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vettelsvee · 5 months ago

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I ALREADY HAVE A WIFE | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

ferrari sebastian vettel x race engineer wife!reader

word count: 3450

summary: seb messes up on a press conference while his pregnant wife is there, and he also has to face a journalist that wants to try have a chance with him

warnings: this is based on THAT interview you know all too well (what are YOUR plans?). curse words, pregnancy and everything involved in it, talks of abortion, mental health issues (fluff fluff fluff)

a/n: this is part of history series (coming soon as is being heavily edited). it was my maiden series so... look carefully between lines because there might be some details you don't want to miss out. let me know what do you think of this pleaseeeeee you know i'm always waiting for your feedback, as well as comments and chats on that anon button please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated

“Rose Benson, for The Times. A question for all three drivers: it’s just 102 days until we’re in Australia. What are your plans now between… What are you gonna be doing over the winter break?

“What are your plans?”

Everyone in the room was no surprised by Seb’s answer. Laughter started to fill the room, spreading quickly except for two people: Britta and you. You noticed her gaze piercing your husband, as if she were mentally scolding him, like every time she did when he messed up. You, however, just looked at him with a look of disappointment.

She was unsure about what she had just heard, you knew it perfectly.

Seb face immediately turned pale, as if he knew he shouldn’t have said that. As Seb’s not also wife, but also race engineer, you were used to this kind of behaviour and jokes, but today… it just hit different.

“Seemed to be counting the days,” he continued while starting to laugh a bit nervous. “Can’t wait.”

Max and Lewis, sitting next to him, joined in the laughter, making him laugh even more as the situation seemed to begin to slip out of his control. You were sure that he knew that having you just a few meters away, shaking your head constantly at the same time you whispered something to his PR didn’t bode well.

“Seb, you go first,” a journalist said. “What are your plans?”

“Uh…”

“Another baby?” Lewis interrupted.

You knew all to well that he tried his best to not tell anything. Apart from your four years old little girl, both of your families, and Britta and Antti, no one knew yet that you couldn’t try for another baby because the baby was already on the way.

You couldn’t take the risk of sharing the news and then telling people all over the world that you had an abortion, just as happened to you in 2016.

“Uh... well…” Seb stammered, not knowing what else to say. “Quickly done.”

Even though you were caught up in the laughter around you, you couldn’t control your growing nervousness, as well as your husband, and it kept getting worse every time you glanced at him. You crossed your arms, almost falling off your chair, and decided to rest your head on Britta's shoulder. You tried your best not to fall asleep, but the yawns continued leaving your mouth with no shame at all.

“If you need advice I know how to do it.”

Another mess-up.

Britta was already signaling with her hands to him so he stopped saying nonsense, totally overwhelmed not because she wasn’t used to it, but because she was maybe too worried about you. You straightened up as soon as you heard that, and instinctively placed your hands on your barely noticeable belly, thanking yourself for having decided to start wearing clothes a couple of sizes larger than usual.

“Keep pushing,” Max blurted out, immediately drinking from his bottle.

“Well... I don't know how long you two want to stay on free practice sessions, but... if you want…”

“I like free practice,” the Dutchman commented. “I'd rather stay there for now.”

Lewis and Max kept talking to him, but you knew he was trying his best to go along with the conversation.

After what felt like an eternity, the press conference ended. Everyone started to get up and scatter around the room, probably to chat with each other. The season was over, and they wanted to do the usual: say goodbye and wish each other a good winter break. Seb did the same, with the difference that he headed straight towards you.

You were still sat, eyes fixed on the floor while you fidgeted with your fingers nervously, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You felt like a complete idiot because, even though he hadn't meant any harm and your really knew that, he should have thought before speaking because he knew all too well that you usually got overly sensitive. You had been through a pregnancy together before, and although it was a vast world full of unknowns, certain patterns did repeat.

The constant desire for sex and the hormonal ups and downs you suffered were the most obvious.

Slowly, he approached you and, with utmost care, knelt beside you, placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't pull away as you usually did when she was mad at him, and you saw in his eyes that he wasn’t expecting you to react that way.

“I'm sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable, especially that baby talk. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset you but I ended up messing up, like always.”

You lifted her gaze, meeting his. He knew you were not exactly sad, but a bit disappointed at the thought that someone might have discovered the pregnancy you were trying so hard to keep secret.

