit the size of your wood burning stove. What a stark difference from the Joel Miller who’d been pointing a gun at your head this morning. You went to the door and unlatched it, slowly pulling it open so as to not startle him. He came to an abrupt stop. An armful of wood. Staring at you.

He blinked a couple times in quick procession, gaining the wherewithal to move again. “M’sorry if I woke ya’,”

You shook your head, “I don’t sleep much.”

Joel nodded and set the armful of wood on top of the rest. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, almost sheepishly. “Winter comes up on us pretty quick here. Insulation in this place is for the birds. Figured you’d need some wood for the stove.”

“Oh,”

“I cleaned out the flue a couple months back so you shouldn’t smoke yourself out,”

Lips pursed together, you pondered the stack of wood nestled up against the cottage. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay. Doesn’t seem like this is the right place for me,”

Joel didn’t have a response for you, just looked down at his feet and kicked at a nonexistent something on the porch.

“That gun–my gun. My dad gave it to me in 2003. September 26th,”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain riddled in his gaze as if he remembered that date all too well. And when it vanished, the coldness you’d first noticed in the hunting cabin returned.

“It’s all I have left. And as ridiculous as it sounds to be so attached to a rifle, I am. And I–”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he interrupted. Just when you thought he’d continue on and show a little more softness, kindness… he kept speaking, “Look, I don’t care if you stay or go. Don’t need stragglers hangin’ ‘round. So I’d love to give you your gun back and dump ya’ out past the gate. But Tommy’s always been a little stupid. Takes chances on people,”

“What an idiot,” you smirked.

A smile flashed over Joel’s face. It was gone in a second. And he turned away from you, descending the porch steps. “He’ll bring you to the greenhouse. Teach’ya how things operate, and…” he took a deep breath. Something almost like fondness erupted in his tone, “you might not wanna stay, but don’t fuck things up there for the rest of us. We got families here. And we’ll need the resources to get through the winter.”

“You think I’d fuck things up on purpose?”

Joel looked over his shoulder and nodded, “yeah. ‘Cause I’ve been in your spot before and I did.”

He continued on and you stayed put on your porch, watching him until he was out of sight. Wondering where the house he was given was. If he was alone, or if he had some sort of partner living with him. But also figured you’d never get the chance to know.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“We get most of our roughage and root vegetables in the colder months. There’s a constant harvest to keep up with the community’s needs, but some of these aren’t hearty enough to withstand the winter. Even inside the greenhouse,”

You nodded dutifully behind Wendy. At least you think that was the name Tommy mumbled as he was being dragged out of the greenhouse by Joel. Something about being late for patrol and not wanting to spend all day on some godforsaken cliffside. She’d just got done showing you the strawberry vines. The lifeless things that she assured you would spring to life when the warmer weather came back.

The work was easy enough. Boring. Nothing you hadn’t already done on your family’s land as a teenager. Only this was on a much smaller scale. Maybe most of these people had come from QZs. And maybe before that they came from big cities. Places where they never knew where their food came from. That it just somehow appeared in their groceries. Yet, by current standards… of canned things from yesteryear, the greenhouse was a bit of a spectacle. Something beautiful.

Wendy continued on her well-practiced lecture about potatoes as you got lost roaming the rows of plants. Up and down each long, leafed path. Fingers gliding over them, not taking the time to stop and acknowledge any plant in particular. Until, in the absence of your thought, your fingers brushed over something woolly. Pulling your hand back, you focused in. There, just beyond your fingertips, a tray of small white flowers. The petals, less like blossoms, but more like leaves. And woolly. Fuzzy. Unlike anything you’d ever seen.

“What’re these?” Eyes still locked onto your discovery, you hadn’t fully comprehended that you’d interrupted Wendy’s spiel.

And yet when she came upon you, there was no ill will or annoyance from her. Just her gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s edelweiss,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when her answer had you giving her a questioning glance. “It’s usually up in the Alps. In the middle of nowhere. Jesse came back from patrol one day ‘bout a year ago with a handful of these plucked up from the root. No idea how they ended up in Wyoming.” Wendy brushed her fingers over the fuzzy leaves.

“How’d you know what they were?”

“Call it coincidence or divine intervention, my grandfather had an oil painting of them above his fireplace in the eighties. When he was stationed in Germany during the war, he’d heard all these stories about this little star-shaped flower. Soldiers would climb high up into the mountains to find them. They grow in the harshest places, sometimes even right on rocks. The journey to get them was hard. A lot of guys didn’t finish the trip, but if they did, they got to pin one of these to their uniforms. A symbol of true bravery,”

You admired the flowers again. Now even a smile crossed your face.

Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, “and I figured, hell… if they can survive on the top of the Alps and in this nightmare of an apocalypse, Jesse finding ‘em wasn’t no mistake. Maybe we’re lucky here in Jackson.”

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mcflymemes · 8 months

Text

"YOU CAME BACK FOR ME!" PROMPTS * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

[name]? what are you doing here?

nothing could ever take me away from you.

i thought you said you would never return.

i fought to find you again.

what made you change your mind?

it was a mistake to leave your side.

you came back for me. i knew you would.

i can't believe you're here, right in front of me.

[name], in the flesh. i never thought i'd see the day.

i was hoping you'd hear my call.

i never should have left you in the first place.

what took you so long?

i had a feeling you couldn't stay away.

promise me you'll never leave again.

[name]? it can't be.

you shouldn't have to deal with this mess on your own.

i'm real. touch my hands. i'm right here.

you're not dreaming. i came back.

come a little closer. let me see you.

am i dreaming? pinch me.

i should have known you'd end up in some trouble.

it is you! you came back!

i waited and hoped and prayed you'd return.

they told me you'd never come back here.

you showed up just in the nick of time.

i thought you'd never show up!

you actually came back for me.

so you do care after all.

let me get a good look at you.

we've gotta stop meeting like this.

something told me i should go back there and find you.

i'm sorry i keep touching you, i just can't believe you're really here.

this is a dream. you're not real.

i thought you were dead. i saw you die.

how did you know i was in danger?

you're the problem! i just can't stay away!

there's always been something about you that pulls me right back here every time.

i just couldn't get you off my mind.

it was as if i could hear you calling for me.

you visited me in my dreams every night, and that's how i knew.

leaving you was a terrible mistake.

i don't believe it. [name]? really?

will you ever forgive me for leaving you?

you shouldn't have to fight this alone.

i told you not to come back for me.

you're wasting your time coming here to find me.

did you just throw yourself into danger to get me to save you?

now i'm being tortured with visions pretending you're back.

what are you doing here? this is some cruel joke.

#mcflymemes #dramatic prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mine

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moonchildstyles · 1 year

Text

élan

élan part one: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone

wordcount: 18.5k+

cw: her dad is really mean tbh!! pls skip parts w him if you are senstive to that kind of thing!

—————

(Y/N) fought to keep her eyes focused in the dark of her father's office. The longer she sat there, listening to the shout of his voice, the easier it was to block it out as she waited for it to be over. She stopped listening when he went off on his tangent about how terrible she was (he loved to use the word selfish and anything he could think of to diminish her intelligence). He wasn't very creative anymore, these berating sessions feeling like a necessary task as opposed to a hurtful punishment these days.

At least the interior designer he brought in last month had moved everything around, leaving his bookshelf behind his desk. This way, she could look over his shoulder and read the titles of his books. She was almost certain he hadn't read a single volume though he most likely told everyone that followed him in, that he had paged through each book more than once.

"Are you even listening, (Y/N)?"

Perking up at the sound of her name, she nodded on instinct. "Mhm," she hummed absently.

"What did I just say?" He was unimpressed—disbelieving.

(Y/N) stayed silent.

A heavy sigh fell from her father's lips. His eyes dimmed fro the angry fire she'd spotted before, leveling to disappointed embers the longer he looked at her.

"This is what I mean, (Y/N)," he continued, harshly spitting out her name, "You don't care. Never have you thought about the consequences to your actions. You're too selfish to think of anyone but yourself!" The blaze sparked up once more as he flicked his gaze to the glossy tabloid splayed across his desk. "Can you even comprehend what this"—he gritted out the word, tapping his finger against the photo—"means for me? My investors are going to have my ass only Monday because you don't know how to control yourself for five minutes."

She squirmed in her spot. Her gaze stayed locked on the tabloid cover. She was pictured with bitter features, her brows twisted in anger and eyes were ablaze. Her hand was outstretched as she dumped a full glass of rosé on Damien Moore's perfect, blonde head. Several angles were posted, documenting her gaped lips as she spat out venomous words while Damien looked on with seemingly innocent, wide blue eyes. The last in the series showed her walking out with the wine dripping down his features as he looked on in shock. A bold headline said: "Whore-mones or Another Drunken Rage?"

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the scene in.

Perfectly manicured nails clashed in her lap, the edges of her acrylics being worn dull from the restless ministrations.

"Do you want me to fail?" her father prodded, unsatisfied with her silence.

"It's not what it looks like—," she floundered, unable to keep her feelings out of it after looking at those photos, "He—Damien—"

"It does not matter what happened, (Y/N)! This is what it looks like and that is what people are going to believe and what they are going to care about!" He seethed as he looked at her, (Y/N) unsurprised. "You're going to make us lose everything if you keep this up, do you understand that? Your apartment, everything you have in Paris, your stupid shopping sprees—you'll actually have to work if you want any of that. Did you think of any of that?"

His harsh words slipped around her, filling every breath of air she pulled into her lungs. Any fight she had, any want to defend herself or give any kind of explanation, left her in an instant. "No," she answered, resigned.

"I didn't fucking think so. You never think, anyway."

(Y/N) just looked over his shoulder. Her gaze didn't shift even as his voice continued on, droning with insults and degrading remarks.

She hadn't even known she was being photographed that day. There wasn't a single flash or shutter of a camera. The restaurant had even gone out of their way to assure them that no one would be able to slip inside without a reservation or loiter along the sidewalk in wait.

But, inside sources and photographers always found a way, she supposed. Especially since it wasn't just her, it was her and Damien Moore on something that looked like it could have been a date. Of course paparazzi were going to find a way to get a photo of them together—anything to help fuel the rumors filling gossip pages and social media.

This particularly source even went so far as to claim they were close enough to overhear the argument that sparked the thrown wine. Supposedly, (Y/N) had been seeing someone behind Damien's back (something that was impossible given the fact she had Damien weren't even talking like that, let alone in an exclusive relationship), and when he confronted her she blew up. She was so hopped up on her "whore-mones" as the headline so eloquently put it, and the obviously unfinished glass of wine, that she just had to throw the drink in his face.

Because of course it was (Y/N)'s fault. Never could it have anything to do with Damien. He was the sterling Yale grad that came from the perfect family, while she was the "party girl" with divorced parents and a wild past. It was always going to be her fault, because that was more interesting than checking your sources.

At least, that's what the "journalists" and "sources" said.

It came with the territory, her dad had told her when she was freshly sixteen and photographers started waiting outside her private school. If you wanted to make the kind of money he made and be important in this world, there was going to be consequences, that's what he'd said when he saw the first photos of her and her friends having lunch on the quad. She was a pretty girl, anyway, of course there were going to be photos taken of her. She might as well take advantage of it instead of whining.

She became a tabloid bunny before she had even turned eighteen, with every misstep documented on the internet and whatever publication bought the photos as exclusives. Because of that, this lashing was nothing to her. She'd "poorly reflected the family image" enough time to let her dad's words roll off of her.

Her father was going to probably send her to the home in Malibu or whatever vacation rental was farthest from New York until he could stomach seeing her again. She'd happily take whatever location; it wasn't like she wanted to see him either.

"(Y/N), we can't keep doing this." Finally focusing her gaze, she saw her father sitting with his eyes sealed closed, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't keep doing this."

As much as she was numb to moments like these, it was when his anger melted away and she was left with a disappointed father that she felt cracks appear in her walls. The little girl inside still ached to see her daddy so upset with her; so disappointed he couldn't even look at her.

"I'm sorry," she offered, something genuine lying beneath the deadpan tone.

"I'm sure you are," he sighed, "But, that's not enough anymore."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, lipgloss smearing across her pout, she stayed quiet.

"At this point, it's like you need a babysitter again. You can't be left by yourself and expected to behave."

Not this again, she wanted to grumble. Her last "babysitter" was nothing more than an uppity handler that cared more about PR rather than her actual well being.

Beginning to shake her head, (Y/N) tried to politely decline before he steamrolled over her.

"I'm going to have to hire someone, whether you want it or not. A bodyguard, a handler, or something, just to follow you around and keep you out of trouble."

Her lashes fluttered as her eyes widened at his plan. Her last handler didn't do more than text her throughout the day and meet with her once a week. He wanted someone on her back all the time?

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

He still wouldn't look at her as he spoke, "Since you keep acting like a child, that's how I'm going to have to treat you."

A slight panic sparked in the pit of her stomach. If she couldn't have her freedom, then what was any of this for? None of this—putting up with her father, allowing him to jerk her around, take his berating—was fucking worth it, then.

"Dad, seriously," she tried again, her hands beginning to shake, "Those pictures aren't what it looks like, I promise."

"And the others?" he asked sharply, whipping his gaze to match hers intently, "The one with you and Francesca sneaking out of a club at three in the morning when you were nineteen? The one of you screaming at Terra at her birthday party? Or, of course, the clips of you showing off your underwear while getting out of some random man's car?"

(Y/N) shut down at the mention of her most famous and well photographed mistakes. He never bothered to get her side of the story to those photos either, he just liked to bring them up to taunt her. He'd rather believe an "insider" over his daughter. It didn't matter that she was his family. It only mattered what his investors thought, or the men at the country club, or whoever he was trying to cozy up to for his benefit. Every attempt to clear her name was thrown out; not even when she showed him that one of these insiders had found her home address and started sending her letters. Not even when she told him she was beginning to get scared did he even pretend to care.

"That's what I thought," her father continued after she left them in silence, "Now, I'm going to have to hire someone to ensure you don't keep causing trouble, and you are going to respect them. If you want any chance of me letting this go, you're going to respect them more than you apparently respect me."

She stayed quiet. There wasn't anything she could add to this.

"Is there anything you want to say?" he pressed. A faux offer of debate.

(Y/N) only shook her head.

"Fine," he spat out, "Then go to bed. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

She was up and out of her seat immediately, not wasting a single second before her Dior heels were rapidly clacking over the cherrywood floors of her father's office. Her eyes were on the ground, watching the transition between the wood to the sparkling marble throughout the rest of the flawless Upstate mansion. Everything was high-end and fine, perfect and unburdened. It was full of everything her dad wanted her to be but she could never manage to be as well behaved as a lamp or as quiet as a Persian rug.

Trailing through the labyrinth of staircases and sealed doors, (Y/N) beelined to her childhood room. It was left exactly how it had been when she moved out at nineteen. It had way too much gold and hidden compartments her friends made to hide liquor for their slumber parties. Her bed was too big with a mattress that was too stiff and sheets too starchy from disuse.

Her dad never bothered to clear it out or even change a single piece of furniture—not because he cared or wanted her to have a space in his life, but because he didn't think of her enough to even remember this was here.

Shedding her Chanel sweater and dropping her skirt to puddle at her feet, (Y/N) dressed down to her undergarments before stealing an oversized shirt from a film festival she and Francesca had been invited to at seventeen. The fabric was soft and worn as it fell to the middle of her thighs, the fit slouching and stretched just like it was all those years ago.

That was all the comfort she could find as she slipped into bed, the sheets dragging across her bare legs. With her head cushioned by an overstuffed pillow, (Y/N) shuttered her eyes as she laid of on her back. Taking in deep breaths, she did her best to keep herself from shedding any tears.

There wasn't a single reason she should cry over her father. There was nothing there for her to be upset over; none of his words sliced the way he thought they did, that father-daughter bond having been severed when she was way too young. Her efforts were better utilized trying to figure out how to get out of this whole thing.

Aside from the fact she didn't want a handler—or whatever this babysitter's official title would be—following her around, she needed her freedom. Having the space away from her father's world was the only thing keeping her sane, even if she was barely hanging on.

She'd been suffocated enough of her life, she needed to find a way to get this pair of strangling hands off of her neck sooner rather than later.

—————

"He literally arranged a flight for me to meet him in Greece, but he only ever messages me after ten like I'm a booty call or something."

Francesca's babbling complaints were some of her favorite things. It was fun hearing what the biggest problems in her life were, as if it was really such a bad thing to have a billionaire entertaining a romance with you. Even if it only occurred after ten p.m.

"Isn't there a time difference between here and Greece?" (Y/N) asked, the Prada and Dior bags in the crook of her elbow brushing against each other as she raised her hand to flick a strand of hair off of her shoulder. Summer was beginning to fall over the city, that much she could tell from the humid breeze twirling around them.

"I mean sure, but that's not the point," Fran argued, breathing out a frustrated sigh, "It's like he doesn't think I'll ghost him if he starts annoying me. He's not the only one with a yacht, you know."

"I know, bu—"

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag, the device rattling against her lipgloss tube. Francesca paused her story, watching as (Y/N) pulled her phone out of her bag. Clocking the name on the screen, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. There had already been a photographer taking photos of them through the windows of Prada and she wasn't sure if they'd followed, but a picture of her rolling her eyes before answering the phone would surely be spun into something sensational.

"Hold on, it's my dad," she mumbled before pressing the phone to her ear.

Without waiting for a greeting, her father brightened through the receiver with a call of her name. "(Y/N)! Are you still out with Francesca?" She could hear his smile through the phone. The investor meeting must have gone better than he thought.

"Yeah," she answered absently, "We just finished lunch and shopping. I think we're going to go back to my apartment before we go out tonight. Why?"

"Would you be able to come home this afternoon, instead? There's someone I want you to meet."

The lax in her muscles evaporated at his words. Though it was posed as a question, she knew there was only one answer he would accept. It was never a good thing when he wanted her to meet someone, but it was a required thing she'd learned. More often than not, he wanted her to meet an investor's son, or some man he drank too much with at the country club.

Cautiously, she asked, "Who is it?"

"It's a surprise," he beamed over the phone, "Drop off your things and I'll have one of the drivers come to pick you up."

"I mean, I think Franny actually made reservations at—"

This time around, her father's voice had a curt edge underneath the faux sweetness he started the call with. "I think you're going to have to tell Francesca that you need to reschedule, sweetie," he said, voice too pleasant, "I need you to come home tonight."

Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) resigned herself to the change in the day's plans. "Okay, dad," she muttered.

"See you soon, honey! Love you!"

(Y/N) didn't bother to reciprocate his performance, instead just hanging up. He wouldn't shout at her over the dropped call if someone else was present anyway, might as well take advantage she decided.

Beside him, Francesca looked at her with a matching pout. "You have to go home, huh?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathed, dropping her phone back into her purse as they crossed the busy intersection, "My dad wants me to meet one of his friends or something."

Francesca affectionately bumped against Y/N's shoulder as the car taking them back to her apartment came into view. "Well, if you don't like this one, send me his number and I'll take him off your hands. Just make sure he also has a yacht in Greece."

Though her features stretched into a smile with a bubbling laugh, (Y/N) wasn't too impressed with Francesca's comment. While she was the best friend (Y/N) had ever had, the only person that knew much about what happened at home and why she would do next to anything to avoid her father, Francesca didn't get it. She supported (Y/N) and didn't mind being the listening ear and the shoulder to lean on, but she never really understood why certain things bothered (Y/N). Everything was very light-hearted in Franny's eyes—there was never a reason not to be receptive if a rich man wanted to buy her a drink or a company wanted to use her likeness without permission. Everything was an opportunity, not a crossed boundary.

"I doubt he will," (Y/N) played along, setting her shopping bags at her feet after climbing into the black car, "But I'll make sure to put in a good word for you in case he has one in Florence."

Francesca's laugh filled the cab of the car though (Y/N) was already back home with her father, trying to navigate her way out of whatever he planned.

—————

"Thank you, Sully," (Y/N) chirped as her driver helped her step out of the car.

"My pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he offered, waiting for her to steady herself over the gravel of her father's long driveway, "Also, I wanted to say thank you again for the clothing you passed on to my daughter. She loved her prom dress and is already asking her mom if she can get it preserved so she can keep it forever. Thank you for taking the time and picking some things out for her—it made her night."

"Of course," she bubbled, allowing Sully to escort her to the front door of the mansion, "I'm so happy she liked any of it! Let me know if she needs anything else for graduation or anything at all."

The smile on his face made it especially worth it to let go of her favorite vintage Dior gown.

Waving goodbye to Sully, (Y/N) stepped over the threshold of the front door, already regretting not fighting harder to get out of this. Goosebumps touched her skin as the temperature dropped. She shut the warmth outside behind her, the lock ensuring nothing comforting could follow her into the lion's den.

Despite the place being her childhood home, there was nothing left for her here, she knew that. It barely even resembled the same place she used to celebrate holidays and share tense family dinners in. Her dad's favorite interior designer had the pleasure of redecorating the place every few years, erasing anything that made it not look like a catalogue.

Her heels clicked over the floors as she made her way up to his office. She wanted to take her time, but she was sure her father already knew she was there. It was better to refrain from keeping him waiting.

Scaling the stairs, she heard a pair of voices and distant laughter. She didn't need to see the space to know her dad had probably cracked open the decanter of whiskey he had on display on one of his shelves, crystal glasses filled for the both of them. It wasn't hard to imagine the kinds of lines her dad would offer in an attempt to schmooze with whoever was waiting for her. She'd heard it all dozens of times at this point.

The other voice, though, took her by surprise. This one was too deep and mature to be any kind of investor's son, and too sober and untainted by years of smoking cigars to be one of the men at the country club. Her steps slowed some. Her expectations shifted as she trailed down the hallway in the direction of the office, heels muffled by the long rug under her feet.

With the heavy door to his office in front of her, (Y/N) carefully knocked on the panel, listening as the voices inside stilled at her disruption. Typically, her father would just grunt a permission of entrance or already be raging when she stepped over the threshold, but she knew he was committed to whatever show he was putting on when he opened the door for her himself.

"(Y/N), sweetie," he greeted her, toothy smile on his lips. "Thank you for coming so quickly; I know you were busy with Francesca, but I'm happy you're here."

If that wasn't enough, the hug he pulled her into was more than alarming. The last time he hugged her when cameras weren't present was the day her parents told her they were divorcing. She didn't even know how to reciprocate.

Before she had a chance to screw her head on right, he pulled away and began leading her inside his office.

"Of course," she chirped, falling into her designated role for this scene. She kept her gaze high as she followed him in, feigning confidence in the midst of whoever it was that was awaiting her.

"I have someone special for you to meet," he continued, pitching his voice louder as to catch the attention of the one other in the room.

Around his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted a head of brown hair, black clothing stretched around broad shoulders and tan skin on the back of their neck. They faced forward despite the obvious way her father was trying to catch their attention. Pacing her breathing, (Y/N) fell into the loving daughter character, willing to do anything for her doting father.

Welcome to the show. She just hoped it would be a short viewing.

Approaching the pair of chairs positioned before the cherry-stained desk, her father held out a sweeping hand. "Harry," he said, looking to his guest, "This is my daughter, (Y/N)."

At the sound of his name, the guest—Harry—stood from where he was sitting, moving with calculated grace as he turned to face the both of them. He stepped away from the cushioned seats, a stoic expression on his features as he looked towards her.

He wore all black down to his shoes, standing taller than her father's height. His arms and chest were thick with muscle, tan skin and tattoos littering the space. He had beetles and mermaids, hearts and roses inked across, some sketches more faded than others. A cross had even been needed into his hand. The chain of a necklace glimmered in the lowlight though any pendant that may be attached were hidden under the neckline of his top. Moving up the column of his throat, his face was made of hard planes and sharp angles. His nose was strong and straight. Stubble shown blonde in the light across the bottom half of his face, a mole off to the side of his mouth. Everything softened as she matched his eye contact, mossy jade with sparkles of sunlight flecked through. Long curling lashes framed his gaze.

He was gorgeous, that's for sure. Not the usual kind of person her father associated with. He must be some kind of new money millionaire, easily fooled by her father's charms.

The man took her in as well, his gaze observant as if there was a notepad he had in his head to take down every detail of her. It didn't feel like the affectionate gaze she'd felt before tracing down her body. Especially with the way his practiced expression stayed level, a wall hidden behind his eyes.

Nonetheless, she kept her facade up and ready, a beaming smile on her face. She reached out her delicately manicured hand, palm smelling of the Miss Dior cream she'd rubbed over her hands on the car ride over.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she greeted, a mild smile on her face.

His grip was strong as he grabbed her hand, palm to palm with callouses matching the soft parts of her own. "Likewise."

(Y/N) couldn't help but to recoil some as she retracted her hand. It wasn't a new reaction, especially some people who met her after reading too much into the tabloid stories and anonymous blogs. Half the time strangers waited for her to drunkenly blow up on them. Though it wasn't a typical reaction from those who requested to meet her.

Her father didn't seem to pay any mind to the chilled interaction, rounding the width of his desk to take his throne on the other side, leaving (Y/N) and Harry to settle beside each other across from him.

"Remember when we decided you wanted extra guidance, (Y/N)?" her dad asked, bleached white smile on his face, "After everything with Damien recently?"

