#but don’t point your anger in the wrong direction

[hongcherry]

pretty please (just this once) || c.sc

Seungcheol comes to visit you while you're working on a photo shoot; however, he ends up staying after you ask him for a favor.

🍒 Pairing: businessWorker!Seungcheol x fashionDesigner!Reader (f) 🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Fluff, slice of life; Non-idol au, Pretty Please couple 🍒 Warnings: Suggestive content and allusions to sexual activities 🍒 Word Count: 4.1k 🍒 Timeline: This takes place before "love me," but you don't need to read that prior to this. 🍒 Author’s Note: Happy (almost) weekend! As planned, here's another installment of the Pretty Please universe ♥️ I'm excited to publish the next one! Spoiler: It's a two-parter 😉

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

“He did what?”

Your hands still and eyes narrow at Yumi, irritation quickly growing upon hearing the bad news.

“Apparently, he accidentally double-booked himself,” Yumi explains as calmly as she can.

Your eyes roll before you can stop them, hands dropping from the garnet you were working on.

Prior to booking your model, you had triple-checked both your schedules to ensure they aligned. Now, hearing that he canceled an hour before the shoot, has steam shooting out your ears.

Sure, you can reschedule, but you have already rented the space and have a deadline to meet for the photos. Additionally, you can no longer trust your old model to show up anymore.

“Of course he did,” you scoff and grab your phone. You’re not sure what you are going to do with it, but you grab it on instinct. Maybe subconsciously you think you can call in another model, but you doubt it due to the short time frame.

Sensing your thoughts, Yumi says, “Maybe there’s still someone available.”

Huffing, you throw your hands in the air in exasperation.

“Fine. Let’s try,” you say and unlock your phone to begin trying to get another model.

Not a second later, the door to the dressing room opens.

“Hey, ba—What’s wrong?”

Seungcheol slows his steps when he sees the tell-tale sign of distress on your face.

“What are you doing here?” you wonder, voice gentler but still on edge.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he replies, lifting up a bag of what you suspect are yummy goodies.

Your heart does a little flip despite you wanting it to. You had never considered yourself a hopeless romantic, but the small gesture tugs on your emotions.

“Thanks, it’s just—” You begin to say but a poke on your arm stops you. You glance at Yumi, whose eyes are flicking between you and Seungcheol. You can tell there’s an idea brewing in her head.

“What about him?” she whispers, but there’s no other sound in the room to cover her voice.

“What about him?” you repeat.

“He can be our solution!”

Your eyes widen slightly in realization, then you’re shaking your head.

“He doesn’t have experience,” you explain.

Yumi frowns. “At this point, we just need a good face. And look at him,” she pauses to gesture to Seungcheol. He stands with his head slightly cocked in confusion.

“He’s perfect.”

Your lips purse as you take in your boyfriend. There’s no doubt that he’s handsome, and his build is impressive… But what would your boss say if she sees someone unknown in the fashion world in the photos? She has a policy about not using rookies in her shoots. Though at the same time, what would she say if you didn’t get anyone at all?

You’re at an odds.

“What’s going on, Cherry?” Seungcheol questions.

You sigh for what seems like the tenth time.

“Our model quit on us last minute,” you disclose.

“You don’t have a backup?”

His question brings forth more irritation; however, that stems from self-anger than anger directed at him. You should’ve known better.

“Unfortunately, not, but,” Yumi trails off and she glances at you for approval.

It’s not like Seungcheol doesn’t have the looks, but he’s never done this before and what if he feels uncomfortable? Though, your hands are tied and you’ve already lost time.

You rub your lips together before finishing Yumi’s sentence.

“Since you’re here, would you mind stepping in?”

Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow up.

“You want me to be your model?” he asks in disbelief.

“You have the looks,” you shrug, trying to hide the smile that wants to form when he averts his gaze shyly.

“I’m not sure,” he fades off.

“Please? Just this once? We’ll guide you,” you offer some reassurance.

Seungcheol glances at the door as if imagining himself at the setup out there. 

PDA isn’t something you favor, but since it’s only you three in the room, you decide to test your luck. You step forward and guide his face back to yours. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently.

“You’d really be helping me out, babe,” you plead.

He still looks unsure. 

You give him a peck on the lips. “Please?”

Seungcheol’s free hand squeezes your waist.

“Fine. What do I need to do?” He sighs.

You grin and give him another kiss. His hand moves to your lower back to pull you closer. Not wanting the kiss to last too long, you pull away after three seconds.

You straighten your clothes as if wiping away your embarrassment.

Yumi watches with a mix of surprise and delight. You’re unsure of their origins, but you get the hint it’s from seeing this new side of you.

You met Yumi on your first day of work a few months ago. She’s interning at the company, learning from fellow fashion designers and event coordinators. You don’t always work with her on projects, but she was assigned to this one with you as the lead.

You weren’t sure what to think of Yumi in the beginning; however, you’ve learned to like her. She is hard-working and passionate—two things you can relate to.

After clearing your throat, you instruct, “Tell the photographer to be ready in thirty.”

Yumi lingers in the room, eyes moving between you and Seungcheol, then she leaves.

You let out a breath when the door closes.

Yumi was aware you had a partner, but she’s never seen or met Seungcheol. You guess she doesn’t need an introduction now.

“I’ll take that,” you say and grab the bag from Seungcheol’s hands. You take a peek inside and see a bowl of noodles and veggies. Your tummy growls.

“When was the last time you ate?” Seungcheol wonders.

You set the bag down and move to the clothes rack.

“It’s been a while,” you answer vaguely. “Take off your clothes.”

“Cherry, you can’t starve yours—”

“I’m not. I’ll eat soon,” you interrupt.

When you see Seungcheol studying you rather than stripping in your peripheral, you turn to him with a frown.

“Seungch—”

“I know, I need to change, but your health is important,” he scolds lightly.

“So is this photoshoot,” you reply. You take off a few pieces from the rack and transfer it to an empty one.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab your arm.

“Baby,” he calls for your attention.

You look at him.

“At least eat a little while I change,” he suggests.

“I need to get hair and makeup—”

Seungcheol leans in and shuts you up with a kiss.

Your body wants to melt into his touch, but you force yourself to stay alert. Now’s not the time.

You gently push his chest to pull away.

“Eat,” he says.

Sighing, you relent with a nod. Just the smell of the dish is making your mouth water. You know he’s right. 

You gesture to the clothes and Seungcheol nods in understanding.

Once he starts changing, you text Yumi to inform her of your outfit choice and for the hair and makeup crew to get ready. Then, you sit on the couch and open the noodle meal Seungcheol brought.

Your boyfriend, now without his shirt, smiles at you—pleased to see you doing as he said.

Your gaze meets his, and your heart skips a beat. He looks too good shirtless. It doesn’t matter that you’ve seen it before; it still has an effect on you.

Seungcheol chuckles at your reaction and removes his pants.

“Lucky you, Cherry. You get lunch and a show,” he teases.

You roll your eyes in lieu of showing you flustered.

“Change faster,” you huff after you swallow a bite.

Seungcheol grins bigger, taking the pants on the rack and stepping into one leg.

“Afraid of what’ll happen if I stay naked for too long?” he taunts.

“You’re not naked,” you mumble, eating again.

“Bet you wish I was though.” He smirks.

You send him a not-so-deadly glare. 

Unaffected by your stare, he chuckles and finishes changing. Luckily, the hair and makeup people come in a minute after he fastens the last button on his shirt.

The outfit is a plain, all-black trousers and suit jacket, but Seungcheol fits the outfit perfectly. He suits formal wear extremely well.

The hair stylist gives him a wet-haired look and the makeup artist keeps it simple.

You hurry and finish half your food so you can check on the crew in the main studio. Thankfully, they’ve finished getting ready without any hiccups.

The door to the dressing room opens and Seungcheol comes to stop beside you. He may feel out of place, but he doesn’t look like it. You stare at him a little too long before adjusting the outfit. Though, there’s not much to adjust. You’re just worrying. 

“You sure about this?” you ask.

“Ah, not really,” he answers hesitantly, “but if it helps you, then I’ll be fine.”

Three words sit on your tongue, but you can’t find the courage to say them. It’s not that you don’t believe them, but there are people in hearing range, and saying it has always felt awkward to you.

Seungcheol gives you a reassuring smile. You know he wants to kiss you by the way he keeps glancing at your lips, but you appreciate that he respects your boundaries. Especially while you’re at work.

The photographer guides him to sit on the leather armchair. Seungcheol does so stiffly.

“Try to relax and look into the lens,” they instruct. “Pretend you’re a wealthy, overly confident CEO.”

Seungcheol nods and leans against the armrest. It looks almost unnatural.

Even though there’s music playing, the sounds of the camera feel extra loud. You peer at the monitor and watch as the pictures begin to appear.

The photographer moves to different angles. Seungcheol shifts a bit as he follows the camera.

After a few more shots, the photographer tilts their head.

“Let’s try resting your chin on your hand,” they say.

Seungcheol follows, but there’s still something off. You can tell the photographer thinks so too from their slightly furrowed brows and downturned lips.

Seungcheol’s not oblivious to everyone’s reaction. He becomes more rigid and mimics everyone’s small frown.

You rub your lips together in thought. Maybe Seungcheol really wasn’t the best choice. He has the looks, but the photos are not coming across well.

“Let’s take five,” you call out, walking toward the setup and stopping at the edge of the backdrop.

“Follow me,” you tell Seungcheol and turn on your heel. You hear Seungcheol excuse himself as he stands from his chair.

You guide him back to the dressing room and find it empty.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says as soon as he shuts the door. “I’m trying, but it’s weird having everyone stare at me.”

You lean against the built-in vanity counter with your hands resting on it. You stare long enough without a word for Seungcheol to apologize again.

You know you can’t blame him. It’s uncomfortable to try something new in front of strangers. However, it’s too late to try to get a model. Either you deal with the unsatisfactory photos or you try to knock some confidence in Seungcheol. You go for the latter.

“Don’t apologize,” you sigh and walk to him. “I’ll ask them to leave.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles.

You raise your hands to his shoulders and begin massaging the knots out. His shoulders slowly begin to deflate. 

“Try to focus on something besides the camera,” you suggest.

His frown deepens. “That’s hard to do when I’m supposed to look at it.”

You take a step closer, gaze lingering on the deep v the suit jacket makes.

“Then maybe imagine it’s me,” you reply, a hand trailing down. Your fingertips graze his exposed chest.

“You?” he asks with an airy voice.

“Yeah,” you smile and trace shapes on his skin lightly. Seungcheol’s pupils begin to dilate.

“What about you?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker to his. There’s mischief in them before you speak that causes Seungcheol to hold his breath.

“Use your imagination,” you tease.

As you’re about to pull away, Seungcheol grabs your waist and flushes your body against his. His mouth captures yours, fingers slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin.

The simple touch makes your heart thump faster against your ribcage and your knees feel weak. 

“Cheol,” you mumble against his lips, grabbing his hands. He hums and stays pressed against you.

You try to tear his hands off you, but he persists. Granted, you didn’t try too hard.

“I miss you,” he says in the kiss.

You know you shouldn’t, but you lax in his arms. Despite seeing him nearly every night, you haven’t spent much time with him. It’s a busy season for you both at work and by the time you get home, both of you want to sleep.

You’ve missed his kisses and attention more than you realize.

A knock at the door jerks you away.

“Just wanted to let you know everyone’s back,” Yumi says from the other side of the door.

You clear your throat and step from Seungcheol who’s tempting you by just standing near.

“Thanks,” you reply. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

“Okay,” Yumi says.

You listen to her steps fade before looking at Seungcheol. He’s already straightened out his clothes.

“You good?” you ask.

“No, I could really use more alone time.”

You sigh. “Seungcheol.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I’m ready.”

You hum, turning to leave but stop with your hand hovering over the handle.

“Something wrong, Cherry?” Seungcheol asks behind you.

You bite your lip and spin around. You quickly lean in and give him another kiss.

“For luck,” you explain, then exit the room before he can do anything and before you cave into his touches. 

Seungcheol follows shortly after, standing a little taller and looking less awkward.

You watch as the photographer guides Seungcheol back into the chair.

“Okay, just think about the CEO thing,” they remind.

Seungcheol nods and rolls his shoulders. He’s a little stiff again at first, but after a few pictures, he loosens up.

At the start, you watch the monitor as the pictures appear, but your eyes end up gravitating toward the live shoot.

Seungcheol catches your gaze. Something stirs in your belly, and you watch as he shifts to sit lower in the chair and spreads his legs. He leans his head back slightly, keeping his eyes on yours. He really could pass as a well-known CEO. He has the looks, the aura, and the work ethic. For the briefest moments, you wonder how successful Seungcheol will be in the future.

“Oh, I love that! Let’s try moving lower, put a leg out,” the photographer instructs.

Seungcheol keeps his expression the same but does as told. He hangs one arm off the side of the chair while the other stays beside him.

“That’s great! Now, eyes on the camera,” they say.

Seungcheol tears his eyes from you to the lens. You release a silent breath you didn't know you were holding.

You can’t help your eyes trailing down his body slouched on the chair.

Seungcheol shifts once more to rest a hand on the top of his thigh. The subtle change makes your mind race with thoughts of being kneeled between his legs. You curse mentally, changing weight to your other hip and looking at the monitor again.

Though that doesn’t help.

Since he’s looking at the camera, his stare bores into yours through the screen. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’d done this before.

“He looks good,” Yumi whispers beside you.

You turn to her, unable to hide the small pang of jealousy that bursts in your chest.

Yumi laughs and shakes her hands in the air.

“Not like that,” she says, a hint of humor to her tone. “I mean, he looks good enough to make the boss woman happy.”

“Ah. Right,” you mumble.

She smiles and nudges your shoulder, eyes on Seungcheol still posing. You move your gaze to him as well.

He’s sat up now, legs still spread but looking down at the camera. You push away the memories of seeing him in a similar position in private. 

“Though I can’t say you aren’t lucky,” Yumi adds. “He sure is handsome.”

“Yeah. He is,” you murmur. For the first time, you scan the audience, noticing how many of the people watch on with interest. 

“I think we have enough of these,” the photographer announces and turns to you.

Seungcheol stands and follows the photographer toward you.

“Great,” you say, snapping out of your thoughts and reining in your lurking jealousy. “We have enough time for a quick wardrobe change and a few more pictures.”

“Sounds good,” the photographer says.

“Come,” you instruct Seungcheol.

You get him changed and his makeup adjusted quickly. You had a few more outfit options, but with the fiasco earlier, you’ve run out of time to try them all.

You lead Seungcheol back to the set, not having much time to take a break.

You watch from the sidelines again as the photographer guides Seungcheol into different poses and expressions.

Seungcheol has gone into character, following the photographer’s instructions with as much ease as he can for an amateur. Which, to be fair, seems to be above average. You’re surprised to see him doing so well.

By the time they’re done, you only have twenty minutes left of your rented space.

The photographer gives you a flash drive with the photos and let’s you know you have a week to pick your favorite ones so they can edit them. Normally, the photographer would keep the photos and select the best ones themselves, but since this photographer works within the same company, things are a little different.

The hair and makeup team have already cleared out their stuff from the dressing room when you walk in with Seungcheol.

You sit on the couch and grab your laptop, inserting the USB drive into the slot and opening the photos.

“These turned out really good, Cheol,” you praise enthusiastically as you swipe through the photos.

Seungcheol glances up from unbuttoning his shirt. “I guess your advice worked then.”

“What advice?” you ask, distracted with studying the images.

You don’t hear Seungcheol move closer until he grabs the laptop and sets it aside. You look at him confused.

“You said to imagine the camera was you,” he replied.

Your words flood back into your brain. “O-Oh.”

He chuckles.

“I’m glad it worked,” you say, ignoring the pounding of your heart.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t wanna know what I was thinking about?”

“You already said me,” you reply hesitantly.

Seungcheol slowly rests his hands on the back of the couch, caging you in. You stare up at him—excited and nervous for his answer.

“You, in that sheer cherry lingerie… wearing that necklace I gave you on our first month anniversary,” he says lowly, deep voice luring you in.

Your mind races with the memory of showing him that for the first time. Warmth floods your chest and goes south recalling how many times you had cum that night. You hadn’t expected him to get so worked up at the sight, but you didn’t complain.

“You were a great inspiration,” he whispers and leans down closer. His lips hover over yours, a smirk on them.

“Kiss me like you want to,” he says.

You curse at him silently. It’s not that you don’t want to, but knowing he knows how badly you want it, makes you stay still.

“I think you want it more,” you reply.

He chuckles and slowly retracts himself. He shrugs, taking off his shirt and placing it on a hanger.

“Where should this go?” he asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and point to the rack to the left.

He eyes you for a moment longer before setting the hanger on the rack. You know he’s amused by your loss of words.

When he starts unbuttoning his pants, you shoot up from the couch.

“I’m going to make sure everything’s okay out there,” you announce and then swiftly walk toward the door.

“Hey, now,” Seungcheol calls out, grabbing your wrist and gently spinning you into his arms. His hands rest on your hips while yours flatten against his bare, muscular chest.

“You can’t leave me, pretty girl,” he says.

“I—I think you can get dressed without me,” you reply, trying to escape his hold.

“I don’t know,” he hums. He trails his hands up your body and grabs your hands. He pushes them down to the top of his already unbuttoned pants.

“Lend me a hand?” he questions darkly.

“We can’t do anything,” you warn, worried someone will come in.

“I know,” he says with a subtle frown, “but I just… wanna be close to you for a bit.”

Your chest clutches knowing he’s feeling the same about your busy schedules. You’re surprised he’s been here for so long.