“I swear I hate you right now, Sebastian Vettel,” you said, being completely honest and letting the hormones act for you. “You made me feel so bad, I swear, but…”

Your words came out broken, and tried your best to keep your cool.

He knew you stopped talking because your eyes welled up more than usual: you were on the verge of breaking down but didn't want to do it in public. He leaned his forehead against yours, your faces almost touching.

“I never wanted to make you feel this way, my love,” he whispered. “You, alongside our girl, are the most important people to me, and you know that perfectly well,” you nodded, though he knew you doubted it. “You don't know how much I regret not taking care of my words…”

You looked at him, perhaps trying to find the obvious honesty behind his words. You knew he was being completely honest, but once again, your insecurity was consuming you and acting on your behalf.

“Seb, I hate myself right now. Quite a lot, actually,” you revealed in a nearly inaudible whisper. “I hate being pregnant because I feel useless! I'm so bipolar…” you tensed up, though standing and positioning yourself next to him to keep talking without anyone overhearing. “I want to hit you, I want to cry, and at the same time, I want you to take me to the bathrooms and have casual sex like we were teenagers. Do you understand me, sunshine?”

You said that but actually no, he couldn't understand you because he didn't know what it was like to be roughly eight weeks pregnant.

“Y/N, hey, listen to me love,” he said, holding your face in his hands and wiping away your tears. “You don’t have to hate yourself for feeling this way, alright? We’re in this together, and you’re going through a lot of changes. It’s completely normal to feel this way,” he repeated.

You nodded, and even curled your lips into a small smile. You didn’t waste any time and quickly started hugging him and leaving kisses on his right cheek.

But that ended abruptly when you both heard a throat clear behind you.

Britta was standing next to none other than the pink-haired girl who had asked your husband about his winter break plans earlier.

Rose Benson, that Italian journalist who had become one of the best, if not the most prominent, additions to Formula 1 journalism.

“Sebastian, as charming as ever I see…” her words made you cling tightly to Seb’s arm, a bit afraid. Again, your insecurity appeared. “Can I steal you for a few minutes for an exclusive interview?”

Her gaze fell with a hint of disdain on your, as if your were an unnecessary part of the conversation she was trying to have with your husband. Immediately, he wrapped his arm around your waist and started making faces at Britta so she could help him to get rid of that reporter.

As expected, she refused, letting him know he would have to face an interview he didn’t want to do but that it was up to him whether or not he did it. She knew better than anyone what it was like to deal with the media and, especially, with professionals like the one in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m busy.”

“Come on, Sebastian... we’ve known each other for years,” she persisted, getting a bit closer to Seb. “You know it would be an amazing interview... like so many we’ve had.”

You were starting to get upset again. The only thing he did was placing a hand on your belly, and it somehow calmed you, but not for long.

“Benson, I’m serious. The only conversation I want to have right now is the one I was having with my wife,” he said, calmly rubbing your back.

“You’re disappointing me, Vettel,” she snapped, leaving you both in shock. WYou’re missing out a wonderful opportunity to be interviewed, in private, with someone like me.”

After hearing that, tears once again covered your face. You took a few steps back, slight pushing him and positioned yourself next to Britta, who didn’t know what to do other than wrap her arms around you while Seb was still watching the reporter start scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“Here’s my phone number, Seb,” she said in an overly suggestive tone as she handed him the piece of paper, which he took. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? We could find a more private place, and…”

As she got dangerously closer to him, Seb kept your eyes on you.

You hated how polite he was even though people acted in such a stupid way.

“Rose, I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen,” you said again. “My answer, once again, is no.”

“Have you never wanted to explore curves other than those on the circuit?”

“Why are you such a fucking bitch?! The only curves he explores off the circuit are mine!”

The woman’s insinuations had pushed you over the edge. Several people were already looking at you, and you’d swear some were even taking pictures or videos, so it wouldn’t surprise you if you went viral on Twitter that night.

Benson didn’t know what to say or do after your insult, except to end the closeness she had created by moving away from your husband as much as possible, trying not to arouse suspicion from the onlookers.

“Y/N, I think it’s best if we go get some air, what do you think?” Britta suggested you.

“No, I don’t want to go get some air, Britta!” you shouted again, breaking free from Roeske’s careful grasp. You were worried about you getting this upset, but you didn’t care at all. This wasn’t good for the pregnancy. “I want to tell this stupid journalist to learn to do her damn job properly and stop meddling in marriages!”