Ice touched her spine as she took in his sticky sweet words. She knew where this meeting was going now.

As much as he tried to hide behind the "we" words and his fake smile, (Y/N) knew this wasn't some investor sitting beside her now.

Harry was her new cage.

"I remember," she offered, her own voice sounding far away.

"Well," he continued with a flourish leaning over his desk with his elbow propped on the wood, "Harry, here, is that guidance we were looking for. He used to work for Camila and Monroe as their head of security, but he's agreed to be your personal bodyguard until you're back on track." He looked too proud of himself as he spoke. "He's going to take good care of you, sweetie."

Bodyguard.

Her personal bodyguard.

When her father pitched this whole idea and sent her to her room like a child, she honestly figured it would be another handler he would find for her. While it wasn't ideal, she knew she could deal with a handler. She could deal with an uppity woman bossing her around from a distance; she could deal with painting a facade and adhering to her father's guidelines through a handler.

But, a bodyguard—or personal security, as he so delicately put it—was a different story.

Harry would be tasked with following her everywhere. He'd have access to her home, access to the person she was around her friends, who she was around her father. Downtime would no longer be a thing with Harry around—recovery and privacy being thrown out.

Francesca had a bodyguard when they were teenagers. Though it was only over the summers when they weren't away at school, those months he was present were... odd to (Y/N). He wasn't a mean man, but he was always there. Franny wasn't as bothered as she was, but (Y/N) felt like there was no privacy—no space to talk to her best friend about anything. He was always there listening, watching, and anticipating any need for protection. She felt exposed in his presence, no secrets truly secret or downtime when someone constantly had eyes on them.

If this arrangement was anything like that, (Y/N) didn't know if her sanity was going to survive these months.

Despite her insides beginning to churn, her glossy-lipped smile stayed intact with stiff cheeks. "Wow! That's amazing!"

Her performance must have been subpar if the way her father flashed his gaze at her, a glance that hardened a little too much. She needed to be trying harder, was what he was telling her. She wasn't being perfect like he wanted.

"I've already warned him about your history of outbursts," her father said, a stealthy jab at her, "and we discussed everything with Damien. I think he's up for the challenge."

It was an interesting feeling being called a "challenge" by her own father, knowing he must have shared much more degrading comments behind her back disguised as warranted advice. It was all preparation, he probably thought. A proper warning.

She shoved that feeling down—whatever that feeling was called—and instead focused on her role. As long as she bubbled, chirped, and smiled, she could get out of this room sooner rather than later.

"Good," she said, a breathy laugh floating out with her voice, "I'll try not to give you any surprises, then." Looking to Harry, she leaned into her persona and played along. He didn't glance at her once, keeping his gaze forward on her father as if he were watching a movie.

"There won't be any surprises, actually, right (Y/N)?" her father said, a tad too sharp under his act.

"Right," she settled, calming under the weight of the room.

Silence settled over, neither she nor her father plucking up the words while Harry stayed an observing pillar.

This was her opening. If she acted fast, she could get out of here before either of them could stop her.

"It was really nice to meet you, Harry," she said politely, her fingers curling around the arms of her chair, "Thank you for coming to work with us. I actually have early breakfast plans with Fran tomorrow morning back in the city, so I should probably start hea—"

"Actually," her father cut her off sharply, his eyes hardening as they landed on her, "I was hoping you would stay for dinner tonight, sweetie. After Harry and I finish ironing out his contract, I wanted to talk to you some more before he officially started with you."

Instinctively, she wanted to fight him on this. Spending another night here less than a month after the last time she had a breakdown here wasn't on the top of her list of wants, currently. But, knowing there was someone here already expecting the worst from her, forced her to settle. If she talked back it would only reinforce everything her father probably spouted off about her earlier.

"Okay," she smiled, standing to her feet before inching towards he door, "I'll wait in my room then and give you guys some privacy."

While her father offered a small dismissal to her in the form of a stuff smile and a promise to call her for dinner, Harry didn't bother to look twice at her. She didn't waste a moment before she was rushing back to her room. She didn't care if they could hear the pacing of her heels over the floors, knowing she was all but running away from that room.

After twisting the lock on her bedroom door, (Y/N) collapsed onto her bed. Her breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling a little too fast for her head to stay clear. Pinpricks of static began to dance on her palms, fingertips beginning to go numb. A hole began to develop in the pit of her stomach.

This might be one of the last real moments of alone time for the next couple of months, and she was spending it on the verge of a panic attack.

(Y/N) knew her dad didn't trust her, but to have someone on his payroll whose only purpose was to follow her around stung more than she was willing to admit. She wasn't a stupid child despite how much he wanted to believe that.

Harry wasn't there to protect her, she knew that. He was a hired hand to put her back in her place every time her father wasn't there to do it himself. He was another body to crowd her into a corner and suffocate her as long as she kept smiling. Harry was another reminder that nothing was allowed to be hers; her thoughts, her time, her space was to be shared just like the rest of herself.

Besides, Harry might be the kind of person willing to sell stories to tabloids. Who better than someone tasked with observing her every mood to be an "insider"? It wouldn't be the first time a Secrets Edition came out about her.

With her eyes fixed to a knot swirling in the marble flooring, (Y/N) tried to unlatch the phantom hands wrapped around her neck.

What was going to be left of her if she was constantly going to be performing?

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) fisted her hands in her lap, the hem of her Dior minidress caught in the fray. She needed to calm down.

No matter what, she was still luckier than most people in this world. She needed to keep that in mind if she was going to keep her head on straight. She was going to figure this out, and she was going to be okay even if a tiny bit cracked at the edges.

Curling up on her dusty bed, she leveled her breathing as much as she could despite the shuddering of her lungs. Every spiraling thought had to be neatly rolled up and put away.

A breakdown was probably on the list of banned surprises her father had in mind, anyway.

—————

Poking at her dry salad, (Y/N) watched the drops of condensation river down her glass of lemon water. Across from her, her father tore at his too-scorched steak, a side of hearty potatoes and glass of whiskey to compliment the meat.

He hadn't said a word to her since she sat down, instead opting to focus on his tailored dinner while she was left with her pre-arranged salad. It was more lady-like, he'd told her once before, to eat like a rabbit. Leave the big things to men—they needed it after running the world, she'd heard him joke though she's sure it wasn't a joke to him.

As heavy as the silence was weighing on her, she wasn't going to be the first one to speak either. He was the one that requested she spend dinner with him, he was going to have to lead the conversation. That left only the clicking of utensils against the fine china plates.

Suddenly piping up, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to her father's as he spoke, "You're going to have to start being nice to Harry, you know. He's not going away until I say, and I could tell you were being fake today. If you're going to lie, at least try harder."

As if her father wasn't the king of phony facades and fake personality traits. He was the one that shattered that illusion the second he couldn't hide his temper with her earlier. It didn't take much to notice he didn't actually care about her.

Those hours in her room left her exhausted, though. She'd cried off and on until she finally convinced herself everything was fine and none of it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things; that her discomfort and fear was something minuscule enough to be pushed to the side and forgotten. She didn't have it in her to debate with him.

"Yeah," she dejectedly agreed, running her fork through the leafy greens on her plate, "Sorry about that."

Apparently, that was the worst thing she could have uttered with the way her father dropped his fork to clatter against his plate with his grip tightening on the handle of his steak knife. His jaw tensed, lips pinched.

"I don't care how you feel about this, (Y/N)," he gritted out, "Don't think I don't mean that. You are going to show him some respect, listen to everything he says, and behave accordingly. Otherwise, he has full permission to correct you as he sees fit. And, he will tell me every time he has to correct you, so keep in mind that any kind of punishment he gives—mine will be ten times worse."

She didn't doubt a word he said. If this was the kind of conversation he and Harry had after she left the room, there was no telling what kind of person her new security had to be to agree to a job with terms like these. She lacked faith in just how fairly he would "correct" her if his thoughts aligned with her father's.

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, all the fight in her gone for the day.

Her father sighed, disappointed as per usual. "This is going to be good for you," he told her, condescension tainting his tone, "I know you don't understand that now, but it will be. I just want you to settle down and stop giving people something to talk about. There's no reason to act like that if you want attention. You're pretty enough, people are already looking—there's no reason to be a bitch, too." Picking up his fork, he steadied his steak as he sliced off another too-tough bite. "Your life could be so much different—Damien might even take you back if you just apologized."

The ice cubes in her drink slid against one another, melting in her water. "Okay."

Chewing down his bite, her father took a long pull from his whiskey.

"He starts with you on Friday. I told him to take a look at your apartment and make sure there isn't anything or anyone that isn't supposed to be there." His pointed gaze landed on her over the rim of his glass. "I will hear about everything, please remember that."

His thinly veiled threat swept over her with nothing more than a meaningless brush. She kept her eyes on the drip of water traveling down the side of her glass. A melting ice cube clinked against the side.

"Okay."

—————

Phone pressed to her ear, (Y/N) flipped through her mail while Francesca bubbled in her ear. No matter how hard she tried to condition herself to be the same, Fran was always a much better morning person than she.

"When do you see him again? Do you know yet, or is that a mystery, too?" Francesca was a little too excited to hear how inexpressive Harry had been in her father's office. His stoic coldness translated to mysterious heat to her.

"My dad said he was supposed to start today, but I'm not sure. I woke up early and made an extra smoothie just in case, but he still hasn't shown."

The envelopes in front of her were nothing but junk so far, her attention waning.

"Ooh!" Francesca sang over the phone, "I'm so excited to meet him! We're still on for brunch this Sunday, right?"

(Y/N) faltered where she stood, hands pausing on the collection of mail. "I don't know, Fran," she muttered, shifting her weight over the tiles of her kitchen, "I just—... He'd have to come with me."

"I know, that's the point!" she bubbled, "You said he was cute and young, I want to meet him."

"I know, but I wanted to talk about stuff, you know," (Y/N) pointed out.

"And we will! You remember Barry from when we were in school, right? I promise you, your guy isn't going to care about anything going on as long as you aren't in danger," Francesca continued, referencing her security form when they were young.

Sighing, (Y/N) wanted to correct Franny. Harry wasn't going to be eyeing out any suspects or worst case scenario moments, not if he was following her father's directions. He would be listening in and watching her for any and all infractions she could commit, including any topic of discussion that might be considered unbecoming.

Francesca must have picked up on her lingering reluctance through the phone. "(Y/N), please," she pouted, "I know you're stressed and all about everything, but I don't want this to take you away from me. You can still live your life, you'll just have an extra shadow. That's all."

A beat passed before she felt herself resign. "Okay, but if today is weird with him, I might be calling and cancelling."

"Okay!" she squealed out, feeling as if this was her win no matter what, "Just keep an open mind today, and have fun!"

"I'm sure I will," (Y/N) laughed, "Love you."

"Love you, too! Bye!"

With that, the call went dead leaving (Y/N)'s previous scroll through instagram lighting up her screen. Locking her phone, she took a breath to take a sip of her purple smoothie, hoping the addition of matcha and cherry juice this time would tap into some of her stress points and calm her.

She kept up with her chosen routine for the morning, rifling through the remains of her pile of mail. Under a few more loose pieces of mail and catalogues was a navy blue envelope, stamped with silver starts and sparkling script spelling out her name. A faux wax seal laid the flap shut but gave away easily under a slight pick against the edge. Inside was an invitation to the annual 132 Gala—a benefit for the art gallery of the same name—she'd attended for the last couple of years, the dress code detailed out along with an RSVP request. Honestly, as much as she and her stylist had been anticipating the event, she almost forgot about it in the midst of all the variables entering her life. She was going to have to touch base with Dom to ensure he still had an idea in mind for her gown before she made any commitment.

With the invitation being stowed away for later, a few more pieces of mail were thrown in the trash until she reached the final slip in the stack. She sighed when she spotted the familiar computerized script on the front. It was crumpled and creamy as opposed to a clean white. She was sure that if she had picked it up earlier in the week it would have still had that distinct woodsy scent as opposed to smelling like the inside of her mailbox.

(Y/N) didn't need to peel open the flap to know that inside there would be a stack of glossy photos of her along with a typed letter. She knew there would be photos of her this week entering her apartment, going out with Francesca, driving to her father's, and the infamous event with Damien. Some of those photos would no doubt end up in a publication or posted along with a too-long article analyzing her outfit or body language. They always did.

Without opening the envelope to verify her suspicions, (Y/N) bent to lay this letter with the rest in a drawer filled with junk and things she wanted to ignore. After pushing the drawer closed, she wiped every thought about her "admirer" from her thoughts. They weren't allowed to occupy her brain when there were much more pressing things to worry about.

Flicking her gaze to the time blinking on her stove, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. While she wasn't much of a morning person, she couldn't believe her dad would allow someone to start a work day—no matter how informal—after nine a.m. With the time blinking well past ten in the morning and the sleep officially having been wiped from her eyes, she was growing unimpressed with the fact she was still waiting.

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) centered herself, leaning back against the lip of the counter. She knew there was no reason to be upset with Harry, it wasn't like she had any say in his schedule nor was this lag truly disrupting anything for her. Her anxiety was beginning to manifest in ways she wasn't proud of and weren't helpful in any way.

She thought some early morning yoga and a string of meditative poses would help settle her, work out that energy, but obviously none of that had the desired effect. Every time she tried to picture even what this Sunday's outing was going to be like, she wanted nothing more than to hide away and keep from encountering anyone or anything. It would be easier that way, she figured. That way she wouldn't have to explain who Harry was or why she needed any kind of security.

Francesca was right, though. She knew that. Staying holed up and avoiding the world wouldn't do anything to get her father off her back. If it went on too long, eventually her father would begin picking out events for her to attend, and that was always a much worse outcome than just leaving her house on her own.

Breathing the way her therapist from her teenage years taught her, (Y/N) centered herself as best she could with her bare feet on the cool tile of her kitchen. The chilled glass with her smoothie was slick against her palm, condensation dripping down the crystal.

Everything was going to be fine.

A buzz coming over the intercom knocked (Y/N) out of her head, her eyes flying open with her hand almost letting go of her smoothie. A stunted breath exhaled from her lungs as the moment she'd been waiting for laced together.

She knew that was Harry waiting to be buzzed up to meet her for the second time.

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) fell easily into her role of bubbly socialite. She had nothing to be afraid of, she told herself, it wasn't as if he was going to find anything her father would be ashamed of. She wasn't even his top priority, she reminded herself, her father and his company were Harry's clients, not (Y/N).

Pressing the small button on the stainless steel panel beside her front door, she dipped close to the microphone. "Good morning, how can I help you?" she asked as if she didn't already know what the answer would be.

"Good morning, Ms. (Y/N)," answered the doorman from the lobby, the usual quiet settling in the background as he spoke, "I have a Mr. Harry Styles waiting down here for you. He said he's a part of your security team."

"You can send him up, please," she replied, forcing a chirp to her voice. "Thank you, Claudio!"

"Of course, Ms. (Y/N)," was all she heard back before the static went dead. Claudio was always a bit cold to her, but he never let any of the lurkers into the lobby so she'd take what she could get.

The waiting game started again after the brief intermission, leaving (Y/N) in the silence of her apartment. She was suddenly too aware of the silk of her pajamas brushing her skin, the intricate threading on the hem of her shorts too heavy now.

Lucky enough for her, it wasn't too long before she heard a knock reverberating through the door. It was firm and short, matching the man on the other side.

A shot went through her system, a moment of static hitting her brain. She'd gone through worse bouts of anxiety and stressful situations, there was no reason to get worked up over something—someone—like this.

With her mask on, complete with a reserved smile and detached gaze, (Y/N) opened her front door. The hinges glided like butter, welcoming Harry in where he stood in the hallway.

Dressed in all black as she was starting to figure was his signature, he was waiting with an observant gaze being cast through the corridor. This was one of the few penthouse floors in the building leaving a bare space between where the elevator was stationed before leading to her front door.

"Good morning," she told him pleasantly, "Come in."

With a flourish, she stepped to the side with a space cleared for him to step into her apartment.

"Good morning," he said, a slight smile on his features that appeared for a flash before he was back to his stoic state, "Thank you."

Harry stepped in, acting as a dark spot with his fitted black t-shirt and trousers of the same shade against the understated hues of her home. (Y/N) locked the door behind him before turning to face him once more, a pleasant smile on her face.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice even and warm despite how detached she felt.

"Good, thank you," was his abrupt response, no followup about her own well being for the morning. He cast his gaze around her apartment, taking every corner and curve. She wasn't even sure he had properly looked at her at all since coming here.

"Good," she said, trailing off awkwardly into the space around them. What kind of small talk do you make with a member of your security team? Especially one that didn't seem too keen on knowing their client.

Leaning against her front door, she waited as he observed everything. He looked at her couch the same way he had looked at her days prior, as if he was compiling a list of all its attributes and deciding whether it not it had anything of value within.

It was an odd feeling; she typically wasn't so blatantly compared to furniture to her face, that was usually left to the tabloids and internet trolls.

Seeming to remember that she was still there, Harry stopped his game of finding everything in the room. He settled his eyes on her, a pointed look with a small pinch to his brows.

Taking him in for that moment, she was reminded of just how pretty he was. He didn't look like the kind of man that would be guarding the models and gorgeous people, he should be one of the YSL or Gucci models that needed protecting from the crowds of people trying to get a closer look at him. Off-duty model, she figured would be the name of the article that Vogue would write about him, full of street style photos of him.

With the green of his eyes meeting her own, he didn't waver where he stood. "Jus' go about your day like normal," he instructed her, arms crossed over his chest, "I want to learn your habits and your space first, but if you need to do anything out of the norm, let me know."

"Okay," she sounded, voice quiet to her own ears.

As much as she was sure she was meant to completely ignore him, she still felt odd crossing through her place towards her kitchen. She finished her smoothie and had left her blender and other supplies in the sink, so she could at least do the dishes maybe? At least that way her hands would be busy without plucking at her manicure.

Filling the sink with water, she did her best to treat Harry as nothing more than a shadow. To be fair, it wasn't that hard given the fact he barely made any noise as he traipsed around. It brought back memories of the way Barry used to hover around she and Franny when they were teenagers; it was easy to not pay too much attention to the extra body in the room, but her muscles never fully relaxed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him poking his head up the stairs to where her bedroom was, casting his gaze towards her ceiling, catching a view out her various windows as he went around. He was a perfect shadow dressed in black, but he seemed a bit too unimpressed for a neutral being.

Harry stepped into her kitchen, the rubber soles of his shoes silent over the sparkling white granite flooring. "Do you have any kind of security system set up here? Cameras or anything like that?" he probed.

Humming, (Y/N) picked up the rag she placed out for drying. "The building has some of those alarms installed with the codes and everything and there's the guys downstairs, but I don't have cameras set up in here or anything."

Perpetually unimpressed, Harry only let out a, "Hm."

She fixed her eyes onto her pink onyx countertops, tracing the swirling white lines in the faint pink of the stone. Why did he even care, she wanted to ask. What good would cameras in her home do when she was a nuisance outside of these walls?

Watching as he headed down towards her guest rooms, she felt her tongue moving before her brain allowed it. "What are you looking for?" she poked, her question simple as he kept drying her dishes before placing them in cabinets.

It wasn't like she was hiding any of the drugs or alcohol her dad surely warned him about, telling him to seek out and destroy before truly starting his job. If that was what he was toeing around her home for, he was going to be disappointed.

He didn't even turn to face her as he called back down the hallway to her, "Nothing in particular. Jus' noting things as I go; vantage points and the complete lack of any useful security around here."

Propping her hip against the lip of the counter, she let out a small sigh. Her hands twirled the rag she had used to dry her dishes, gaze following after her new security detail.

"You don't have to pretend, you know," she started, saving them both some trouble by starting the conversation, "I know my dad didn't hire you to protect me or anything. He wants you protect the public, and his business from me."

His ghosting footsteps came to a stop where stood down the hallway. He was in complete control as he turned to face her, that usual placid look molding his features. "Last I checked, you were my client. Not the public or your father's company."

"But he's the one that's paying you," she countered, unwavering from the point she was trying to make, "I just don't want you to waste your time pretending to find something to protect me from."

That deadpan look never changed from Harry's face. "'M not pretending, 'm doing my job." He paused only for a moment, his gaze bored and heavy on her skin. "Let me know if y'decide to go anywhere."

That was the end of the conversation as far as (Y/N) was aware, Harry turning and leaving her as he went about doing whatever it was he considered to be his job. She didn't try to stop him again. If he wanted to waste his time, he could do just that. Not her problem, anymore.

Draining her sink, (Y/N) crept through her apartment to settle upon her plush couch. Clicking her television awake, she fumbled through streaming services until finally tuning into a rerun of a cooking show she was fond of. Though she couldn't quite sink into the cushions or yell to the T.V. as the contestants didn't see the obvious win she did, at least he wasn't right behind her.

—————

"No, dad, I didn't give him any trouble yesterday."

(Y/N) could practically hear the eyeball through the phone. "You know he's going to tell me, right? Lying won't change anything."

It was her turn to give a petulant reaction, lashes fluttering as she almost got her eyes stuck in the back of her head. "I'm being serious. I'm not hiding anything, and I haven't even gone out or anything. There's been nothing to get upset over, dad."

The trademark sigh of disappointment fluttered through the speaker. "What's the point of having a bodyguard if all you're going to do is stay home, (Y/N)?"

"I'm going to brunch tomorrow with Fran and the girls," she countered, feeling her blood pressure rise over his argument. She was damned if she went out and was seen, damned if she stayed home and out of the public eye. She couldn't win.

"Good," her father said, sounding all too pleased as if these plans were his doing, "I want him to see how you act in public, then we'll be able to start working on your problems."

There was no argument she was going to give after that. She wasn't going to reward him or validate his claim that she is the problem. Because of course she was; it was never the photographers hounding her the second she turned sixteen, never the men around her that treated her like a tabloid bunny there for poking and prodding, and never him who didn't think to be a father for longer than it took for a flash of a camera to capture the moment.

Dead air settled between them, (Y/N) pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder as she began to collect ingredients for her dinner. Her way of ignoring him came in redirection, instead focusing back on Harry, his new favorite person.

"Harry thinks I should get a security system at my apartment," she offered, hoping the mention of his name was enough to get her father's head turning elsewhere.

The beat that passed after her words showed she garnered the opposite reaction. "Did you tell him about those letters, (Y/N)?" he asked, voice hard as stone.

Her lips thinned. "No."

"Good. Don't." It didn't take much for (Y/N) to picture the way he was surely hanging his head over his dinner, perpetually disappointed in his only child. "Do not waste his time over those. Plenty of people take pictures with you, and if I find out you're having him worry about the one person that's actually a fan of you..." he trailed off as if she didn't know exactly what threat was about to leave his mouth, "I'm going to send you to stay with your mother."

"Right. I won't."

His worst punishment was always to push her off on others. The nannies she bonded with growing up, different boarding schools and summer programs, anyone that was willing to glance at her for longer than five seconds was in the running to take her off his hands. Her mother was always his favorite to threaten her with as if he knew where she was.

(Y/N) didn't bother to listen to him anymore when it came to these moments. While she knew he'd never—could never—follow through with this particular threat, it was more than a little disheartening that he'd consider her calling for help as something that deserved a punishment.

"Well," he started, speaking around his mouthful of whatever his chef had prepared for the night, "if I don't hear from Harry, I'll be calling you to see how tomorrow goes. Don't embarrass yourself, (Y/N). It's not worth it."

"I know," she answered absently, her voice bored, "Goodnight, dad."

"Night."

Pulling her phone from her ear, (Y/N) focused on preparing the zucchini for the pasta primavera she'd been craving. Her thoughts turned methodical now that she had something structured to give her attention to. It was much easier to think when she wasn't firmly planted in her stubbornness and trying to ward off the kind of anxiety she hadn't felt since she was a teenager.

Harry had gone home late into the afternoon yesterday, and didn't return today. He didn't tell her anything other than he'd see her on Sunday morning for brunch, but she had figured he'd have paid her another visit in the meantime anyway. It was an odd arrangement anyway, as far as she could tell.

Stretching her memory back, Francesca's security was always there. Even when (Y/N) would spend the night or go away on trips with family, Barry was a constant shadow. The pool house in their backyard was his, an extra room for every rental or new vacation house taken into account so Francesca was never without her bodyguard. While she hadn't really wanted this, she figured Harry would be the same way—his services a button away in case of any kind of moment in need from her.

He hadn't even taken her number down when he was over.

It had only been a suspicion before, but perhaps her dad really had been honest with Harry: there was no real danger surrounding (Y/N), just her as the problem that needed fixing before interacting any with the public. There would be no reason for him to watch over her as she slept or be available to any emergency that might appear in his absence.

Whatever, she figured, sliding the half-moons of her zucchini into a bowl. At least she cleaned out her guest room, something she'd been meaning to do.

(Y/N) was going to take her time alone as if it were gold. She had a feeling tomorrow was going to be rough enough without a bad night's sleep.

—————

Swimming to the surface of sleep, (Y/N) was half aware of the sound of the static buzzing coming through her apartment. It was far enough away, the buzz panel situated by the door, that she could ignore it easily as she shifted between her sheets with her eyes cinched closed. Brunch wasn't for a few hours anyway, she knew that, and if any of the girls needed her they would have called prior.