“You’re not busy?” you ask, starting to carefully push his pants down his thighs. Your hands brush against his skin, making you yearn for more.

“I had some meetings get canceled,” he explains and watches you lean down slightly to get the rest of the pants off. He steps out of them.

You pick them up and start hanging them when Seungcheol wraps his arms around you from behind. You suck in a breath when you feel his growing bulge against you.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your neck.

You place the hanger on the rack and turn in his arms.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, finally giving in to the kiss you wanted earlier.

Seungcheol holds you tighter, making you feel him more and causing arousal to shoot downward. It’s been too long since you’ve felt him fill you. You whimper into the kiss accidentally at the mere thought.

“Fuck, you’re making this hard,” he groans while pulling away.

You giggle, dazed by his kiss. “I know.”

He chuckles and rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s not what I meant,” he mutters.

You lean in to peck his lips again.

“I know,” you repeat. “You’re making this hard too.”

And how could he not when he’s kissing you heavenly and pressing up against you with his near-naked body—one that’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Let’s go on a date this weekend,” he suggests, hands rubbing your sides.

“Really?” you ask. You know people go on dates on the whim—you don’t need a reason—yet the idea of one randomly still surprises you.

“Yeah. Wanna spend time with you,” he says and kisses you shortly. “Wanna see you get all dolled up just for me.”

You smile and wrap your arms around his waist. You press your cheek against his naked chest, basking in his embrace.

“I’d like that,” you reply.

“I knew you would,” he says and hugs you tightly. He gives your head a tender kiss, letting the moment run its course.

Although you’re still weary about being so intimate in a public setting, you can’t help but get lost in the desire to feel Seungcheol. To just have him here with you.

“I guess I better get dressed,” he says after a while.

You linger for just a moment, then slowly release him. You feel cold without his heated body against yours.

“You working late tonight?” he asks while changing back into his work suit.

You begin packing the clothes in garment bags.

“Hopefully not. Just my normal hours,” you answer. “And you?”

“Unfortunately,” he sighs.

You hide your frown and zip up the bags.

“How late?” you wonder, hanging the bags from your arms and grabbing your purse.

“Not too late this time. Maybe an hour or two?” he replies.

You nod.

Seungcheol, now dressed, takes the garment bags from your arm despite your protests.

“I’ll help you load your car, then I’ll get back,” he informs.

Nodding once more, you lead him out. There’s only three people lingering around, cleaning the area. You bid them goodbye and guide Seungcheol to your car. After everything is packed, Seungcheol hovers by your side.

“I hope your boss is happy with the photos,” he says.

“She better be,” you reply. “We had a handsome man modeling.”

He grins. “Oh, yeah? You got a crush on ‘em now?”

“A big one,” you tease.

Seungcheol chuckles and kisses your cheek. He seems to want to say something but hesitates.

“I’ll see you at home. Drive safe,” he finally says.

“You too, Cheol.”

Seungcheol opens your car door and makes sure you’re in safely before shutting it. He stays on the sidewalk to watch you depart. In your rearview mirror, you see him turn and head toward his car.

You wish he wasn’t walking in the other direction and hope the day goes by fast. You just want to be in his arms again.

A/N: How could I not take the opportunity to write about Seungcheol modeling with this couple??? Do you guys think this will be the last time PrettyPlease!Seungcheol does this for Cherry? 🫣

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

Taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @aeerio, @cherrylovescheol, @ellllsia, @gyuguys

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[ink-and-dagger]

I would like to know why you follow an artist on Twitter that draws Miguelxminors I like your content but if you support that I can’t keep following

Can you do me a favour and send me another anon ask with the @ because no I absolutely don’t support that and would like to block ASAP without having to look at their content.

I’m guessing I must have followed whoever they are because they do art for a fandom I’m in? I don’t have any interest in the spiderverse so wouldn’t have followed for that. I’m also rarely on twitter, so miss most of the content on there even from people I follow. If any content like that shows up on my socials I block instantly. Always have and always will. It will have absolutely been an unintentional follow, and anyone who knows me or who has been around my blog for a while knows exactly how I feel about this kind of content. So I’m guessing you might not have been following me for too long.

But while you’re here can I offer some general advice? Maybe tone down the aggression when pointing things like this out to people. If someone is following one problematic account, and doesn’t show any signs of actually supporting that type of content, then perhaps it’s best to take a benefit of the doubt approach? People make mistakes sometimes, you know?

Maybe sending something more along the lines of:

“Hey - I noticed you’re following <x-account>. Were you aware that they post <x-content>?”

Because honestly the energy behind this ask is giving me flaming torches and pitch forks at my front door and I really don’t appreciate it.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

I think fans want Jason to be a good person or be becoming one. To have a character that is well meaning and compassionate but decided murder is ok and to stand against main heroes who’s beliefs and actions go against the people he cares about and wants in his life. It’s confusing for people. People want their fav characters to be happy. But Jason can’t have his family’s support and follow his moral code. He’s cares about people and Gotham, and he’s an asshole who kills. It’s messy. It’s not black and white. I don’t even think Jason cares about being a good person or in the right anymore. I think he cares about what will save the most people instead.

Oh my goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled

Batman’s definition of Good is not synonymous with absolute good/right no matter how much dc insists it is. Torture, battery/assault, surveillance, those are all condemnable actions too. I won’t get into the exhausting and frankly dumb debate of comic book morality wrt killing because I’ve already reblogged plenty of posts from other people who explained my thoughts on the matter far better than I ever have the patience to sit down and articulate. I also just think the notion that there’s something to be done about fictional characters who kill nazis and senseless murderers is stupid. Jason’s point is that the “main” heroes’ sanitized definition of right has its unaddressed holes and flaws which ultimately result in more preventable fatalities, and that he’ll work to correct those missing spots.

He doesn’t not care about doing what’s right. What he doesn’t care about (at least during his Winick characterization) is whether Batman thinks he’s right or wrong, because he sees the flaws in Batman’s methodology (and since he has a mind of his own). Batman’s methods alone cannot address Arkham’s revolving door and the rogues that come and go through those doors who have no intention (or capability from the doylist pov) of ever changing or undergoing redemption. Jason knows that he’s minimizing the number of preventable deaths by killing his targets, typically Characters Who Simply Do Fucked Up Shit Just Because, Why The Fuck Not?

Secondly, Jason is compassionate … to a fault. That was his fatal flaw. If he wasn’t so hell-bent on saving his potential birth mother he just met from that bomb despite everything she did to him prior, he could have protected himself instead, however slim his odds of survival were. What about his relationship with his other parents? He was a caregiver during his early childhood years for Catherine, until her death. Even mature adults who are financially stable find being a caregiver to a dying parent to be extremely burdensome on their bodies and minds, but he never complained about it or resented Catherine for being unable to care for him. Despite how none of his parents have really been what he needed them to be, he doesn’t blame them for their failings, and even continues to think highly of them (Bruce included).

And post-death? Enter Lost Days. Despite being dead set on plotting his revenge on Bruce, he constantly sidelines this in order to save other victims who are helpless like he once was. His own anger, trauma, and mission don’t remain his priority. (Sound familiar? Something something my own trauma above my son’s, mission above all else, etc.). Why would he waste precious time and risk his own life to do this if he wasn’t empathetic towards these victims or didn’t care about doing the right thing. He is simultaneously horribly traumatized and full of rage, and also incapable of ignoring what’s happening to victims around him (even as he claims that it’s indeed not his priority). And in that same vein, the entire premise of his rebirth outlaws run was that he doesn’t care if the public views him as a villain, an outlaw, so long as he can protect Gotham. And anyway where is this portrayal of him not caring about being in the right anymore. Almost every modern Jason story is about him grappling with where he stands with Bruce/Batman. During the early 2000s was probably the last time he did not care (hello, tentatodd??).

Jason has very evidently been portrayed as a kind and compassionate character. He is also simultaneously a calculated killer who doesn’t hesitate to kill when he deems necessary, and does so without remorse. It’s called being a Complex Character With An Edge™ that as you said, people so often claim to love. However when he fulfills that latter part, that seems to upset people because “killing bad”, and they then try to shave off and round out all his edges and claim he shouldn’t be that angry. In that case I guess you should just stick to liking traditional one-dimensional characters instead of claiming to like Jason but then encouraging his character assassination attempt by dc. Lol.

Lastly, who said anything about the batfam making Jason happy? Just because he’s written nowadays to want acceptance from Bruce (a shoddy attempt at forcing a non-existent nuclear batfamily), doesn’t mean that it’s a sound decision or that it does his character justice. I certainly don’t empathize with the idea that Jason needs the family’s approval or acceptance to be happy. (And anyway he has enough outlets for angst and pain aside from the batfam hello explore his other sources of trauma and do more deep dives into how he thinks when he’s alone). I don’t want them to magically make up and become one big happy family. This is not disney Lol. Besides, there are plenty of stories from dc that have that type of “wholesome” (hate that word utilization) characterization for Jason (Li’l Gotham, Tiny Titans, wfa, and even new stuff like the brave and the bold mini) and that is sufficient imo. Jason fans who are invested in the character deserve accurate, nuanced characterization and well-written stories, whether they be from his robin days (e.g., Batman: The Cult) or as red hood.

[timemachineyeah]

Keep seeing posts in solidarity with the WGA strike that say things like “no one cares about your favorite shows” and “fuck your tv show. I hope it gets canceled” and while I understand and agree with the underlying sentiment, which is clearly “Real people are more important than fictional ones, you dipshit” I don’t like the framing because, well, it feels shitty to dismiss the importance of the work made by the workers we’re trying to defend.

No one cares about your favorite shows more than the writers do.

No one understands the power and importance of tv and film more than the writers who created them.

No one loves tv, movies, games, and stories more than the people who fought tooth and nail in an incredibly competitive and underpaid profession for the chance to be part of it.

They know it’s important. They know it changes lives. They know it can be more than just a story, more than just a bit of entertainment. They’ve loved and respected this medium, continue to love and respect this medium, more than you ever will.

The person who wants a show to get canceled the least is the writer who poured their everything into making it good.

TV and movies are great, actually, and you are not wrong to be invested and care about them. That’s what the writers gave you. That’s what the writers wanted when they wrote it. That’s why they wrote it.

Which is why we respect them when they make the call that this strike and its demands are worth risking it.

The people on that picket line do not want their shows canceled. They want to keep writing them. They can’t, not under the current conditions.

So we accept the risk with them and support them.

But I don’t want to berate the power and importance of their work, the value they put into it and the love they have for it, in the same breath that I am defending their strike. Worthy shows will likely get canceled or derailed and that will be a tragedy worth mourning. The writers know that better than anyone.

So when they say something else is even more important, we listen. And when your favorite show gets ruined, you make sure your fully justified anger and grief is pointed in the right direction - at the CEOs who killed it.

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[mattsfavoritestar]

< back_to_main-page

SMILE! YOU’RE ON CAMERA, chris + matt

synopsis… (based on this ask)

warnings… mean!toxic!matt, mean!toxic!chris, mentions of established relationship, cheating, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT B4 YOU TAP IT), sextape, degradation, oral (m receiving), face fucking, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, edging, chris has a dacryphilla kink

“fuck chris look at her take me so well” matt groans with his torturous slow thrust. he was so deep inside and the stretch burned so good. you were holding on to a pillow, stuffing your face to hide trying to muffle both your sobs and moans.

you felt so exposed and embarrassed with both matt and chris just watching you. your legs were locked around matt’s waist. he held you in place by your waist, refusing to let you go any faster or even attempt to run away from him. he was going at a just enough speed to where it’s barely brushing your orgasm. he was edging you on purpose.

you heard the familiar sound of a camera shutter from chris’s direction. “think i should record it? send it to that fucker?” chris asked completely ignoring your existence. matt nods with his mouth hanging open, he was lost in the way your gummy walls gripped him in such a delicious way.

the pillow was yanked from your hands and thrown to the floor. you saw the blurry head of an upside down chris pointing his phone in your face. “look at this whore. crying on my brothers cock like you didn’t just get a new lapdog” he laughs.

you turn your head away from him as you felt tears running down your face. chris grabs your jaw and roughly forces you to look directly at him. you saw the flash from the camera looking right at you. “oh baby, look at you..” he mumbles as he smears your tears onto your lips.

matt’s thrust grew more aggressive. he was clearly taking his anger out, borderline abusing your cunt. your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you back arched slightly. matt mumbled his complaints and insults as he harshly pounded deep inside you.

“fucking slut”

“think you’re gonna replace us that easy?”

“bet he doesn’t fuck you the way we do”

you couldn’t even defend yourself. your voice was fucked out of you, all you could do was let out choked moans. you tried to reach for chris to hold onto him but he moved completely out of reach and laughed.

“look you pissed matt off” he says. you shut your eyes then attempted to push matt away by his pelvis but was shoved away by him. you couldn’t even tell them that you were at the brink of orgasm. you opened back your eyes only to see chris hovering over you again with the camera with his cock dangling in your face. he had a sick smile plastered on his face as he zoomed into matt brutality fucking into your cunt.

you soaked matt’s lower half with a loud moan practically a scream falling from your lips. “i’m sorry, matt did she ask you to cum? cause i didn’t hear anything” chris scoffs. matt shook his head, “nope” he grunted.

“flip her over” you heard chris say.

matt pulled out of you swiftly before turning you over. he placed his hands back onto your waist and lifted your lower half to meet his before plunging back in. you couldn’t even register matt’s cock in your guts as chris distracted you by pulling you hair up so your head met with his cock in your face.

chris teased himself on your glossed lips before pulling your hair back slightly, forcing you to open your mouth. you stuck your tongue out and barely grazed his tip. “don’t think your lapdog would be too keen on you panting like a bitch in heat” chris hissed.

he placed his tip flat onto your tongue then slowly pushed himself into your mouth. you thought he was going to be nicer and attempt to be gentle since matt already had your legs quivering. how wrong you were.

chris pushed his hips forward abruptly. you gagged with tears streaming down your face. your throat was on fire but the burn was delicious. between matt drilling into you from behind and chris fucking your face, you couldn’t stop yourself from cumming again on matt. your legs were shaking so bad, you swore you were going to drop if they weren’t holding you up.

“c’mon baby look at the camera. show your boyfriend how much better we treat you” chris pants as he shoves the camera in your face. you gurgled around his cock as a mixture of precum and saliva dripped out of your mouth.

“m’close!” matt moans as he leans over you, his thrust were getting sloppy. chris drops the phone then places both hands on your head. his head drops back while his eyes close. “mh’fuck!, let’s fill her up” chris moans.

you heard matt whine as ropes of his seed spilled inside you followed by a loud moan from chris as his load floods your throat. matt pulls out and jerks himself of while more of his cum pumps out of him and paints your back.

chris pulls out with a heavy sigh while you coughed. he moves back a bit to catch his breath then looks up to see matt sitting next to your limp body. matt played with you hair as you laid their with your eyes closed.

“i just don’t understand why you didn’t come to us if you wanted a boyfriend that bad.” matt states, “could’ve had two” he whispered to himself. you whined as you pushed his hand away softly. “s’cause you guys are so mean t’me” you say weakly.

“we’re not mean you’re just sensitive” chris laughs. he was over there scrolling through your following list, searching for your new boyfriend’s instagram. he scoffs as he looks through this guy’s feed judging every post. you heard his fingers tapping away but ignored it as you felt yourself slipping into a much needed rest.

“matt” chris calls. matt looks over to chris who was showing him his phone. a chuckle left matt’s mouth as he shakes his head.

instagram: christophersturniolo sent a video !

[gh0stsp1d3r]

May I please request where I am kiaras sister and I become pregnant from rafe and my parents kick me out

I love this sm

Not under my roof

R! Is 19, mikes an asshole

The wait was suspenseful, Rafe paced the room while your leg bounced up and down, both of you staring at the test.

When the two lines appeared, Rafe threw his hands up, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes welled up.

“Rafe-“

He bit down on his lip, stopping his pacing and looking down at you and nodding, his mind running wild. He thought for a moment before speaking.

“Fuck. Alright, alright, it’s okay. We got this, we can do this shit, right?” He was mostly talking to himself, but he looked at you as he said it. Tears ran down your face and he got down to your level, sitting in front of you, cupping your face gently.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s gonna be alright, okay? ‘M gonna… figure this shit out, gonna marry you, and I’ll… clean up another room at Tannyhill. It’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

You didn’t say anything or nod, he frowned. “You heard me? I’m gonna figure things out for us.”

You nodded and he sighed, standing up and leaving the bathroom.

The one thing you were worried about? How the hell were you gonna tell your parents?

You took a deep breath, fumbling with the key in your hand and opening the front door.

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, shutting the door behind you.

“In here!” Your mom shouted from the dining room. Your heart racing as you walked over to them, plastering a fake smile on your face when you saw them.

Kiara sat, looking miserable at the edge of the table, watching as you entered. Sarah was next to her. Great.

“Sit,” your dad motioned to a plate on the other end of the table. You gave Sarah a small smile and she gave one back.

“What’s this?” You asked when you sat down, pointing to the meat on your plate.

“Swordfish.” Your mom spoke, your face fell and your heart sunk. You couldn’t eat high-mercury fish.

“Is something wrong?” Your dad asked, you swallowed and looked at them.

“Uh... No. It’s just… I can’t eat swordfish.” You said, you should have known they would pester you about why.

“Why?” Kiara asked with an attitude, everyone now staring at you.

“I… my doctor told me not to eat meat for a few days.”

“What? Why? Is something wro-“ your mom immediately started.

“Everything’s fine.” You lied with a small smile, taking a sip of the water next to the plate.