“Excuse me? Are you calling me a cheater?” she retorted, clearly offended. “You need to learn to control what you say, dear. You’re going to get yourself into more trouble if you keep this up.”

You were getting more nervous than hearing Seb during the press conference, you’d swear.

“Yes, you!” you snapped, moving further away as Britta tried to take you out. She must have noticed how pale you had gone. “Do you think Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend? Well, surprise! He married me last June and we’ve been together for nearly seven years, and we have a daughter, and...!”

The index finger on Seb’s lips was what made you stop from revealing your third pregnancy or who knows what else. Your expression revealed him that, although he had done the best to make you shout, at that moment you only wanted to kill him.

Britta began to guide you more quickly towards the door to get out of there, but your words still could be heard despite the distance with a frustration that was more than obvious. There was a point in your life when you started saying what you wanted, fought for what you believed was not fair, and you stopped being intimidated or afraid of anything or anyone.

That’s what probably made Seb fall in love with you more and more every day, even he actually thought it would be impossible.

When you finally left, Britta handed you a bottle of water and started to calm you down, but you just couldn’t relax. Now, you were still nervous and actually worried about what Seb could be saying to that woman. His body expressions, the ones you were seeing from distance, didn’t calm you as much as you thought, and when she handed him a piece of paper you completely lost it and, once again, started crying, leaning on a wall.

A few minutes, later, Seb approached you while you saw Britta leaving you two some space.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sorry about what happened there. I should’ve handled it better,” he started, his voice full of concern.

“Seb, it’s not your fault. She was way out of line,” you said, your voice trembling while trying to calm yourself down.

He pulled you into a tight hug, your body relaxing slightly against his.

“We’ll get through this, together, like we always do,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, hoping to soothe your nerves.

His gaze meets your tear-filled eyes. Gently, he took your hands and started caressing them with his thumbs, knowing how much it relaxed you in moments of distress like this.

"Thanks for taking care of her for me, Britta," Seb said, turning around to thank your second mother once more for looking after you and sparing you any trouble.

You wanted to say something to him, but as soon as Seb turned his back again you, he got closer and closed the distance between you two, pressing his lips to yours.

You ended up forcing yourself to pull away not because you might get horny,because you're not used to showing affection in public unless it's a completely special occasion. The world knows you only hold hands lightly or maybe kiss on the cheek, out of respect for your profession and, above all, so that people see you as an engineer and not just a WAG.

Private moments were exclusively yours, and no one beyond your loved ones and yourselves needed to know about them.

"What's that about, Seb?"

You were too surprised, feeling a wave of emotions invading you.

"The thing with Rose, or the kiss?" he asked innocently.

"Both," you replied shortly, then corrected yourself. "Sorry, it's just that girl made me feel like..."

You couldn’t continue. You put your hands over your face, but Seb pulled them away. There was no need for you to hide from him: he knew how you felt, and all he wanted in those moments was calming you and making you aware that there was no need for you to feel ashamed about anything.

"I only want you, Y/N," he brought you even closer and started touching your belly again, but now with more discretion. "In this, and a thousand more universes, and beyond life, whatever it is, and no matter what happens, I will always love only you. Just you, Y/N."

"Do you really love me? Even though I'm fat and ugly like I am now?" you wanted to know, doubting yourself as you focused on looking at your body up and down.

He chuckled softly at your comment. You weren’t not fat: your belly was just a slightly bigger than usual despite being in the first trimester because of your natural anatomy.

"You're neither fat nor ugly, darling, but it's normal to feel that way," he comforted you. "You're experiencing changes, so don't overthink, Y/N. You’re a superhero: you’re creating a whole baby in there"

"But I just... I feel like a bomb of emotions. I feel so... so stupid and contradicting myself all the time..."

"It's the hormones," he interrupted you. "Don't press yourself for feeling that way. Do you remember when you were pregnant with Emily?"

Before he could say anything else, he made sure that, aside from Britta, you were alone in the hallway. Seeing that no one else was around, he kneeled down and brought his face to your belly. He placed both hands on either side and started kissing it, causing you laugh.

"Hello, my little girl. How are you doing? There's a long way to go, but mom and I are so excited to meet you, as well as your big sister, who really wants you to be born just to play with you."