Soon enough the buzzing ceased, allowing her brain to fuzzy further and to retrace her steps back to her dreamland. Whatever that was, wasn't an emergency, then.

Until the banging knocks started.

These, she wasn't able to ignore. Forcing her eyes open, she reached for her phone on her night stand. No missed calls or texts filled her notifications, but the time of seven a.m. reflected at her. There was only one person who could be giving her this wakeup call, but there was no reason for him to be here already.

With no contact to reach out to see if it was Harry waiting for her, she just had to trust that the doormen downstairs wouldn't send anyone up that they didn't recognize or who wasn't on the list to be cleared for her penthouse elevator.

Her hair was a mess on the top of her head, tangled and falling out of the braid she had twisted for the night, eyes crusted with sleep in the corners, and limbs shaking from the abrupt pull from her sleep. The only clear thought she had was that she was goin to have to give him the access code to her apartment or a key after this; early morning wakeups like this were something she was ever going to be happy about.

Swinging the door open for him during a pause in his banging, (Y/N) barely looked at Harry before she was trying to usher him in with a sweep of her hand.

"Morning," she grumbled, voice sticky in her throat.

"Morning," Harry reciprocated, "Are you ready?"

"What?" she asked over the click of her lock going back into place.

"I thought you had plans to go out with your friends this morning." His voice was bored as if he couldn't believe he was having to remind her of her own agenda.

"Yeah, for brunch," she added, "We don't have to leave for a while."

"Hm," was all he had to offer in response. Unimpressed.

(Y/N) didn't have it in her to care whether or not he liked brunch or thought she was silly for whatever reason. She was too tired, and her bed was too soft.

"I'm going back to bed," she told him, edging towards the staircase to her bedroom, "You can do whatever you want."

A beat passed before Harry offered an acknowledgement in the form of a hum. He was much more interested in investigating more of her home, she figured with the way his eyes traipsed through the space.

The second her head hit the pillow in her bedroom, (Y/N) happily relaxed into the mattress.

While there was a part of her that felt odd knowing that there was someone else in her home, settling in while she was elsewhere, there were other parts of her that didn't mind it all that much. She'd never felt lonely before, but she also never had known what it was like to have someone else around like this.

Even if he was being paid to, it was nice to her soft, sleep-molded brain that he'd care if something happened while she slept.

That thought made it a little bit easier to fall asleep again.

—————

Standing before her bathroom mirror, (Y/N) sharpened her features and pouted her lips at her reflection. With her hair pinned back and a silky robe draped over her body, she looked every bit the dreamy socialite she pictured herself as in her teens. Except for the wreck that was her makeup so far.

Breaking her pose, she let out an annoyed grumble as she took a closer look at the section of eyeshadow that just wouldn't blend out. She felt like a toddler having a tantrum the way she wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and throw her makeup brush and eyeshadow palette away.

Everything had been going perfect until she decided to daringly dip into a slightly deeper shade than she was used to on her eyes, and now she was stuck with a semi-sweet chocolate blob on the outer corner of her eye when she was hoping for a milk chocolate fade. And, she didn't have time to redo anything.

Life could be so unfair sometimes.

From down the hallway, she heard footsteps glancing over the flooring towards the bathroom. Moments later, Harry appeared in the mirror behind her, something a little more urgent than she was used to in his gaze but just as serious and uninviting as she remembered from this morning.

When he didn't say anything, only tracing his eyes over her bathroom, (Y/N) piped up, "Is everything okay?" He hadn't come to see her once since she woke up.

Catching her gaze in the glass, he said, "I heard you."

"Sorry," she started, dropping her eyes to her palette of neutral powders, "I'm just annoyed right now. My makeup looks dumb, and I don't have time to redo it."

Harry relaxed some where he stood, his arms dropping from across his chest as he leant against the doorjamb. The observations never stopped, even as she resumed trying to blend out her makeup.

"I thought you had people to do that for you," he said, brows furrowing just a pinch.

(Y/N) shrugged, fluffing a creamy shade over the deep mass in hopes of lightening the whole thing up enough to go out for a morning. "Sometimes; usually for really important things. Otherwise, I just like to do it myself."

When the makeup cooperated, anyway. What she wouldn't give to have the hand of a makeup artist here to fix her mistake.

"Oh," Harry sounded behind her, silence settling between them.

Expecting him to leave then, (Y/N) refocused on her eye makeup only for Harry to linger in the doorway. He stood there in his too-pretty glory, watching her as she worked. She felt as if each of her moves were being dissected, analyzed and broken down as if there was a chance he would have to step in. She guessed that technically was his job, though she could argue there might be much better things for him to do rather than watch her blend eyeshadow and bobby pin her hair to perfection.

Once she had her face applied, extra blush and fluffy lashes added in hopes of distracting from her most disastrous shadow look to date (at least that's how she felt in the moment, but she was sure there were photos off er teen years that would love to beg to differ) and hair styled down to the single strand, she was left with her short robe on and her outfit picked out in her closet. Harry's eyes had documented each of her moves, grazing along her skin and observing every stretch.

Finding that gaze in the mirror, she looked at him with a mild expression. "I just need to get dressed then we can go."

Harry blinked at her. "Okay."

That was all he had to say before she was left to head to her room.

—————

Stepping through the lobby of her complex, (Y/N) couldn't help but to scope out the street as much as she could through the tinted glass doors of the entrance. Waiting on the curb was the all black SUV she called with pedestrians scattered along the sidewalks and recklessly stepping onto the street. All she was looking for was anyone lingering a little too close to the building with too nice of cameras to be normal.

She'd always been a little cautious leaving her building once the address to her complex had been leaked, paparazzi having camped out for a week afterwards in hopes of catching her off guard, though now that Harry was going to be stepping out with her another layer was added. She could already imagine the headlines and blog posts that would be made when others caught wind of the fact she was seen with a member of the opposite sex.

Some of her favorites loved to recount her "relationship timeline" as well as call into question her "body count" and how long this new "beau" will last. She was dreading reading those words again; it was bad enough when she actually liked one of those people in those photos with her, but Harry's new job required his presence around her. He couldn't even leave this narrative if he wanted to.

Staying focused, (Y/N) gave a wave to the doormen standing behind the front desk though their stony faces didn't sway. Harry was quiet at her side, allowing her to take the lead as she took them out onto the street, a blast of air hitting them once the seal of the doors was pushed open. Outside, no one paid her any mind, her driver being the only person that acknowledged her with a grin on his face.

"Morning!" she chirped, feeling more relaxed now that he was nearby.

"Morning, (Y/N)," he greeted, opening the backseat door with a flourish for her. His gaze only shifted for a moment to her companion, but she knew he was much too polite to ask for details about any of her guests.

Setting one foot inside, (Y/N) hesitated as she looked around the SUV door to Sully. "Sully, this is Harry," she started, tossing her hand in Harry's direction, "He's my new bodyguard"—her tongue felt odd around the word—"Harry, this is Sully. He's my primary driver."

Sully gave her a momentary look the second he heard the word bodyguard. Out of most people in her life, he knew her almost better than Francesca, so he knew just as well as she did that a security detail wasn't something (Y/N) was in need of. Nonetheless, he kept his polite smile on his face when addressing Harry.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," he said, offering a gentle hand out to shake.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a gruff anchor to his voice.

That was all that was shared before (Y/N) stepped into the car, Harry following behind her. Though she was sure Sully felt the same way she did about the situation, he didn't let any of it show when he took his spot in the driver's seat, his eyes meeting hers through the rearview mirror.

"The new place still, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, please," she answered, a soft smile on her face.

As they started the drive through the city, skyscrapers towering on either side of the street and too many people on the sidewalks, (Y/N) pulled out her phone. Though she was aware of Harry's presence on the bench seat beside her only inches away, she ignored him in favor of pulling up Francesca's text thread in her messages.

Fran🫧

are u bringing your bodyguard?????

jk ofc you are he has to come w u everywhere lol is he still cute today tho or was the other day just bc you saw him for the first time????

As much as she loved Franny like a sister, she didn't really want to talk about Harry at the moment. She knew much of brunch was going to be spent talking about her new security or talking around him as all of the girls were going to be varying levels of nosy about it all. (Y/N) didn't have a lot of interest in starting that trend any earlier than needed.

Instead, she began scrolling through her Instagram explore page full of photos of nail art and cooking videos she planned on looking up the recipes for later. Ever-polite, Sully was the one to break the silence that filled the cab of his vehicle.

"How long will you be joining us, Harry?" he asked, kind blue eyes shining in the rearview mirror.

Uninterested as ever, Harry didn't break his gaze from where he was observing through the window. "As long as it takes for her father to be convinced that she's finally grown up."

It was a callous remark, but one (Y/N) had heard before just in a different voice. It was an interesting thing to hear those biting words lack the familiarity of her father's tone. She'd never heard them like that before.

Flicking her gaze up from her phone, she spotted Sully in the mirror through the fan of her lashes. He gave her one of those soft smiles he'd also seen him give his daughter before. It made it a bit easier to let that remark slide off her back when she knew he was on her side.

"Won't be very long then," Sully continued, tipping his chin up in confidence, "It doesn't take very long to see how kind and responsible Ms. (Y/N) is, despite what all those silly magazines like to say."

(Y/N) directed a quiet smile down at her phone. She hoped Sully knew just how much she appreciated him.

—————

"I'll be back around noon, okay?" Sully said, offering a helping hand to (Y/N) as she stepped out of the SUV and onto the grey concrete sidewalk, "Let me know if you need me sooner or want to stay longer."

Nodding her head, she gave him a bubbly smile with soft lips and warm cheeks. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he answered, squeezing her hand in his as she steadied herself on the concrete.

With Harry at her side, Sully was sent off with a wave from her manicured fingers.

Though it wasn't new to feel eyes on her at time when she was out, it was different to have someone following along with her. His job was to watch her, and he made it known with the way she could feel his gaze stitched to her. He only drifted when he made a point to take in their surroundings.

Was he even supposed to sit with them? Was he going to eat beside her? What was his job when it came to events like this?

(Y/N) tried to think back to what Francesca's bodyguard would do, but she couldn't remember him ever joining them for a meal in public. Barry was typically meant to watch over Fran when no one else was around, leaving those group settings without him. Was Harry to do the same? Was he going to sit elsewhere or guard their table like a circling vulture?

Her head hurt just thinking about it. Harry would do whatever he decided to do, she settled on. This wasn't his first security job, so hopefully he would do whatever he was used to with Camila and Monroe.

Harry pushed the entrance door open for her, taking her by surprise as she stepped into the trendiest brunch spot in the city at the moment. Everything was sleek and warm, glass with golden hinges, wood pieces with uniform swirls and knots. Inauthentic authenticity. Falling into character, a bright smile landed on (Y/N)'s lips, her phone clutched in one hand with her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. The clack of her heels was drowned out by the sound of chattering patrons and a busy kitchen.

"Hello, how are you?" The young man stationed at the host stand greeted her, a dark denim uniform adorning his form. (Y/N) almost cringed for him; she couldn't imagine how hot it must be to work all day in a heavy outfit like that.

"Hi, I'm good thank you," she greeted, feeling Harry just behind her as if he were breathing down her neck. How would he analyze this conversation? "I'm here to meet a few friends—there should be a reservation under—"

Cutting her off, the boy piped up with, "Francesca, right? She and a few others just got here."

Now that she wasn't so distracted by his outfit, she could see recognition in his gaze. He knew who she was and was definitely peeking over her shoulder to see who her companion was.

"That's them," (Y/N) chirped, canting her head as the boy tapped away at the computer in front of him.

"Perfect," he beamed, glancing up nonchalantly at them, "And will he be taking the sixth seat at the table?"

A clear attempt to fish, but not one (Y/N) was going to be able to ignore. "Yes, please."

The way the boy's eyes brightened had (Y/N) already dreading the articles that she would be tagged in across every social media platform, the headlines teasing about her new "mystery man" with all of the sources being an anonymous instagram account known for spreading gossip. Because that's journalism.

"Follow me," he said, waving his hand as he stepped out from behind the podium.

Harry was a ghost behind her as (Y/N) made small talk with the host, answering with polite chatter about the weather while being led through the restaurant. Through the crowded tables, Francesca and the three other girls they frequently went out with came into view. Glasses of bubbling mimosas and an appetizer of cheese and crackers adorned the table, matching that of the rest of the patrons indulging in the brunch rush.

Francesca was the first to spot them once the host dropped them off with a quiet wish for she and Harry to enjoy their food before he was off again. Fran's eyes lit up when she saw her, only for them to widen that much more when Harry came into view behind her.

"(Y/N)," she cheered, gaining the attention of the other girls who broke their absent chatter to turn to face them. Fran no doubt had told them that (Y/N) would be bringing a guest.

"Hi," she smiled, maneuvering around the table to the two empty seats between Emma and Rita, "Sorry I'm late. My makeup was not doing its job this morning."

Emma piped up then, "No worries, honey! We're just happy you could make it. We already ordered a mimosa for you and some appetizers and all."

Despite the girls seemingly talking to her, their eyes continuously drifted to her companion that ghosted behind her. Pulling out her chair, (Y/N) dropped her purse on the table before looking across from her to where Francesca was sat. Even she was pretending as if she wasn't bubbling in anticipation over Harry.

"Thanks, guys," she said, taking her seat with Harry doing the same beside her, "Everyone, this is Harry. I bet Fran already told you a little bit, but he's going to be my personal security for the next few months or so. We're still trying to figure out how this all works for it, so thanks for letting him tag along today."

"Of course," Kita giggled, leaning with her elbow on the table, "Fran did tell us that you were bringing someone special today."

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, feeling slightly exposed despite the fact none of the girls were even looking at her. "I promised him we'd be on our best behavior today, so don't ruin this for me."

The laughter that bubbled around the table was just a touch too melodious, too airy and light. Francesca even made eyes at (Y/N); she approved of him, that much was obvious.

"I'm sure we'll still have fun with him," Toriana said, her spot right across from Harry making it easy for her to reach across and offer her hand up in greeting, "I'm Toriana, but the girls just call me Ana."

"Nice to meet you," Harry answered, taking her hand into his in that same firm grip (Y/N) remembered.

A domino effect started then, each of the girls taking the time to personally introduce themselves. Toriana and Kita were more than a little interested in him, asking questions right off the bat that (Y/N) wished they would keep to themselves. Franny and Emma seemed to prefer to watch, piping in at moments with their own bubbly comments or peals of laughter. Harry, reserved as ever, barely interacted.

(Y/N) didn't know why she liked that as much as she did. Maybe it was just nice knowing she wasn't the only person he was cold with. Even if he did still end up talking to the girls more than he had all weekend with her.

Soon enough—long enough still that (Y/N) sipped through a glass and a half of water, the cheese plate had dissipated to crumbs, and breakfast orders had been placed—the shine of Harry had finally been lost on the girls. The shorter his answers became the clearer the message that he wasn't interested in sharing became. Though Kita didn't pull too far away from him and Fran had eyes on him every few moments, there wasn't much fun in talking to a wall.

The gossip shifted around the table, new topics being introduced as wait staff appeared to refill drained mimosa glasses. (Y/N) was seventy percent sure she saw one of the denim-clad employees pull her phone out and snap a shot of the table while clearing their small appetizer plates. No one seemed to notice the girl other than she and Harry, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the camera tilted in their direction. She wouldn't be surprised if the photo captured Harry's harsh gaze.

Ignoring the snooping employee, (Y/N) tried to tune into the story Emma was sharing that had the rest of the table enraptured. As funny and kind as Emma was, she loved to gossip; she loved knowing things, even if the information had nothing to do with her. More often than not (Y/N) preferred to check out of her particularly scandalous stories, just because she knew what it was like to be the name coming off of other's lips in a spit. Francesca was the same, preferring to stay out of it all.

But, this story caught both of their attention for all the wrong reasons.

"Then, I heard that Christal's parents are separating, because her dad also cheated with one of Christal's friends that got an internship at his company," Emma chattered, dipping her chin as if she was actually trying to keep this information a secret for only the table to hear.

Toriana gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth with wide eyes. Leaning over the table, she conspired with Emma in a hushed tone that was far from being any level of quiet, "I heard they were separating because her mom was paying off her doctor to write prescriptions for, like, everything. Her dad is so over it, so he's supposed to be filing officially next week."

The mention of prescriptions and doctors who didn't care to help anymore stung at (Y/N) behind her walls. It was bad enough speaking about Christal and her family dynamics when they barely knew her outside of nights partying in the Upper West Side, but those kinds of rumors weren't something (Y/N) could ever imagine repeating. Drug use and the breaking up of a marriage—no matter the reason—were things none of them should be discussing when they had no idea what was truly going on.

It made (Y/N) think of her own parents and the years of swirling tabloids trying to figure out just how long her parents were on the rocks and what exactly had gone wrong. It was more than invasive.

(Y/N)'s nails quietly tapped on the table as the attention was placed on her, her voice piping up once Emma finally paused for a breath, "We probably shouldn't be talking about this stuff, guys."

Emma was the first to turn to her with a slighted look on her face, surprised to have anyone stopping her in the middle of her speculations. The remaining pairs of eyes turned to her, Francesca the only one that seemed to match her protesting while Kita and Toriana were just as taken aback as Emma.

Saved by the bell, their waitress chose then to appear with trays of their food in her arms. Bowls of salads and plates of eggs were distributed amongst the girls, Harry's order being of avocado toast though she couldn't imagine him picking off more than a couple of bites with the way he was so focused on the scene around him. The women had settled while they were being waited on, beaming smiles and assurances that everything was perfect, they would love a refill, and whatever chattering small talk was started by the waitress in the meantime.

It wasn't until everything had been cleared away, a plate of eggs Benedict with a kale apple salad off to the side in front of (Y/N), that Emma turned to face her once more.

Now she was less shocked and more bewildered that (Y/N) had tried to end her conversation. "Don't you want to know what happened though, (Y/N)?" she asked, incredulous, "Her parents always seemed so obsessed with each other, doesn't that make you want to know even more?"

"Sure," (Y/N) started, "But, it's a little too personal, don't you think? Especially if any of this is true, it's all probably really hard on Christal. I don't think it's fair to talk about it when we don't know anything about it, and she's not even here."

That expression of furrowed brows and parted lips didn't leave Emma's face as (Y/N) spoke. "I mean I guess, but—"

Before she could get much further, (Y/N) couldn't help but to step in. "Honestly, I'd rather hear about you and your fashion designer," (Y/N) started, leaning towards Emma with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "You haven't brought him up at all, even though you've posted him on your story at least five times now."

Watching her friends' features light up told her just how effective her new topic was. There was nothing—not even hot gossip—Emma loved talking about more than herself.

"You mean Stavros? What could you ever want to know about him?" Emma bubbled, acting coy with a lift of her shoulder and flutter of her lashes.

"Stavros?! You never told me that was his name!" Kita chimed in, filling in where (Y/N) had left off.

All it took was Emma starting with a Well... to get the table submitting again to conversation full of bubbling giggles and blushing cheeks, teases of Stavros's name and Emma's story telling about their time together so far. Even Francesca, after shooting (Y/N) a small smile, became invested in the chronicle of Emma's love life.

Falling into silence, satisfied at the reroute of the conversation, (Y/N) finally tried the food in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry observing her with calculating eyes, a pinch in his brow.

Suddenly, she felt more exposed than when dozens of cameras were posed in her direction. Was she not supposed to interfere like that? Was this new topic somehow equal to the one Emma had initially embarked on?

Honestly, (Y/N) had almost forgotten about Harry's presence when she stepped in and redirected Emma into safer territory, but now she was wondering if she would have benefited more from keeping her mouth shut. Who knew what he would report back to her father with; how he would spin these events.

"(Y/N), don't you know his cousin? That Ferrill girl we met in Milan?" Francesca's voice chirping out her name had (Y/N) dropping back into the conversation, grateful for a distraction from what she was overthinking in her mind.

"Oh, yeah, Ferrill! She's Stavros's cousin?..."

—————

"You really have to go home?"

Kita's over-pouted lips and pleading pulled a laugh out of (Y/N) as she pulled her into a hug.

"I know, I'm sorry," she started, reciprocating her friend's hold, "You know I'd love to go with you guys if I could, but I already promised I'd call my stylist later today."

"I know," Kita whined, pulling away with her hug still around (Y/N)'s middle, "I just feel like you barely talked this morning, and I miss you."

Despite being around them and having spent the better part of two hours with these girls, (Y/N) missed them too. Kita wasn't wrong in that she barely talked for the morning, Harry being a constant, extra fine sifter that filtered her thoughts before she even had them ready to go. It was hard to talk as freely when she knew he was analyzing every single syllable on her lips.

"I'm sorry," (Y/N) pouted, playing along, "But, I'm sure I'll see you again soon. And, if you want, you can FaceTime me later so I can see what you got."

Kita seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling (Y/N) in for another hug before joining the rest of the women who were beckoning to join them as they started down the sidewalk. Hugs and goodbyes had already been shared amongst the rest of them, Francesca promising to text her before she even had a chance to make it home.

With a final wave from the three of them and calls of "Bye, Harry!", (Y/N) was left by Sully's car with an extra shadow.

The truth was, she couldn't imagine trekking down Fifth Ave with Harry following behind her. It was uncomfortable enough to have him sit and eat with her, even more so thinking about him watching as she chattered with her friends and tried on different pieces of clothing.

"Ready to head home?" Sully asked, hand poised on the handle of the back passenger seat for her.

"Yes, please," she sighed, eagerly stepping in when he pulled open the door for her.

Following behind her, Harry settled in beside her in the back seat, the faux-leather soft under their weight. Sully smoothly integrated himself within the New York traffic, maneuvering around in ways that made (Y/N) that much more grateful that she wasn't the one in charge.

Decompressing, her eyes fluttered closed with her shoulders untensing. It wasn't until now that she realized just how tightly she had been wound during the meal. No wonder she could feel the beginning band of an ache forming in her head.

Breaking the static silence in the cab, Harry asked, "Is it always like that?"

"Like what?" (Y/N) pressed, brows knitting together in the middle though her eyelids didn't flutter.

She could hear the sound of him shifting against the leather. "Like, everything going on at once?"

"A little," (Y/N) admitted, the words leaving on a breathing laugh, "This was on the tamer side. Usually, Toriana will try to debate everyone into agreeing to get a mimosa tower for the table—that's when things start happening all at once."

A beat passed, (Y/N) assuming he was fine with the stopping point of the conversation until he spoke again.

"Y'didn't drink today."

Though it was less of a question and more of a statement, she still answered with, "No."

"Why not?"

Shrugging, her clothing shuffled against the faux-leather. "I don't really like drinking this early—it makes me too tired, so I don't usually do it."

Despite the fact she didn't hear his voice again, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes on her through the remaining drive to her apartment.

—————

Laid flat on her back on her bed, (Y/N) raised her hand to look at the time on her phone once more. The closer the clock numbers to ten a.m., the more she wanted to curl up in her sheets.

Dressed in her pastel pink workout set with her hair braided back and tennis shoes on her feet, (Y/N) was more than ready to head to her pilates class. She wanted to luxuriate in her poses and breathing, get a smoothie afterwards as her cooldown, and live her normal routine. The only problem was Harry.

Though she loathed to admit it, she knew he was supposed to accompany her. Even if he wasn't policing her at home, she knew there were no exceptions to the rule of him going with her throughout her day should she chose to go out and about. That was the whole point of his job.

She wanted to do as Francesca had told her—that she still needed to live her life even if it was with an extra shadow—, but, even with the fact that the Sunday brunch had gone well enough, taking Harry to her pilates class was completely different. She lacked friends in her class anyway, and this wouldn't make it any better. Most of the women already judged her enough, adding Harry into the mix wasn't going to help her case in not looking as pretentious and spoiled like they thought.

Maybe, she could get away with only sending him a text? It wasn't as if she were going to an event or a high-profile dinner. Maybe her dad wouldn't care, leaving Harry to not care either. There wasn't much trouble she could get into while controlling her breathing and wiping sweat off the back of her neck, anyway.

Looking at the time once more, she saw the minutes click that much closer to the start time for her usual session. Her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath.

If she wanted to get there on time and get a good spot, she was going to have to text Harry and move on. Sully was on the way anyway, she had to make her choice now before she had to cancel the car and instead curl up in bed just like she had been for three days since brunch.

The sound of (Y/N)'s nails tapping at her phone screen filled her room as she made to sit up amongst the folds in her duvet.

morning, harry! just wanted to let you know that im headed to my pilates class right now. it should end around 11 and i'll probably grab a smoothie after, so i'll be on my way back to my apartment after that. lmk if you need anything like to get into my apartment or anything like that before im home !

As soon as she pressed send with the blue bubble inflating against the dark background, she locked her phone. She couldn't overthink this whole thing anymore. She had plans she needed to stick to if she wanted to stay normal.

The notification that Sully was downstairs waiting for her couldn't have come soon enough, not when she finished packing her things much too quickly.

"No Harry?" Sully asked once she was secure in the back seat, the morning sun shining on the grimy streets of the city.

Avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror, (Y/N) shook her head. "Not today."

—————

Buzz-buzz.

(Y/N) cinched her eyes closed tighter at the sound of a phone vibrating deep in someone's bag. her breathing came in even waves, chest rising and falling in even measures.

Buzz-buzz.

One of the other students faltered on their breathing, the teacher pausing just a second too long in-between instructions as everyone heard the incessant noise.

"Now, take a breath and stretch into your high plank," the morning's instructor directed, voice calm in the middle of the studio, "Keep the height to your comfort, no reason to strain past a slight burn."

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened with her hands planted solidly on the mat under her. Her back stretched slowly, legs keeping her steady as she fell back into the rhythm of the session.

Until another round of buzzing started, this string clearly from a phone call that was going to be ignored.

The strength in her core faltered with her eyes cinched to a tight close at the sound.

(Y/N) knew good and well that it was her phone that was going crazy at the bottom of her bag, but there was no way she was going to make that obvious to anyone else in the class. She was sure a good chunk of them already assumed it was her anyway, but that didn't mean she had to admit to it.

Instead, she kept up with the poses and the directions given, ignoring the device as best as she could. She was going to enjoy this class as much as she could before she would be forced to renter her reality.

She already knew what kind of notifications were waiting for her, anyway. Either Francesca and the girls randomly decided to start up another group chat, or Harry wasn't pleased with her decision to head out for the day with nothing more than a text sent his way. Either way, (Y/N) didn't want to deal with either of those things at the moment.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would the owner of the phone that keeps going off, please, either silence or turn off your phone for the remainder of the class? I'm sure the class would appreciate the chance to keep their focus without any more interruptions."

Despite her tone of voice being respectful and calm as ever, (Y/N) knew the instructor was pissed. No matter how well-paying her clients were, there was no way she could keep standing for disruptions like this. Blinking her eyes open, she saw the rest of the class on the same level as their instructor: just as annoyed but feigning calmness as if the last half hour hadn't been spent ignoring phone call after phone call with text messages in between.

She couldn't get up now, (Y/N) thought. Not when everyone was waiting to see who the culprit was so they could shoot daggers with their gaze. She could only imagine what the post-class powwow of complaints would sound like.

(Y/N) cringed when her phone went off once more, the device rattling against a tube of lipgloss to make it that much lounger.

Fuck. This was worse than waking up and seeing drunken photos of her posted. At least then she didn't have a dozen other people staring at her in the process.

When her phone went off once more in what she hoped was a reminder notification and not another set of messages coming through, (Y/N) couldn't take it anymore. She had to fix this if she wanted to at least be welcomed back.

Just as she went to break her pose, a clatter could be heard on the other side of the door. Muffled voices broke through the curated tranquility of the studio, sounding more and more aggravated as they drew closer to the room she was in. The doorknob twisted, resistance found on the other side when a clear "Sir!" was called through.

A beat later, that resistance was broken, Harry barreling through the door. With a furrow pinching his brow and a blaze in his eyes, he looked just as bitter and grumpy as a stereotypical bouncer and not the seasoned security detail he was. His usual uniform of all black was crumpled and creased with his hair a mess on the top of his head.

"Sir, there is a class in session!" A voice (Y/N) recognized from the front desk of the studio burst in behind him. Harry didn't flinch back for even a second.

The second his gaze landed on her, his jaw hardened. "(Y/N)," he gritted out her name, "Come here, now."

Having crumbled from her pose to sit with her legs folded underneath her, (Y/N) felt stuck where she sat. She could practically spot steam coming from the top of Harry's head. Her skin heated when she felt others' eyes land on her.

This was definitely much, much worse than if she had just answered her phone.

"Harry," she started, unsure of what exactly she was going to say but feeling as if she needed to say something anyway.

His nose flared. "Sully is waiting outside. Let's go."

There was a finality in her tone that had her scrambling to collect her things as soon as possible. The room was silent as she messily rolled her mat and clumsily stepped into her shoes.

A mumbled thank you was offered to the silent instructor as she passed, a matching apology being told to the class though she was sure both sentiments fell on deaf ears. (Y/N) was definitely going to have to switch studios again.

She wasn't surprised to see the rest of the studio having fallen in line, patrons and classes quiet and paused after the ruckus caused on her behalf. (Y/N) could only imagine the photos others snapped of her following after Harry like a puppy with her tail between her legs. She already knew what this was going to look like—the loud scene as well as following after Harry the way she was.

Sully didn't say anything when (Y/N) quickly slipped into the backseat, Harry coming after with a loud slam of the door behind.

The interior was almost humid with the way Harry fumed beside her, his arms a tight cross over his chest and his jaw anchored closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way his fingers were curled into fists under the shelter of his arms.

(Y/N) felt silly to be sitting there with her cardigan and leggings, hands in her lap like a reprimanded child.

The silence stretched on as Sully pulled away from the curb, routing directly back to her apartment without question.

It wasn't until there was a stop in the traffic that any of them dared to speak a single word. Of course, it was Harry.

"I don't know what you were thinking this morning," he started, voice deceptively calm, "But, you almost cost me my job with that stunt."

Staying quiet, she didn't know what to say. Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it like that when she left without him this morning. She had only been considering the pit in her stomach and how much she hadn't wanted to disrupt her own life. She acted just as selfish as she was sure Harry thought her to be at her core.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the way Harry's gaze on her profile sharpened. She kept her eyes on her hands.

"I thought we had a good understanding after this weekend, but I think I need to make a few things especially clear for you," he started, (Y/N) finally chancing a look at him. Harry's gaze steeled when she matched him. "When I was given this job, I was told to go with you everywhere, and 'm sure you were told the same thing. I don't care if you think your fathers's company, or the 'public' or whoever you think is my client, because that is not the truth. You are my client, and if you make trouble like this again, I will lose my job. Because of you."

(Y/N) had never been reprimanded like this before, not as fat as she could remember. Her father's scoldings had never been this effective, even when she was young enough to still care what he had to say.

Her throat was dry as she piped up, hoping to explain herself, "It was just my pilates class. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

That seemed to be the very worst thing she could have said with the way Harry's shoulders tensed with hot air with his jaw quirked. His eye contact was unwavering as he glared at her.

"I knew I was going to have to babysit you, but I didn't think it would be this much of a problem. Going forward, I do not care where you are going, I am going with you. I know you don't want me here, so the quicker you follow this and get over whatever princess complex you have after getting everything handed to you, the quicker we'll both be free of this contract. Please keep that in mind the next time you decide to go off with just a text."

Harry's tone was harsh and grating, flaming hot underneath the calm facade he was just well-versed with as her own bubbly princess role. He could rival her father in just how much disdain he held for her.

She couldn't blame his perception of her, really. With the way both her father and the media spoke of her, she could only imagine the kind of person she looked to be in his eyes.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) could still feel that sting of hurt.

But, he was right. Now, she knew where they stood. Now, she could try harder to get over her princess complex and show her father she didn't need a ghost and everything could go back to normal.

If she tried hard enough, she could hopefully still make it to spend the winter in Francesca's family's Swiss cabin free of an extra shadow. That was a goal she could work towards this summer.

"I understand," she told him, checking out of the conversation now that she had her own plan working in the background, her own terms to follow, "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't think it was the kind of thing to bother you over."

Deflating some, Harry blinked, his gaze falling down her features. "Okay," he settled, golden flecks swimming in his irises, "Now, we're both on the same page."

(Y/N) quietly agreed with a small nod.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

—————

Without a second thought, (Y/N) stowed the newest heavy, photo-laden envelope into her drawer of the others. She already knew what kind of pictures would be inside and the kind of story her admirer had spun in her honor. It would be the same photos that had been distributed by the same anonymous Instagram blog that always posted them along with the same story that all the tabloids picked up the next day.

According to the internet as well as a few gullible publications, (Y/N) had shown up drunk to her class and Harry had come to collect her. Harry was also no longer her mystery man, and now her affair partner that she had cheated on Damien Moore with. Damien was also reportedly very hurt to be seeing her with Harry after everything that had gone down. Broken-hearted by the ice queen, one publication had been so bold to claim. Blurry photos accompanied the articles and tweets, with her looking to Harry with watery eyes ("alcohol-glazed") like a reprimanded child as she followed him out.

Her admirer had no doubt clung to the claims that she was in a romantic relationship, their own version of events meandering around it all to erase the legitimacy of the claims along with photos of her back at her apartment without him to solidify their theory. While they would be right this time, that she and Harry were not linked in any way but professional, it still didn't make her feel very safe knowing they had gone to the length they did to verify as much as well as send a letter to prove it all.

It'd been days since the incident and one day since the news hit the circuits, and (Y/N) was more than comfortable hiding out at her apartment to ensure she wouldn't have to deal with anyone, including Harry, until her nail appointment on Thursday. The whole thing was more than stupid, full of baseless claims and low-quality photos. It didn't deserve her attention.

The only thing that had truly caught her off guard, was the lack of phone calls from her father. A full day had passed with the story being tweeted and mocked, and yet there was no scathing text message or berating call sent to her phone. This was just the type of story that would have him up in arms and fuming all throughout the mansion. The longer it didn't come, the more she felt on edge.

Her father was built on being predictable, so when he deviated from the norm she couldn't help but to fear the worst.

Ignoring it all for the time being, (Y/N) returned to her kitchen eager to take her mind off things in the form of trying out one of her stored up recipes.

While she didn't usually have the chance to share it with others, cooking was one of (Y/N)'s favorite pastimes—a therapeutic hobby. She liked putting flavors together and the technique that went into making everything just the way she liked it. There was structure to it all—even the bendable rules gave her guidelines.

Especially when she was attending her private school and spending her time in dorms and weekends alone at her parents' home, food was the one thing she could control that gave her a routine. She liked making cute meals and lunches for her friends at school and taking advantage of the illustrious pantry and fridge she had at home. It was easy to nurture her love for it when there was no other outlet open for her feelings.

While there was nothing special she could imagine herself doing with her passion like she was sure that her father would have wanted, it didn't cheapen the love for her at all. It was the easiest way to fill herself with love even when she felt as if everything around her was hateful.

Turning her phone to silent, (Y/N) happily turned on a rerun of her favorite cooking competition show, and started on her own meal.

—————

élan is a French word that describes the sense of a movement coming; the grace with which time moves towards the next chapter

eeeek! thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and please lmk if theres any fun ideas or thoughts you have!

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ataraxiaspainting · 8 months

Text

Just the Way I Am.

Yan Yuji x F Reader x Yan Sukuna.

Synopsis: Yuji is like the sun. His cursed half is like the moon. Both of them hurt you, but in different ways, but neither of them will stop. That mere fact, in the end, hurts you more than if only Sukuna was around because sometimes you think of terrible things. Terrible things like wishing Yuji, who used to always be your ray of sunshine, never existed at all or would die a slow and painful death.

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, violence, and a not-so-healthy dash of not SFW and misogyny (from our dear Sukuna of course).

Word Count: 850.

*~*~*~*

Yuji was not wearing the clothes he usually wore. Instead of his favorite outfit which consisted of a scarlet hoodie and black sweatpants, he simply wore his briefs, sitting on the couch opposite to the bed you had slept in since the night before, loudly eating some beef jerky you and he had gotten from the convenience store yesterday. All the noise was the reason you had woken up in the first place. Choosing not to voice it, though, you attempted to go back to bed. Perhaps that was the wrong decision though, because as soon as you closed your eyes and turned to face the wall, you felt long nails grip at your shoulder, sinking deep enough to almost make you bleed. It was foolish of you to do such a thing, you realize because Yuji only bought the jerky for Sukuna.

Before you could turn around to greet him, the pain went further into your flesh, making you wince.

“Who taught you to be so rude, huh?” The voice was as cold as it always has been, being as much more gruff than Yuji’s ever could be. “Answer me.”

His breath was smokey from the beef jerky but also smelled like rotting food, the instant ramen Yuji made along with a boiled egg he swore was not too old to eat. You try your best not to gag as you start stuttering out an apology.

“N-No one…”

“Oh really?” The voice changed to that of a mockery of something tranquil, something kind. Something like Yuji’s voice. But instead of begging you to stay the night while claiming it was too dark out for a girl to be walking to her dorm room alone, it was speaking to you like you had just done something you were too dumb to realize was stupid. You suppose, in a way, that that is what you had done.

You forgot the very first rule Sukuna had told you to never disobey when you had woken up screaming at the sight of something that looked sort of like Yuji but did not act like him at all, and now you are in for yet another trip to hell itself.

“I told you I didn’t want another brat. I already deal with one as it is.” He lets go, and out of instinct to not get hurt more than you already will today, you turn around to face him. He looks down at you, his arms crossed and shaking his head in a mix of amusement and disappointment. “You deal with him too. You know just how big of a pain in the ass he can be. ‘Oh, [First], let me carry you to my bed! Oh, [First], I’m sorry for hitting you when I thought you were cheating on me, please come back! Oh, [First], I’m not a pervert, but wear those shorts that show off your ass for me!’ Please, it’s all pathetic, isn’t it? He’s just as bad as me.”

Not wanting to get hurt even more, you agree by nodding your head faster than necessary, you think, because as a response Sukuna laughs so loud it hurts your ears.

“Tell me, just why haven’t you left him yet then, hm? Since you’re so eager to admit I am right.”

Your answer is whispered low, though you already know Yuji can hear you, even when Sukuna takes his turn with the body they share. “Because of you. You’d… drag me back.”

“Good girl.” The customary compliments are merely a facade just like this one, no matter who is speaking. His resentment towards you remains intact. Soon, Yuji will also harbor the same fury, as he takes his rightful turn in that vessel they both inhabit. “You haven’t even been promoted to Grade 3 yet. Quite sad, wouldn’t you say? Not that a little girl like you should be a sorcerer to begin with.”

Once again, you nod your head.

“How would you ever hope to survive me, or even outrun me, the King of Curses?”

“I… I wouldn’t.”

Another praise that is just as empty as all the ones before it. With it, the walls of Yuji’s dorm feel even more like that of a prison’s, and this room feels even more small. If these walls could talk, they would tell you to run, or at least you would hope that they would.

“That’s right. So good.” Sukuna turns to face the only window in Yuji’s dorm. You look too. The sun is going down. Did you really sleep for that long? Not that you blame yourself, dealing with Yuji during the day could be considered a full-time job after all. “You fell asleep before I could get my turn. Now, how are you going to compensate me for that when it is fully night outside?”

As the sun descends like a sharp guillotine blade, you and Sukuna share a silent understanding of the inevitable. Your legs tremble at the impending doom, for both of you are well aware of the answer.

You’ll stay, won’t you?

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georgiapeach30513 · 6 months

Text

With Your Touch, Part 3

Summary: you had rules.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: explicit language, teasing, The Verb, grinding, spanking, tension, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd didn’t lie. Being an early riser, you thought you would see him, but alas he had already left. You walk into Lyla’s bedroom, and see her still sleeping soundly. Her little lips pucker out looking all comfortable and cozy. Her fingers twitching makes you watch her a bit longer. Seeing her already relaxed in this very new environment. Unaware of whatever her mother did to get her here. It’s refreshing to think that she won’t ever remember the life before now.

How could a mother do that to her child? Well, a baby. And Lyla is the sweetest little thing. You had heard her cry a few times in the middle of the night. Even woke up. Listening as Lloyd walked to her room and soothed his daughter. The part that got you was after her cries had stopped he lingered in there a bit longer than you thought necessary. Thinking that maybe he had just been watching her.

It is foreign and yet still one of the sweetest things. You had heard about daddy’s girls, and father’s that adored their daughters. But in this world, you’ve never seen it. Why was he so different? And why did his behavior intrigue you so much? And the dumbass brought up your daddy issues. You did not have daddy issues. Your mother did a great job. And you had a stepfather. He wasn’t terrible. But he did treat you differently than your brother.

You didn’t have daddy issues. That much you know is true. You just had a soft spot for…something. You aren’t even sure what you’re feeling. What you’ve been feeling since being in his apartment, but you are going to blame it on Lloyd. It truly was him. What the fuck even was that last night?

Softly closing her door you venture into the kitchen for some coffee. You need it this morning. What even was that? Why did you — feel? That was the weirdest experience. Something that should have made you uncomfortable, or at the least pissed you off, but it did not. In fact you went to bed confused, and uncomfortably turned on. That shouldn’t have happened, and it did. And you’re left with lingering questions that you have no brain capacity to answer currently.

You couldn’t believe that you allowed this man to command you. Not just you physically but also mentally. Because yes, you had stayed up way too late running the events through your head. He made you ramen noodles. You had pasta with him twice. In one day. And now you’re being such a girl and overthinking everything.

But how could you not? He called out your lack of panties. Was he offering sex when he said if you wanted more than a dildo? That is what it seemed. Thoughts run rampant in your mind as you take a sip of the bitter brew. Moaning at how just the smell alone was waking you up. Sleep evaded you because of these fucking thoughts. And he had to know what he was doing. He mentioned spanking you!

Was he on a power trip? Or maybe it was more than that. And you sound crazy again. You were here to do a job, and that’s what you need to do. Hearing Lyla squeak out some cries, you pour the rest of your coffee down the drain, and walk towards her room. Giving her a big smile when you walk in, and she answers by pouting that lip out and whimpering.

“Oh my goodness. Did Miss Lyla Bee not sleep well, princess? Come here,” leaning over the crib, you pick her up. Holding her close to your chest, you bounce the baby around until her little cries stop. “Are you ready to get you changed and ready for the day? We have such a big day, you and me. We’re going to have some belly time, and we’ll go on a long walk in the park. And you’re probably going to sleep and drink your milk all day.”

She gurgles up at you, and even though she can’t talk, you just know you’re going to enjoy being here with her. There is a thing or two you could learn about yourself by keeping Lyla.

“Peekaboo!” Leaning over Lyla, you pull your hands away from your face waiting for her squealing laugh as the cutest toothless grin smiles up at you. Using your hands to tickle her sides before you hide your face again.

”Peekaboo!” She giggles so loud, kicking her feet around. Eyes shining up at you. She is adorable. All dressed up in her luxurious baby outfit that is full of pink. She may look sweet and adorable, but this is already her second outfit for the day, and she couldn’t even crawl. “You are a messy little thing, you know that?”

She laughs again. Clenching her fists together. “But you are cute!” More laughter rings out from this tiny little thing on the floor. Using her body to roll over onto her belly, and she lifts up her head to look at you, “I am new to this, and I don’t know if this is normal, but I want to celebrate you rolling over! Oh my gosh, that is so cute. Do it again,” you flip her body over, and she quickly rolls back onto her belly.

Lifting up to look at you with a gummy smile. “Why are you so cute?” You squeal, laying on your belly to look at her. “I think you are the most adorable and smart baby in the world, did you know that?” Her mouth opens and closes a bit. Giving you a look of pure adoration, and you soak it all up.

“You don’t do much, but what you do do is incredible. And,” you give her a quick boop to her nose, and she lets out what you could only assume is a giggle, “Yes, you are so cute, and you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger. Yes you do. Do you know if your daddy is dating anyone? He’s a bit…he’s different, ya know?”

“Lloyd!” Ari shouts behind his colleague, and the man turns to glare at him. “What are you doing looking at your phone?” The wider man grabs the device out of his hand, and starts laughing as he looks at Lloyd, “Oh, I see.”

“You see my daughter. Now give me the fucking phone back.”

“No, I see creepy Lloyd watching his daughter’s au pair. Laying on the floor with her ass perfectly placed. Imagine she was naked looking back at you with those innocent eyes. Lifting up that perfect ass for you to rail into her,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. Locking his phone as he settles down in the chair in front of Ari, glaring at him.

“You haven’t thought about fucking that?”

“‘That’ like she’s a possession.”

“Oh, come now, has Lloyd Hansen grown a conscience? You’ve got to be kidding me. You got you a baby girl, and now you want to value women? She’s living in your fucking apartment, and you haven’t even tried?” Ari didn’t need to know exactly what happened. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Didn’t say that,” Lloyd begins, but shakes his head no. “It’s fucking complicated, you know? She’s Roman’s spawn. And she has a job to do, and none of that requires bobbing her mouth on my cock. She is there to watch Lyla Beatrice when I can’t,” Ari smirks, nodding his head, and not believing anything that Lloyd says.

“She’s not a whore wanting to be used.”

“How do you know that?” Lloyd didn’t know that. In fact what he did know was you were obedient, and reacted to him. He could feel the heat wafting off you. Could smell your scent change when he set you on fire. The Verb could not possibly give you all that you deserved in any way shape or form. There is no way that he could treat you like both the princess and slut that you craved.

“She’s got a,” Lloyd wants to retch for even saying the words in the same sentence. “A boyfriend,” Ari lets out a long chuckle, framing his beard with his fingers as he watches the usually in control Lloyd. “And he’s a damn problem.”

“Why is that, sunshine?”

“Because he wants to assert dominance over me. In my fucking house! They’re mine.”

“Who is yours Lloyd?” Ari’s mouth turns up into a devilish smile, and Lloyd pounds his fist on the desk. Ari truly didn’t understand the predicament Lloyd had placed himself in, “Easy there. You wouldn’t want to show your dominance by your temper tantrums.”

“Lyla and her au pair are mine,” he speaks through his teeth. Contemplating on the ways he could get rid of The Verb. It wouldn’t be long. He couldn’t handle staying away from you. He couldn’t possibly know what it takes to be a man that has to be away. He’s young and needy. Stupid and impulsive. It was a matter of time before he messed up.

“So you just want to own her?”

“I pay for her,” Ari purses his lips as he squints at Lloyd, “And I sound like an ass. No, I don’t want to own her.”

“You want to devour her.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd is never the one to concede an argument, so Ari lets it go. Realizing there is much more to whatever is bothering Lloyd, and his lingering obsession with watching you.

Just as he starts to speak up, he gets an alert on his phone, and he grabs it up immediately. Having nothing to do with his job, but there he is. The Verb. The ingrown hair on his perfectly round ass. Standing at the door of his apartment while you hold a slowly drifting asleep Lyla. You stare up at him with a bit of fear in your eyes.

“I will enjoy slowly murdering that boy.”

“You could just show him who is boss,” Lloyd places a finger over his mouth as he turns up the volume. He needs to see your reaction to The Verb being there.

You gulp as you stare at Chase. Giving Lyla a quick glance as you rub a finger over her soft cheek. You need to remember you have a child in your hands, and unfortunately she is about to be used as a barrier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you don’t even fully open the door. Lloyd was very clear on his rules, no Chase in his home. “I’m working,” you add in, looking back down at Lyla who had fully drifted to sleep. What could you do to wake her up? Keep her interfering in this conversation that wasn’t going to end well for someone.

“Is the weirdo here?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Fine, is the neurotic nut job that was staring at you like a personalized sex doll here?” Chase had no idea what had transpired between you and Lloyd last night, but you couldn’t forget, and feel a bit annoyed that Chase would use such words against your employee.

“Well, no, he’s not, but,” Chase pushes past you into the front door, and you check the baby to make sure she is still sleeping. “Chase, you can’t be here. There are rules, and…”

“You always follow the rules precisely as they're given,” he falls back onto the lush couch, pulling up the remote. He even turns on the TV. This isn’t going to be good. You just knew Lloyd had cameras all throughout Lyla’s room, probably everywhere you would be with her. Most definitely had a camera on the front door.

“You are always the type to shut up and listen when it comes to a man in authority. Do you know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me,” Chase always fancied himself the smartest person in the room. He graduated a few years ahead of you as a psychiatrist. He always assumed that you wanted him to diagnose you. You didn’t. You wanted to have fun, and let off some steam. You didn’t care about his psychoanalysis bullshit. You were doing just fine.

“Because your father left you. Your mother never took up for you concerning your step father, and now you want to be perfect. Hoping that one of the three will not only notice, but will praise you for your good work. It’s why you took this job. You’re in no way equipped to raise a child, but daddy asked you to. So you obliged, and here you are. Of course he stuck you with some weirdo that was looking you up and down, and all I see is my girlfriend being in a place where she is going to let a man she doesn’t know dictate what she needs to do because he’s become your replacement for your father who never loved you apart from being an accessory. And a step father who loved his son, and tolerated you, and a mother who looked at you like a burden because she couldn’t have her perfect life with her new husband.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? All of that was not necessary. I didn’t even ask for it. You just opened your arrogant mouth and told me, and it's not true,” he throws both arms over the couch, giving you a cocky little grin and it infuriates you. “It’s not. And I told you months ago I didn’t want to be analyzed.”

“Because you know I’m right. Poor little rich girl. You’re no different than the rest of us. Our parents fucked us up in the head, and now we’re doing what we must to survive. Except you have become a glorified babysitter, and if that jerk has it his way, a blow up doll for his enjoyment,” how could he even say something like that? Like you didn’t even have agency on what you wanted.

“The man pays well, but you’re still under the thumb of a man in power.”

“Is this what this is? You don’t get to power me, so you’re trying to wear me down in hopes that you can?”