“Then why can’t you eat meat, y/n?” Your mom kept going, a warning in her tone now. She knew something was up.

“I- not here.” You told her, glancing around the table.

“Y/n, tell me right n-“

You uttered the words quietly, 'I'm... I'm pregnant.' The room fell silent as your mom's fork clattered onto her plate, your dad's knife froze in the air above the fish, and my sister's eyes widened in shock as she stared.

Her words stumbled out in disbelief. "W- you’re- what?" she stuttered. "Whose... whose is it?

You looked at Sarah, closing your eyes and sighing as you muttered Rafes name.

Sarah’s face turned into one of shock. Kiara’s one of disgust.

“You had sex with Rafe? Are you kidding me right now?!” Kiara shouted, standing up.

“Kiara! Go to your room!” Your dad shouted back, standing up as well, pointing in the direction of her room. Your sister stormed off, Sarah stumbled behind her, still in shock.

Your dad sighed heavily as he sat back down.

“What are you gonna do with it?” He asked quietly.

“I’m… keeping it.”

“Do you really want to raise a child? You’re 19.”

“I- I mean, I want this. Can’t you just be happy for me, for fucking once?”

“Do not use that language with me, young lady.” He sneered. “I can’t have this shit happening under my roof. Under my watch.”

"You only care about your reputation!" You shouted at him, the words bursting like a dam breaking after years of pent-up anger. It felt terrifying to finally release all that had been bottled up inside you for so long.

“Y/n-“ your mom started, trying her best to stop the both of you.

“Don’t ever fucking say that, I’m just trying to help you! You can’t raise a baby! Not alone-“

“I won’t be alone!”

He scoffed, “you really expect me to believe that Rafe Cameron is going to stay with you after this baby?”

“You don’t know anything about him! Dad-“

“Sweetie, I think you should just lis-“ your mom started.

“No! It is my baby and my life, and if you don’t want to be involved in their life, then so fucking be it!”

“That’s not what he mea-“

“Get out.” He said, breathing heavily as he stared at you.

“W-what?” Your mom asked, looking at him now.

“Get the fuck out of my house, y/n.” He pointed to the front door.

“What? Are you serious right now?!” You exclaimed. “You’re kicking me out?!”

He wordlessly stormed to your room, going through all your drawers and grabbing everything, ignoring your mom’s protests as you shouted at him. He went outside, throwing all your clothes outside. He saw Rafe in the car, and stormed over to the car, Rafe getting out the car and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Dad? What are you doing?!” Kiara asked, coming outside now as well. While she was mad, she still had her love for her sister.

“What the fuck, man?” Rafe pointed to the clothes on the floor and your sobbing figure at the doorway.

“I am not having this shit-“ he pointed to you and Rafe. “-Happen under my roof.”

“Seriously? You know, we shouldn’t have even told you.” Rafe scoffed, watching you gather your clothes from the ground and go into passenger seat of his car.

Mike scoffed. “Can’t believe this shit.”

“She’s an adult!”

“I fuckin’ told her time and time again to stay away from guys like you-“

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Mike?” He sneered, already rolling up his long sleeves before you got out the car and sniffled at him.

“C’mon, please. Don’t.” You told him, not even looking at your parents. Your eyes were pleading and he just scoffed, motioning for you to get back in the car and getting back in the drivers seat.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“How’d Ward and rose take it?” You asked him quietly, interrupting the silence.

“Better than your parents.” He scoffed, making you look down in your lap.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him.

“For what?” He questioned, genuinely confused as he glanced at you.

“Making you see that.”

“Hey, what did I tell you? I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. I meant that shit, kid.“

It was silent for a little until he spoke up again.

“But, expect to be asked a million questions by Wheeze when we get back.” He said with a small smile playing on his lips.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Homesickness.

Pairing: Yandere!Silver x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 1.6k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @felix-the-lemon-king.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Physical Intimidation, Arranged Marriages, and Manipulation.

“You’re going to miss the ball, beloved.”

You flinched into yourself as you heard his voice, accompanied by the sound of clipped heels against stone floors and the slight reverberation of both disruptions against barren walls. A foolish, naïve part of you had convinced the rest that a royal guard – no, a general would have too much pride to be found absent from his own betrothal celebrations, let alone be seen in a servant’s hall, but you should’ve known better. There were many in Briar Valley who let their pride distort their vision, countless who allowed their rank and titles to overshadow even their most basic sense of rationality. Silver was, tragically, not among them.

And Silver was, tragically, the only resident of the valley you were engaged to.

You didn’t rush to respond. Patiently, you counted the seconds until he was standing at the base of the stairwell you’d took refuge in – not unlike the way you used to hide in spare bedrooms and vacant parlors as a child, whenever your parents were entertaining guests who had too many questions about your pointed ears and the scales on the backs of your hands. And, tangentially, you couldn’t say the bolt of dread that would always strike your chest when you heard you parents calling you out of that day’s chosen hiding place was totally dissimilar to the fear that knotted in the back of your throat as Silver stepped into your line of sight, coming to stand in the doorway at the stairwell’s base. He was still dressed in his regalia, his clothing evenly divided between the pitch-black armor of the royal guards and the formal attire that would be expected, given the occasion. His sword was sheathed at his waist – a sight that, weeks ago, might’ve made you somewhat wary, but that you’d since grown desensitized to. No part of you found comfort in the fact that he seemed to be constantly within arm’s reach of a weapon, but it was hard to be scared of something he never seemed to draw.

It took him a moment to find you in the darkness, his eyes more limited by it than your own, but he seemed to soften as his gaze finally landed on you. “You’ll miss the ball,” he repeated, his tone concerned rather than irritated. Another small blessing – for a knight, your betrothed seemed remarkably slow to anger. “Is something wrong? I know Malleus took charge of the arrangements, but if something doesn’t suit your preferences, I can—”

“It’s beautiful,” you assured, because it was. Because it had been. Because for any little girl from the Briar Valley or any other fae land had been in your place, this all would’ve been nothing short of a dream come true, but you weren’t a little girl, and you weren’t from Briar Valley, and you found very few things beautiful about the idea of getting married at all, let alone to a man you had only recently met. “It’s only…” You curled your hands around the fabric of your own attire. “I’m afraid I’m just… not very good at parties, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You half-expected Silver to frown, to urge you back to the banquet hall he’d come from, but he only sighed, shaking his head in a sympathetic sort of way before taking to the stairs and seating himself beside you, leaving a measured gap between your body and his. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not used to being here, just yet.” He paused, flashed a small smile in your direction. Even at the best of times, you struggled to read his expression – not because he was overly cold, but because he always seemed to radiate that same uncanny, only a touch above off-putting warmth. At least a portion of it had to be insincere. Fae or human, there wasn’t a person alive who could be so consistently affable. “It took me months to adjust, the first time I left the valley. Everything was so alien – if I hadn’t been travelling with my father, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a day.”

It was difficult, but you did your best to smile, to laugh. Although your pairing had seemed strange at first, it did make a twisted kind of sense – a fae born without magic, raised by the human nobility of a country with only negligible ties to Briar Valley, arranged to marry a human with magical prowess in spades, raised in service of a fae king, for the mutual benefit of their homelands. You wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was a part of some elaborate joke, the type it was rumored your kin were so fond of. It was only unfortunate that you had to be the target of their humor.

“The dark bothers me more than anything,” you admitted, before you could think better of it. “Where I come from, it’s almost always sunny. Having to live someplace without light and with so little warmth—” And so many cruel faces, and so many gnashing teeth, “—I suppose I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“It’s not always like this.” It was the most eagerly you’d ever seen him speak. “You’ve come during a poor season for it, but the view from the castle’s highest tower on a clear day is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the valley’s coasts get much more sun. I’ve heard they tend to hold their festivals around this time of year, too.” He seemed to pause, to consider, then went on, “After the wedding, I’d be my pleasure to take you to one.”

At that, you let yourself relax. He was aloof, sure, but he was kind, too. You could be thankful for that, if nothing else. “I was planning to return home as soon as possible, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.”

“Of course.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought you heard him moving closer to you. “Malleus suggested we continue to stay in the castle while you settle, but… it would be nice, if we had our own home.”

Your delicate smile wavered. “Silver, I know we haven’t talked about this but—”

“Unless you’d like to stay here, I mean. But, I’d still like to show you the cabin where—”

“Silver,” you tried, again, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I meant that I’m not going to stay in the valley at all after the wedding. I understand why I’ve been asked to marry you, and it’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here, but—” Another laugh, a pleading glance in his direction. “I don’t belong here, as you wouldn’t belong anywhere but Briar Valley. You know that, don’t you?”

Now, it was Silver’s turn to go quiet. When you found the nerve to look toward him, you found him staring blankly ahead, his lips ever so slightly quirked downward. Huh.

So that was what he looked like, after he’d gone cold.

You didn’t see him draw his sword. His hand was on his hilt, grip tight enough to bleed the color from his knuckles, and then, your back was pressed against the harsh slant of the staircase, the flat of his blade pressed to the base of your throat and Silver above you. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You might’ve forgotten to breathe, too, if you hadn’t been shocked enough to let out a single, airy gasp – just loud enough to be audible.

“After the wedding,” he started, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you might not understand. “I think you should remain in the valley, with me. I’ll build us a house – a cabin not far from the castle – and you’ll be safe and warm for as long as I can take care of you. Would you like that?”

You opened your mouth, but suddenly couldn’t remember how to move your tongue. Silver angled his wrist, the slant of his blade pressing into tender flesh. “Would you like that, beloved?”

“I---” You forced yourself to swallow, to shut your eyes. “I want to go home, Silver.”

This time, you felt something razor-sharp and frigid bite into the skin just below your jawline, drawing the thinnest possible trail of blood. “And you will.” Then, after a measured pause, “And that home will be with me.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to make you say it aloud. All it took was a quick nod, a pathetically fractured whimper, and he was drawing back, returning his sword to its sheath as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no mention of swords or cabins or the blood now dripping down your neck – only long, weighted look, the implications of which you didn’t wish to examine. “Stay here.” Almost reflexively, you moved to stand, but all it took was a tilt of his head and a flash of his blade to have you falling back into place, paralyzed. “I’ll tell Malleus that you won’t be returning. When I’m finished, we’ll return to our chambers together.”

You hadn’t formerly been sharing chambers, but pointing that out felt redundant, if not entirely useless.

You watched as he started to turn away, only to hesitate and return to you. With a deliberate kind of slowness, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, taking your limp hand in his. “Of all the people I could’ve been betrothed to, I’ve found myself increasingly glad that I’m betrothed to you.”

His smile was warmer than it ever had been, and yet, you’d never felt so cold.

“And, eventually, I know you’ll feel the same.”

[i-loved-silly]

(PART 2) - WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!! + slight gore description --- part 1

Okay, recap.

Your perfect little day in dimension-travel-jail was interrupted. You almost got knocked out by two muscular men who came down from the sky like little drunk angels, who in turn happened to be famous characters. You don't know how you didn't realize earlier, guess timeline hopping also slowly melts your brain. You should really get an MRI exam sometime.

You almost passed out again when you realized you were chest-to-chest with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Heart to heart. Body to body. Tip to tip, if that applies to you.

"You're real. I'm real. We're real." You deadpanned, stars almost twinkling in your eyes. No, maybe it wasn't the first time you've met a Deadpool. But this guy? He was the real deal. The original. How the hell did an original end up here?

"Pfft, you thought we were just drawings on paper? Two of the world's sexiest men in skintight costumes? Wrong. We're the real deal here, friendo. Can I call you that? Or will you try to kill me? You know I really didn't mean to crash into you I rea--"

"Alright, listen here. Wade, shut up. You," Logan pointed a finger at him then at you, still being embraced by Wade. "Do you understand any of the...nonsense he's talking about? Because I don't, and I don't. Have. Time for this. It's either you help me get out of here or get out of my way."

"Woah woah woah, since when did that 'we' turn into 'me'?" Wade reluctantly let go of you to walk up to Logan, his hands landing on his hips. "You're not the only one trapped here, you know, we're kind of all in the same boat here. We all fucked up our lives and it was definitely our fault bu--ACK"

You gasped, watching in horror as three silver claws stabbed straight through Wade's torso and out his back. Logan stalked closer, his scowl deepening. "Come again?" He taunted, his teeth grinding. Before Wade could get a word out, Logan turned his hand, twisting the blades inside of him.

"G-owww, FUCK. God, I swear this happened differently in another universe. Somehow hurts more this ti--" Logan stopped him again and began lifting him up in the air. By the torso. With his claws inside, being the only thing holding him up.

Your eyes widened, "Hey, guys stop that! Logan!"  You yelled, taking a step forward, your hands held up in the air defensively.

Logan briefly glanced in your direction and grunted, tossing Wade to the side. “Move aside, bub. We need to settle some things.” Then he…lunged at Wade. They just started fucking fighting each other.

You backed up, watching everything go down. This could not be real. “I thought…you guys wanted out?” You muttered, your voice barely heard over their grunting and blades clashing.

“You know it’s true, so--argh, no hard feelings, right? Plus, I forgive you Wolvie.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, Wade. It’s all your fucking fault I was dragged into this. I was doing just fine without yo—“

“Just fine? You call spending all your days at bars and drinking all their supply just fine? While your life crumbles around you like a house of cards. If we were really on the TVA's watchlist, maybe they should've just sent us all to anger management sessions, huh?"

“Stop fighting!” You shouted in a voice heavy with irritation, grabbing a clump of sand from the ground and hurling it in their direction.

Logan, reacting instinctively, closed his eyes and shoved Wade aside, now choking and coughing violently. “What the hell?”

Simultaneously, Wade spun to face away, retching into the sand. “Oh god it’s inside of my mask. It’s in my face hole—“

Logan regained himself quicker than Wade, to where he immediately brushed aside the sand on his face and stomped towards you. You took a step back, by the sight of his fists clenched and white knuckles you swore he was about to beat you. “Waitwaitwait! I don’t have healing factor!” You rambled and held your hands out.

He paused in his tracks, his jaw visibly clenching as he tried to control his anger. Yeah, maybe he was used to taking out his frustrations on himself and now..Deadpool. But he couldn’t do that to you. You’re not even involved in whatever shit they got themselves into. You didn't deserve to get roped in their..mess, whatever it was. He let out an annoyed breath and swiveled away, seething internally. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

You slowly put your hands down, then looked around to see Wade still rolling on the floor. Upon hearing Logan, he snapped his head towards you both, the eyes of his mask widening. Before he could even get a little, tiny, miniscule word out, you spoke.

"ANYWAY...ehm..you both want out, yes? This is all one big mistake? I could help you. I've survived out here this long without being brutally killed." You forced a grin, facing the two. They blinked.

"Killed? What..who is in charge of killing here?" Logan narrowed his eyes.

Wade stood up to his feet, popping his wrist back into place. "There's--" His face under his mask soured, god he could still feel the sand particles crunching around between his teeth.

"ugh, there's others around? What kind of crazies would wanna live here?" He raised his arms, gesturing the vastness of this dystopian desert. Camera pans out, there's an echo to his voice, a tumbleweed passes by, you know what i mean

You scoffed, still very much salty about your own situation even though it's been years. "It's not like it was a choice. The only person could who take us out is Cassandra Nova, and she does not use her powers for that. She's basically with the freaking TVA, from what I know."

A singular laugh escaped Logan, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, "Really now? How bad could she be?"

"Uh..let's see..multiple counts of murder, enslavement, power abuse, she's sadistic, evil, has a whole paragraph worth of powers. Unstoppable, basically?" You shrugged.

"I think we could get along."

"No, Wade."

"How do we get to her?" Logan crossed his arms. Perhaps he was the only one taking this seriously. You had gotten used to it already, but you too remembered how badly you wanted to leave this place at first.

"You two seem in a rush. "

"Yeah, well we're in a rush because I've got a whole-ass timeline to save, not to mention I also made a pinky swear to this guy over here. I promised the gruff-beard that I'd help him clean up his messy timeline, like a stain of last nights left ove-"

"Got it!" You exclaimed, interrupting him. "But uh, is that even possible? To..fix your guys' timelines, I mean."

"It better be," Logan glared at Wade. "Because otherwise, I'm going to tear you apart." He sneered, really making his point by leaning closer to him. These guys need to kiss already.

You nervously smiled. If another fight starts, you swear you were going to start ripping your own face off. "Okay! I know someone, guys! We'll all help eachother out, he's real nice, which means you probably won't like him--but he'll help! Follow me."

Oh, you knew someone alright. He was the most suburban-canadian guy you knew.

Lot's of dialogue in this, oops. This fic is kinda going off the plot of the movie, so I'm sure you know who you'll meet next! Leave ideas in the comments if you have any, since this fic is very freestyle and let me now...should i include the car scene we all wanted or too soon? GOODBYE! taglist <3 : @pink-jello-fish @radiantdanvers @superlegend216 @salted-snailz @wolfsune09 @jxssimae @remuslupinsfavoritebook @flannelforthetoads @rowanlovesmoonknight @bengewatch @i-shall-be-the-possum1 @kyriekurokami @marymustdie @tzurue @euinein @sophiemajokie @itsrainingtodayyy

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[cameronluvr]

STEPPED IN — toxic!rafe x reader (short oneshot)

summary: ward separates a fight between you and his son after rafe physically puts his hands on you. you leave and find comfort in the pogues.

warnings: toxic relationship, face grabbing, rafe slapping reader, yelling, fighting, rafe and ward arguing, cuss words, mean!rafe, angst, kind of happy ending though (thanks to the pogues) 🫶🏻

MY MASTERLIST / RAFE MASTERLIST

rose and ward were sat peacefully in the living room enjoying their time together when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of you and rafe arguing as you enter the house.