You know the baby couldn’t hear you, but you felt so happy Seb was trying his best to make you a little happier.

"Stop, sunshine," you started saying, taking his arms to make him stand up. "Seb, seriously, get up. They're going to catch us!"

There was no one around, and he even double-checked to make sure. However, he decided to listen to you to avoid making you more nervous. At the same time, Britta nodded for you both to follow her. Seb took your hand and followed her steps.

"Seb..." you started speaking with some doubt.

"What is it, love?"

"Why did you say my little girl before?”

He turned hid head towards you. He saw you blushing and looking a little lost.

"Because I know it's going to be another girl," he confessed to you, leaving you a bit puzzled. "I don't know why, but it seems, and I truly believe, that making girls is our specialty."

"I think it's going to be a boy, but it makes sense: the other baby was also a girl..."

You forced yourself to stop talking. You didn’t usually talk about the miscarriage you had about two years ago, at sixteen weeks pregnant, and although you had made great progress after nearly making an irreversible mistake, it still hurted.

They say you learn from mistakes, but if you had seen the clear signs of the person who ruined your lives and had taken measures much earlier, things would have been very different.

"How about we make a bet?" he commented, trying to change the subject while now wrapping his arm around your waist. "If it's a boy, I'll take you on vacation wherever you want."

"And if it's a girl, like you say?" you wanted to know.

"Then I'll take you to dinner at your favourite restaurant. The one you always want me to take you whenever we go visit your family."

You looked at him strangely, knowing perfectly well that what he said wasn’t really a bet; in fact, it's anything but a bet. Adding to that, his voice sounded so calm that it might have surprised you with his passivity.

Britta and Antti look at you both as Seb helped you to enter the car, as if they wanted to know what you were talking about. You look that he shook his head at them and immediately started laughing.

"And what are you laughing at now, Sebastian?" you snapped at him again as he sat next to Britta. "Are you trying to mess with me, or what?"

"What's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

The whispers from his training coach, who clearly wanted toknow what was going on without appearing nosy, made him laugh even more. He didn’t even answer him and directly looked at you:

"Start thinking if you want to go to Cadiz or Mallorca, and if you prefer a McDonald's burger with pickles and ice cream with ketchup and fries or your aunt's wiener schnitzel."

Your eyes lighted up with excitement. You knew that he was making you decide, but in the end he’ll do all of that, and more, for you. Seb was the best partner ever and took care of you amazingly, especially when you were pregnant or struggling with your mental health.

"I hate that you know me so well, Seb," you ended up saying, taking some candies from Britta's hand. "But I'm sure you don't know what's on my mind right now."

Of course he did, he knew you too well. You were just being horny, and your face showed.

"Y/N, I really appreciate you all," Roeske began to say as she looked at both of you, "but please: stop acting like you know what in front of us. Can’t you contain yourselves for ten minutes and then do whatever you want when you’re alone in your hotel room? Really, I’ll take care of Emily and I'll even stay all night listening to loud music on my headphones so I don't have to hear you moan all the time. Agree? But please: behave, kids."

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a-spes · 7 months ago

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| DEVIOUS LIES — Part one (3.842 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

“I am really not sure we should do that, Stark”, you repeated for what may be the tenth time since you picked up the phone, “it sounds like a really, really, bad idea, and you know, I am not sure sh~”

“Come on!” he said, cutting short your ramblings.

Your thoughts are racing, your mind imagining all the things that could go wrong. It is an endless series of “what ifs” that is only stopped by Tony’s voice. You both knew that if he lets you think too much, he would lose his battle. It’s a risky plan he wants to drag you in.

“I am sure you are dying to say yes,” he added when you didn’t answer him, and you could hear his petty smile through the phone. As he sensed that you were about to accept, the man tried to convince you with one last argument, “she won’t know anything, I promise. None of them will, I thought about everything,” he assured you, and you believed him.

He was right, you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t get yourself to say the word aloud. There are too many ways for it to end badly, and you really don’t need to make your situation worse than it already is. Two years ago, you lost everything. None of your teammates tried to understand your situation, they didn’t give you a chance to explain what happened. Instead, they threw you away from the team, and the tower, without giving it a second thought, as if you were just garbage.

Maybe that’s what you are.

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was.

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating.

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were.

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart.

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again.

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate, the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back.

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes?

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore.

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution.

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories.