His bright blue eyes stare too long at you, while you look at Lyla. Despite the conversation at hand, she remained sleeping peacefully. “Put the baby up, and quit using her as a shield. You know that I’m right, and you’re now refusing to make out with your boyfriend because of the man in charge told you I shouldn’t be here, huh? It’s not your rules, but his. And you’re going to make sure you follow every single one of them. Now, put the baby in her room, and talk to me like an adult. Or are you too scared?”

“She wasn’t held enough when she was with her mom, and she sleeps better when she’s being held.”

“Excuses. Excuses, Dolly,” he almost sneers at you when you pop your sight in his direction. “Go on, go put the baby up. I love when we get into our little debates, and I don’t want to wake the sleeping cherub. Go on,” you didn’t want to have the conversation, or wake her up. And with the way Chase is right now, you’re going to have to do one of them.

You spin on your heels, and walk towards her bedroom. Giving her forehead a kiss before walking back into the living room, and Chase rubs his thighs. Rebelling just enough you sit on the couch beside him, but pull the remote out of his hand, turning off the television. “I told you that you shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re debating.”

“No, you are. And Lloyd doesn’t want strange men in his house. And…”

”I’m your boyfriend. I think it’ll be okay. It’s not like I’m some stranger. We’ve had fun this past year. And,” he pulls your legs over on top of his, running a smooth hand up your thigh before he lifts himself up. Pushing you to lay flat on your back while he hovers over you. “What are you scared about?”

“Losing a job.”

He presses his mouth against your neck as you start to melt a bit. Feeling the heat from his body, coupled with the intense tension you still felt from last night you weaken, “Daddy dearest won’t let that happen,” he whispers against your neck, and you throw all caution into the wind. Lloyd is at work. You aren’t doing anything in front of his daughter. He couldn’t keep you from Chase.

Chase’s thigh goes between your own, and he chuckles when you start to grind on him, “You’re always so needy, sweetheart,” you want to cuss him, and tell him to just get a quickie in. Anytime he talks the paranoia slightly kicks back in. Paranoia, frustration, and being horny isn’t the best combination.

“Shh,” you moan, pulling his mouth towards yours while your fingers fiddle around with his stupid pants. Who needs pants anyways? Stopping a bit to rub over his growing bulge while you mewl his name. “Chase, I…”

He has your panties and leggings halfway pulled down your legs. His hand running through your slick when the front door to the apartment slings open, “I thought I gave you very explicit instructions. The Verb goes immediately!”

“Lloyd,” pushing Chase off your body, you sit up, and stare down at your bare legs. Biting at your lip, and looking between the men. “He was — he was just visiting, and…”

“I said no!” He leans towards Chase getting his face inches away from your boyfriend’s, and his whispered threat is more menacing than any of his yelling, “I said go immediately,” Chase looks at you, saying your name, but you shake your head, “Now!”

He screams so loud you can hear Lyla’s pitiful whimpers from her room. It takes Chase a beat too long to stand up. He buttons up his pants, and gives you a regretful look, but you stare down at your legs like a scolded child. Still afraid to move even though you're exposed when Chase walks out the door, leaving you alone with your neurotic boss.

“I thought I told you…”

“I’m sorry,” your voice is meek and hardly audible, and your eyes never meet his. “He barged in on me. I didn’t ask him to, and he was insistent, and — Lloyd, I’m sorry,” he takes a step back from you. Glancing down at your pants, and barely there underwear before he looks back into your eyes. “I didn’t…”

“I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

“I don’t want you to kill him!”

“And I thought I told you not to be out of your room with no panties on,” your body straightens up, and you glare up at him. Daring to make due on the promise he made you last night. “Stand up,” you shake your head no, and before you can count to three Lloyd is sitting on the couch, and pulling your body over his lap.

Your hands cover your backside, in hopes of not being so exposed, but he swats them away. Gritting through his teeth before he holds both your hands behind your back, and your ass as naked as the day you were born right there for him. “Please, Lloyd, don’t.”

“You knew the rules,” his voice growls as he slaps your left cheek hard. “Count,” you stay silent, and he smacks the other cheek, “I said count, goddammit.”

“Two!” You cry out only to hear him laugh. “Two!”

“You missed the first time, so we’re starting all over again. Let’s make this quick, Dolly, my daughter needs you,” smack! You blubber out one, and his hand smooths over the sphere of your ass with a smile, “Good girl. Now let’s get to five, and I’ll let you get Lyla Bee, so we can have a little talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whine, and he spanks you again, “Two.”

Slap. “Three,” this is humiliating, and the worst part is you didn’t hate it. He is giving you more attention than your father or stepfather ever did. Smack. “Four,” it stings, and burns, but when you look back at him, he has a proud smile on his face, and you arch your back to push your ass more into his view.

Spreading your legs a bit so he can also see between your thighs, and you get the hardest slap yet. His hand lingers on your ass, and those large fingers stroke the tender skin softly, “Five,” you weakly say, and he pulls you into a standing position right in front of him.

His face completely facing your exposed core, and he pulls up your panties first. Grinning up at you before the black leggings are pulled up your body, and he taps your hips a few times, “There, there, you did such a good job,” he isn’t even flinching, or looking up at you. He continues to stare at your covered pussy, taking slower, deeper breaths as he inhales your aroma.

“I believe Lyla is still crying. Why don’t you go fetch her,” his voice is so even and deep, showing no emotions as to what just transpired. How is he so calm? “Dolly, you have a job to do,” those eyes look up at you, and his pupils are so wide, very little of the blue is peeking through. Just deep pools of black. Giving him the appearance of being high from spanking you, “Dolly, I need you to get my daughter.”

Giving him a nod, you walk into Lyla’s room, and her sweet face is turned up, and she swishes around trying to find someone that is normally there to comfort her. Been with Lloyd for such a short time, and is already spoiled on touch, “Hey, miss Lyla Bee,” her lips tremble as she looks up at you, trying to calm herself.

It isn’t until you pick her up, and hold her close to your chest that she starts snuggling into you. Calming down even more, “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” Lloyd listens to your sweet words to Lyla as he cracks his neck. You were going to be the death of him. Twice he took things too far.

But he did warn you what would happen if you didn’t have panties on. And dammit you were right there looking so pretty and…he shouldn't have looked, but he did. Delectable is the perfect word to describe that moment. And you weren’t all innocent in it. You enjoyed it. He could tell from the heat pulsating off your core, and the wet spot that lingers on his leg. You wanted him to see your cunt, so he did look. Trouble. You were the devil for him.

“There’s your daddy,” you coo, bringing Lyla into the living room with you, and she gives Lloyd a sweet smile. “Tell him that you were asleep the whole time.”

“Dolly, do you know why I don’t want that boy here?”

“Because your jealous? Oh — um,” you press your hand over your mouth, wondering if putting your foot in your mouth was an option. “I mean…what I meant to say is…”

“I don’t get jealous. I can have whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is for my daughter to be safe. You may not know it because I’m keeping you and her away from my business, but I am a feared and known man. I have many enemies, and people willing to pay millions of dollars to see me crumble. They want my weaknesses. They want to see me tortured slowly. And do you know what my weakness is?” You shake your head no as you look at the coffee table. Unable to stare at him, and you’re not even sure why.

It is hard to even look at the sweet girl’s face that you’re holding. You feel ashamed. You did have the one rule, and Chase was seeing to it that it was the one that was broken. “My weakness is that tiny little girl in your arms. And you by extension. I have to trust you.”

“I get that, I really do, but —“

“There’s no buts here. There are real people who will not hesitate to kill you or Lyla. Do you understand that?”

“I do. But Chase isn’t one of them, and you want me to break up with him, and —“

He is always interrupting you. He never lets you finish a thought before he tells you what is going to happen. “Keep the fucking asshole. I just don’t want him in my damn house. And just for the record,” Lloyd reaches over towards you to get the baby. Moving his gaze to her instead of you. Almost like it pained him to see you. “You deserve more than that boy can give you. He’s an asshole.”

“You don’t know him,” you only feel like defending him because hearing someone call Chase an asshole reflected on your choice for keeping him. It is silly, but it’s the truth. Chase had his flaws, but he wasn’t all bad.

“I heard what he said to you,” you look up at him, figuring he had cameras in the main rooms, and Lyla’s room. It shouldn’t surprise you, but realizing Lloyd heard Chase’s psychoanalysis was heard by Lloyd is infuriating. “Even if it's true, he shouldn’t have said that to you. You’re not his patient, so don’t let him treat you like one,” he slowly stands up. Leaning over to hand Lyla back to you. “I’m going back to work. Don’t make me regret not spanking you five more times. I mean what I say. Panties off in the bedroom. Panties on out here.”

Lloyd stomps back towards the door. Never giving you and Lyla another glance as he hurries out of the apartment. Sighing as he adjusts his jeans. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had dwelling between his legs. He wouldn’t allow that moment to be a weakness. You had no effect on him. None.

Lloyd’s dark gaze finds you as you walk out of your bedroom. Wincing on your way into the living room, but you walk past him and into the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say to Lloyd. You had betrayed his trust. He saw you a bit more intimately than he needed to. There’s a lingering embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, and your damn ass hurts.

Grabbing out the things to make a quick snack, you turn around, and there he is. Still glowering at you. His brow is still low on his forehead as he watches you get out different noodles than the first night. Clearly, you and Lloyd had a noodle thing. “Would you like some butter noodles, too?”

“If you’re offering,” he responds solemnly, and you answer with a curt nod. He won’t apologize to you, of that you’re sure of. You just would have to put your foot down a bit more concerning Chase.

“Where do you all have cameras?”

“Anywhere that Lyla will be,” there’s no emotion in his voice, it's just the factual evidence. You aren’t sure where to take the conversation from there. Standing in silence is crippling. It’s like the air in the kitchen is so thick you can’t even breathe. “How is your, um, your ass?”

You snort as you glance back at him. He isn’t as quick with averting his gaze from the subject at hand. “It’s sore,” well, what else are you supposed to say? It feels amazing, thank you for showing me who is boss. I promise to never disobey you ever again.

“Do you understand why I did it?”

The spoon falls onto the counter loudly and you saunter over to the kitchen island where he resides, and lean over it, demanding he looks at you. He does, but his chin is still jutted up. He’s still in control, “Please, don’t try to parent me. I’m a grown woman.”

“People who say that are often trying to convince themselves of that. I’m not parenting though. I have my rules, and I expect you to follow them. That’s strike one. The only reason you’re still even here is because of Roman,” you begin to speak, but he smirks, shaking his head, and you immediately stop talking.

“You do know how to listen, even if it’s not words, I’m impressed. You are Roman’s daughter, and he has been loyal to me. I really don’t give a fuck about him not being present in your life,” his mouth twitches, and you slowly retreat from him. He stops you by wrapping a hand behind your neck, holding you in place. “He knows who I am, and trusted me with his precious daughter.”

“He was just a sperm donor.”

“And for some unknown reason, I like you,” your eyes brighten, and a slight smile pulls up your mouth, “Don’t get to excited, Dolly,” he slides over a tube of cream, and you glance down at it confused, “It’ll help your ass,” is he giving you some form of relief? He sees you uncomfortable and is offering aftercare. Not at all what you had assumed of Lloyd Hansen.

“I should finish the noodles,” you finally pull away from him leaving the cream untouched on the island as you separate the noodles into the bowl. You slide over his bowl, but remain standing as you take a bite.

“Are you struggling to sit down?”

“I think that’s quite obvious, Lloyd.”

“The cream would help.”

“Then why don’t you put it on me since it was you that caused it?”

Lloyd takes a slow bite of his buttery noodles, and then another. Keeping those cool blue eyes on you the entire time he finishes his bowl before letting his fork drop into the bowl with a clink. He stands up, walking around you as he cleans up the mess you made before his body towers behind you.

Leaning his head around you until his mouth is right at the shell of your ear, “Put it on yourself,” he starts to walk back to his bedroom before stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, “Make sure you clean up your mess,” even though you can’t see his face, he smiles. He still had control. And if you want him to put anything on you, you need to learn how to ask with manners. He wouldn’t be commanded. He was the one in control. Despite the strain in his pants. Fucking nymph.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath. Sweat beads around your hairline, and you struggle to control your breathing. What is he doing to you to make you feel so…weak? Did you actually want him to see your ass again?

“Ugh,” you groan as you put away your dishes, and grab up the cream. Stopping outside of Lloyd’s bedroom when you hear the shower on, and an angry groan. Moan? You aren’t sure. He sounds like he’s not happy with his shower.

If he wanted to ice you out while also exposing you, you could do the same. You let a phone call from Chase go to voicemail. You weren’t in the mood for his games, or even whatever brand of medicine he had to offer. You are sore, and still left —

Wanting.

Needing.

Fuck Lloyd Hansen.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylumasylum @honeylovelyy @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ughdontbeboring @lostinspace33 @abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey

#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man #chris evans #chris evans character

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clarisse0o · 1 month

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 43

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 8k

TW: Violence

Masterlist

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Wednesday, February 3rd; 7:30 PM - Cafeteria

What a strange day I’ve just had. I expected it to be the worst day of my life, but in the end, it wasn’t so bad. It was even better than yesterday. It seems like starting the day in Lucy’s arms was what I needed to regain my energy. To think I had promised myself to stay away from her so I wouldn’t suffer from my feelings... However, last night was a necessity for my mental well-being after what happened with Korbin. I wouldn’t have slept without her. I wouldn’t have passed my economics and management exams without her help either. I have to admit it: she saved my skin again, and all in just one evening. Her study sessions are more effective than Alessia’s, even though I wish that wasn’t the case. I enjoyed studying with Alessia. It had become our thing, but it was also nice to reconnect with Lucy.

Today, since our interaction, was the first day we had a conversation. I thanked her this morning for letting me sleep with her when she didn’t have to. To my surprise, she didn’t even ask for reasons, even though I’m sure she was itching to know. She noticed my state yesterday, and I’m sure she had questions. Maybe she’s sticking to her promise not to interfere in my life anymore. Either way, whatever the reasons, I’m grateful to her. I wouldn’t have been able to give her the answers she was looking for.

On top of that, she seemed different. She was kinder. It was as if yesterday had given her hope that I’d talk to her again. Maybe she has reasons to believe so... I mean, I realized that ignoring her wasn’t the best idea, even if it was necessary to stop resenting her as much. Talking to her again after this break reminded me why I like her, and even if she doesn’t offer the kind of relationship I want, I’ve missed having her around.

Aside from that, my day was rather peaceful, against all expectations. My tormentors decided to leave me alone today. At least, that was the case until now. I’m caught off guard when Korbin sits next to me while I’m quietly talking with my friends. I have to admit she has even more guts than I thought. Her friends aren’t as bold as she is. Her threats scared me so much that I made sure to stay with people all day. That seemed to have kept her friends at bay, but that doesn’t seem to be the case for Korbin right now. She dares to come to me even though I’m surrounded by my friends.

“So, Batlle, avoiding me today?”

“Not at all.”

I’m a terrible liar. It’s true that except for class, we haven’t seen each other. It’s not like I’m going to follow her around either.

“My threats yesterday worked, huh?”

“Shut up, will you.”

I would’ve liked to glare at her, but I barely managed to get that little phrase out. A million shivers run through my body just remembering the position I found myself in under her hands. No one around me knows what happened, so now isn’t the time for them to find out.

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me, little bitch.”

“Seriously, who do you think you are, Korbin? Leave her alone, or I’ll go get Bronze!” Alexia threatens.

“Oh no, you won’t. Right, Ona?”

I grit my teeth in response to Alexia’s pleading eyes. No, she’s right. I can’t do that if I want to avoid something worse than yesterday. I see curiosity in my roommate’s eyes, but I stay silent. I have to keep my cool. Lucy promised me yesterday that she would handle Korbin and then stop interfering in my life. According to her, this is too serious a matter for her to ignore. She also advised me not to fall into their provocations. It’s best to keep a clean image in front of Wiegman if it comes to that. Korbin laughs and pats my head as if I were a dog. My jaw tightens, and I close my eyes. Just a little more patience.

“You catch on quickly, it seems.”

“Shut up.”

“Is that all you can say?” she smiles.

“What do you want from me, seriously?” I snap. “I didn’t even know you before we were in the same class!”

“Oh, is the little one getting angry? I’m just taking away the advantages you’ve been given, bitch.”

“Enough,” Alba says, banging on the table. “Get away from our table.”

“Definitely not. Don’t interfere! This is between the princess and me.”

“Let’s settle this now, then.”

“Oh really? Is that what you want?” she asks me.

“Yeah, it’s what I want.”

“Ona...” Ale warns me.

“No, this situation is getting ridiculous. Tell me what you have against me or what you want me to do so we can be done with it. I’ll do it if it means you’ll leave me alone.”

“Stay away from Bronze.”

Her answer surprises me so much that I’m at a loss for words. So there is a connection to Lucy, just as I suspected. Her request makes me laugh, given its absurdity and our situation. I haven’t been more distant from Lucy than I have in recent weeks.

“What’s so funny?”

“She’s my supervisor, you idiot! If anyone needs to be told to stay away, it’s not me. It’s not like I’m chasing after her!”

Okay, that’s not entirely true, but Korbin doesn’t know that. Since yesterday’s incident, I’ve decided to work on our friendship again. Alexia was right when she said I was being ridiculous by ignoring her like that. However, this distance has allowed me to be less angry at her. It was a necessary evil.

“As if I’d believe you! You managed to break through her impassable wall. What’s your secret? Are you sleeping with her?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, stunned. “Are you out of your mind? What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re a lesbian; there’s definitely a connection.”

“Go to hell!”

“Everyone’s noticed how close you are,” she continues to push. “What’s your secret? Are you hitting on her? Is she in your bed?” she insists.

How can she even think that? It’s not like we’re holding hands in the hallways. Lucy has always behaved professionally here. She even tends to reprimand me when I get too friendly.

“You’re delusional. Don’t you have anything better to do than make up such ridiculous assumptions?”

“Oh! The little daddy’s princess can stand up for herself after all.”

“You... You know nothing about my life,” I spit.

“Oh... Did I hit a nerve?” she asks in a sickly sweet voice. “Does your precious daddy know you’re a slut? Oops... Anyway, he can’t be too proud of you if you’re here.”

Rage overtakes me to the point where my knuckles turn white as I clench my fists. I’ve always been reactive when someone mentions my father. Lucy made me promise to stay calm in front of Korbin, but I won’t be able to keep that promise if she keeps going like this. I close my eyes, searching for an idea that could make her react as strongly as I am. I open my eyes when the truth dawns on me.

“You’re jealous of my relationship with Bronze...” I murmur.

Her eyebrows furrow. I’m almost certain this is the reason for her behavior toward me. Her reaction intrigues me. According to my sources, she was Lucy’s student before I was. I continue with much more confidence.

“It must really bother you that the new girl who came in the middle of the year got all of Bronze’s attention at your expense. Still, it’s understandable that you’re jealous if you have a thing for her. It looks like she’s had time to figure out who she prefers to focus on.”

I smile, seeing the effect my words have on her. It seems I’ve hit a nerve too. I was expecting any verbal retort, but definitely not the punch she lands on my face. The blow is so strong that I fall off my chair. I don’t even have time to get up before she jumps on me. The shock is so intense that I can’t block her next blows, which she delivers between my face and stomach. My rage was nothing compared to hers, which she’s now unleashing on me. She doesn’t give me a moment to retaliate or push her away. I wouldn’t have been able to do it anyway. Many memories flash through my mind as if I’m reliving them. In a way, I am. Everything happens so quickly, yet it feels like time has stopped. I’m in another world. I can barely hear my friends shouting or see the circle of students forming around us. When my survival instinct finally kicks in, and my body starts moving, I realize I have no chance of escaping. The only thing I feel is her weight on me and her limbs pinning mine. But her weight suddenly disappears, and the scene unfolding in front of me petrifies me. Korbin reacts like a madwoman, fresh out of a psychiatric ward, in Bright’s strong arms. It’s like she really wanted to kill me. Someone places a hand on my shoulder the next second, but my first instinct is to shake them off violently. No one should touch me. Not now. I crawl backward to get as far away as possible from my attacker and the person I realize is White.

“Ona, get back here right now!” she scolds.

She tries to touch me again but my fear and anxiety take over, and I involuntarily stop her in a violent way. I’m lost. All I know is that I need to leave this place. I was about to get up, but a presence behind me discourages me. I was about to pull away again, but arms anticipating me wrap around me and hold me tightly against a chest.

“Shh, calm down,” she whispers to me. “It’s just me, Lucy. Calm down, I’m here now.”

My trembling, which had been constant until now, stops instantly. It’s Lucy. She’s here, holding me close. Her grip tightens even more, as if to confirm her reassuring words. My labored breathing worsens as a sob escapes me. She was finally here.

“I’m so sorry…” she murmurs. “I wasn’t here anymore, or I would’ve intervened sooner. She won’t touch you again. I promise.”

In my state of shock and with my throat tight, all I can do is nod. We stay like that for a while, with her rocking me to calm me, until Ingrid crouches in front of me. Her presence makes me retreat toward Lucy. I turn my head against Lucy’s chest, whimpering as Ingrid reaches out a hand. I still don’t want anyone to touch me.

“Let it be. I’ll take care of her,” Lucy says to her. “You deal with the other one. Get her out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Alright,” Ingrid sighs. “I hope everything will be okay with you.”

I can hear her footsteps as she leaves. Right after, Lucy gently forces me to lift my head to assess my face for the first time.

“It doesn’t look good,” she grimaces. “Can you stand up?”

I nod softly. She stands up first and then helps me by lifting me under my arms. I whimper in pain. The cafeteria has become a real mess. Teachers and instructors are trying to get overly curious students to sit down again, while others are dealing with Korbin, who is still struggling. Lucy guides me toward the exit, keeping her arm around my waist to support me. I keep my head down as we walk outside, only raising it when she takes out her keyring. I realize then that we’re in front of the classroom building. The hall lights turn on automatically as we pass through. Without a word, we continue, the only sound being our footsteps echoing in the corridor. We stop in front of a door labeled “Infirmary” on a sign. She also opens this door with a key before letting me enter first. It’s the first time I’ve been here. I wasn’t even aware that there was an infirmary in this building. I walk blindly in the dark room until Lucy switches on the light. I feel ridiculous when she sees me with my hands outstretched, searching for my way. She smiles but says nothing.

“Sit down on the bed.”

Instead of listening, I remain in place as she moves toward the cabinet with the medical tools.

“Ona?” she calls out when she sees that I’m not moving.

“N-no.”

“I need to examine you.”

I back up until I hit the wall as she approaches me. I shake my head and close my eyes. It’s beyond my strength to let her examine me.

“D-don’t touch me… Please.”

Her eyes express sadness at my rejection. I want to tell her it’s not against her, but nothing else comes out of my mouth. The survival instinct hasn’t left. My body and mind reject all contact, whether I want it or not. I hold my arms tightly against myself and avoid her gaze.

“Has anyone hurt you before, Ona…?”

I quickly lift my head to observe her in fear. Her voice was full of doubt, and seeing her now, she must be dreading my answer. I’m dreading it too. Am I ready to talk to her about it now? After everything we’ve been through these past weeks? No. Of course not. I would have preferred to disappear through a trapdoor rather than face this conversation. It’s just impossible for me to talk about this, even if it’s Lucy.

“You know, I never stopped trying to find out what was eating at you so much—”

“Please…” I interrupt her with a trembling voice. “Don’t insist.”

“Answer me…” she continues. “I need to know. Has anyone ever raised a hand against you?”

My fearful gestures betray me as she takes another step forward. How could she understand without me telling her? No one had ever discovered it before. My tears surface again. When I meet her eyes, I know she has won, and I won’t be able to hold back any longer.

“Don’t make me say it…” I admit in half-words.

I’ve never seen Lucy look at me with so much sadness as she does now. She, who had always managed to keep her pity for me in check, has just lost her last barriers. She takes one step closer, then another. She gives me time to push her away, but I no longer have the strength. Not after admitting my worst secret to her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. Do you hear me?” she murmurs as she cautiously places her hands on my shoulders.

I shake my head, fighting mentally against myself. This experience has left me so fearful and lacking in confidence.

“I-I… It was so hard, Luce.”

I can’t even say what I’m talking about. So many things have been hard. My past, my return to life, my beginnings here, these new obstacles, but also our distance. I’ve reached my limit. All I need right now are her arms. That’s why I close the last small gap between us without thinking any longer. It didn’t take long for me to collapse into her arms without restraint and without feeling any shame.

“I-I’m sorry,” I say in a broken voice. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done.��

“Shh, it’s over,” she says, stroking my hair. “You have nothing to blame yourself for… Feli, Korbin, and no one else will reach you anymore. I promise you.”

She kisses my forehead while holding me tightly when she feels me clinging to her. No one had yet discovered what I was hiding. I was ashamed and fearful of what Feli had put me through during our year-long journey. The fact that she said it out loud shocked me. I didn’t expect her to figure it out on her own, even though the fight with Korbin gave her a clue. The images of Feli losing it because of her past and the drugs haunt my mind all the time, every night, without me being able to get rid of them. My brain keeps reminding me of them over and over. I was her girlfriend, but more importantly, I was the person she took her anger out on. I couldn’t do anything to change her, even though I tried relentlessly. I was just there to endure her moods. When Lucy notices that I’ve calmed down a bit, she guides me to the medical bed in the middle of the room. I manage to sit down with her help. I can’t face her now that she knows all my secrets. My fingers nervously play together.