“don’t walk away from me” you say to your boyfriend, following him into his home through the back door into the kitchen. “i’m walking away because i will literally punch you if i don’t.” rafe says, followed by a stern “hey” from his dad over in the next room.

“go on then, hit me” you laugh, grabbing his arm and yanking him back to turn him around, he stops and faces you in the middle of the kitchen. “hey, stop it, now… both of you” ward says, looking over at you from the living room into the open kitchen.

neither of you give him your attention, not taking your eyes from each others. his breathing is hitched and his face is angry, you can tell he’s trying so hard not to lash out on you in front of his parents.

“…you’re a fucking stupid liar, you know that?” you speak up, breaking the moment of silence out of anger. he took a deep breath in before reaching his hand over to grip your jaw hard, pulling your face closer to his. “say that shit again i dare you” he warns before his dad steps in.

“right, that’s enough” ward raises his voice, stepping up from the couch and rushing over to the kitchen. “fucking. stupid. liar.” you slowly repeat your words while looking into his eyes which sent him over the edge, finally snapping as he lets go of your jaw and slaps you across the face.

the slap was hard, it made your head turn in the other direction and instantly raise your hand to your cheek to cup it. “who do you think you are, huh?” he raises his voice, “rafe, stop it” his dad is quick to pull him back, where he shoves his son in anger. “what the hell’s wrong with you?!” ward yells at rafe as he diverts his attention to his dad now.

“she fuckin’ started it—” rafe yells, pointing over to you who is standing there holding your face with tears in your eyes, his slap hurt like a bitch. “i do not care, rafe, you do not put your fucking hands on her like that, you hear me?” ward shouts, not wanting to hear any kind of excuse for what he just did.

“you just gonna take her side like that?” rafe scoffs a laugh, acting like hitting his girlfriend was a normal thing to do. “i’m not taking sides, rafe, i don’t give a shit what she did, okay? don’t you dare hit her like that” ward shouts, pointing in his sons face as they stand inches apart.

“fucking asshole.” you mumble as you walk away with tears running down your face. “the fuck did you just say?” rafe asks, turning to face you and attempting to follow you out but his dad grabbed him and forced him back. “son, stop it” he practically begs his son with his hands on his shoulders, needing him to calm down. you headed back outside where you shut the door behind you, still hearing them yelling from inside as you walk away.

walking down and out of the driveway, you see john b’s twinkie pull up outside with everyone in it. “y/n?” sarah asks, immediately opening the van door and jumping out to see if you’re okay. “oh, hey” you sniffle, wiping away and attempting to hide your tears from the pogues. “you okay?” john b asks as everyone has their eyes on you who has a red mark on your cheek.

“not really. i wouldn’t go in there, your dad and rafe are arguing like crazy” you say, pointing to her house. “why?” she asks. “well, rafe just hit me so…” you sigh.

“wait what?”

“rafe hit you?”

the pogues in the van spoke up as kiara jumped out to comfort you, too. “yeah…” you say, turning your head to show them the red mark on your cheek. “that’s what that is?” kiara gasps, pulling you into a hug to make you feel better.

“i’m gonna kill him—”

“i don’t think you need to, your dad’s halfway there” you cut sarah off with a scoffed laugh. “ugh… we came so i could grab my surf board, though” sarah says, wanting to go get it but also wanting to avoid her brother who she wants to fight with right now.

“you can use mine, i have a spare” you smile, “hell yeah, come with us” jj says from inside, standing up inside the twinkie to invite you in. “sure…” you giggle, stepping into the van as sarah and kie follow behind you, shutting the door once you were all back inside.

on the drive to your house to grab some swimwear and your surfboards, you tell the pogues what happened between you and rafe. “and he promised me months ago that he wouldn’t touch that shit again, and what did i do? i caught him snorting it” you explain to your friends that rafe had gotten back into his drug habit behind your back after getting clean and promising you he’d be better, until you caught him racking up lines and sniffing them out on his back porch.

“you seriously need to break up with him,” pope says, “yeah, he’s such a prick.” jj adds. you sigh, knowing you should break up with him, but you dread of the fights and arguments it would bring, so you try to avoid it. “yeah, jj’s single if you’re ever in need…” john b says from the drivers seat, making you laugh. jj reaches over and nudges john b, telling him to shut up.

even though you were in the most toxic relationship ever, you were just glad you had your friends there for you whenever you need. they turned a bad day into a good one, and you spent the rest of it at the beach, surfing and having fun.

SUPER DUPER SHORT ONE SORRY!!!!🥲 i’ve been so busy i haven’t had much time to write :/ but i came up with this little oneshot for you all to make up for it. NOT PROOFREAD. feel free to point out any mistakes <3

— i have some drafts cooking up. they are much longer than this don’t worry 🎀

@cameronluvr

[badkitty3000]

there wouldnt be any way u wld write a slightly sub five fic like you did with him and vivi? .... :)))

Ask and you shall receive! In this one, you and Five are working as trained assassins and you're not exactly happy with him. Enjoy! 😽

Coercion

Five x Reader One-shot, 5,202 words

Warnings: Smut, light bondage (very light), light dom/sub, oral sex

If Five noticed your silent treatment on the drive over to the crappy motel, he hadn’t let on. You waited with increasing irritation as he took his sweet time getting the room key out and opening the door. If you weren’t set on not talking to him, you would have not-so-gently reminded him that he didn’t need a damn key in the first place, but you let him struggle instead. Once he opened the door for you, you pushed past him and threw your bag and rifle case on the one sad and saggy double bed in the room. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking around with a scowl.

“This place is a dump.”

Five shrugged, setting his own bags down on the floor and shrugging his suit jacket off before placing it on the back of the one chair provided.

“It’s not great, I’ll admit, but could be worse.”

His casual tone told you he had not, indeed, picked up on your anger. As you stood there, glaring daggers in his direction, he finally looked up and had the nerve to act surprised.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

You put your hands on your hips. “You want to tell me what the hell that was back there?”

Five balked, the innocent look on his face aggravating you even more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

With a loud huff, you turned to start unpacking your bag. “Of course you don’t.”

There was a pause and then Five sighed. “Well, are you going to tell me what you’re mad about, or do I have to start guessing?”

“You seriously don’t know?” you asked, spinning to face him.

He shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets in that way that told you he was starting to get fed up with your passive-aggressiveness. “No, I seriously don’t know.”

You gestured in the vague direction of the door, indicating the outside world you’d just come in from. “Out there. When you literally pushed me out of the way and took my shot.”

Five rolled his eyes and sighed. “That? You’re mad about that?”

“You knocked me on the ground!”

“I helped you back up,” he said with a smirk.

You made a frustrated growling noise and clenched your fists together. “That’s not the point! You’re supposed to be my partner! You’re supposed to support me! I had the fucking shot!”

Five hung his head and then looked back up with a grin that you immediately wanted to smack off his face. He walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, cocking his head to the side in a condescending way.

“As your long-suffering partner, of course I support you 100%. But I’m not going to sit there and watch you make an error that could get you or both of us killed.”

You scowled up at him and shook yourself free from his grasp. “That’s a bunch of horse shit and you know it! I had that shot set up perfectly. Just because you can’t handle a little competition does not mean you get to just shove me out of the way like that.”

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes again. “You did not have it set up perfectly. You would have missed.”

“I would not have,” you spat back between clenched teeth.

“With the way you were aiming and the fact that you hadn’t accounted for wind trajectory and velocity, you absolutely would have missed.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Of course, I factored in the wind trajectory! What do you think I am, a moron?”

“Of course I don’t. Stop being so dramatic.”

“That’s it,” you snapped, turning back to your bag on the bed. “I’ve had enough. I’m asking for a new partner when we get back.”

“Oh, is that right? You’re just going to waltz in there and ask for a new partner?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Because whoever else they can pair me up with has to be better than someone that can’t possibly admit when they’re wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” Five nodded. “You going to ask for a new husband, too, while you’re at it?”

“Maybe I will!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darling.”

A few seconds passed and you felt his arms wrap around your middle from behind. He rubbed his face into your hair and kissed your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, not in the least bit convincingly, and you could feel the smile on his face.

“I don’t think you are.”

He moved your hair away from your neck and kissed the side. “I’m so very, very sorry. And if you come join me in the shower, I can show you how sorry I am.”

You closed your eyes and held your breath for a few seconds before letting it out in a loud exhale. He always knew how to get to you. And how to make you weak for him. But this time you were not going to give in. You were still too pissed.

“No, thank you,” you responded brusquely.

You felt that smirk against your neck again, before he moved down to your collarbone, using his teeth to very gently scrape across it over your shirt. Your mouth pressed together in a straight line as you tried not to give in.

“Please, sweetheart. You know you can’t stay mad at me,” Five mumbled against your neck. “Especially when I saved your life.”

“RAHHH!” You yelled, turning around so quickly that Five stumbled backward in surprise. “You did not save my life or anyone else’s! I had the shot!”

Five ran a hand down his face. “Ok, honey, you had the shot. I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about. Can we move on?”

As you stared at him with rage, you had to remind yourself that you really did love him. He was your husband after all, and it’s not like this is the first time his arrogance had created a rift between you two. And he was right when he said you couldn’t stay mad at him. You knew damn well it was just a matter of hours (probably less) before you’d give in and he’d have you on your back, moaning and crying for him, after accepting his half-ass apology and letting him make it up to you. Because, fuck, he really did know how to make you forget why you were mad at him in the first place.

Even though you were not ready to forgive him quite yet, you couldn’t help looking over his body, and the way that tailored suit fit him just right. Other married couples you knew had lost that lust for each other over the years. But not you two. It was usually part of your work routine to come back to your shithole motel after a day of hard-earned assassinations, and not be able to get one another’s clothes off fast enough. There was something about a loud and rough post-kill fuck that neither of you could get enough of.

You saw that flicker of amusement behind his eyes and a tiny bit of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, and you decided you really were still mad at him. But that anger was turning into something else. Something you could possibly use to your advantage.

Taking a few steps forward, you grabbed his tie in your fist and pulled him roughly into you. “We can absolutely move on. But here’s the thing. I’m still not buying your apology, so you can drop that little act. I do, however, have a way you can make it up to me.”

Five smiled. “And what’s that, love?”

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” You tugged harder on his tie. “Now.”

Five raised an eyebrow. He was not used to being ordered around in the bedroom, or anywhere else, for that matter. He did the ordering. You waited to see his reaction.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out if he wanted to play along or counter with his own demands. And truth be told, you’d probably give in immediately if he took charge like usual.

He gave a small nod of assent and you let go of the tie. He sat on the side of the bed and waited for you to direct him.

“Lie down,” you instructed.

Five did as he was told, lying down on the bed, stretched out on his back. That small, smart-ass smile was creeping back again and it was only fueling your desire to dominate him.

You shoved the bag and your gear off the bed and climbed on. You were still dressed in your own matching suit, although yours was fitted and tailored for a woman. Your shoes were kicked off and you threw your blazer to the side and ripped off your tie. Then you straddled Five’s thighs and looked down on him with an overly sweet smile.

“You are all mine, now. Isn’t that right, darling?” you said, using his usual pet name for you.

Five paused but nodded slowly again. “Yes.”

“And you’re going to let me use you however I want to, right?”

His eyebrows creased together and his mouth opened partially. You figured this would be where he would protest. To your surprise, he didn’t. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Such a good boy,” you praised, cocking your head to the side. “But, you know…I just don’t trust you. I think I need a little more assurance that you’re going to stay put.” You dropped the fake smile. “Hands over your head.”

Five hesitated only for a second before he stretched his arms over his head so that his hands were close to the headboard. You scooted your body up a little and grabbed his tie, unknotting it and pulling it out from the collar of his shirt. Wrapping the tie around his wrists and securing it to the headboard, you made sure to make the knot extra tight. You knew, of course, that Five had the same training you did and could easily get out of his restraint. Not to mention his handy superpowers that meant he was nearly impossible to imprison.

He pulled against the tie, but it was secure. He shook his head. “You do have amazing knot-tying skills, my love, but you do know I can just blink out of this, right?”

Of course you knew that, but you just looked down on him with an amused smile. “I don’t think you’ll be doing that.”

“And why not?”

“Because if you do, then you’re not going to be getting anywhere near this pussy tonight. And I know that’s what you’re dying for.”

You gave a little push against his groin while you were straddling him and he groaned quietly.

“So, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to do everything I say. I get to decide when you’re going to eat me and if or when I’m going to use that big cock of yours. And I don’t really care how you get off, but you better make sure I come first. Understand?”

“Yes,” Five said softly, licking his lips.

With your thighs still hugging either side of his waist, you started to unbutton your shirt, exposing your tits that were spilling over the white lace bra you were wearing. You knew Five loved this bra. He had picked it out for you. And he liked you in white because he liked knowing his assassin wife was dressed like an angel underneath her blood-stained clothes. You were a ruthless killer, just like him, but he knew the real you. Inside you were pure and you loved him unconditionally.

You were still going to torture the hell out of him, though.

Throwing your shirt off to the side, you let him have a good look at you while you ran your hands up your sides and onto your breasts. You squeezed them together and rubbed the tips of your fingers over your hardened nipples. You looked him directly in the eyes and traced your bottom lip with your tongue. Five groaned and you felt his dick come to life under you. When you ground down onto him, he let out another gravelly noise and pushed his hips up; his cock becoming fully hard.

You leaned down and kissed his mouth, pausing to bite at his bottom lip with your teeth before pulling away. His breath began to quicken as you unbuttoned his white dress shirt, tugging the bottom out of his pants and opening it to reveal his chiseled torso. You made a soft whimpering sound and slid the palms of your hands down his chest, over his stomach, and down to his waist. Your hair brushed over his skin as you leaned down to place a line of teasing kisses down his body, starting at his neck and traveling down to his navel. You could taste the salt from his skin and smell his familiar scent that you couldn’t get enough of.

“Oh, Five…do you know how hot you are? The things I want to do to you?”

“Do anything you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he breathed out.

You gave a small shake of your head, like you couldn’t believe he was already acting up for you, and then placed a light slap onto his cheek. “No talking unless I say so. Just lay there and look pretty for me, ok honey?”

Five gave a short laugh, but he shut up and didn’t say anything else. He shifted his body under you and you gave him a squeeze with your thighs. He was all laid out there for you, shirt open and his hands tied behind his head. Usually, you would be the one pinned underneath him, writhing in anticipation. Now things were totally in your control.

After one more aggressive roll of your hips into his, you climbed off the bed to undress yourself the rest of the way. Five watched each movement you made and when you were down to just your white, sheer panties that matched your bra, you smiled when he pulled at the tie again in frustration.

You liked to tease him, but you also had a few other plans in mind, and for that, you needed to be fully nude. Making sure he was watching closely, you shimmied out of your panties and stripped your bra off. Once you were naked, with Five practically salivating at the sight of you, you climbed back on top of him.

You rubbed yourself against his hard cock, trapped beneath the fine material of his dress pants. The firm bulge slid between your legs, adding a delicious amount of friction as you rocked your hips against him a few times. Five closed his eyes and let out a low groan.

“So hard for me already.” You pushed yourself down and he grunted. “I like that.” You tilted your head to the side as you continued to work him over, letting him watch as you humped his clothed cock; grinding down until you were sure it was a mixture of pleasure and pain for him. He hissed through gritted teeth and closed his eyes.

Taking a little bit of pity on the poor old man, and also not wanting to risk the chance that he may just come in his pants, you stopped gyrating on top of him. You moved down a little so that you could have access to the fly of his pants. You slowly unzipped his fly before shoving your hand in, cupping his balls through his boxers, and rubbing your palm over his erection. He was clearly trying to restrain himself, but you could see the way he desperately wanted more. His hips pushed up into your hand as he swallowed hard and sucked in a loud breath.

Five’s head fell back as you pulled his pants and underwear off, leaving them in a pile on the floor with the rest of your clothes. He was left in just his open dress shirt and nothing else, his arms stretched over his head and his hands bound to the headboard. It was the sexiest fucking sight you’d ever seen.

You were on top of him again, this time avoiding the urge to rub yourself on his dick, even though it was tempting as hell. But you wanted him to squirm a little bit more. Instead, you leaned down and kissed him roughly on the mouth, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling hard. Your tongue slipped inside and you sucked at his lips, devouring him. When you gave a severe bite to his lower lip, he winced and jerked against his restraints. You dragged your tongue across, licking up the few drops of blood that had seeped out. Your breath was ragged and loud as you sat back again.

“Sorry, baby,” you breathed out. “I got a little carried away because you’re just so fucking gorgeous. You ok?”

Five looked up at you, breathing hard as one side of his mouth turned up, accentuating the dimple on the side of his cheek. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, licking at the blood, and nodded.  

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. Because I have plans for that beautiful mouth of yours.”

With that as your warning, you crept up his body until his face was between your legs. On your knees, you grabbed onto the top of the headboard. He couldn’t hold onto you, or adjust his body too much underneath you, but you lowered yourself until you could feel his hot mouth against your wet and aching sex.

Five knew what you liked and how you liked it. He knew how to work you over with his lips and tongue. He moaned into you as he dragged his warm tongue up through your slit, tasting all of you. You whined loudly as you tipped your head back, closing your eyes. Everything felt so damn good; his tongue flicking at your clit, the warm wetness of his mouth as it completely engulfed you, and the stubble from his five o’clock shadow scratching your inner thighs. It was hard to hold back. You wanted to push down harder and start riding his face. As you grasped onto the headboard, you let out a high-pitched noise of frustrated restraint, allowing yourself to thrust onto him a few times before letting up again. After all, you didn’t want to suffocate the poor man. But fuck, it was incredible, and he was slowly driving you insane.