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night.

You are so lost that it hurts your brain.

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do.

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0

#a spes writing #devious lies #reader insert #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff angst #angst without comfort #mcu women #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #anon request

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blackenedsnow · 1 month ago

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hi! i love your writing :)

i head canon that shadow volunteers for mental health organizations where they help people because he’s been there himself and wants to help people.

can you do a platonic shadow x reader one shot on that? reader is an extremely mentally ill person that shadow finds at the place he volunteers?

a quiet kind of hope

WARNING: Themes of severe depression, intrusive thoughts, implied self-isolation.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog & Reader

NOTE: Hi!! Oh my gosh, thank you for this sweet request. Shadow volunteering for mental health organizations is such a perfect headcanon—I love the idea of him channeling his past struggles into helping others. Thank you for trusting me with something so tender. Please take care of yourself. Sending love your way <333

SUMMARY: At a community mental health center where Shadow volunteers, he finds himself drawn to you—a quiet, lost soul in need of someone who understands.

The fluorescent lights of the community center hummed faintly above as you sat tucked into a corner, knees drawn to your chest. People came and went, their footsteps echoing against the scuffed linoleum floor, but no one seemed to notice you—or if they did, they didn’t stop.

You weren’t sure why you’d come here. Maybe it was the promise of a warm drink, or the idea that someone might listen without judgment. Maybe it was just somewhere to go when the walls of your apartment felt too heavy to bear.

Shadow walked past with his usual quiet purpose. He didn’t hover or pry, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was there enough to seem imposing, yet somehow still approachable—his crimson eyes catching the light like embers as he glanced around the room.

It wasn’t until his third lap near your corner that he finally paused.

“You’re not here for the coffee,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Startled, you looked up at him. Shadow didn’t sit; he crouched down instead, resting one arm on his knee to meet you at eye level.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

You shook your head. Words felt too heavy to form.

Shadow tilted his head, studying you. There was no pity in his gaze—only patience. He knew better than to push for answers you weren’t ready to give.

“I’m Shadow,” he said after a moment. “I volunteer here. If you need anything—or if you just want to sit quietly—that’s fine.”

His presence was steady, like an anchor. You nodded hesitantly, unsure if he would leave or stay. To your surprise, he moved to sit on the floor nearby, keeping enough distance to give you space but staying close enough to show he wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

It became a pattern over the next few weeks. Shadow never forced you to talk, never asked for more than you were willing to share. Sometimes, you’d sit in silence while he worked on paperwork or handed out supplies to other visitors. Other times, he’d offer simple observations—a comment about the weather, or a quiet remark about how the coffee was even worse than usual today.

He made it easy to exist without expectations.

One day, when the room was emptier than usual, you finally found the courage to speak.

“Why do you do this?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shadow glanced up from his clipboard. For a moment, he looked almost surprised.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “I know what it’s like to feel… stuck. Like there’s no way out. I had help when I needed it. This is my way of paying it forward.”

His honesty was disarming. You stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

“It doesn’t feel like it’ll get better,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t, at first,” Shadow said. “But it can. Slowly. The first step is the hardest—you took it when you walked in here.”

His words settled over you like a blanket—not an instant cure, but a quiet reassurance. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Over time, your conversations grew longer. Shadow never pushed you to share more than you were comfortable with, but he listened intently to everything you said. He remembered the little details—your favorite tea, the book you were slowly working through, the things that scared you most on bad days.

In his own way, he showed you that it was okay to take up space in the world.

You didn’t realize how much you’d come to rely on his presence until one evening, when the community center was unusually quiet. You’d been lost in thought, staring at the fading light outside, when Shadow appeared beside you with two steaming cups of tea.

“For you,” he said, setting one down carefully.

You blinked up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Shadow’s expression softened, just enough for you to notice.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing the hard part. I’m just here to remind you that you’re not alone.”

But one day…

The space you usually occupied in the corner of the center was empty.

Shadow’s sharp gaze swept across the room again, as if expecting you to appear any moment, but the hours ticked by, and the door remained closed.

It wasn’t unusual for people to miss a day here or there—life had a way of pulling people in unpredictable directions—but this wasn’t like you. You came to the center every time it was open, like clockwork, even on the days when you barely said a word.

Shadow couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling settling in his chest.

“You looking for someone?” one of the other volunteers asked as she packed up for the night.