“Look at me, please.”

Her voice is just a whisper. I feel so small in front of her. When I meet her eyes, I realize how close we are. She managed to slip between my legs without me noticing. I take a moment to admire the beauty of her face that I’ve missed so much, lingering on her lips that I’ve never desired as much as I do now. I hadn’t felt this urge since Feli. My stomach is churning just imagining what I might feel. Actually, no. My stomach is churning because I just leaned in close enough to brush against her lips. I quickly pull back, realizing the situation. Lucy, however, hasn’t moved an inch. She was looking at me intensely.

“I-I shouldn’t have,” I stammer in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mea—”

“Shh, just be quiet,” she interrupts, letting her fingers run through my hair.

Her fingers stop at my neck, gripping it delicately, taking my breath away. What was she doing? The answer comes quickly as she continues to watch me while moving closer. I close my eyes when I feel her warm lips press against mine. This sensation is nothing like the one I just felt. It’s much more powerful. It took me a moment to react, to understand what was really happening. Once I gathered myself, I responded eagerly to this sweet kiss, tinged with a metallic taste. Out of breath, she slowly pulls back to cradle my face. Her eyes observe the corner of my mouth where her finger lightly caresses a spot where I discover there’s a cut.

“Did I hurt you?” she murmurs.

Her question catches me off guard, given the situation. She seemed very serious, though. I chuckle, gently pulling on her jacket to bring her closer to me.

“I’m serious,” she frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, idiot…”

I feel much better. Well… if you can call it that. She smiles when I dare to put my arms around her neck. I needed to feel her against me. I missed her. As if she understood the message, she presses herself against me, but she loses her smile.

“Ona…” she begins, far too seriously. “I’m sorry. I should never have pushed you away…”

“Don’t leave me again,” I simply murmur.

No matter the reasons she had for pushing me away, all I want now is for her to stay. She pulls back just enough for me to lose contact with her body, making me groan in frustration.

- "No," I say, holding onto her. "Come back."

She hesitates for a moment before returning. Actions speak so much louder than words. I smile shyly before kissing her again. She stays, responding perfectly to this new kiss, even softer and more tender than the last. My wounds may hurt, but I wouldn’t pull away for anything in the world. Instead, I cling desperately to her sweater, fearing that this might just be a dream or that she might pull away again. Lucy takes the initiative, gently cupping my cheek with her hand. We barely take a breath before diving back into another kiss, this one even more intense and charged with emotion. It was rough, intense, as if it was the most anticipated thing we’d both been waiting for. Our bubble bursts when a whimper of pain escapes me and Lucy pulls away. I quickly understand her intention to check on me, but I don’t give her the chance. I’d rather hold her tightly, burying my head in her neck. My message seems understood because she doesn’t push me away. She just lets out a small sigh and rests her chin on my head.

- "Don’t leave me again," I repeat like a desperate plea.

- "I promise, Princess. I won’t leave again."

She wraps her arms around me to accompany her words. She gives me back the breath of air I’d lost. I missed everything about her—her arms, her hair, her scent... Alexia, Mapi, and everyone who knew were right. I should never have stayed away. I should have convinced her to change her mind much sooner. I feel lost without her. She slowly pulls away, making me react immediately.

- "Hey, I just said I wouldn’t leave again," she giggles. "I just want to examine you and take care of your injuries before they get worse. You’re starting to get quite a shiner," she says, stroking my cheek.

- "I must look awful," I mumble.

- "You’ll always be cute in my eyes."

I blush at her compliment. She kisses my forehead before turning to the shelves. I miss her presence immediately, even though she’s right in front of me, rummaging through the cupboards. It gives me a perfect view of her back and her perfectly sculpted figure. I’m still struggling to process what just happened. My fingers unconsciously trace my lips, where I still feel her presence.

- "Don’t touch."

I jump in surprise when I see her giving me a stern look.

- "Sorry."

- "Hmm. I prefer that."

She returns to what she was doing, satisfied that I’m following her order.

- "What’s going to happen to Korbin because of all this...?" I ask.

- "I’ll make sure she’s expelled."

- "Expelled?!" I repeat, shocked.

- "It’s what she deserves. If I can’t manage that, I’ll make sure she never comes near you again."

- "And what about me...?" I ask, fearfully.

- "You didn’t do anything. You didn’t even touch her, so you’re not at risk of expulsion. Wiegman knows all the efforts you’ve made from the beginning and what you’ve been through these past two weeks. I told her about it this morning."

So she went to see her. She told me she would take action, and given the situation, I’m relieved she did.

- "Who told you? Alexia?"

- "Alexia?" she giggles. "No. But I realized she knew something when I saw her yesterday. She was nervous and wanted me to find you as soon as possible."

- "Then who told you...?"

- "Your management professor. He came to talk to me because he was worried about you and what was happening in class."

- "Oh... Really?" I ask, surprised.

- "Hmm. It must have been an excuse to come and talk to me... I used him to find out what I wanted to know about you, since you weren’t talking to me."

I bite my lip. I guess I was right to be suspicious of my professor. I had noticed how he looked at her... I wasn’t so crazy after all.

- "Men still don’t interest me, Ona."

I find her leaning against the furniture, raising an eyebrow. My teeth immediately release my lip, and I blush at being caught red-handed. I know she’s not interested, but I can’t help it. I’m bi, and that man is far from unattractive. Lucy comes back to start examining my face. I whimper and clutch the bed sheets as she begins to treat me. It’s very painful, even though her touch is gentle.

- "Korbin... She... Well, she was jealous of our relationship," I admit.

- "Really?" she asks, without taking her eyes off what she’s doing.

- "She thought we were together or sleeping together... I don’t really know. Do you think... She’d be capable of telling Wiegman to defend herself?"

She gently caresses my cheek, smiling at me.

- "You don’t need to worry. Korbin is far from having a perfect record. And Wiegman trusts me. She wouldn’t have allowed me to have you in my room twice if that weren’t the case."

- "You rejected me... I have a right to be worried."

- "I was just an idiot."

- "For once, you admit it..."

- "Hey, that’s enough," she smiles.

As if to silence me, she places an ice pack on my left cheek, making me groan from the unexpected pain.

- "Hold this, please. I’m not done."

I hold it in place as she turns her back to me again. I haven’t had the chance to see myself, but I must not look great. Sometimes I wonder how I lived without Lucy. She’s everything to me. I watch her for a moment before sighing.

- "Where do we stand now...?" I ask softly, biting my lip again.

- "Well..." she starts, then frowns when she sees me. "Stop biting your lip," she scolds me. "This is the third time you’ve done it, and it’s already split. You don’t need to make it worse!"

I immediately release the grip of my teeth. She sighs, quickly applying a compress to my lip. It stings from the antiseptic, confirming that it’s indeed already split open. She keeps pressing it for a moment, occasionally checking it before looking back into my eyes. Hers are so intense...

- "I know I made a mistake, Ona... It was probably the most cowardly and ridiculous choice I’ve ever made, but... But know that I’m ready to consider you as my girlfriend if you can give me a second chance after what I did to you..."

Her response catches me off guard. I expected some cliché lines like "we should take our time" or "I’m not ready for an official relationship." I must forget that this is Lucy Bronze in front of me. She’s not a coward, even after this incident, and she’s ready to prove it by agreeing to move forward.

- "But before that..." she interrupts my thoughts. "You need to know why I pushed you away the first time."

- "Luce... You don’t have to..."

- "Yes, I do. I want us to start on a healthy foundation, and for that, we need to talk."

- "Alright..." I resign.

In reality, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear what she has to say. Who knows what her reasons for rejection might be, but she’s right. If we want this to work, we need to be honest with each other from the beginning.

- "I was afraid I wouldn’t be enough," she says, dropping it like a bomb and catching me off guard.

- "Wh-"

- "Let me finish," she interrupts me, and I stop immediately. "Before meeting Kiera and coming here to Manchester, I was far from being the confident girl I am now. I was actually quite the opposite. You see, I was like that nerdy girl with glasses who hides behind her hair..."

- "I don’t believe you," I interrupt.

"But it’s true," she giggles, shaking her head. "Kiera transformed me. She made me realize the potential I had and brought out a confidence in me that I didn’t know existed. I loved her. No matter how stupid she could be for doing drugs, I really loved her for the way she made me feel wonderful in her eyes. Losing her shook me deeply. »

“No wonder…” I murmur, gently caressing her.

Even though I don’t understand why she’s bringing up Kiera now, I know these revelations are very personal for her. I owe it to her to listen carefully. She takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Working here right after she died, handling difficult cases like hers, really strengthened me mentally. It was enriching and very… healing. Helping others who were struggling became important to me.”

I nod. That makes sense. I can’t even imagine how she must have felt after losing her. She must have blamed herself a lot. If I were in her shoes, I would have too, thinking I could have done so much more to save her.

“Wiegman knew about Kiera. I specifically asked her never to let me personally handle a student with a history of drug abuse, for fear of becoming too emotionally involved.”

“How did it—”

“You were the first,” she interrupts. “You were the first one I had to take care of, and I was really surprised when I found out.”

“I remember you were… You were really upset when I came back in withdrawal, and now I understand why. But Wiegman knew.”

“I know. I got mad at her about it. She apologized and explained that she really wanted me to be the one to take care of you. She thought I’d never find out, since you weren’t supposed to relapse.”

“Why did you keep me under your care then?”

“Because I didn’t want to upset you by handing you over to Ingrid. She never would have known how to manage you like I did, and to be honest, I was already very attached to you. I didn’t want to abandon you.”

My stomach warms at this revelation. My first relapse was months ago.

“It was a risk, but I knew we were already connected, and I couldn’t bear to leave you. You were starting to trust me, and you kept progressing, clinging to our relationship. I took ten steps back at that moment because I kept comparing you to Kiera at first. I was afraid you’d be like her, that you’d relapse at the first opportunity. But I quickly realized that wasn’t the case.”

I was about to respond, but her last words stop me.

“You were struggling, but you wanted to fight. That wasn’t the case with Kiera. You never stopped holding on to me like a lifeline to pull you out of it. Your determination awakened something in me, and it’s what made our relationship so powerful.”

Lucy’s eyes shine slightly now. I never realized how complicated our relationship must have been for her. I have so many traits similar to the one person who ignited the flame inside her. How could I have competed with her if she were still around?

“You see me the way she did, Ona. You think I’m this strong and perfect person, but what you don’t understand is that it’s you who makes me that way…”

Her words throw me off balance. Maybe I could have competed with her after all. The way she phrases it, she puts me on equal footing with Kiera…

“Our relationship intensified so much in the past few weeks. We opened up to each other, and it brought us even closer, more intimately. I noticed you were seeking more affection, but I didn’t expect you to want something more after everything you’d been through. I-I just panicked. I was scared. Scared I wouldn’t be enough, scared I’d ruin everything once you discovered who I really am, scared I wouldn’t be able to satisfy you. I mean, I’ve come out of my shell more thanks to Kiera, but that wasn’t always the case. We’re so different and—”

“Hey, that’s enough,” I murmur, grabbing her face. “Calm down, okay? Breathe.”

She’s been talking so fast that she hasn’t even taken a breath. We lock eyes, and now that I can, I see the fear in them. It’s like she’s expecting me to back out now that she’s laid everything bare. I smile gently, brushing her cheeks with my thumbs before speaking again.

“If there’s one thing I love, it’s our differences, Lucy. From the beginning, you made it clear that you hate parties, and I never held that against you. I’ve even cut back on my own outings since you showed me your world.”

“I don’t want to change you,” she whispers.

“You’re not changing me, Luce. You’re making me better. You’re so caring with me that I want to be better for you, to prove that I deserve your attention. And if my way of being with you makes you feel strong, then our relationship is even more special than I imagined because we’re helping each other.”

“You’re mad at me for keeping quiet, aren’t you? I wanted to make things right, you know, but when you told me I’d abandoned you the other day, I just felt like I’d ruined everything. I hadn’t felt that miserable in a long time. I thought I’d lost your trust.”

I take a deep breath, realizing the misunderstanding that arose between us from a few simple words. I was harsh that day, but I had so much on my mind. I realize now how much easier things could have been.

“That’s not the case,” I murmur. “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you otherwise. I-I was disappointed and really angry, sure, but I definitely haven’t lost trust in you. I-I don’t think I ever could unless you did something truly unforgivable. I know you’re not perfect, and you’re allowed to doubt or make mistakes, just like everyone else.”

She sighs with relief. Still, her eyes reflect fear mixed with some fresh tears.

“You know, I talk a lot about Kiera because she was such a big part of my life, but she never made me feel as much as you do. I feel good by your side, and you make me so much more jealous and protective.”

“I’ve never been very jealous before you either,” I chuckle. “I got jealous when my management professor looked at you a little too much.”

“What?” she says, eyes wide with surprise. “You should have known that—”

“I know, it’s just that, I also thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I felt like you could be interested in anyone but me.”

“Oh, Ona…” she murmurs. “You really underestimate yourself.”

“So do you… I’m not afraid you’ll make a mistake one day or that you won’t put enough effort in, you know… You already do so much for me.”

Her eyes soften. She’s such a strong woman. If I were in her shoes, I’d have broken down in tears by now. She must have gone through terrible things to be able to hold back in a moment like this. Or maybe I’m just that weak.

“It seems we’re just two broken people who were afraid to rebuild together…”

“You have no idea how true that is… I was so terrified when I realized I had feelings for you… I-I was so scared you’d reject me. And also, I was always so intimidated by you.”

“Ona,” she chuckles.

“What? It’s true! You don’t even realize the presence you have. But at the same time, you always had this little something that helped me feel better… You managed to open me up like no one else ever could, Luce… If my friends hadn’t been there to open my eyes, I would have never realized that I had feelings for you. I was in denial, but now I know that this is just the beginning and that they’ll only grow because y-you’re essential to me, Lucy… And the thought that I might have ruined our relationship was unbearable and—”

“Shh, stop,” she interrupts before I break down. “You didn’t ruin anything, you hear me? It was me, but it’s over now. Isn’t it?”

I nod, trying to return the smile she gives me. It doesn’t last long, though, as I feel the pain contorting my face. Lucy laughs, understanding my discomfort. She kisses my forehead again, a spontaneous gesture that sends little butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“Sorry to interrupt this confession moment, but I think I need to keep treating my girlfriend before she starts screaming in pain.”

“Oh my God. I think I could get used to that new title…”

“Don’t get too used to it just yet. You’ll still be my student here,” she says, playfully tapping my nose. “Now, put the ice pack back. Your cheek is swelling up again.”

I follow her instructions without protest. The atmosphere has changed. It’s much warmer and more relaxed now that we’ve finally been able to get everything off our chests.

“I’m just going to take care of your brow, and then we should be good,” she tells me. “Did she hit you anywhere else?”

She asks as she turns back to search for more bandages. I press gently on my stomach to see if it’s as painful as my face and grimace as I realize it is. She had already attacked me here yesterday, so I should have known it would hurt.

- "In my stomach," I admitted when she came back to me. "But I can take care of it myself."

- "No, I want to do it if you'll let me."

- "Okay," I murmured.

- "You'll take another painkiller and lie down so I can apply some cream."

She finished with my brow before discarding all the bloodied compresses she had used. It made me realize just how bruised I must look. At that moment, someone knocked on the door and entered without waiting for permission. I expected to see Ingrid or another instructor, but instead, I saw Wiegman. I was relieved that Lucy wasn’t standing next to me at that moment. She had a strange expression on her face when she saw me. I'm sure Lucy is trying to downplay how bad it looks.

- "I heard what happened," she began. "How are you feeling, Ona?"

- "Like someone who just got beaten up," I joked. "But I'm okay, I'm being well taken care of."

- "I can see that," she smiled.

Just then, Lucy returned with a glass of water and the pill she had promised. I swallowed it under their watchful eyes.

- "Thank you for taking care of her," Wiegman said to Lucy.

- "It's my job," she replied.

- "I came to see how you were doing, but also to ask you to come to my office tomorrow morning at 8:30," she informed me.

- "Am I in trouble...?"

- "It's just the protocol we have to follow," he clarified. "Will you accompany her?" she asked Lucy. "I'd also like you to be present."

- "No problem, I'll go with her."

- "Good, I'll leave you now since you're in good hands."

- "There are better hands, but I'll manage," I joked.

Wiegman laughed, but Lucy didn't find it as amusing.She wished us a good night before leaving. Lucy stared at the door as if to make sure she was really gone before she playfully swatted my arm.

- "Ouch! Hitting an injured person, really?"

- "There are better hands, really?" she scolded me, pretending to be upset.

- "What? I had to joke about it," I laughed. "My only defense mechanism is humor!"

- "I should just let you fend for yourself then," she pouted.

- "Oh Luce," I giggled.

I always thought I was the more sensitive one between us, but here I was discovering a new side of Lucy. I took advantage of the fact that she had her back turned to step off the bed and hug her from behind. I rested my head on her shoulder to see what she was doing.

- "I don't want to do this alone," I whispered. "I couldn't have asked for a better personal nurse..."

- "Hmm... I just wanted to hear you say it."

I chuckled and kissed her cheek. She turned around when she finally found the cream she was looking for.

- "Lie down on the bed and lift your shirt so I can take care of your stomach."

- "Can I get a kiss to prove I'm forgiven first?" I bargained.

- "You'll get one if you behave," she raised an eyebrow.

- "Blackmail."

- "Deal."

- "Alright, if you say so..."

Knowing I wouldn't get anything until I did, I lay back down on the bed. She lifted my shirt herself up to my chest. I winced when I saw the bruises already forming on my stomach, adding to the ones from yesterday. Lucy sighed audibly.

- "She really didn't hold back."

- "I couldn’t defend myself," I admitted timidly.

- "Hey, it's understandable after what you've been through. It's not such a bad thing; it saved you from more trouble."

I nodded and stared at the ceiling as Lucy began to apply the cream to the bruises. Her expert fingers relaxed me to the point where I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation.

- "Are these marks from Feli?"

I slowly opened my eyes when I felt her fingers touch certain spots on my stomach, where there were small, permanent scars. I knew she had noticed them the day she helped me shower during my withdrawal. She had made a strange face when she saw my body but never commented on it. I wish those scars had left no trace, but they are part of my story now.

- "Yeah..." I admitted.

- "Did she... Did she also abuse you?"

Her question was full of hesitation. My body tensed involuntarily at the thought. I could see the fear in her eyes. I immediately reassured her by shaking my head.

- "No," I said, making her sigh with relief. "Thank God, no. She would have completely destroyed me if she had done something like that... But I think she could have if I had stayed longer. I had stopped sleeping with her, and she was becoming more and more violent towards the end. She didn’t realize what she was doing anymore..."

- "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

- "It’s in the past now."

A silence settled between us before I asked a question of my own.

- "What really made you change your mind about us...?"

- "A lot of things," she murmured. "Your reaction, your obliviousness, my feelings, but also the threats from your best friend," she laughed.

- "You two texted?" I asked, surprised.

- "A little," she admitted, making me smile at the thought.

- "Remind me to thank her then... I haven't really had the chance to talk to her these past few days, and the last things I said to her weren’t exactly nice. She must be mad at me."

- "She knows it’s my fault you didn’t write to her. As for your bad behavior, I don't think she'll hold it against you. She cares about you a lot, and I can see why you care so much about her too."

Lucy is wrong about one thing. Mapi won’t hold it against me, but she’ll definitely get her revenge. I'll have to make it up to her to avoid that. I sat up and adjusted my sweater when Lucy told me she was done. I handed back the ice pack I’d been holding. Seeing the state I was in, Lucy decided to apply a bit of cream to my cheek as well. The contrast between her warm fingers and the painful cold of my cheek was sharp. She gently spread the cream over the affected areas, then closed the tube. She washed her hands and put away the last things she had taken out to treat me.

- "Do you think I'll get my weekend pass?"

- "We'll see tomorrow. Let's go back to our room; it's getting late."

She grabbed a box of bandages and kept the cream before turning off all the lights. The cold hit me full force when we stepped outside. I realized then that we didn’t have our jackets.

- "Damn... Our stuff."

- "Ingrid took care of it. She texted me to say she brought it to my room. Come on, hurry up. It's cold!"

I hurried as fast as I could, agreeing with her. It was cold, and I didn’t want to risk getting sick again. I'd had enough of that! We crossed the campus to reach her dorm on the opposite side. The first thing I did upon entering her room was check the time. It was nine o'clock. Lucy, on the other hand, preferred to kick off her shoes and sprawl out on her big bed.

- "I'm going to take a shower."

- "No," she groaned. "Do it tomorrow morning, or the cream I just put on will be useless."

"Fine... I'll just change, then. »

She groaned in response. I chuckled and locked myself in the bathroom with my nightclothes. I was about to take off my shirt when I caught sight of my face in the mirror. My mouth fell open as I realized the extent of the damage. A black eye was forming on my left eye, and my eyebrow was completely busted. Not to mention my lip, which had also taken a hit. I rushed out of the bathroom, pointing at my face. My sudden entrance made Lucy turn around, unconcerned that she was only wearing her bra. I would have certainly enjoyed the sight if I hadn't come out to complain.

- "There is no way I'm going out like this in the next few days!" I exclaimed.

- "You don't have a choice," she teased.

She turned her back to me and continued getting dressed without being bothered by my presence. She came back towards me once she had her pajama tank top on.

- "Seriously," I groaned. "Have you seen my face?"

- "Mm-hmm," she replied with amusement. "It's not like these are permanent. You'll be fine in a few days."

- "Ugh. I hate her," I grumbled before retreating back to the bathroom.

I slammed the door, and Lucy's laughter followed. I quickly changed, and then Lucy joined me so we could remove our makeup and brush our teeth.

- "Wait, I want to put a bandage on your eyebrow. I’m worried it might start bleeding again because of the cut."

- "Do what you have to do," I mumbled.

- "Don’t be like that," she giggled.

- "I didn't expect this much damage," I sighed.

- "That’s what happens when you play the rebel."

- "As if it was my fault!"

- "I never said that."

She applied the bandage and then kissed me right after. I blushed at this small, tender gesture.

- "Everything okay?" she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded before wrapping my arms around her waist. Lucy responded to my embrace by draping her arms over my shoulders. We stayed like that for a moment, with her gently rocking me. She kissed my forehead before speaking again.

- "We should get to bed. I can keep cuddling you as much as you want there."

- "It’s strange to think you won’t be holding back with me anymore," I giggled.

- "Oh, I still will, but only when it comes to school."

- "Yeah, right," I teased.

- "I'm not joking," she smiled. "I'll still be your superior here, but I’ll be your girlfriend in private."

I had no doubt she meant every word. It’s crazy to think we still have three months left until the end. We headed to her room, where she invited me into her bed. I didn’t hesitate at all tonight.

- "Will you hold me again?" I asked timidly.

- "Of course. Choose your position first, because I have a feeling tonight might be quite painful."

I sighed just thinking about it. I could already feel the stiffness when I moved. I settled on my side, facing her, and realized that the position was surprisingly comfortable. Understanding that I was ready, she turned off the light. I could feel her breath on my face, we were so close.

- "Come here."

I felt her arms wrap around me. I moved closer to her, making sure to keep my bruises from touching her by placing my arms between us. She pulled the blanket up to my neck and held me a little tighter. I smiled when our feet tangled together, and she kissed my forehead.

- "Goodnight, Luce," I murmured into her neck.

- "Goodnight, Princess."

A contented sigh escaped my lips. My place was definitely in her arms. I would have loved to savor our first moment as a couple a bit longer, but sleep overtook me, lulled by the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #my fic

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dokidokitsuna · 7 months

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Tragic Sky

(very long salty rant ahead (+new Alterna backstory, though! ^^;))

So I've always thought Alterna’s backstory, despite being presented as a grand mystery that’s definitely worth fighting through 90% of the missions to uncover in its entirety…was kinda stupid. :/ I’m all for humanity destroying itself for ridiculous reasons, but trying to launch a rocket in an enclosed space?? Are you serious…? o_O How could the Alternans devote such immense amounts of time and energy to something like that without once thinking, “hey, uh…burning metric tons of high-energy fuel inside of our flammable safety dome might be a little unsafe, idk”.

And it shouldn’t even have been necessary! DX I mean, if they were able to build a dome like that in the first place, wouldn’t they have some sort of scaffolding or elevator system they could use to reach the top and just literally climb out if they wanted to leave that badly?? Had Alterna existed for so long that the technology used to create it was lost to time (seeing as it’s implied that Alterna was destroyed by its SECOND generation, I doubt it)...?? Or, did the writers suddenly realize that coming up with pseudo-scientific lore that explains why inkfishes resemble humanity is wholly unnecessary and adds nothing to the themes of Splatoon…but it was too late to rework the concept, so they just finished off the story with whatever-the-heck and called it a day. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I guess we’ll never know...