Five hummed, the noise muffled by the constant grinding of your dripping cunt against his mouth.

“Five…oh my god…” you groaned out. “You’re doing so good for me, baby…so fucking good.”

If you had a little bit more clarity about you, you may have noticed him laughing briefly before sucking and licking at you again. He wasn’t missing the irony of you using his usual comments of praise on him.

As you were lost in your own little paradise, you could feel him pushing his hips up, desperate for some sort of contact. You had hardly paid much attention to his cock yet, and he was starting to become a little desperate. You smiled down at him, still rolling your hips against his face.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Keep going just a little longer, ok? Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You almost laughed at yourself. You really could not believe he was letting you get away with this. You expected him to blink out of his restraints at any second, appearing behind you before fucking you ferociously, all while reminding you who was really in charge. Instead, he continued letting you call the shots. And he sure as hell didn’t seem to be minding it.

Reaching behind you, you gave him one slow stroke up his hard shaft, making him momentarily lose concentration.

“Oh, fuuuck…” he groaned out. The words vibrated against you and you followed it with your own moan.

Which gave you an idea. You climbed off of Five’s face, letting him get in a couple of good gulps of air, while you repositioned yourself over him again; this time facing the opposite direction. You leaned forward, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a teasing lick around the head. When he made another desperate noise, you could feel the exhale of his breath against your wet pussy as you hovered over him.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, baby? Would that feel good?” you asked sweetly, giving it another lick up the side.

You felt another hiss of air against your skin. “God, yes,” he breathed out.

“Alright, I can do that for you. But you better keep eating me out, because if you stop, I stop. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he whined and you smirked at his obvious need.

When your lips wrapped around his girth and slid down the shaft, slowly and deliberately, his hips thrust up into your face, making you swallow the entire thing, the head driving down your throat. As you began to gag and pull back, he relaxed back onto the bed. You removed your mouth and glanced back over your shoulder.

“If you do that again, you’re not going to get anything at all. So hold. Still,” you warned, squeezing his dick slightly just to remind him who was calling the shots.

There was a quiet huff of frustration, but he didn’t argue. When your mouth was back on him, he kept still, just like you instructed. You felt his tongue flick inside of your dripping hole as he lapped into you and you pushed your backside into him again. As long as he continued to mouth fuck you how you wanted, you continued to suck his dick. It was hard to concentrate and every time he moaned, you did it back in response because it made it that much hotter. The longer you worked his cock over, and the longer he ate you out, the more you wanted to feel him inside you.

Taking your mouth off of him, you moved again, turning around so you were facing him, kneeling between his legs. Five’s mouth was red and swollen, glistening and wet. His chest was heaving with the effort of trying to catch his breath after you were sitting on his face and from the amazing blow job you had just been giving him. You were panting, too, and you ran your hands down his torso as you started to straddle his waist. When you leaned down to kiss him, you grabbed his hair in your fist and pulled his head back.

“God, I love you, Five,” you snarled, before you were back to kissing him roughly again, sliding your tongue inside.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he groaned against your lips.

“I want to fuck you so badly right now. Do you want that? Want to sink your rock-hard cock into my tight hole that’s only for you?”

Five nodded, looking into your eyes with the desperation of a man who was on the edge. “Shit, yes, baby…I want you to fuck me.”

You pulled your mouth to the side and shook your head. You lined yourself up with his dick, rubbing your wet slit up and down, making him suck in a loud breath and close his eyes.

“Before I let that delicious dick inside, I need one more little thing from you, ok?”

He nodded slowly again, trying to thrust up into you, but you held tight. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just…god damn it…what is it?”

You leaned in close to his face, your mouth less than an inch from his, and you grinned wickedly. “Admit I had the shot.”

Five was silent as he took that in, but his eyebrows furrowed together. “Excuse me?”

You tugged at his hair again and slid your slick folds over his shaft. Five grunted. “You heard me. All you have to do is admit I had the shot and that you just wanted it for yourself. Then I promise that I’ll ride you like a fucking bronco until you're filling me up with your cum. It’s so easy,” you cooed with fluttering eyelashes and a sweet smile.

The only sounds in the room were those of your collective, ragged breaths as you both waited each other out. It was a standoff. But you were pretty sure you had the upper hand. There’s no way he was going to be able to hold out.

He breathed out a long, loud exhale. “Fine. You had the shot.”

You smiled. “And?”

“And I just wanted it for myself,” he said quietly and clearly unhappily.

“So, you admit that I know what I am doing and you, Five Hargreeves, are not the only one out there that has a brain?”

Five growled, his teeth clenched together and his body jerking beneath you. “Yes! Fuck! I admit it…I told you! You were right, I was wrong. Now please…just fuck me!” His voice cracked with his begging.

You brought your hand down, tracing the lines of his jaw. “Thank you, my love. That’s all I wanted.” You gave him another patronizing smack on the cheek, this one just a little harder than you had before, which you only just realized a second too late. His head turned to the side with the force of it and a light pink mark was left in its wake.

His eyes flashed with that steeliness you had seen from him many times in the past. That darkness that would come over him when he would look at you like the prey he was about to consume. A small smile formed on his face, his dimple peeking through and creating a contrast of severity and innocence as he looked you dead in the eyes. Your pulse quickened at the sight and suddenly you weren’t feeling so in control anymore.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said slowly in that dangerous voice of his. “I think we’re done with this game.”

You swallowed loudly. You didn’t think you could have gotten any wetter than you already were, but you were proven wrong when you felt a rush between your legs as your breath hitched in your throat.

There was one more second of eye contact before you were collapsing onto the bed on all fours, a flash of blue surrounding you, and Five’s body no longer beneath yours. There was no time to register what was happening before you felt strong hands on either side of your hips, pulling your ass back while you cried out in surprise. There was also no time before Five’s hard cock was slamming inside of you in one thrust. His hand gripped your hair as he started fucking you.

“Five!” you exclaimed, inhaling a stuttering breath as he continued to rail into you. “That’s too…oh, fuck…keep going.”

You heard a quiet laugh from behind you, right before your body was tugged upward by your hair, and Five’s mouth was on your neck, his harsh breath warming your already hot skin. His other hand snaked around to finger your throbbing clit and you tipped your head back with a pleading whine.

“Oh god…yes, Five…please…”

“Fuck, I love to hear you beg for me. Keep going...beg me to let you come on my dick. Beg for my cum inside you."

"Ahh...please, Five..." you could hardly think of words or any coherent thoughts as he kept driving himself inside you. "...please...come inside me!"

"That's what I needed...you're always so good for me," he said tenderly next to your ear before pressing harder into you with his fingers and rubbing circles against you.

Damn it, he always knew how to get to you. It had been a fun game while it lasted, but you both knew this was what you really wanted. To be dominated and praised by him. To be owned by him.

You came for him, just like he wanted, crying out his name and trembling against his body as he held you to him with all of his strength. He followed soon after, groaning into your neck and shoulder; his face pressed into you as he emptied himself inside you with long, pumping shudders of his hips against your ass.

When you were both left panting for air, skin damp and bodies weak, he moved from behind you and you laid down on your side. Five fell onto his back, his chest still working for air as he looked over at you with a smile that you returned. He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss.

“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me,” he smirked.

You scoffed. “I had you begging for me and you confessed to being a big liar!”

Five shrugged. “Confessions given under coercion are considered false and inadmissible in court. I think you know that. Therefore, I admit nothing.”

Your mouth hung open for a second and your eyes narrowed. “I swear to god, Five, I really am going to get a new part—”

He cut you off with a kiss and a gentle hand on the side of your face. When you pulled away his smile had evolved from arrogant to sweet and loving. He stroked your cheek and lips with his thumb.

“You know I love you more than anything in the world and I would never do anything to get in your way or to try and make you look bad. You are my amazing, sexy, smart, bad-ass wife who can do everything I can do and more. So, I swear to you when I say—”

“I know,” you said quietly with a nod. “I was going to miss, wasn’t I?”

He kissed you again. “Maybe. Maybe not. But when it comes to you, I’m not taking any chances.”

You nodded again. “I know that. And I couldn’t ask for a better partner or husband than you.” Then you grinned. “But if you knock me in the dirt again, you’re going to pay with more than just your hands tied over your head and a little slap to the face. Understand?”

Five laughed. “Fair enough. But you never know…I might like it.”

[hearts4hughes]

JEALOUS LOVER | CORIOLANUS SNOW

young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: coriolanus battles to control his possessive and jealous nature when seeing you with a friend.

note: i’m aware that coriolanus is such a terrible person, but it doesn’t help that they casted tom blyth (the definition of perfect) as him. i couldn’t fight the urge to write about him and i’m glad i didn’t! hope you enjoy!

warnings: borderline toxic relationship?, jealousy, angst w/ a happy ending, fluff, gets a little steamy towards the end (🙈)

coriolanus watched from a distance, his piercing eyes fixated on your every move. as you engaged in conversation with sejanus, a fleeting smile playing on your lips, a storm brewed in his gaze. his jaw clenched; eyes, once crystal blue, were now dark and stormy.

discomfort envelops him, triggering nausea through his chest; he refuses to be treated like a child. however, the simple act or even the notion of you interacting with another man, fuels a visceral anger: clenched fists, muscles tense, poised to eradicate any man who even looks in your direction.

“you’re so funny, sejanus.” you laughed, your hand lightly grazing his bicep. the action was subconscious. a platonic movement that made no one bat an eyelash.

well, except for coriolanus.

his tongue ran over his teeth as he shook his head, trying to control himself. self-control, he repeated over, and over again in his mind. he’d learn how to control himself at such a young age. to know how to mask any emotion in order to appear professional and calm. but one look at you laughing and touching another male had him forgetting all of his previous lessons.

taking a deep breath, he made his way over to you. his attempt to remain composed was unsuccessful. his fair skin was painted deep shades of red; his breath was heavy with anger; his eyes narrowed as he shot daggers at sejanus.

“hi coryo!” you smiled, taking note of his tense stature. “we were just catching up.” your hand motions towards sejanus who greets him. the blonde nods, not impressed with the whole situation.

self-control.

“well, we better get going.” he stated simply, checking his watch. “it’s getting late and i don’t want y/n and i to walk home in the dark.” he feigned a tightlipped smile. your brows furrowed in confusion. it was nowhere near sunset, what had the boy in such a hurry?

“it was nice to see-” your words were cut short as coriolanus grabbed your arm, pulling you away from sejanus and towards the exit. your head turned between both boys before sending sejanus a pitiful smile to which he returned.

as coriolanus whisked you away, the corridor echoed with the abruptness of his hurried steps. his grip on your arm, firm yet possessive, spoke volumes.

the walk home was practically silent. tension sat in the air weighing down both of your shoulders. your gaze remained fixed on coriolanus’s side profile. meanwhile, his eyes remained focused on the sidewalk, meticulously scrutinizing the cracks and crevices in the concrete as if searching for answers in their patterns.

finally, you broke the grueling silence. “coryo, what’s wrong?” your hand finds its way to his, intertwining your fingers. coriolanus, his gaze momentarily lifting from the sidewalk, met your concerned eyes. the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift slightly. his jaw tightened, but his eyes softened, revealing a vulnerability beneath his anger. “it’s nothing,” he muttered, the words carrying the weight of something untold.

your brows furrowed in gentle concern, “you can talk to me. you know that right?” at this point your walking comes to a halt. your hand raises to brush his platinum curls away from his face. he nods, but he doesn’t dare meet your gaze— too ashamed of his pathetic insecurities. at last, he lets out a huff, caving into the warmth of your touch and the sweetness of your words.

“i just… i didn’t like seeing you with him,” he admitted, his tone laced with vulnerability and possessiveness.

“with sejanus?” you inquired.

“yes!” although he raised his voice, his tone was still hushed— embarrassed even. “seeing you with him today, laughing at his jokes and touching his arm, made me,” he paused to take a deep breath, “it all made me jealous.” your hand found its way to his face, your fingers brushing his cheeks soothingly.

“coryo, there’s no need to be jealous,” you reassured, your voice a gentle melody. “there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you.”

the words, a sweet offering of devotion, seemed to fan the flames within him. a smirk played on his lips, ego swelling with satisfaction as his eyes, once dark and stormy, now took on a smoldering gaze. a subtle shift in his demeanor was evident as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hands trailing dangerously close to your ass. without responding, coriolanus leaned in, his lips capturing yours with hunger.

the kiss was fiery and a desperate need for closeness. his hand slid sensuously along the curves of your waist, fingers tracing a path, as if claiming every inch of you. his lips moved with a skilled urgency, exploring the contours of your mouth. your tongues clashed together in each other’s mouths. the blonde swallowed your moans and whines, trapping them.

as you both reluctantly pulled away from the scorching kiss, a lingering heat hung in the air. a sly smirk played on both of your lips.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me, y/n.” he said, breathlessly. “and i want you to remember that every inch of you is mine.” you smiled, not quiet realizing the toxicity of your boyfriend’s words. you were blinded by his sweet, pleasing words and his gorgeous face structure to even notice.

the rest of the walk was silent, but the air wasn’t filled with a lingering tension. no, if anything, it was filled with a newfound sense of lust and love.

[poppy-metal]

fail marriage au…………………….

having your first big blow out fight after marriage counselling. putting everything you ever found aggravating or disrespectful or wrong or even just a bit annoying on the table. art doing exactly the same. it gets mean. it gets personal. it gets ugly. you scream at him, scream like a banshee and he shouts back. veins you didn’t know he had bulge in his neck, his fingers flex as he wildly gesticulates. you throw something, a plastic tv remote that shatters against the wall. it all passes in a heated blur, you hardly know what you’re doing or saying but that blood is pumping through your veins and you’re alive and so is art. alive. furious, at you. you stalk up to him, and he stands tall above you, looming like a storm cloud. a sweet faced angelic storm cloud that right at this second you couldn’t fucking stand. you jab at his chest with your finger as you yell, lay into him. why couldn’t he tell you how he feels? why did he have to be so fucking passive aggressive? why was tashi the centre of his fucking universe? why couldn’t he be a fucking man and tell you what he really wants? be a man art. be a fucking man for once in your goddamn life.

his nostrils flare, his anger rising with every poke. he grabs your wrist, yanks it up and leans in close. stooping, showing you that he is bigger. he would stoop to your level. he will fight back. you feel his breath on your nose and seethe. he’s still minty fresh. stupid cunt.

“what i want is for you to shut the fuck up and stop acting like you know everything.”

“fuck off, you limp dicked sack of shit.”

“fuck you cunt.” he flicks those brutal syllables at you, chewing his words, opening his mouth so you can see his tongue forming them. you feel the severity in the pit of your stomach. you feel something else lower.

“fuck me? fuck you!”

and in that moment you drew together, moving as one, in the most violent kiss of the modern age. he squeezes your wrist, still held aloft. your other hand grips his shirt collar, pulling so hard it hurts his neck. good. you hope his delicate little neck gets a friction burn and a rash and you hope it stings forever. he tongues furiously at your mouth, mashing his lips into yours and licking the side of your mouth. eating your face like he eats pussy. which he hasn’t done in a while, another thing to yell at him about later. his other hand grips the back of your head, holding it still so you have no choice but to recieve his hot, angry love. you kiss back with equal fury. you want to make him suffer your love. don’t want it? tough luck. it’s his. and he will take it. he grunts into your mouth, it vibrates your tongue. you pull back, but he doesn’t let you. he forces you back nearer to him, spine curving in hateful ecstasy. he kisses you for a few more seconds before drawing back only a few centimetres to rest his forehead on yours and breathe. your lips are wet with him.

“i love you,” you breath.

he caresses the back of your head.

“prove it.”

me when i overachieve.

anyway this is apart of my failmarriage au and you should probably read this part first to understand whats going on here. or just follow the #failmarriage au tag that i have.

your breath shudders out of you. you'd never heard that tone from him before, or rather, never directed at you. not exactly cold but, chilled. serious and pointed. dominant.

your hands fall from his hair, sliding down his throat, his shoulders. you stare into his eyes - he stares back. you feel like you're on a razor thin wire. concede or push back.

you wonder what this will fix. but you don't think you care. you want him. you miss him. your heart is pounding just thinking about it. you take a step back, two, three, several paces.

"okay," you say. you dont even know what you're agreeing too, just that you want it, whatever it is.

before you even have time to linger on that thought though -

because art is already stalking towards you, undoing his soft leather belt and letting it drop to the floor. you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. just watching in this kind of stupified silence as art unczips his pants and slides his delicate fingers under his waistband. In three strides, art was right up in your space, owning it,  staring you down with a cool kind of control in his eyes, heavy cock in his hand, already hard and flushed and mouthwateringly beautiful. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t think. all you could see was art. 

when art spoke, his voice was an iron grip closing around your throat. each word as clear and distinct as a brand to your hot skin.

“get on your knees”

you sink to the floor. It felt like falling, your knees knocked out from under you by the invisible string of his command that binds you to him. breath punches out of your lungs as you let yourself go under. art was already reaching out and grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock past your waiting lips, pushing all the way to the hilt as his leaking head slammed into the back of your throat.

“god,” art breathed out, vice grip holding you in place. “You’re beautiful like this” and you were lost. years of built resentment and anxiety dissipating like smoke as art took over your senses. the taste of him, the smell of him, the warmth of him, the silk soft press of his cock down your throat. It was everything you’d been longing for from him. 

your hands fly up to grip art’s waist, fingers trying to find purchase, pressing him deeper, holding him deeper, worried he might pull out but not able to hold yourself back. when art didn’t say anything, didn't tell you to stop, you sank forward and started to suck greedily, tongue running over art’s throbbing length, trying desperately to take him apart, to please him, to worship him, to give him what he wanted. 

you heard yourself whine, felt your body sway forward, but you managed to hold yourself still, keep your tongue flat, keep your mouth wide and waiting, holding art still against the back of your throat, wanting desperately to prove you were good. that you loved him. That you wanted, wanted, wanted him.

"give me your hand,” art breathes, looking down at you, and you think briefly of the ancient greek god apollo, and how if art was a deity, you.d gladly stay right where you are. lovingly holding him in the back of your throat. 

your mind was already starting to go fuzzy with the heavy weight of art on the back of your tongue, salt slowly leaking from his pink slit, the slow stretch of his your lips around art’s shaft starting to ache in your jaw. , but, still you had enough awareness to look up confused, meeting art’s eyes in a question. but art didn’t offer an explanation. just looked down at you, hand held out, patiently waiting, like it wasn’t a question of whether you would obey; it was just a matter of when.

shakily, your hand reaches out to his. by instinct or by pure coincidence, its the hand with your wedding band on it. your fingers brush against each other, and then arts fingers, lithe and strong, an athlete's fingers, slide between yours. he brings your clasped hands together against his chest. if your throat wasn’t stuffed with cock you’d gasp at the gesture, the intimacy of it alone. your palm against his bare chest, his right pectoral. right over his thunderous heartbeat. his wedding band presses against yours. 

“Im gonna move, okay?” he breathes down at you, and his hand squeezes yours. “If you want me to stop just squeeze my hand two times.”

you nodded, a slight movement, eager and unbidden. art ran a finger under your jaw, fluttering his fingers against you. you had to shuffle a little to keep as much of art in your mouth as you could as he exhaled and used his free hand to slide against the back of your skull, cupping it tenderly.

a little punched-out gasp falls from arts lips as he slowly rocked his hips, pushingas deep as he could go as you moaned around him. art took a second, waited for you to look at him, blink the tears from your eyes, before he started the slow glide out of your mouth. you laid your tongue flat against the underside of him, tracing the veins, unable to move forward to chase him back down your throat as arts hand kept you firmly in place.

when he was all the way out, spit slick and gleaming, he rested the flushed head of himself against your bottom lip. rubbed himself there, traced every contour of your mouth with the slit of his cock. glossing your lips with the sheen of his precum. 

“I love you.” he said - voice choked and you couldnt tell if it was from emotion or lust, maybe a combination of the two. 

you felt something flare hot in your belly, but before you could utter a word, art was sliding back home, right back into the silk pallet of your throat. and you welcomed him greedily, lapping up every inch he gave you. 

the whole while you held his hand, still pressed against his chest. you tilted open your jaw as wide as it could go, imagining you wanted to be a snake and swallow him whole. you took everything. you breathed through your nose when he was settled fully inside you - you sucked around him when he began to pull back, suctioning your mouth around him to mimic a pussy. a tight hole.

arent i such a good wife, you thought. no one could take his cock like you could. no one would drop to their knees and let themselves be used this way, but you would. to you, this was love. this was passion. 

art lasted a few more minutes before he was dragging himself free from the warm hug of your throat -

“I want you spread out on the kitchen counter," art panted, jerking his chin. he reached down to wrap a loose hand around his wet cock, stroking it languidly. your throat ached with missing it. “I need to be inside you. I want to -” he swallows. “I want to fuck you."

you inhaled sharply. it was a word you didn't often hear from arts lips. especially in reference to sex. the crude word coming from him made your belly clench warmly. more, you wanted more of that.

you stared at each other for what felt like forever but was probably only a couple seconds, art’s cock still only inches from your face. you watched transfixed as art’s leaking head slipped between the tight circle of his fingers, flushed tip disappearing and pushing back through. It was filthy, it was gorgeous, and your whole body shuddered imagining what it would feel like at your entrance: the slow press, the slick head, the aching burn as it slowly pushed inside. because it would burn. the last time you’d had sex….. you didnt want to think about it.

Instead you hurriedly scrambled to obey. shoving the straps of your dress down as you went, feeling it pool around your waist as you bent against the cool marble of the counter. you’d never fucked here. suddenly that was a crazy thought to you. wasnt it a kind of ritual for a couple - to christen the house? your fingers curled into your palms as you pressed your bare chest down. 

you felt art come up behind you and your breath hitched when you felt his palms skimming up the backs of your thighs. you hadnt realized you’d been trembling until that moment. something about his touch calmed you though. 

ridiculous,  to be shy when this was your husband. he’d seen your cunt a hundred times.

all thoughts fled your head when those familiar fingers parted the lips of your cunt - finding you wet. “baby” art’s strangled voice reached your ears as he felt through your delicate slit - he sounded beside himself with wonder. that you,d be this wet for him. this ready. he slid two fingers in easily - just a slight pressure at your entrance and there was a give of the flesh. and he was in - inside you. pumping steadily. “that’s it,” a kiss at the base of your spine, soft and special. “let me in. give me whats mine.”

yours, you dont know if you breathed it or just echoed it in your head. hips pushing back into him, opening yourself further. the stretch was full but it felt so right. 

“god - you’re so responsive - how could i forget -” he was working himself up. his thumb nudged your clit, circled it with the pad before pressing down on it, his own goran covering up your keen. like it affected him more than it did you, to feel how you throbbed against him with need. “gonna put my tongue on your clit everyday and you’re going to let me. let me worship what i married, spread your legs and fucking take it-”

“oh god,” you’re whining. practically humping your cunt on his fingers. “whatever you want, baby. take it, its all yours.” 

you clench around nothing when he suddenly yanks his fingers free, but you dont have to mourn the loss long, your empty spasming hole feeling the silken pressure of his cock in the next second. he grips your waist, wholly possessive as he drags you back onto him and, oh. Its so blissful. that tender ache in your cunt as its filled to the brim. You’d-

“fuck - i missed this - missed your pussy -” 

yes, yes missed. you’d missed this.

art adjusts himself. spreads out his legs so he can really move, leans his broad chest over your back, covering you, smothering you, squishing you into the countertop but he doesnt care. you dont care. pinned beneath him and speared open like this - you’ve never felt more loved by him. 

“so tight and warm - god - i never wanna leave -” he watches, pink lips parted where you’ve taken him. the flared open lips of your pussy hugging the base of his cock. a groan rips from his chest, loud, because he wants you to know, really fucking know, how overwhelmed he is, how much you make him feel, as he slowly drags himself out - only able to make it halfway before he has to bury himself back into that tight heat. your walls tighten and squeeze around him in these luxurious pulls and he feels spit pool in his mouth, the sensation enough to empty his brain. he rocks there, barely pulling free from the clutch of your body. 

“treat me so well with this - little cunt - “ wet desperate kisses are pressed wherever he can reach, his mouth hungry for the salt of your skin. he pulls it between his teeth, some raw animal part of him just wanting to naw on you. he rubs his forehead against your shoulders as he starts to move his hips faster. finally pulling out all the way before he slams back in, knocking your hips into the hard marble, and he should say sorry, he should take more care, you’ll be bruised surely, but then his mind flits back to your therapy session - at the words you’d both said - how you felt - and the words exchanged in your fight. and he feels something kindle in his chest, sparked to life by the liquid heat pouring through him - you fucking - you’re so cruel sometimes and you dont even know - you dont even see what you’re doing to him, the power you hold, how much he’d give to you if only you’d fucking open up to him. get angry at him. demand more of what you want instead of fucking expecting him to read your goddamn mind. 

he hadn’t felt the wet grip of his wifes pussy in months until just now. that couldn’t happen again. 

he pulls himself to his full height - using his ringed hand to make a makeshift leash of your hair, wrapping it around his tan fist. anchors you back onto his hard dick again and again in hard punishing pulls that seem to punch moans from you.

“this is how i should have treated you from the beginning, huh? come home every day and bend you over the minute i step through the door. pound out all my frustrations on this tight cunt. use you to masturbate my dick.” he grunts - that viseral fury that’d you’d seen spark in him briefly before was back in full force now. you could feel it in the reverberating clap of his balls against your ass. the forceful grip on your hair, yanking your neck back, nearly pulling your chest off the counter, your tits bouncing. “maybe then you’d appreciate me.”

you dont know what part in you is broken that soaks his cock at his treatment instead of clamping up. his anger, his vitriol, it all speaks to a deep part inside of you that screams to be wanted. you whimper and bear down around him, meeting him instead of shying away. 

“g - od - oh god, art - “

“would that make you my happy little wife?” he slows back down. drags his thick length in and out of you in purposeful rolls of his hips. “I bring all my shit to you and you devote this hot little pussy to warming my dick. you’ll take care of me, right? drop to your knees and give me a proper fucking welcome home.”

you cant think. your eyes are rolling back, your brain fogging. Its so good, oh god, how is it so fucking good. you’re drenched between your thighs, you can feel it running down your thighs. you can feel the hot raw part of your pussy that is being penetrated again and again on his cock as it retreats and then glides back in. 

“Im gonna cum.” is all you can say. “art, im so close -”

“fuck,” he stops his movements. grinding his hips into yours, churning his dick inside you. his mouth skims your ear, he lets go of your hair to grip you around the throat. “tell me you love me. tell me you love me when you cum, baby, or i swear to god, i cant do this anymore -” 

“I love you!” the words are the truest they’ve ever been in years. you’re on your tippy toes, squirming, trying to get away or trying to get closer, you cant tell. probably closer. you want art to carve apart for himself inside you - brand himself on you forever so you can never leave, never forget, never doubt this marriage. “I love you, i love you, i love you, i love-”

“I love you too. fuck - i need you to cum. cum on my cock and show me you still want this -” 

you shatter apart. a million stars exploding in a galaxy. arts strong arms come around you like a band, wrapping you up against him as you shake. your breaths come out harshly in sync. the beats of your heart a fast thrum between you. 

you turn your head, desperately seeking, and he’s there, already leaning down to take your lips in a kiss. 

the weight of him still inside you is one you take comfort in. you dont want him to leave your body. you dont want this to end. 

“stay,” you whisper against his mouth. 

his hand cups your cheek, strokes his thumb over the swell of your flushed skin. “always,” he says back. 

[nightsmarish]

Summary: after talking to Regulus, you both decide to take the offer to stay with the Potters, and barty gets thrown across the slytherin table by Evan

Pt1

A/n: very focused on Reg for some reason, not 100% sure why, but it's lovely, also we love bestie barty. ALSO ALSO, reader is aggressively, very aggressively, hinted to be slytherin

Poly!moonwater x reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.4k words

Tw: toxic family, running away? Family disappointment, ect. Barty jinxing Gryffindors for sport and an owl flying into a chess game

Asked to be tagged: @misacc08

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊

It's finally two weeks until the end of this year at Hogwarts. Class times have been filled with going over study guides and reviewing for the final exams only a few days away. 

Neither you nor Regulus have said yes to staying at Potter Manor this summer. Despite James being very adamant about it.

“I’ll just mention you blokes might be joining us.” James told you when you visited Gryffindor table one morning, as he wrote his parents. 

“James-” 

“No, no, let ‘im. No harm in it? Is there?” Sirius cuts you off, feet extended to rest on the bench across the table from him. 

“But Mrs. Potter shouldn’t prepare an extra room if neither of us will be joining.” Your points are acknowledged when James hums to confirm he heard you, but his quill never stops moving.

Remus has been looking at you the whole time. Not in a creepy way, you're both pretty sure not in a creepy way at least. Just in an undivided attention way. Practically ignoring the other two boys to admire you, other than when he occasionally slaps away Sirius’ hand on his fifth attempt to grab Remus’ food. 

You look down to where Remus sits as well. Honestly, he's not that much shorter than you sitting down, but wherever. Your hand that's not holding the strap of your bag gently scratched the hair at the base of his head before kissing his cheek, mumbling a small promise to see him during your study time later. 

ᯓ★

It's not like you don’t want to go to stay with everyone else. It’d be amazing; it really would. But the idea of going when Regulus stays at the Black House feels wrong. You know being with your parents won’t help him, nor will being at James’ house, but it feels wrong. 

Remembering how destroyed he was when Sirius left. When he came back to school, you two hadn’t known the Marauders like you do now. The anger he knew was misplaced, but he couldn’t help but feel abandoned by Sirius. You remember it—the crying, the way he couldn’t focus until a month into school. And you remember Sirius being disowned.

And maybe that's part of it too. The idea of being disowned. Even if you know they are horrible people, people you don’t wish to be related to. The idea still makes you sick. Their horrible and evil, but dear Salazar, parent approval is so addicting and you hate how much you still want it. 

So which is worse, feeling like you betrayed one of your boyfriends, or your parents disapproval? 

“Regulus?” You keep your voice low in the library. The aforementioned boy looks up from his textbook sitting across from you. Remus, next to you, pauses, moving his quill to focus on you two as well.

“Yes?” His voice matches yours, despite being a little more stiff. 

“I wanna talk about it again. About James’ house.” You rush the words out. Probably because you know Regulus will want to shoot it down immediately.

“Love, you know I’m not going.” He sighs, sitting up straight in his seat. 

“Why? Why not go?” 

"Dove-" Remus tries to interject, not sure how well direct confrontation will go after Regulus has already denied it far too many times.

“What would I do?”

Both you and Remus pause, looking right at Regulus. Who stares right back at you.

“What do you mean?’ Remus says what you think.

“I leave, I get disowned, I lose the family fortune.” There are unspoken words there; everyone knows. He loses the Black name, he loses the reputation, and he loses everything he ever knew. Sirius had always wanted to leave; he had dreamed about it long before the possibility ever even crossed Regulus’ mind. The older Black had an idea of what would happen long before he left. Regulus hasn't gotten that right. 

“We can figure it out when we get there, love.” Remus rests his quill in the small ink pot, reaching both his hands to cup Regulus’ hands between his own. 

All three of you stay silent for a second, Regulus looking down at Remus’ hand covering his own, you staring at Regulus, and Remus looking between the two of you, trying to figure out what to do. 

"If..." you sigh, shifting in your seat, “if... you go... I’ll go, and we can figure it out together.” 

Gray eyes shoot up to yours. “Are you serious?” His voice is unsure, like you're going to take your offer back for no apparent reason. 

“Yeah. I’m scared too, but I don't think I can bring myself to go back, not this time. But at the same time, I won’t be okay with going if you don’t go.”

Remus takes a deep breath, one hand still holding the younger boy's hand, other moving so his arm wraps around your shoulder, gently rubbing your upper arm. “So, it's settled. I can tell James.” 

“Thank you,” You whisper, and Regulus takes one of his hands from the lycan to intertwine your fingers. 

ᯓ★

The letter felt wrong to write. Less than a week before you're off to Potter Manor is when you get a response.

You're sitting at the Slytherin table in the morning when the letter holding their response arrives. Your owl landing smoothly, unlike the poor Hufflepuff owl you see sly head first into a game of Wizard Chess.

The seal of the letter belongs to your family, and it's painfully obvious. Regulus had gotten his response within a few days. Hurtful and harsh, despite never reading it yourself.

Looking around, Regulus is watching Barty, who is sitting on the long table rather than at it, cast small, mostly-hopefully harmless jinxs on a few older Gryffindors who haven't seemed to notice who's doing it. While Evan is whispering more and more jinxs for Barty to use.

Deciding that you might as well get it over with, you break the wax seal. The letter was nothing but vile, as you expected, the threats, the anger, the disappointment. Yet, you are honestly relieved. Like a huge, bolder is off your back. Sisyphus would envy you.

"And what do you have? A secret admirer? Are you planning on finally leaving the wild beasts you call boyfriends?"

Barty turns his attention to you as you finish reading, snatching the letter to inspect it.

"Ew, is that from your parents?" Evans nose scrunches up, noticing the names signed at the bottom of the parchment when he leans over Bartys shoulder.

"Yeah, I wrote them last week that I'd be staying with the Potters this summer, and they finally got back to me." Your voice remains surprisingly even, despite feeling somewhere between calm and like you're going to vomit, cry, and punch a wall.

Evan and Barty continue to scrutinize the letter, the phrasing, and how your mother writes the letter S weird. While Regulus leans closer to you.

"Everything okay?" His quite, a stark contrast two the boys sitting acorsd from you as Barty pushes his boyfriend off the seat for something or another and Evan kicks a little too close to Bartys dick.

"Yeah, it'll be okay." You hum, scooting closer to the pale boy, "would you and Remus want to come stay at my dorm tonight? At least for a little? Serenella and Iris are both going to be out all night."

"Of course, love. I'll grab Remus after charms and we can meet you there before dinner?" A soft kiss is placed on the top of your head when he finishes his sentence.

"That sounds good."

The peace of the situation is cut off by Barty falling off the table towards you, taking you down to the floor with him.

"God damnit Barty!" A smile far to big for the situation paints your face face.

"Evan threw me, gem! He tried to kill me! I'm wounded." Barty sits half on hus knees, half laid out on the gross Hogwarts in such a pathetic manor Regulus chuckles under his breath.

"And I'll do it again idiot!" Evan sits back on his spot at the long table. Huffing while smoothing out his hair and uniform.

"Oh God, gem, I won't make it." Barty throws himself onto you, your back to the ground as you laugh. "If I die will you leave your loser boyfriends to join me and Evan?"

"Okay, junior, that's enough." Remus appears in your vision, slightly nudging Bartys side, like touching him too long will make whatever is sodding wrong with the boy rub off on him.

"Hello, big boy." Barty stands up and takes you with him, dusting off his and your clothes. "You know, both of you could leave Regulus and-"

"Okay Barty!" Regulus pushes Barty to sit back down, shutting him up as he begins to bicker with Regulus next.