Anyway, my version of Alterna’s backstory starts with a similar premise: humans invented crystal thingies that can manifest people’s desires and whatnot…but this alone caused conflict that eventually doomed Alterna. People began to make their own interpretations of other people’s desires, judging and condemning them for how they manifested. They began treating the crystals’ reflections as compulsory measures of morality and worth, rather than simple expressions of the human heart that exist outside of a good/bad binary. Alterna’s leaders envisioned themselves creating a society of ‘pure truth’, free from the destructive power of deceit and subterfuge…all the while ignoring the destructive power of paranoia and exclusion that they immersed themselves in.

Exclusion escalated to oppression, which eventually spawned rebellion: plans were made to create a rocket that would allow a select group of ‘undesirables’ to escape Alterna for the surface world, destroying the integrity of their safe haven in the process. Despite not knowing what was waiting for them out there, they were willing to take the risk in the name of freedom. Eventually, this secret plan was revealed to the public, resulting in Alterna’s first and last civil war. As the Alternans began to fight and kill each other, the crystals were overwhelmed with the unprecedented ferocity of their clashing desires-- “a violent and terrible chain reaction ensued”, and the energy within them exploded outward. The sky dome, still filled with the beautiful blue of the peoples’ wishes for peace and happiness, came crumbling down, raining fire and shrapnel upon Alterna. The still-poisoned air of the outside world flowed freely into the cavern, ensuring the eventual death of anyone who might have survived.

…Then the crystals fell in the ocean, the sea creatures were imbued with human hopes and dreams, yadda yadda, all that’s basically the same as the canon too. And although I still think it’s unneeded (the mere concept of a bygone humanity in Splatoon carries plenty of weight without all this “lore”, imo), at least now the story isn’t stupid!

It speaks to the way humans actually treat each other, and blames their downfall on their long-established bad habits of cruelty and callousness, rather than morally-neutral traits like ambition and pursuit of the unknown (I would never have expected “curiosity killed the cat” as the lesson of the day from Splatoon, of all franchises. o_O This IS the same game that celebrates individual expression and forging your own path, right…?)

Anyway…I’m gonna be using elements of this rewritten backstory and the theme of “manifesting desires” to flesh out the final boss encounter and Agent 3’s subtle character arc. So please look forward to that~

#splatoon #re_rise #splatoon 3 #new agent 3 #alterna

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mossyeyeballs · 4 days

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TW: mentions of pretty much everything terrible. 🍇, trafficking, all of the above.

CLASS OF 09 RANT, FLIP SIDE SPOILERS

Ok not my usual post (I’ve posted twice ik but shush) but what the freak was the flip side??….. I was a huge fan of class of 09 + the re up but this game was so.. what’s the word….. dog shit? Even if we ignore half of the game being about the creators weird foot fetish, the sl@ve ending was so unnecessary. I feel like the only thing in that route that was worth writing was the issue in retail work and that wasn’t even the star focus, let alone side focus. The main plot of that route was the counselor having some weird illegal 🌽 warehouse, jecka finding it, and then him blackmailing her into human 🚙 🚙 ing?

The only ending I thought was necessary IF THAT was when Jecka found Nicole after the sue a side ending from re up. I thought it did a decent job at talking about sue a side victims, and how nobody really cares about them until it’s too late, And even then they only care for a week or so and then move on.

But the Jeffery dying one was the most out of place in my opinion (unfortunately it beats the foot ending.) For starters, Nicole was really out of character imo, like yeah she’s talked about wishing Jeffery was dead before, but her actually killing him just out of boredom is so odd. Her entire character is “I don’t put effort into anything unless it benefits me.” Killing Jeffrey was not only ALOT of effort, but she gained absolutely nothing. On top of that, saying it’s different than doing. Like how she talked about wishing her mom was dead, but then when she had a heart attack, she panicked. Plus, she PLANNED on making Jecka take some of the blame on his death, which she stated in past games she wouldn’t do. She literally never put Jecka in harms way, let alone jail if it didn’t also benefit them both. But this didn’t, she just did it to do it.

While we’re talking about Nicole being out of character, I feel it valid to mention her and Jeckas dad. For obvious (and gross) reasons, I won’t be detailing this, but her doing that to Jecka wasn’t fully out of character, but still odd. Like I mentioned earlier, Nicole never really did anything to spite Nicole, so I find it odd that she did in this game. You could blame it on “oh she’s a sociopath she doesn’t care.” But I don’t think that’s inherently true. Yeah, I guess it’s canon she’s a sociopath, but in that case they do a bad job at consistency. She’s shown in both games 1 and 2 caring about people she’s close with, whether it’s Jecka, her mom, or even Emily in one segment. So I find it completely random that she did this to Jecka over something as small as not sharing how she got into foot work. Jeckas done much worse stuff to Nicole, and Nicole just didn’t care because they were friends, or didn’t feel the need to put effort into doing something if she did care. So yeah, Nicole basically screwing Jeckas dad over something so little felt out of character.

One of the few things that bothered me the least, but I feel the need to mention was the foot work stuff. Not because it was out of character, i fear I’ve seen worse stuff mentioned in that game. But I guess the way it was portrayed as less of a story plot and more of the creator trying to live out his fantasies. He himself has stated Jeffrey is basically a self insert, so the whole being sexually obsessed with Jecka and her feet felt REALLY weird. Compared to Nicole’s my space favor thing, this just felt dirty. For comparison. Both Jecka and Nicole took up sex work to keep a home life or lackthereof, they both got money from strangers to do sexual things, and they both hated doing it. But why did Jeckas feel so much more personal and gross? Because the actual sex work was shown. In graphic detail. And all of Jeffrey’s (the creators) personal thoughts were stated with no backlash. Jeffery literally asked Jecka if she would 🍒feed him, and he was excused. When Nicole was asked the same hing from the same guy, he was insulted, yelled at, even told to leave.

So, creepy creator who’s obsessed with his barely legal characters, Jecka being sold to 🚙 🚙ing agaisnt her will, Jeffrey being murdered for no reason other than a giggle or two from his haters, Jecka accidentally killing Ari cause she was drunk driving, feet fan service, and fan service in general aside, the game is left only with the regular drug and alcohol abusage we always see. which in the game that was advertised as a new experience felt really stale and honestly left me bored. The ONE SINGULAR time during this game that I giggled was when the hat man appeared in the Ari route.

If you’ve fully ignored everything I said in this, maybe didn’t care, or didn’t even read it. Id just like to mention for everyone that the creator of this game said that anybody who disliked him, his games, his writing, or his humor were kid diddlers. In full seriousness. So yeah, no shock this game was bad, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected better from someone who thinks his haters are all child likers. All this being said, I enjoyed class of 09, and the re up. I’m hoping the anime episode that comes out soon with be a decent save. all of THAT being said, I don’t support this creator. I don’t support his actions, I think he’s a shitty person who’s made some shitty jokes, but made some not so shitty games that I decently enjoyed. I also haven’t bought them, so none of my money has gone towards him or his projects. I in NO WAY support him. Thanks for reading.

Feel free to comment down some of your own opinions if you feel so inclined, I’m interested in what everyone else thought of this game :))

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xjulixred45x · 9 months

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Choso and Little Sister! Reader

This was the Request of a lovely Anonnymous, i hope You enjoy it sweetie!(sorry if it's a little short!)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!, READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK!!mentioned death, Kenjaku is a Terrible father, but Choso is a sweetheart. I think nothing more. Fluff.

you were another of Noritoshi Kamo's experiments.

You were the only girl, Noritoshi wanted to see if maybe using a female container would finally create something "interesting" to his liking.

but unfortunately (or fortunately) you did not meet his expectations in the slightest, even if you were more stable and humanoid than most of your brothers.

He wasn't disappointed, but he definitely wasn't surprised.

Choso, Kechizu and Esou tried to encourage you at the time, since they had all received similar treatment to you at the time and they wanted to help you not take it to heart.

Choso especially with his big brother complex had a great pleasure in comforting you, not only because of his burning hatred towards his father, but because in general he found that he liked the feeling of being loved by you.

You loved all your brothers, Kechizu and Esou also protected you a lot from Kamo.

They all had a certain special attachment to you, being the only girl, they felt like they had to protect you, you never felt excluded with them unlike with your father.

but eventually everything went upside down.

and then you were sealed with your brothers, for a long, long time.

but then you woke up.

and your first impulse was to see your brothers.

Fortunately (at the time) Kechizu, Esou and Choso were fine, but everything had changed drastically since the Edo Period. everything was so modern.

and humans were...well, normal. You knew you wouldn't have the chance to have a normal life being what you were. You weren't human or curse completely.

Choso had that same line of thinking, so he allied himself with Geto. I thought that this way they would have a better chance of living. a world for you...

but then Kechizu and Esou died...

and you could feel it very vividly when their lives ended...

and you felt horrible.

Choso did everything he could to comfort you, he would do what he used to do when they were young, end whatever had hurt them.

This Yuji Itadori and Nobara Kusigaki killed their brothers and hurt you, they will not come out alive.

Now it was just you and Choso. so he became considerably more clingy and protective of you.

nothing invasive, he simply did things like always go with you or not leave you alone with Curses that he considered "untrustworthy" like Mahito (rightfully so).

If someone (for example, Jogo) directly seeks a physical fight with you, Choso will practically teleport in front of you to cover you and HE will be the one to threaten him with Violence.

Nobody fucks when it comes to you.

You are someone curious, so you try to learn some things from humans, as part of you wants to be like them. Choso understands this and supports you 100% (although he sees it more as a way to "know how the enemy thinks").

HE IS SO GENTLE WITH YOU, if you insist on wanting to develop a cursed technique, he will teach you his Blood technique, but don't expect him to teach you more of the Theory (of the little he knows about his own technique), Choso will be breaks my heart at the thought of hitting YOU to train🥺

He just doesn't see it necessary at first because "why would you need to fight if I'm always protecting you?" But in an innocent way. He's just a little Paranoid and scare to let you on your own knowing what happen to your brothers.

Also, if he goes somewhere on his own, he brings you things that he considers "cute" or "girlish" (because he is still used to having only one younger sister), such as flowers, accessories, decorations, toys, etc.

Wildly protective, even over small things, you can't blame him after what he went through with his brothers. If you get into a fight with Jogo or Mahito, Choso-nissan is about to have a "talk" with him if you know what I mean.

If you manage to have a cursed technique useful enough to send you into combat, Choso will always be near you, without exception. And always with the same "it is my duty as the older brother to protect you"

Although the more experience you gain and the better you are at fighting, you and Choso develop an almost impenetrable joint fighting style. so he relaxes a little. not much, but a little.

If we go further into the story, you two were separated by the time he went after Itadori, although it wasn't exactly by choice, "Geto" said it was unfair that you both went, which is why you were originally going to take on Kugisaki.

but you got lost.

Now, I can honestly see Choso not letting you participate in the Shibuya massacre mostly out of practicality, so when you saw the amount of deaths they had caused, it really came as a surprise.

but when you felt something strange...

the same feeling as when they killed Kechizu and Esou...but this was not Choso...

You went to look for him, and when he explained the situation, it was a shock to say the least.

actually "Geto" was Noritoshi Kamo...

your father...

and Yuji Itadori was your younger brother....

It was a lot to digest.

but they didn't waste time going to confront him, after all Choso almost killed his/your brother!

(You definitely wanted Yuji to call you "One-chan"/"One-san" even just once, because for once you weren't the youngest sibiling).

(If, similarly to Choso, you are having visions of false memories where everyone is a happy family, this feeds EVEN MORE that need to hear it directly from Yuji. You want your cute little brother back :( )

With the addition of Yuji to the mix, everything becomes more chaotic, but in some ways, happier.

Now you feel like you finally have a responsibility, taking care of Yuji like a good big sister, so you constantly ask Choso for advice on doing so, which makes his heart MELT.

For Yuji it would be quite strange at first, but unlike Choso you don't seem older than him, but eventually he gets used to your presence, and since you didn't try to kill him, he warms up to you much faster.

If Yuji calls you "Onee-san" either to say that you're "something like his Big sister" or by accident, the boy won't let go of your hug (and additionally Choso, because he LOVES your hugs) for at least an hour. .

Choso continues to watch you like a Falcon. Even if you have Yuji now, he doesn't neglect you in the least. He tries to be aware of your emotions, especially with the losses that occur at that point in the story.

As I said above, one way in which you and Choso express affection for each other is through hugs, he is tall, so he gives the BEST BEAR HUGS IN THE WORLD and even though you are smaller than him, you give strong hugs, for so they use this as a great source of comfort.

It is a habit that you have had since you were "born" after all.

Yuji tries to teach you and Choso basic normal human things, which is pretty fun because it's like teaching an adult baby how to walk again🤣😅

(If you see The Human Worm you will definitely end up crying, you can't help it, you identify a lot with the main character)

Now that you have the chance, Choso is fine with you experiencing as many "normal" things as you want! whether interacting with other humans, having friends, having hobbies, etc.

He is happy to see you every day being happier yourself :,)

definitely big on preventing Kenjaku's comments from sticking in your head, he assures you that you are interesting and unique in your own way (and that Kenjaku is shit, so his opinion doesn't count).

I also think that at this point Choso would be more open with you with his insecurities, even if he wants to maintain the big brother image, he knows that you have the right to think for yourself and have your own point of view, and it feels WRONG to hide things from you.

He already feels bad enough for having taken the "easy way" due to the fact that humans wouldn't accept them, and that's why he left Yuji alone, and dragged you with him... dragged you to a life where you killed people, REAL humans...

but fortunately you were able to see things in a similar way to Yuki, yes, you are not human as such, but you two feel, you can suffer, you can be happy, you can empathize, isn't that enough to be human?

A part of you didn't understand. But you were there for you brother.

In general, Choso is a very loving older brother, who loves you with everything he is, he will do ANYTHING to protect you from everyone, Sukuna, Kenjaku, it doesn't matter, there will be no one to harm you, not with your older brother with you.

He loves you very much.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thank You for the Request ❤️

#headcanons #fem reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #platonic choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso

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strawbynrobyn · 7 months

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I can't believe I'm scared to be alone with my thoughts

But then I remember what they've done before

#sad boi hours #strawb thoughts #being alone with my thoughts is terrible but necessary #text post #could be a song lyric ngl

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byeoltoyuki · 1 year

Text

It was always you

↳ Pairing: Felix x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / friends to lovers / smut

❧ Warnings: unprotected sex / oral (m)

❧ Words : +2k

❧ Summary : Sometimes, a misunderstanding can lead to something much more interesting.

Waking up to gentle kisses being pressed to your shoulders, to your back worried you for many different reasons. First, when you went to sleep, you remembered clearly being alone in the appartement, Felix, your best friend who also happened to be your roommate was away, having a game night with his friends. Second reason, you remembered checking twice that you had locked the door (because you were that paranoid whenever left alone). But the main reason was definitely the fact that you were single, therefore there was absolutely no reason for someone to be in your bed, hugging and kissing you.

Panic surged through you as you tried your best to control your breathing, to control your heart, in hope to give yourself some more time to figure out who the hell was with you. Unfortunately for you, whoever was toying with you, kissed a spot right behind your ear – you jerked.

“Done with pretending being asleep?” You knew that voice. That deep, rough, terribly attractive voice. Too well. Which also meant that you were about to commit murder.

You snapped your eyes open. With as much strength as you could muster, you pushed him off you, only to pin him under you, pinning his wrists above his head. “You’re a dead man, I hope you know that.” But Felix only smiled sheepishly at you, not minding at all being at your mercy. In fact, he was more than enjoying the view of you on top of him.

“Hi, love.” Felix simply said, without trying to defend himself.

“The hell is wrong with you, Felix? I thought I was about to get killed in my sleep.” You let go of his wrists and straighten your back. You could have rolled over and free him, but chose not to. Maybe because you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t try something else; you knew Felix, he was a prankster and there was no boring day (or peaceful) with him. Or maybe, and you didn’t want to admit it, you simply enjoyed the view.

Your relationship with Felix was simple and complicated at the same time. Simple, because you had been friends for years. He was the only person who had seen you at your worst and stuck by your side, never judging, never questioning. He was the one constant in your life. He made your days so much better - he made you laugh; he made you smile. Felix, with his cute freckles, with his addictive laugh, with his voice that just didn’t match his boyish look (not so boyish anymore but that too, you refused to admit), felt like home. Maybe, it was the reason you accepted to move in with him.

But moving in with him was also what made your relationship so complicated. It was one thing spending time with him from time to time, but being stuck with him almost every day and every hour of the day, did make a difference. You discovered new facets of him that made you question your feelings. You found yourself seeking his company more than you used to. You found yourself staring at him more than acceptable. But the worst part of it was how your heart behaved around him. A brush of hands? Your heart would start beating crazily. A hug from him? And you would simply melt in his arms. A peck on your cheek? You wanted to cup his face and simply kiss him.

You were an idiot, you knew it. You couldn’t have done more cliché than that and fall for your best friend. But you did. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t, your heart and body reminded you of the truth.

Just like right now.

You cleared your throat and slapped yourself mentally for your very unwelcomed thoughts.

“You look pretty alive to me.” Felix commented, his eyes twinkled with mischief – you slapped his chest in response. “And violent, as always.”

Felix was being definitely weird. Or maybe just a little bit weirder than usual. It was one thing, he scared you, but was it necessary to hug and kiss your shoulders? Nope. But you couldn’t find the strength in you to ask him why he did it. “I thought you were staying with the guys?”

“It was the plan.”

“But?”

“But, Jeongin mentioned something.” To your utter surprise, Felix’s eyes darkened at the mention of his friend. Whatever Jeongin had told him, he didn’t like it. No, worse, it truly upset him. Should it worry you? Probably. You could count on the fingers of one hand how many times you saw him angry.

“What did he say?”

His mouth set in a hard line. Yep, Felix was angry. Just when you decided it was best if you went back to your empty side of the bed, Felix grabbed you by your hips, grip strong, fingers digging right into your flesh. He held you tightly, forcing you to stay on top of him.

You blinked, taken aback with his sudden gesture. “Felix, what did he say?”

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” He asked instead.

You did, but Jeongin knew nothing about it. Nobody knew.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. So how about, you just ask me what you want to know?” It was a tad frustrating to see him so upset over something you couldn’t understand.

Felix sighed. Without you expecting it, he flipped you over, your positions switched. Felix looked at you and despite the hurt and pain you saw in his eyes, you also saw a glimpse of something else. Something much more important and that made your heart skipped a beat. He was looking at you as if you were the most precious person in the world – a look you had never noticed before. Or were you just so oblivious?

“I can’t pretend anymore, Y/N.” Felix whispered, his own admission hurting him more than the look you gave him.

“Pretend?”

“I know it was my idea for you to move in with me. I thought that if you spent every day of your life with me, you would come to realize how much you mean to me. I hoped that you would start seeing me more than just a friend.”

Understanding dawned on you. All this time, all his small gestures, it wasn’t a coincidence. No, he was doing it on purpose, to make you realize. It worked; you were just too stupid to fully grasp his intentions.

“I was wrong. When Jeongin told me about you and Chris, I just wanted to go home and see you.”

“Me and Chris?” You interrupted him, too stunned.

“Aren’t you seeing him?”

“You got to be kidding me.” You groaned in both annoyance and embarrassment. You covered your face with your hands, couldn’t believe that Jeongin had misunderstood the situation. “You,” You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him toward you, face inches from yours. “Are a dumbass. And so am I.”

Felix blinked in confusion. Your proximity was making it hard to think.

“Chris went shopping with me last week to get you, dumbass, my best friend, who also happens to be the guy I like, a present.” You didn’t hesitate for even a second as you pecked his lips, to snap him out of his trance.

It worked. Felix’s face broke into such a bright and big smile – it hurt. “You like me?”

“Reconsidering it right now to be honest.” You teased him

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled and cupped your face before claiming your lips into a very needed and long due kiss.

You would be lying if you said you never imagined kissing Felix, because you did. Hundreds of times. But the reality was so much better. Nothing could compare to how heavenly his lips felt against yours. Nothing compared to how addicting his lips were.

“I like you so much.” Felix breathed against your lips. “So damn,” he kissed you again, “much.”

You broke the kiss only to flip him over and straddle his thighs. You pulled your shirt over your head and threw it on the floor, leaving you with nothing but your panties on. Felix inhaled sharply at the beautiful sight before him. Your beautiful bare, soft breasts. He just couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch. He cupped your left breast, gave it a squeeze – you bit on your lips to hold back your moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” He didn’t hesitate to straighten up to kiss your other breast, biting softly the tender flesh before his mouth was fully on your nipple. “So fucking beautiful.”

You plunged your fingers into his hair, pushing his face further against your chest. The feel of his lips, his every flick of his tongue, his warmth – it set your body on fire. Your whole body was aching, begging for more. You needed more.

You cupped his face, pecked his lips before grabbing the edge of his shirt and pulling it over his head. You ran your hand up and down his chest before pushing him back on the bed. Your hands splayed across his chest; you took a second to admire him. There was no doubt that Felix was beautiful, both from inside and outside.

You pressed your lips to his sharp jaw, to his neck. You slid down his body, slowly, trailing kisses as you went down. You made sure to memorize every inch of his skin, to leave tiny marks here and there so the two of you would remember that this was real and not just a dream.

With skilled fingers, you pulled at his sweatpants along with his boxer to free his aching, hard, pretty cock. You licked your lips at the sight, imagining already how good he would feel inside you, filling you.

You brushed your thumb over the tip, his cock twitched in response – Felix inhaled sharply, you would be the death of him and you didn’t even know it.

You dragged your tongue along his shaft, watching his every hiss, his every jerk, felt him hardening. “I hope that next time you doubt me, you’ll think back about tonight.” You kissed the tip of his cock, “You’ll think about how good my lips felt around your pretty cock.” With those last words, you took him into your mouth, eagerly, wanting to taste him, wanting to hear what kind of pretty noises he would make while you played with him. You wanted to see him lose himself.

Felix watched you through hooded eyes as you took him deeper and sucked. He growled, unable to hold back as you played with him, lips, tongue, hands – he had no chance to last. He always knew you were a sweet torture but right now it happened to be truer than ever.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He reached for your head, fingers digging into your scalp as he pushed you harder, making you take more of him. “I’ll never have enough of this mouth.”

By the way he was throbbing between your lips, you knew that if you kept your rhythm, he wouldn’t last. And as much as you wanted to see him come apart, it would be for another time. You pulled away, making him whine at the loss of your warmth. You pecked his lips, smiling at his reaction. “Next time. Right now, I need you inside.”

You grabbed his cock and guided him to your entrance. Slowly, you eased yourself down onto him, the stretch, the fullness of him making you sigh in pure bliss. Finally, you could feel him. All of him. Only when he was fully inside you, you stilled. Hands splayed across his chest, you threw your head back, taking a moment to adjust, a moment to enjoy the stretch.

“You feel so good.” Felix was fighting the urge to move, to thrust from his spot. But he did none of that. He waited for you to be ready. He waited for you to set the rhythm.

And you did. You started moving, slowly at first, wanting to feel the slow drag of his cock against your walls, clenching around him.

“Shit, don’t do that.” He begged but out of spite you did it again. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“I learnt from the best.” That being said, you moved faster, alternating between bouncing and rolling your hips. The stimulation was slowly driving you crazy.

Felix’s hands and mouth were back on your breasts. Between the feeling of his cock, deep inside you, and his lips on you, you could feel your release, so close.

You plunged your fingers into his locks, playing with it while you moved. His cock reaching, stroking all the right spots, making you arch your back and mewl his name, over and over again.

“I won’t last.” You warned him

Felix’s hands found your hips, only to help you to move faster, bringing you over the edge. You came undone. You convulsed around him, your whole body trembling from your intense release. Felix kept thrusting, seeking his own release, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He let out a harsh groan as he exploded inside you.

Felix had his head pressed against your chest, panting against your skin. You rested your chin on top of his head, hugging him closer to you, recovering together.

“I think,” Felix started and pulled away to look at you, smiling proudly and wickedly, “I should misunderstand you more often if it leads to that.”

You snorted in response and kissed his lips. His damn addictive lips.

“You better not, asshole.”

While the two of you were too busy embracing, your phone’s screen lit, showing one, single, message from Jeongin.

“You can thank me later.”

#stray kids #felix #stray kids smut #felix smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #felix x reader #it was always you

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calisources · 6 months

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences has been taken from different media and soruces about life in the royal court, involving the introgue of succession, war, marriage, kings and queens and tournaments. Most of this are acceptable for all audience except one with some foul language. Chance names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.

A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.

And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?

That's a question rarely asked here at court.

Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just.

We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would make us believe .

Either you break the law, or the law breaks you.

There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.

Power does not pardon, power punishes.

Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!

He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was.

The cat who lived in the Palace had been awarded the head-dress of nobility and was called Lady Myobu.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.

It is important to refuse to be intimidated.

They all come innocent in court.

Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?

They used to say that, in a battle between the lion and the tiger, the winner was the monkey, who watched from a distance.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of.

If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat.

A doe is easier to keep.

The woman did not care for empty compliments; to get such a woman, one needed to put forth effort.

I’m a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second . . .

Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.

She calls herself the Queen of Narnia thought she has no right to be queen at all.

Plenty of people have told me you are not my father.

It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly.”

Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power.

Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen.

These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics.

A prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art.