[1d1195]

Honey III

Read Honey here | ~7.8k words

From Me: It's slow going here timewise. I just have a lot to say.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, pining, more of a daddy-kink if you don't blink. Some jealous Harry (NIALL 😍) and some mentions of self-care 😉

Summary: “Harry?” She whispered looking back at the little girl as a distraction from thinking about Harry’s abs. Or the way his thighs looked.

“Hmm?”

“I love Cece.”

Harry grinned, looking a little lovestruck himself over the little one...and her nanny. “I know,” he nodded. “She loves you too.”

Harry nearly sprinted into his home just like he had in his dream. He was so excited to kiss Cece as much as humanly possible. But when he got there the house was silent. Not a single light was on in any of the main rooms that should have been on. Even if it was in the middle of the day, the kitchen light was almost always on. Harry frowned wondering why on earth she would take his daughter out when she knew he was going to be home today.

Right about lunchtime, he decided it was a half day for himself since he missed Cece so much.

Which is why he was so sad she wasn't there. He went to the garage to see the car he left for her was gone which meant she purposefully left with his daughter.

He called her immediately. Curious more than anything but became irritated once it didn’t go through. Where the fuck was she that she didn't get service? He frowned and ran a hand through his hair looking at the messages she sent earlier in the morning and realized she hadn’t sent her normal mid-morning update. Harry felt a hot, creeping feeling start from his toes and it flowed all the way up his body.

What the fuck?

He called Niall. He was of course still at the office, and he was hoping maybe she was trying to surprise him. “Is Cece there?” He asked.

“What did she drive herself?” He snorted.

“Niall," he grumbled.

“No of course not. What’s wrong?”

“They’re not here,” his voice flat, irritated.

Niall didn’t say anything. Which told him that he was right to be confused and worried. “Oh,” he murmured.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Her phone's not connecting.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Hold on... let me...” he hung up and Harry paced looking at the ceiling. After a moment he called back. “Nothing,” he frowned. “Listen, you trust her, and she loves Cece. She knows how much you missed her so if she left with her, it was for a good reason. Check your cameras.”

Harry put it on speaker and searched through the last few hours of footage. She left almost two hours ago—right around when he got the first of his daily picture updates. There was nothing other than seeing her car leave so there wasn’t anything to go off as far as where she was headed.

“Hold on,” Niall said and hung up again. Harry paced hands shaking as he tried to cling to the control he desperately wanted. When he called back, Niall took a deep breath. “Okay, she’s fine. So just don’t freak—”

“Niall spit it the fuck out!” He snapped.

“She’s at the hospital and—”

Harry slammed his phone on the counter so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it was shattered—his phone or his counter, maybe both. He sped twenty miles over the limit the entire way. He parked in a tow zone and headed directly to the desk and presented what little information he knew. He was directed to the pediatric ward.

“Harry!” She shouted in shock as she hurried to him entering the floor and looking around for help. The dream he had of kissing the perfect girl was long gone. His trust in her was cracking like thin ice on a pond. He didn’t want it to, but what was he supposed to think? How could she do this?

“Where is she?” He snapped. Anger and hurt on his face. She blinked in surprise, confused by how mad he looked and why it was directed at her.

“She’s right—” She pointed toward the door and Harry shoved his way in without even letting her finish.

Cece was gazing up at the lights and other than a flush of color on her face, she looked perfectly normal. “Hello, sweet girl,” Harry cooed. His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. He hunched over the bed made for a little kid, but she was of course so tiny it made his heart ache. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes. “Are you okay?” He asked. Cece smiled, delight dancing in her pretty eyes as she recognized Harry. As if she wasn’t in a hospital and he hadn't seen her in over two days.

“Harry,” she said from behind him. She was holding a cup of coffee in her hands as she watched the pair of them. Harry was fuming. Pretty sure he had literal steam coming out of his ears from how hot he felt. But when he glanced back at her, there was one small part of him that couldn’t help but notice she looked exhausted. As exhausted as Harry felt his anger boiling him from the inside. “I tried all day to get in touch with you.”

The small reprieve he had from seeing her exhaustion was gone. Anger coursed through him with a vengeance, and he turned away from his favorite little baby and looked at her.

His eyes narrowed into a glare. He shook his head disappointment all over his face. “How could you fucking do that?” He snarled.

She blinked, surprised by his tone directed at her, completely flooring her. “I tried—”

“You could have tried harder,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what y’did t’me just now? You know how terrified I am of losing her,” his voice felt off. Strangled by his own emotion. “This is unacceptable. How dare you—”

But she doesn’t even flinch when he yelled; instead, she glared right back at him. Stepped toward him, bitterness in her expression, her tone, and her body language. “I tried, Harry,” she snapped just as irritated as Harry had. “I have called every number I had access to. I tried to contact your mom and sister through social media, but they must have private accounts. I tried everything. I called every person at your company, and they kept transferring me to your incompetent secretary so don’t fucking yell at me like I didn’t do everything I could have done,” she pulled her phone from her pocket and threw it the short distance at him which he caught easily. “Go ahead, go through every app and message, I’ve spent hours on the phone,” she assured him. “There’s no goddamn service here on top of that, so I kept using the nurse’s phone. I tried, Harry. I would never try to scare you like that by leaving you in the dark.”

Harry glanced down at the list of numbers with multiple calls to numbers from his company he recognized the grouping, all the numbers off by one for the different sectors. Each listing had a minimum of three missed calls most were closer to ten. Throughout the listings, Harry's name appeared, five, eight, six, at least fifty he had to imagine at the end of it. Niall had about the same. There was a plethora of messages sent to his phone too. Not sure you're getting these, but nothing is working. This is a shitty way to say it but we're at the hospital. Everything's okay, I just want to get her fever down. Niall’s thread had similar messages along with He's going to hate me :(

Harry's heart ached. He never received the messages, and knowing that one to Niall broke his heart most of all.

How could not one of her calls or messages have reached him?

“I take my job so seriously Harry. Of course I wanted you to know before I brought her here. But you entrusted me with Cece’s care and wellbeing and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. I talked to your secretary over and over and she didn’t pass the message on because you were in meetings and refused to interrupt even though I begged. Niall’s phone worked either. I tried everything short of leaving her here alone and coming to get you myself.”

Harry flinched. He would never want her to do that. Leaving Cece alone was one of his worst fears.

How could his secretary not pass along messages about his daughter? Harry was so angry and now, he had someone to actually be angry at. “Fuck,” he snapped and headed out of the room.

“Where are you—”

Harry marched out of the room up to the desk station in the middle of the floor. He reached over and grabbed one of the phones without asking. The nurse closest to him opened her mouth to answer but after looking at Harry briefly, his intimidating stature, and anger rolling off him in hot waves, she thought better than to deny him the phone.

“Niall,” he ground out when the phone stopped ringing. His teeth hurt.

“I think I figured it out... The work phones have been wonky all day for everyone. I contacted the phone company--” Niall answered without waiting for Harry.

“Are y'still at the office?” His voice was low, angry as hell.

“Yeah... of course. How is she?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure? Fuck, Harry... that was so bad. I guess since we have personal phones through the work offer—”

He didn't have time for this. “Fire my secretary, Niall.”

“What?” Niall shook his head forgetting his train of thought about the phones.

“Tell her t'pack her shit and go,” he snapped and slapped the phone down into the receiver making the nurse bounce in her seat.

He turned to find her standing in the doorway between him and his daughter. “I’m sorry,” his voice was raw, and he ran a hand over his tired face. “I shouldn’t have...” he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to quell the emotion in his throat and eyes. “I can’t lose her,” he murmured.

Then, as if he hadn’t just implied that he didn’t trust her, she sighed. “Of course not,” she whispered. “I swear, I was doing—”

“I know,” he shook his head. “I know, I’m sorry. M’sorry I implied otherwise. I shouldn’t have—”

“Forget it,” she waved her hand flippantly. She crossed the few feet of space between her and Harry and she grabbed his hand. It felt so warm, so safe. She squeezed his hand and tugged him back to the room. “Come see her, she missed you,” she tilted her head toward the room. It was forgotten. The way he yelled at her. The way he insinuated she was anything but trustworthy.

Harry felt shaky and broken but glad she was there to keep him from freaking out. Glad she was willing to overlook his anger even if he knew he didn't deserve it. How quickly that feeling of being broken, cheated on, and lied to returned and made him feel worse than any of the times he had experienced before. She had no idea how much she had changed him and she hadn't done anything other than care for his baby.

Once in the room, he shook his head and focused his attention to his precious angel sucking on her pacifier happily and quietly in the hospital bed. “I will say though," she dropped Harry's hand as she crouched on one side of the bed and brushed her fingers over her cheek. "She looks pretty freaking cute in this big bed,” she whispered a smile in her voice.

Harry couldn’t argue. Cece looked cute as hell everywhere though. He wanted to smother her little face with kisses until she giggled. A smile played at the corners of his lips. “She’s okay?” He asked quietly. He should have asked that first rather than exploding at her. Even if he was mad, it should have been his first concern.

“Just a fever,” she promised. “Comes with the earache and cold she’s got," she frowned. "Poor baby woke up in the middle of the night. Inconsolable," she explained. "The medicine wasn't helping after a while and I wanted to be safer than sorry. Little miss scared me half to death,” she sighed her worried expression breaking Harry's heart. No wonder she was exhausted. At least Harry had a full night's sleep. He was getting a new phone company tomorrow. “But she’s on the mend now. Some stronger meds and whatnot. I hope that’s okay.”

“You hope that y’deciding t’give her medicine that will make her feel better is okay with me, after I screamed at you?”

She smiled wryly. Like she was keeping a secret. She rested a hand on Cece's leg over the blanket while Harry brushed his thumb along her face. It felt right holding his sweet baby with her looking at Cece like she was the most amazing thing to ever grace the earth (and she was, but Harry didn't know someone not related to her could feel that way). “To be fair," she sighed and squeezed her leg. "If my daughter were in a hospital and I didn’t know, I would have burned the whole city down until I found her.”

Harry smirked. “Thank you,” he hoped the sincerity in his voice made up for how terribly he treated her. “I’m sorry about the phone issue. It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

"Don't mention it, Harry," she smiled.

*

Harry woke with a start in the middle of the night. He sat up and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water, feeling emotionally drained. The hospital visit ended only a couple hours after he arrived. Because his car had been promptly towed after his arrival, he drove Cece and Miss Honey in her car on the way back home. She sat with Cece in the backseat without asking but Harry was extremely grateful.

Once he finished his glass of water, he peeked inside of the fridge. It was stuffed with several containers of yummy food she had made the last couple days. Half of them were labeled for Niall with hearts all over the sticky notes that made him roll his eyes.

The other half were labeled Dada with a single heart, but Harry thought the one heart was more important than all the ones Niall had.

He smirked and glanced around at all the decorations she had put up for Halloween, making his house feel like a home. It hadn’t felt like that in all the time he lived there. As he returned to his bedroom, he thought he would make a pitstop in Cece’s room.

Harry was an idiot to adamantly deny his feelings for Miss Honey. He was serious when he told Niall how perfect she was. At the time, he had convinced himself that it was because she was perfect for Cece. But if he wasn't in love with her before, he was now.

She laid across the area rug tucked part way under Cece’s crib. A pillow held below her head like she was hugging it, and her adorable seasonal blanket draped across her. But it didn’t reach her toes. Her eyebrows were pinched together like she was having a bad dream. Harry didn’t want her lying on the floor, but he didn't want to wake her either. She had a longer day than he did. His heart clenched knowing how much she adored Cece. How she would do anything for his little baby.

Harry grabbed one of the many fluffy blankets in Cece’s collection beneath the window. He spread it over her to cover her legs, making sure her feet were got wrapped up too. The crinkle of her eyebrows disappeared as he did which only tightened the bubble around his heart.

Grabbing another blanket from her basket, he settled into the chair. No way he could go back to his room knowing his favorite women were in one room. After watching both of them for a time, he fell asleep.

*

When she woke up, she stretched, her back creaking from the hard surface she slept on. But other than sleeping in the crib with Cece, this was as close as she could have gotten and it was well worth it to ease the anxiety she felt from the previous day. Getting to her knees, she sighed again, leaning low to stretch her lower back, her forehead touching the floor as she bowed backward. It was still early. Too early for even Cece to be awake.

The nightlight plugged into the wall was soft and painted the room in a warm, gentle, yellow glow. She peered at Cece through the slats of her crib and smiled—she was sleeping soundly, no pain, no fever. Just a little stuffy. “You scared me, pretty girl,” she whispered quietly.

“Me too,” Harry’s deep voice spooked her because she hadn’t registered that he was snuggled cutely into the chair that she assumed was used for late night feedings back in the first couple months of Cece’s life--split between Harry, his mum, and his sister. She pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. Her cheeks felt warm. If she had been turned away from Cece’s crib, she would have noticed his presence, but her yoga pose was done without thought and now she felt embarrassed that her boss saw her stretching her lower back out.

His voice was raspier in the morning. His eyes seemed tired but still as beautiful as he always was. She could see he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she wondered if he had forgone the sweats again as he had when he saved her from the front step. Biting the inside of her cheek she swallowed. “I just... didn’t want to leave her alone,” she admitted glancing briefly back at Cece, her little chest rising and falling easily. Then she turned back to Harry.

His smile was was so gentle, so sweet, it made her stomach twist. “Thank you," he looked beyond her for a minute at his daughter and then returned his gaze to hers. "I was going t’wake you. But y’had a long day.”

Her cheeks warmed again. She tried to remind herself that Harry was her boss, and it wasn’t okay to fuck him with her eyes regardless of how his half open eyelids screamed sex like he just had an orgasm. What was it with getting so turned on by him in the middle of the night?

When he had pulled her from her book in nothing but sweatpants a few nights prior, she thought it was almost worse than the boxers. She had to keep her eyes above his waist but there were even more sinful things to think about looking at his pecs and broad shoulders. It worked wonders for when she got back to her room and slipped her hand into leggings and pressed circles over her depressingly underused clit. It was not good to think about him like that. Not when just a hallway separated the pair of them.

Not when his infant daughter was sleeping in the very same hallway.

“Harry?” She whispered looking back at the little girl as a distraction from thinking about Harry’s abs. Or the way his thighs looked. She needed a safe thought. Something she could tell him that wouldn't get her fired.

“Hmm?”

“I love Cece.”

Harry grinned, looking a little lovestruck himself over the little one... and her nanny. “I know,” he nodded. “She loves you too.”

*

When Harry came home the following day with a mountain of papers and a laptop, she hurried to the door and grabbed as much as she could with her free hands while Cece stayed attached to her hip in the wrap. “Thank you,” he smiled. “Hi sweet girl,” he cooed and bent slightly to the height of Cece at her waist. He kissed her forehead.

“What is all this?” She asked, carrying what she had grabbed toward the kitchen.

“I fired my secretary,” he said as explanation.

“Jesus,” she blinked and deposited the papers on the kitchen island. She had a feeling that was what his call to Niall was at the hospital yesterday. So, she knew why. She felt guilty for calling her incompetent and for causing this mess.

“She made a mess of everything. I spent most of the day trying to organize it, but frankly I haven’t a clue as to what some of it is,” he ran a hand along the back of his head. Harry pulled the suitcoat he wore off where his sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top two buttons were undone. He was way too hot for her own good. For her own good. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted.

She frowned. She couldn’t imagine. He didn’t sleep much before his trip. Nor during—not if the late-night texts asking about Cece were any indication as he worried about her fussing prior to his departure. Paired with a delayed flight, Cece’s hospital visit, and what was probably a much less comfortable sleep in a chair before getting up to do it all over again? She wanted Harry to go to bed right that second. But he had to be hungry. She knew he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and something told her he probably skipped his two o’clock meal as well.

“Well, I made dinner,” she offered and hurried to the stove and Cece gurgled a cute little noise on her hip. “I know,” she smirked knowingly as if it really made any sense. “Dada’s hungry too,” she kissed the top of her head as she scooped the stew she had made into a bowl. She put a piece of the special bread she bought for the occasion in the toaster oven and then worked on Cece’s bottle. When she turned around holding the bowl of stew, the bread balancing on the rim, and Cece’s bottle in her other hand, Harry was staring at her. “What?” She blushed and tried to catch a glance of her backside in case she sat in something in between cooking steps. “Do I have something on my—”

“No,” he shook his head and grabbed the bowl from her hand. “Thank you,” his voice was low, deep.

She nodded and held the bottle out as well. “Do you want to hold her now?" She wanted Harry to eat, but she also knew he wanted to hold his baby for as long as possible before bed.

He seemed to be in a trance as he took a few bites of his stew and watched her and Cece. “Yeah,” he murmured eventually and held his arms out for his baby. “Hi baby,” he cooed and peppered her cheek with kisses. “Are you feeling better?” He asked bouncing her gently.

Harry, without holding a baby, with sleeves rolled up like that was one of the hottest things she had ever seen. Holding a baby? She shook her head trying to get the circuits running because she was pretty sure she forgot why Harry was asking if Cece was feeling better.

“Right, we need to give her medicine actually,” she said glancing at her watch as if she just remembered. When she looked back at Harry, she realized he probably hadn’t once given his own daughter medicine, and he had no clue what to do. Without thinking any more of it, she grabbed the medication, and the liquid syringe dropper needed. “Alright, girly, I know it’s not your favorite,” she smiled. “But it’ll make you feel better, here we go,” she aspirated the medicine into the syringe and brought it to her mouth. “She’s going to fuss,” she warned Harry. Harry nodded and held her like she did when she got her shots at the doctor’s office. She gently put the dropper into her mouth and depressed a few drops. “Hold her chin so her mouth stays closed,” her tone was gentle, instructive without demanding. She watched as the frustration appeared on her little face and she grunted and squirmed in Harry’s arms. Gently she ran her fingers down her little neck encouraging her to swallow. Harry watched her every movement.