You should never have been only a little girl, you should have always been a crown princess.

You knew you would be sending me away?

A born king is a very rare being.

The world will need to know that I’m the last royal left. Their queen.

There’s royalty in me, but stronger than that there is adventure.

My life is the Crown and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another.

Dignity is trained into royal children before they can toddle.

The first year of marriage is not always easy, especially within the Royal Family.

The real intelligence in the royal family comes through my parents .

The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.

The royal road to a man's heart is to talk to him about the things he treasures most.

The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

The winner will marry the prince.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

That is acceptable. A king is a martyr to their ideals.

f I rule the nation as king, I cannot ask to live as a person.

A wise king never seeks out war, but... he must always be ready for it.

All men need something greater than themselves to look up to and worship. They must be able to touch the divine here on earth

I am the First Imperial Princess of the Misurugi Empire!

You can tell she's a princess, she doesn't need a crown.

You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met! In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain.

No one ever told her "no."

In no time at flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace.

These men are my bodyguards, their lives forfeit to the guarantee of my physical safety. Of their loyalty to me, there shall be no question nor doubt.

Some balls are held for charity And some for fancy dress, But when they're held for pleasure They're the balls that I like best.

Be careful of what women with gowns plan, specially in a ballroom.

The art of husband seeking is something every woman has been trained since birth.

Many wives and consorts, of course.

Who is to rule when I am gone? You are a princess. I have no son.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Did I not mention there was another?

A king must always have an heir and a spare.

He was born to be a king... He rules men just by breathing. When he walks into a room, he commands it. People love him.

Two knights off to rescue a princess. Sounds like a great song.

As the king's brother, you should've been first in line!

I was first in line. Until the little hairball was born.

That "hairball" is my son, and your future king.

My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold.

It cannot be easy being the youngest prince. To have others expect nothing from you, yet still shake their heads in disapproval.

If my uncle attacks King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him.

You are in need of serious princess lessons.

You're the new ruler of Mechanicsburg. You need to act like it.

Every princess needs a battle axe. Here. Use this one until we find you something more impressive.

You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings. I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

A tournament has been arranged in your name, so you must attend and make yourself presentable.

They hope to find me a husband here. They said I am already a woman bled.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #royal scheme #royal concept #royal court

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nightwngz · 7 months

Note

hi! this is my first time seeing your page, and let me tell you that I'm in love! I saw that your requests were open so, I decided to give it a try and ask... could you by any chance make a fem! reader x dick grayson os, where he and reader are both apart of the tt? they are both in love with each other but, reader thinks he likes starfire and he thinks that she likes cyborg, or even beast boy or aqualad? whatever happens next I leave it up to you. thanks in advance! <3

— 𝓘 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 ☆ !! eng.

dick grayson x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . drabble. sexual tension, very slight smut, the writer trying to write smut when she is terribly bad at it. kisses, fingering, shower sex?

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Omg, the first request about my Dick. I couldn’t be more happier. I didn’t want to write an explicit smut because you didn’t ask me to, but I think that it was necessary to add a little bit of it like a personal touch. I hope you like it <3

You thought he knew. You had a hunch that he suspected that you were in love with him. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Ever since you joined the Teen Titans, Dick has been a sidekick that every hero, and even villains, would want on their team. However, Dick managed to be more than just an ally to you; he was the closest thing you had to a friend. The dilemma arose when you realized that the term "friend" was not what you and he wanted to use to refer to your relationship.

Honestly, you were so in love with Dick that you couldn't stand it. There was only one problem: You suspected that he didn't feel the same way about you.

You couldn't help but think that the unrequited attraction for you was directed at Starfire. It wasn't hard to deduce that the two of them were deeply in love. And with a girl as beautiful as Kory, would you have a chance to compete?

Getting used to the idea of unrequited love was not difficult. What was really complicated was getting used to being in the same room as your crush and not feeling like your heart wanted to burst out of your chest. It was something you had to deal with every time you spent time together. Therefore, it was a nightmare to practice alone with Dick and risk an embarrassing tragedy because of your feelings for him.

At that moment, your nightmare had become reality. As he climbed on top of you, your cheeks burned so hot that you couldn't even look him in the eye without feeling embarrassed. You knew he knew. What you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you.

Just as he was convinced that you felt some sort of attraction to Beast Boy, just as you believed that he was in love with Kory.

—You can let go now — You said after Dick had been on top of you for several minutes, watching you.

— I can, but I don't want to — He pressed his face into yours, feigning a false innocence in his smile.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through your body after he took that provocative stance.

—Don't play games, Dick. What are we going to do if your girlfriend sees you?

— What are you talking about, y/n? I don't have a girlfriend. — He replied as he stood up. — I should have known that this would make you feel uncomfortable.

— What do you mean?

— We've known each other for some time now. It's not hard to figure out that you're in love with Garfield.

For a moment, you both looked at each other without fully understanding what was going on.

— I think there's been a misunderstanding. Aren't you in love with Kory?

— And aren't you in love with Garfield?

— Where did you get that? - You asked him as if he had just said the dumbest thing in the world.

— And where did you get the idea that I'm in love with Kory?

The atmosphere became uncomfortably thick. There was a short period of silence in which you did nothing but look at each other. Your heart was beating again, only this time as if it had never beaten before. Maybe you were confused, maybe he was taking advantage of the situation, and honestly, you couldn't understand anything.

Unfortunately, just when you felt that everything was finally becoming clear, you were interrupted to go on a mission. This meant that they did not talk to each other for a few hours, or even a whole day. This caused you to have so many thoughts at night that you could not sleep.

You were almost drowning in your pillow when you finally got the idea to go down to the basement to entertain yourself. You could probably watch a movie or do something relaxing. The problem was that Dick was in the same situation you were. So when you walked through the door of the gym, the first thing you saw was him lifting weights.

— Don't you sleep? — You asked him.

— I could ask you the same thing. — He smiled at you.

You admired how his smile had the ability to lighten things.

— We need to talk. You know that, don't you?

You swallowed hard. It was hard to concentrate. His physical attractiveness kept you from thinking clearly, from doing simple tasks. Especially when he was exercising; with his messy hair, the beads of sweat dripping down his face, and his abs showing through his sweatshirt. Was it an exaggeration to say that he was the most handsome man you'd ever seen? No, next question.

Sometimes you think it would be easier if he just pushed you into the shower and...

— I‘m in love with you.

What? Did he really say what you thought he said?

You couldn't believe in the truth of his words. You thought he was just playing with you, that it was just a joke that he would use later to laugh at how naive you were to think he had feelings for you. Although you didn't know if Dick was capable of such cruelty, you also didn't know how much sincerity there was in his words.

— Are you in love with me? — you asked again.

— Yes, that's what I said.

Those moments passed so slowly that you didn't notice when you were pressed against the wall with him on top of you, so close you couldn't breathe.

— And you like me?

The corner of his beautiful lips brushed against yours. His minty breath was there every time he spoke. Your heart responded, but your mouth remained closed for a moment.

— Mm? — He murmured, insisting on an answer.

— Either you are a very bad detective or you are very blind.

Maybe minutes, maybe hours had passed, but you could tell when the water started to rain down on your shoulders. When Dick kissed you in the shower and you barely noticed that your wet clothes felt so heavy that you had to take them off.

Fortunately for you, Dick Grayson unclothed and wet was much more attractive than his clothed and dry counterpart. You were surprised because you thought it was impossible to find a more attractive version of him than the original.

His kisses spread over every inch of your lips, devouring you completely. His wet tongue crashed against every part of your mouth, making you feel more and more sensitive and wet in the space between your legs. A space that was filled with his huge hand that was enough to wander around to caress every inch of your sensitivity.

—You love this, don't you, baby? Look at you, I barely touch you and you're dripping all over my hand.

Of course you loved it.

Even when he asked, you thought he definitely knew the answer.

#dc comics #dc universe #nightwing #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x female!reader

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yukipri · 2 months

Text

So, I binged The Acolyte last night.

I had a mental block and couldn't get myself to start while it was coming out, and I also haven't touched any High Republic era media before which made me hesitant. But the spoilers/gifs/fanart etc I saw convinced me I should give it a try.

I'm not a huge fan of binging, I like sitting and thinking with each episode, so I expected to just watch an episode or two, give it a day or so, then continue if I liked it.

But, to my great surprise, once I started, I couldn't really stop (aaand stayed up till 7 AM, oops).

I think it had several things going for it:

-The acting was genuinely phenomenal. I feel like I would have felt completely differently about the show if different actors had been involved, and i mean that more strongly than I usually do. Their delivery in certain moments really sold me.

-It's not your usual Star Wars genre. I'd consider it mystery/suspense with a touch of horror, and it really does come together. Some of the characters are experience a more stereotypical Star Wars action/adventure story, but are jerked out of their genre at certain moments. It's pretty neat, and makes the twists fun and interesting (even if you were completely spoiled beforehand, like me lol)

-The costumes were gorgeous and unique.

-Some truly gorgeous cinematography, shots that have beautiful composition and lighting.

-It was rich in lore and references, some from Legends that I caught, many from the High Republic that I didn't catch but appreciated nonetheless. It felt deeply connected to the SW Universe.

-While cynical, the writing says things that I've thought about but never really thought Star Wars would have the guts to say. The writing is also Tight, meaning that little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later, and I appreciated that. There felt like very little waste.

-There are genuinely no "good" or "bad" guys. Every character makes mistakes or has horrible qualities, yet also positive ones. We see and understand motives, even if we don't agree with them, and see the fallout of those actions. This made almost everyone compelling. The narrative and writing gives the audience space to think.

Things that I wasn't as much a fan of:

-I felt like most of the sets felt kind of generic and Earth-like, especially in comparison to the rich costumes and alien characters.

-There are some fantastic fight scenes and emotional scenes, where the acting and cinematography was fantastic, but I wish the music had been a bit more memorable. I can't really recall any of it, and I feel like there were scenes that could have been truly iconic had the music resounded more with me.

Now, some more specific thoughts, SPOILERS below:

On Sol:

Sol is a character who, I believe in most cases, I would have absolutely despised. But holy shit, Lee Jung-jae. I am not exaggerating when I say that his performance is perhaps one of the best, if not THE best performances I've ever seen in live action Star Wars. He played this character so tenderly, so genuinely.

Despite being misguided, having made terrible decisions, and making mistakes that even he acknowledges, Sol himself always truly thought he was doing what was right, and loved Osha with his whole being even at the end, and it Shows. The way he looks at Osha was so sincere.

This is why I can't get myself to hate Sol as a character. It makes me feel so conflicted, like how can a guy with so much love and genuine desire to help and do good go so wrong? And that, I think, is one of the major points of the show, and Lee Jung-jae absolutely sells it. What a phenomenal actor. You could genuinely watch this show for him alone.

On Osha/Mae:

When the first info/promos for Acolyte came out and Amandla Stenberg was announced as the main character, I admit I was a bit confused. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I thought she couldn't act, but it's just that her face is so kind. She looks so warm (and gosh, she's so beautiful), but it made me go hmm, she looks like a Good Guy Protag, a Hero, so I was a bit confused as to how she was going to lead "the Acolyte," which from the title, I assumed she'd be Dark Side. Even with the early promo scenes of Mae fighting Indara, I wasn't really sold on her being "Dark."

And it turns out, that was exactly the point of the casting.

Amandla was perfect, and was brilliant at portraying two characters who not only have different and distinct personalities, but also both shift and change throughout the show. Mae never came off as "Dark" to me, because she isn't. Osha's not necessarily Light OR Dark, but she's independent. They are balanced, yet cycling, reminiscent of that little palm-to-palm circling ritual that the girls do. Amandla's portrayal of them was poetry, and made me so very invested in them.

I think if there's one thing I really wish the show had included more of, it's both Osha and Mae's pasts between their tragic separation and their reunion in the present. What was Osha's Padawan-ship actually like? I feel like the exact reason for the timing of her leaving the Order was ambiguous, and I wanted to know more. And was Mae with "the Master" the entire time?

I truly wish Osha could have heard the full story from Sol, because of his many crimes, ironically, killing her mother really was a genuine accident. There are things I wish he could have apologized to her for, or that she could have understood about him, such as how that night at the coven was largely driven by how Sol felt connected to her. This is one part where, while I get how the writers went this way, I do wish I could have felt more closure to their relationship.

I found it so tragic that Qimir erased Mae's memories and they had to be separated so soon after finally understanding each other. I really hope that if there's a season 2, they can be reunited.

On Qimir:

Preface by saying I was spoiled regarding his identity long before I started, by all those thirsty posts/tweets. And man, I GET IT.

But thirst magnet aside, I found him a genuinely fascinating character. For one thing, he's kind of an ironic character to *be* a Darksider. He seems so chill and laid-back, is honorable (or at least keeps his word), and despite his words about using emotions to harness energy, we don't really see him passionately mad/anything really. In contrast, the Jedi we see around him are furious, scared, sad. It's interesting that he almost seems more calm, but not necessarily because he's trying: he just doesn't care.

Manny Jacinto's portrayal of the character made him so damn Likable. Which, is pretty hard to reconcile with the fact that I genuinely liked Jecki and Yord, but a lot of his lines make me just go, y'know he's got a point. Like the whole, "She was a child," "You brought her here." Like yeah. Honestly, fair. His little quips, the delivery, the I'm-just-a-chill-dude attitude, actually keeps his word, and on the flip side, undeniable ruthless skill and viciousness that took down a whole team of Jedi single-handedly. It's a very BRRRRRR combo.

In general, I don't really get too attached to "Dark Side" characters, and don't really have a favorite Sith. Or at least, I didn't, but I think Qimir (or whatever his actually name is) might claim that spot now. Truly peak character, I truly hope we get to see more with him.

And this is kind of an aside, but can I just say, it felt unreal to have entire fight sequences focussing on just two Asian actors, with the other protagonist we see a black girl, for huge chunks of the show? No white people except comparatively brief side characters? In a Star Wars show?!?? All of them unique and well fleshed out and phenomenally written and acted?? None of it felt like "forced diversity," it's all so natural, that when I step back and thought about it in these terms it just...again, feels unreal. I'm so grateful for these characters, and hope we get more like them.

On Jecki and Yord:

Honestly given what I saw about Yord before hand, I was expecting him to be far more annoying than he was. Sure, he was a little stiff, but he felt like a young Jedi Knight who was trying to prove himself and do his best, and I think he very clearly did care for Osha.

Jecki, gosh I loved her. She felt very similar to Ahsoka, if a bit more by the book. She was very wise for her youth. I loved the budding friendship between her and Osha, how they helped each other and weren't jealous.

The thing about both of these characters, which I think the writers did so well, is that they felt like protagonists. In another story, they would have been the main characters, the heroes. Both of them were so young, so early in their training/careers. They could have become Obi-Wans, Ahsokas. Jecki especially was bursting with so much potential.

But alas, this was not that story. It makes it that much shocking when their lives are cut so abruptly short. We were given time to get to know these characters, to care for them, and then without much fanfare, boom. Gone.

On one hand, I sorta Hate That. On the other, I deeply respect the writers for going there, because I think it did have an Impact on the story and show.

On the Witches/Mother Aniseya:

Admittedly I was a little ehhhhh on some of the world-building regarding the witches, just the use of the words "witch" and "coven" and some of the chanting with gasping cackling women etc felt a bit caricature. I do get that they wanted us to have a vibe for this group and to get one with limited screentime, and sometimes stereotypes are the way to do that. I didn't love it, but also didn't mind it too much.

I actually really loved Mother Aniseya. For one thing, the actress is Gorgeous, her costume stunning, and she really sold the whole otherworldly ethereal immortal goddess vibe well, in a way that still felt Star Wars. For the other, I liked how she was the soft, empathetic one, it kinda contrasted with expectation of her position.

I also loved Mother Koril, and how again, she was designed as a character foil to Mother Aniseya. I love how we didn't see too much of them, but could still see that they were partners who loved and respected each other (I hesitate to say "wives," because I feel like their society may not exactly have the same concept of marriage, but partners was undeniable). I think it was a neat Oh moment when they stated that Mother Koril is the one who carried the twins. Love them.

I know I'll have more thoughts, but yeah, to sum it up, I enjoyed Acolyte a ton more than I thought i would, and am so glad I gave it a chance.

Other things:

-Mentioned earlier that I love "little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later." Some actual examples of this: When we see Sol noticing Osha's tattoo and Osha saying he must hate it, which in the moment, shows the kind of guardian-student relationship they have, and how little seems to have changed for them in the time they've been a part. Later, it's shown to clearly identify Osha after Mae steals her clothes. Another is the rolly polly moth things, which at first seem just like a way to show This Forest Dangerous, but then are a plot point to temporarily escape from Qimir, and later on, to show Vernestra's connection to the Force (and also her light whip). Stuff like that, I really like.

-I so appreciated Qimir's Cortosis helmet. For one thing, it's neat that it's not just cool-looking or a disguise, but actually is Force-blocking. I think an official SW account factoid said that this is also how beskar works, though beskar is stronger. The two effects this has: when the user is wearing it, they're forced to confront what's inside of them. The other, is that it hides the wearer's identity from Force users who would otherwise recognize them. The latter is my personal headcanon for beskar helmets, so it's very gratifying to see it in canon! The former has some interesting implications for Force-users who wear beskar.

-The cynical view of the Jedi Order as an Institution, and all the politics, corruption, and obscuring of dirt that that entails. Admittedly this may be because of my own increasingly cynical perspective on the Order, but it felt honest and I agreed with most of it. The fact that individuals are trying their best to do "good" does not negate the fact that they are pretty much acting as Space Cops. This line by Senator Rayencourt felt especially raw:

"I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. [] Your emotions."

Framed as a religion having unchecked power—that feels uncomfortably realistic! And also zeroing in on how for all their power, the Jedi are still people, and just as fallible (and therefore, must necessarily be held just as accountable).

Also:

I can see how this portrayal of the Jedi may make some folks uncomfortable, especially if you love the Jedi, but I long hold that the Jedi as an organization are deeply flawed. It's part of why I personally like the "fall of the Republic" era; both the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order have deep, fatal flaws, and this is an era where that all comes to a head—one where they must fall, or fix themselves.

So in conclusion, my favorite parts: the characters, and the moral grayness of almost everyone. Many stories may claim there's no good/evil dichotomy, but few ever truly show it, but this one did.

I'm not sure yet if I want to "fandom" over this or if I'm pretty satisfied with having just watched it, but it was definitely worth the watch and I'm glad I gave it a try!

I also kept a lil document of live reaction notes as I was watching, which I'll copy below:

Episode 1

UEDA?? The planet is just, UEDA?? A pretty common Japanese surname?? That's like. Naming a planet Johnson or somethin...

Loving the costumes 'n set

Oh wait I recognize this scene, it's the one they played as a preview at the AMC Star Wars marathon

Idk how to feel about the Space Generic T-Shirt

Ooh Neimoidians (thank you for no horrendously exaggerated Evil Japanese Accent TM), and interesting Jedi ship shape

Oh interesting interesting they intentionally paralleling TPM eh

Hrmn not a positive first impression of Master Vernestra, her lines are so mechanical

Very cool pilot chair droids and tentacle alien

Osha says practice vehicle safety and wear seatbelts and protect your head!

Oh Osha has Trauma I see. Girl ain't getting good sleep

Oh wow Sol Loves Osha, oh no is this going to lead to Padawan Jealousy Trauma between Osha and Jecki. How much are we heavily paralleling TPM here

Kill the dream eh?

Episode 2

Oh there are multiple Jedi temples, that's nice

Jedi Temple using same security system as Jabba is...uh

Mae tips, good for her

Master Torbin just sittin' there, lookin like some random youtuber. why tabi socks

Man I dig Mae's patchwork cloak with massive princess hood.

It's pronounced KAI-meer??? My Chinese ass thought it was Chee-mir

Barash Vow

Ohhh so Mae doesn't know that Qimir...? (was spoiled)

Episode 3

ooh i like the fairy clione things

Ohhh village all women??

Mother Aniseya is stunning

Oh she and Koril blatantly lesbian, fantastic

Oh gosh the Jedi are NOT looking good here. They don't have the right to train children?? WTF

You must let the children take the test?? And if they pass the Jedi will take them away??? That does NOT sound very consensual!!

Oh gosh, selling "you are special" to a child, after separating her from her community...

Really feel like "how does taking a child away affect their community" should be factored into jedi stuff

Mae that is...sudden and violent wtf

Kinda not trusting Sol here

Episode 4

Wow Kelnacca looks...mentally stable

Ohhh Qimir's ship? Looks suspiciously Kylo Ren-ish

Qimir really suspicious eh

Oh wow not using the Force or anything, just using a sniffy guy

They're really doing a Fellowship of the Ring walk huh

Look I absolutely adore Mae's long gorgeous cloak but that is going to drag half the forest floor with her

Not liking those tree bulbs. looks spider eggy

Osha don't Touch the Thing, that's such a Pippin move

oh no, not spider eggs...rolly polly moth vampire thing

Really enjoying Osha and Jecki's friendship, I'm so glad it's not former Padawan jealousy

Oh, Mae, oh no....knowing spoilers...oh...

The red lightsaber igniting next to Osha's head...dang what fantastic composition

The lil hand twitch and head snap. I Get It.

I remember when "Darth Teeth" was trending

And wow that's a Cliffhanger

Episode 5

Oh no Osha knocked out that doesn't bode well

How many against one is that damn

The double spear through then hidden head lop...wow

holy shit booma-saber

Oooooh the cut treeeeees damn

all that death before even the opening title

Honestly GO JECKI, that's very impressive, her win against Mae AND double saber against Darth Teeth, Anakin level spinning and drama

Holy shit Jecki's death was brutal...

She was a child - You brought her here - FAIR

Why risk discovery - I did wear a mask LMAO

Damn did he just casually break Mae's leg

I don't make the rules - the Jedi do

The Jedi say I can't exist...wow

Holy shit Yord's death

Damn full on brawl

I've accepted my darkness, what have you done with yours

Damn really yeeted Qimir from the fight by sticking a light on his back

Pip tho ;_; killin droids feels like killin pets...

They've turned you against me - really Anakin quotin

Wow Sol, not even going to see Jecki????

And wtf how can Sol not tell that Mae's switched them??? Has fandom been grossly misunderstanding how the Jedi use the Force....how the fuck can any Jedi tell apart any clones eh...

While not exactly subtle, I appreciate how lil details in character interactions have had pay offs. Like the tree bugs and Osha's tattoo being a way to identify her

Episode 6

He really just makin a hot pot

his lair kinda looks like sequels Luke's island

Not sure how I feel about the elephant rock bird things

Honestly glad we get to see Sol upset and affected by everyone's deaths. Might explain part of why he can't tell apart the twins?

Oh he's really wearing hakama hakama

Wow Qimir really just getting in buck naked eh. Is this the scene that Manny froze his balls off for

His line about it being fine in a fight but vengeance a few hours later

Oh he brought a change of clothes

Damn the Jedi are taught "it fades"???

Aww Osha, u aren't tempted by the soup??

Oh wow we revisiting bodies, that feels...u usual for SW. Oh there's a Kel Dor... (why are there no flies buzzing yet. or are there no flies yet)

Mae wakes up so peacefully compared to Osha

Oooh sensory deprivation mask, all dark, nothing but breathing, evocative of Darth Vader even if breathing is not similar

Episode 7

Vergence....iiiiinteresting

Sol, stalking lil kids is creepy af

Oh my god you're just gonna break in???

See - You cannot deny the Jedi have a right to test potential Padawans - Why the fuck not???? You don't have the right to stalk, spy on, break into random people's homes, and talk directly to their children without permission from guardians??

Guh Sol....

Interrogation after isolation from guardians....

Oh, the Jedi Council is right for once??

Do not alter this little girl's destiny because you have formed an emotional attachment to her

Gosh I thought Indara was the most innocent in this buuuuut

Episode 8

I'm surprised they never added Darth Teeth's mask to the front credits

"See you in hell" Oh I know Han mentioned Hell like once but I thought they were avoiding mentioning it in newer media

Holy shit Rayencourt: I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. - Kinda uncomfortably real!!

-We don't control the Force - no, your emotions - OOF

I didn't realize till this ep how the cool Brendok eclipse got that line, it's the comet ring. super neat

oof Mae climbing out of the scene of Trauma...

Oh that is some Wu Xia shit

"I will destroy you if i must" really??

Nice dagger saber

Okay Sol that is Cool

oh gosh, the plot-relevant inversion of clothes resulting in it reflecting how they swapped light/dark is SO cool

very yin yang fighting

Damn it keeps coming down to the unarmed opponent thing

Damn, Mae going the justice route

Damn, just Damn

Gosh the thing about Sol is that he is SO well acted, so sincere in his love and devotion, it's hard to hate him

I'm glad the helmets block the Force identity like that tho, fits headcanon

Glad Basil continues to shine

Oh no. Vernestra...I thought you were doing the right thing revealing the truth, but instead you're continuing the cycle of covering up crimes

Oh...use Mae to find Vernestra's former Padawan...that's a cycle alright

And ends with Yoda okay

#the acolyte #acolyte #YukiPri rambles #star wars #review #spoilers

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