“How do y’know what t’do?” He asked.

She smiled. “Classes, Google, experience.”

“Experience?”

“My youngest brother is fifteen years younger than me,” she explained. “Mom had to go back to work, so I babysat a lot. But it didn’t feel like it. Honestly, he felt a lot like my baby. My mom was great, don’t get me wrong, but I would kill for that kid even though he barely talks to me now because he’s a cool, broody teenager.”

Harry smirked. “Do you have other siblings?”

“Yeah. I have an older brother. Three years older. But I also feel like his mom.”

He chuckled. “I think sisters are superheroes.”

“Why thank you,” she put a hand on her heart and smiled like she was winning an award. Harry chuckled again and helped with the remainder of Cece’s medicine. “That was so yucky, huh?” she crouched in front of Cece’s eyeline. “So yucky,” she wrinkled her nose and giggled at her. Cece gurgled back and smiled at her. “Let’s eat the good stuff,” she smiled and plucked the cap off the bottle for Harry before grabbing a bowl of her own. “Do you want more?” She asked.

“M'still working on this one,” he jutted his chin toward the bowl. She looked at the papers on the counter beside them.

“Is this organized by person or by file type?” He stared at her for several long seconds as if that was the most ridiculous question she could ever ask. “Alright,” she smirked. “When you ask for a file, do you want the whole bit from the person/company/etc. or do you want all the same files bunched together?”

“I would probably want everything from the same company,” he yawned. “I think she had it the opposite way. Or maybe she messed it up on purpose before she left. This is only an eighth of it. I couldn’t be in that room anymore.”

“You didn’t hire another secretary?” She asked blowing on the bite of her food that steamed visually in front of her. It seemed like something Harry would have in surplus.

“They were all women,” he grumbled.

“Mr. Styles,” she tutted. “What happened to we’re superheroes?” She frowned.

He rolled his eyes. “You are a superhero,” he said simply making her stomach flip. The pause seemed infinite as he let that title settle over her. “Mum, Gemma, Cece, even Cece’s mum...” he trailed off looking at her in a way that made her feel special. “I can’t have anyone who puts m’daughter’s life at the bottom of a priority list work for me,” he explained.

“Harry,” she clucked. “She wasn’t a good secretary. You can’t swear off—”

“No. This is my decision, love. Also, I made everyone program your phone number into their phones today. And whoever is m’next secretary has a laminated index card next t’the phone that says even if m’in the middle of a meeting with the Secretary-General of The UN, they’re t’forward your call t’me,” he said it so casually and with his chin on the bottom of Cece’s bottle holding it upright, he continued eating his own food hungrily. “This is delicious,” he remarked.

Her heart fluttered. “You... you gave my phone number to everyone?”

“I never want there t’be another emergency, but if there is,” he shrugged. “I want you t’be able t’get in touch with me,” he sighed, looking at the papers on the counter and shook his head. “M’gonna put her t’bed,” he scooped her up. “Can y’leave that on? S’really good. M’gonna have more while I work on this," he nodded to the pile of papers there. "Niall might not even get any tomorrow, I might eat it all," that didn't surprise her. She needed to figure out how to get him to eat at lunch time.

She frowned and nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Say night-night, Cece,” he cooed and kissed the top of her head. “Say I love you, Miss Honey, thanks for taking care of me and feeding me yucky medicine,” her smile overtook the frown, and she grabbed Cece’s little hands as she kissed her forehead while Harry faced her forward. It felt unbearably sweet. Sweeter than any bedtime routine she had witnessed while babysitting her brother, or anyone else, or the kids she nannied before Cece.

“Good night, sweet girl,” she pinched at her little belly making her giggle before Harry took her to bed.

*

She heard Harry’s shower pipes whine from down the hall after he finished putting Cece to bed. While he was out of earshot, she finished putting away the dishes that were clean from the dishwasher. Then she looked at the stack of papers on the counter and started to sift through them. Fortunately, the names were at the top of the files, so it was easy to differentiate, and she began to make piles. She turned her phone on low and played gentle music so as not to disturb her concentration nor the sleeping baby (even if she wasn’t going to hear it from upstairs anyway).

Every paper was different so she could see how it would be overwhelming. Especially if there was a whole room of it. Poor sleepy Harry. She was so entranced and humming to her music that she didn’t notice Harry had reappeared. “What are y’doing?” He asked.

She jumped in surprise, the handful of papers she was holding fluttered to the floor. “Sorry!” She grabbed them swiftly and then stood back up smacking her head on the bottom of the counter. “Shit!” She hissed, rubbing the back of it.

Suddenly there were hands on her waist. Gently pushing her to the stool he previously sat in for dinner. Harry grabbed the papers from her hands and tossed them haphazardly into one of her organized piles. “Are you alright?” Harry asked concern in his voice. He went to the freezer immediately as she was seated then came back with a bag of frozen green beans to place at the back of her head as he looked intently into her eyes.

“Yeah,” she swallowed. “Just...clumsy.”

Harry’s free hand was on her thigh, whether he meant it to be there intentionally or not, she wasn’t sure, but she was glad it was. It was warm and big. It felt comforting even if she only bumped her head and nothing more. Also, it would be good fodder for the fire between her thighs when she went back to her room later and thought about the other things that Harry had that were warm and big. “What are y’doing?” He repeated, looking at the counter right over her shoulder.

“I thought I would organize—” His expression was weird again. Like when he was watching her scoop his stew into a bowl. “What?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he shook his head quickly. “Just... m’very grateful for you, love. Niall says I don’t say it enough and I think he’s right. Cece and I would be lost without you.”

Her cheeks felt warmer from the compliment, but she snorted out a breath of laughter. “Niall is just jealous that you get to eat the food I make fresh,” she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Are you okay?” He asked putting the green beans on the counter and running his fingers along the back of her skull very softly. It felt so intimate, and the motion went right between her legs. She nodded trying to keep her breathing even as she answered.

“I’m okay,” she hoped the waver in her voice didn't give her away.

He smiled and replaced the veggie bag on the back of her head. “Thank you, love,” Harry’s gaze was so filled with gratitude and warmth it felt like she was going to catch on fire.

*

Everything okay? Harry’s message read. She hadn’t sent any updates in hours. She didn’t need to. It was her day off and she didn’t even need to answer Harry if she didn’t want to, but he was so nervous that she wouldn’t. He missed her, plain and simple.

Fortunately, she answered before he got too worried. Completely. Just finished up my last appointment.

Just checking, you don’t need to rush. I can tell Cece just misses you :)

She smiled feeling guilty she was spending the day away from her favorite four-month-old. But she liked making appointments like this. It was easy to get them all done in one go, doctor, dentist, gyno, nails, and hair. Her last appointment was her haircut; she got several inches cut off making her feel lighter and bouncier. The blowout was fresh, making her feel brighter for whatever reason, too. She probably only needed a half day, but she thought some retail therapy would be her reward for a long stressful weekend. When she got home, she hoped to see Cece before her nap time, help with the medicine if Harry wanted (he did a great job on his own this morning but asked if she could watch to be sure), and then she planned on having her own, very needed, naptime.

She was headed to her favorite clothing store when she passed Harry’s office building. Without registering her own thought process, she was parked on the main road, and in his building before she realized.

The bustle of Harry’s main office floor never ceased to amaze her. The security guard at the floor entrance tipped his hat at her arrival. “Where’s Miss Cecelia today?”

“Daddy-daughter day,” she smiled and headed for the door labeled with Harry's name on it. Her nap was forgotten and she only thought about how he had brought those papers home and because she had asked to take the day off, he would be stuck with these again tomorrow.

She waved to a couple people who recognized her, two of whom complimented her hair. When she got to his office it was stacked with papers on every available surface. Even she got overwhelmed by the look of it.

She felt even more terrible that she asked Harry to take the day off when this was left for him.

She entered his office without catching anyone else's attention, started the quiet music from the night before, and got to work.

*

Cece was halfway through her afternoon nap when Harry sent a picture to the pretty woman who normally sent pictures to him at this time. He hadn’t heard from her in a while and was getting worried. It was odd that he didn’t worry about her when he was at work, but perhaps it was the comfort of her at his home being the perfect person to help raise his daughter.

I thought you didn’t hire a new secretary?

He read Niall’s message twice trying to figure out what joke he was playing at. He called him quickly. “I didn’t?”

“Well, there’s a woman in your office.”

Harry thought this week was destined to kill him mentally. He blew out a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “Well, call security!” He snapped.

“Wait a second...” he trailed off.

“Wait a second!? Niall! There’s a stranger in my office!”

He knocked on the door to what he assumed was his office. Knocked. Like he was interrupting someone doing important business and not stealing trade secrets.

“I didn’t recognize you with your hair like that, darling. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Harry could hear him grinning and almost immediately Harry realized who was in his office. Then, Harry heard the most beautiful laugh through the phone line and his heart squeezed with affection. The feeling of affection was directly replaced with jealousy that Niall was near her when all he wanted was to see her. “She got a haircut,” Niall narrated into the phone. “She looks beautiful,” he said to both of them.

“I’m going to kill you,” he growled.

“What are you doing?” Niall asked, ignoring Harry’s threat. He put the phone on speaker while he scooped up his sleeping daughter and placed her in her car seat. He already knew what she was doing and if he wasn’t already head over heels for her, he would probably kill her shortly after killing Niall when he got back to the office.

“Harry... papers... I’d help,” her voice was just far enough away from the speaker that he couldn’t catch every word. He grabbed the bag that was always ready to go for his little love and slipped it over his shoulder as he marched to the garage carrying Cece in tow and listening to his best friend flirt with the insanely perfect woman he lived with.

“That’s so nice of you,” Niall said sincerely. Harry let the call switch to his car, and he hurried to get to the office listening in on the conversation.

“Hardly,” she said flippantly. Her voice was closer now. “Harry brought some home yesterday and I felt bad that there was so much. He’s had a really long week.”

Harry glanced at the monitor on his dashboard catching sight of his pretty girl still sound asleep and notched up his speed.

“How long have you been here?”

She paused, maybe looking for a clock. “An hour, two hours?” There was a shrug in her voice again.

Harry stepped on the gas a little harder again.

“No one saw you?”

“The security guard did.”

Harry was going to have a serious talk with him too.

“Harry, do you have anything you want to say to her?” Niall asked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“Hi Harry,” her voice was soft, velvety. Harry couldn't fall in love. He didn't love anyone but his baby, his company, and his family. But where did that put her? He hired her to take care of his pride and joy, but this was beyond anything he could have anticipated. She was doing it out of the kindness of her heart.

“Hi, love,” he tried to lighten his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. Well, he kind of was. He had hoped she was using her day to enjoy herself not worry continually about Harry.

“I think I messed up,” she stage-whispered to Niall.

“He’s fine,” he whispered back in the same way.

Harry rolled his eyes listening to their inane conversation. After what seemed like an eternity, he found his usual parking spot before getting Cece from the backseat as well as her bag. He rushed into the building and made his way to his office without so much as looking at his employees.

She managed to organize as much paperwork in two hours as Harry did in a day. “Oh hello, my sweet girl,” she smiled at the waking baby and pulled the seat from Harry’s grip. She tugged the baby from the seat and held her against her chest and kissed the top of her head repeatedly. “I missed you,” she hummed.

“Wish you greeted me that way, darling,” Niall smiled mischievously only to get a rise out of Harry which worked incredibly well based on the way he glared at Niall.

She smirked and shook her head. “Reserved for Miss Cece only,” she squeezed her closer and inhaled her scent. “Did you have fun with Daddy?” She cooed.

Daddy Niall mouthed at Harry, a knowing smirk on his face. Harry shoved Niall, dropping the bag beside her car seat and started looking through the stack of papers she was working on while she and Niall fawned over Cece.

“Don’t y’have work t’do, Niall?”

“Figured I deserved a Cece break,” he said. “But while you’re here, I have the applicants for your secretary.” Harry ignored him and continued the work she started. Although it was obvious she was a well-oiled machine and Harry was incapable, in comparison. “Guess we’ll deal with it tomorrow?” Harry waved without looking up.

“Good luck,” he murmured to her. “Bye-bye Cece,” his voice changed octaves as he spoke to his daughter. “I love you more than Daddy.”

Niall was really pushing it lately. As soon as he was gone, she returned to the papers humming as Cece reached for them. “Oh, thank you, cutie pie,” she smiled grabbing them from her reach. “You didn’t need to come in,” she said. “I was going to go shopping but I was passing by and thought I—”

“I appreciate it,” his tone was clipped. She frowned feeling like once more she had done something wrong. As if he was sensing her nervousness, he sighed. “It’s your day off,” he reminded her. “I would never have expected you t’do this,” he sighed.

“Well, you’ve had a long week and—”

“You keep saying that, love. But so did you. Maybe even longer than me," he thought of her exhaustion clear as day on her face back at the hospital. He was certain she had a longer week.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Her face flushed a bit making Harry wonder what he did to embarrass her. “But you had a work trip and your flight issue, plus the hospital, and phone problems--"

“So what? You dealt with all that and more," she didn't answer. "What?" He tilted his head. “What is it?”

She sighed and looked away from him, nosing at the top of Cece’s hair. “You called me a superhero,” she said.

“Of course—”

“But I’m not, Harry. I’m not.”

Harry grabbed the papers from her hands and then settled them on the desk. Cece was making noises and blowing bubbles with her spit, so she walked over to her bag and grabbed bib while barely looking. Harry took it from her hand and placed it around her little neck to catch her drooling. But Harry just continued to look at the woman holding his daughter with awe. “You very much are,” he assured her.

“Harry, I...” she took a deep breath and dragged her hand down her face. “You pay me an insane amount of money for me to be a glorified housewife. I take your baby to the library and the park and sometimes a doctor's appointment. I give her a bath and make sure she naps," she explained.

"Arguably some of the most important jobs in the world."

She sighed. "Do you know how many people tell me my job isn't real? That I get paid to do nothing but play with a baby?"

Harry held his tongue before he said something crazy like "tell me who and I'll kill them."

"You do so much more than that," he reminded her.

"I'm glad you see it that way. But not everyone else does."

"What about all this?" He gestured to the papers. "S'not part of your job. Cooking and cleaning for me? S'not your job. I should jus' hire someone else t'do it so you won't--"

"Don't do that, please. I don't mind, I like--"

"Exactly," Harry stared at her hoping she saw how serious he was, how serious he was taking this. "You take care of families," he said. "But the way y'love them is beyond what anyone would expect."

How could she feel so inadequate? She did so much. But even if he placated her and that was the “only” thing she did, so what? She was damn good at it. She kept his baby safe and healthy without batting an eyelash. He knew she was working on Cece rolling over and grabbing her feet. He knew she read to her and sang to her. She counted out cooking steps and stairs and everything she did with Cece. She was ensuring Cece hit milestones and never once complained about anything. Not the lack of sleep, not the lack of time off.

She was brilliant. Harry was pretty sure she knew more about Cece than he did. He couldn’t imagine the stress she was under making sure Cece was always okay. For fuck’s sake, she slept on the floor to keep a close eye on her. Even Harry didn’t think to do that.

Harry stared at her. He cleared his throat. “Should anyone have a question of your qualifications, feel free t’give them m’number because I would be happy t’give them m’own recommendation,” he pulled Cece from her grip and placed her back in the car seat. “Let’s go.”

“Go where? What recommendation?” Confusion painted her face.

“The recommendation where I suggest they pull their head out of their ass. They’re fucking stupid for believing y’don’t work three or four times as hard as they do. Y’work way harder than I do and way harder than Niall. Probably even put together. You are on all the time. Middle of the night? You’re there. Breakfast? You have it covered. Y’have the most important job at this company--you realize that, right? I don’t trust anyone with m’daughter more than you,” he said. “Do y’know how long it would have taken me t’give her the medicine?” He asked rhetorically. “I would’ve called m'mum.” She felt uncomfortable—Harry was acting like she was making space rockets. “If y’think m’paying y’too much you’re dead wrong. M’not paying y’enough. You are doing more for me than I could have ever thought possible,” he picked up the car seat. “Now, if that’s all, I believe your first quarter review is done,” he grabbed Cece’s bag. “Let’s go. I’ll have the driver get your car back home.”

“Go...? Go where?” She asked.

“Shopping, y’said y’were on your way when y’stopped,” he headed out of his office and left her paused, contemplating everything Harry said and feeling warm all over. Her last family adored her, it was obvious. They didn’t expect her to cook and clean, but it just happened. So, she continued that in Harry’s house. It hadn’t occurred to her that Harry didn’t want her to do it.

“Hey, love?” He asked turning back into the room while she gathered her stuff.

“Yes?”

"Thank you," his expression softened around his lips and eyes. "It was really nice of you t'do this for me," he looked at the papers that seemed a little less daunting to deal with tomorrow.

"Oh... you're welcome. I kinda like organizing stuff," she looked a little shy admitting that and followed after him quietly. Settling her mind with thoughts of how important she was to Harry.

Her old family cared for her. But there was no declaration like that. She felt so special to be around Cece and Harry.

They got on the elevator to head to the parking garage. The little baby seat sat between their feet as Harry pressed the button that closed the door. "And..." he turned to her and smiled a little brighter. It touched his eyes and made her think Harry might be the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Carefree, beautiful, and absolutely kind. "Your hair looks really pretty like that, too."

--

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