Shadow nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Yes. A regular.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe they just needed a break. Sometimes it’s overwhelming for folks.”

“Maybe,” Shadow replied, but the doubt in his voice was evident.

He stayed a little longer than usual, tidying up stray cups and chairs as an excuse to linger. When it became clear you weren’t coming, he left, stepping out into the cold night air.

The thought of you walking home alone—head down, shoulders hunched—stuck in his mind.

The next day, you still didn’t show.

Shadow’s unease grew, twisting into something sharper. He tried to focus on his tasks, but his mind kept circling back to the hollow ache in his chest. He hated how familiar it felt.

When the center closed that evening, he made a decision. He wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for answers.

He remembered fragments of things you’d shared in passing—your neighborhood, the street you lived on. Shadow wasn’t one to pry, but he had a way of listening closely, piecing together the little details others might miss.

The streets were quiet as he walked, the night heavy with the kind of stillness that pressed against his ears. He found your building easily enough: a squat, aging structure with peeling paint and a flickering light by the entrance.

He climbed the stairs quickly, his footsteps echoing faintly.

When Shadow knocked, there was no answer.

He tried again, harder this time. “It’s me,” he called. “Shadow.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, he heard movement inside.

“Go away,” came your voice, muffled and small.

Shadow’s ears twitched. You sounded exhausted—hollow in a way he hadn’t heard before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he said, his tone firm but not harsh. “But I need to know you’re okay.”

Another long pause. Eventually, the door creaked open just a crack.

You didn’t meet his eyes. Your face was tired, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but the words were unconvincing even to yourself.

Shadow’s gaze softened. “You’re not.”

The door opened a little wider, and he could see the state of your apartment—the cluttered surfaces, the curtains drawn tight against the light. It was clear you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, and the sight of it made something tighten in his chest.

“I didn’t want to go today,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to do… anything.”

Shadow stepped inside carefully, closing the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to retreat to the edge of your bed. You sat with your head in your hands, your breaths uneven.

“I know how that feels,” he said quietly, moving to sit on the floor near you. “Sometimes the world feels too big. Like you can’t face it.”

Your fingers curled tighter into your hair. “It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s… everything. It’s all wrong, and I can’t fix it. I’m just—” You stopped, choking back a sob.

“You’re overwhelmed,” Shadow finished for you, his voice steady. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your breathing hitched.

Shadow leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’ve survived this long. That means you’re stronger than you think.”

His words weren’t flowery or overly comforting—they were simple, grounded in truth.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice raw.

“I told you before. I’ve been there,” he said without hesitation. “I know how lonely it feels. I’m not going to let somebody drown in it.”

Shadow stayed with you that night. He didn’t push you to talk, but he also didn’t leave. He tidied the room quietly, opened the curtains to let in the moonlight, and made sure you drank a glass of water before you finally lay down.

As you drifted off, his words lingered in your mind: You’re not alone.

For the first time in days, it felt like you weren’t.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #shadow x reader #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #x reader #ask #fanfic #request #oneshot

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vanteguccir · 9 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x student!reader

SUMMARY: Amid relentless academic pressure, Y/N finds herself consumed by the desperate pursuit of perfection in her college. Her obsession with validation leads her to neglect her own basic needs until a sudden accident forces her to confront the reality of her situation, receiving the complete help and support of her boyfriend, Chris.

WARNING: Comparison, crying, dark thoughts, fainting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @sturniolowhore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sat at her desk in the corner of her shared room with Chris, surrounded by mountains of books, papers, and her laptop, whose screen glowed brightly in the semi-darkness of the room. The clock on the wall showed 2 a.m., but for her, time had lost all meaning.

The sound of Chris' light snores, who was sleeping soundly in the bed just a few meters away from the girl, sounded muffled against her ears. She had tried to sleep, really, but sleep wouldn't come at all, and when Y/N was sure that her boyfriend had finally slept, she was able to get up.

Her mind was totally immersed in study. Every cell in her body focused on absorbing every detail of the laws, the precedent cases, and the doctrines. She was obsessed with academic validation, an incessant compulsion to be the best in her law school, not because she wanted to be better than others, but to show herself that she was capable of something.

The pressure to achieve excellence was overwhelming. Every time a score was posted, her heart raced in anticipation, and each less-than-perfect mark was a stab at her already fragile self-esteem.

Y/N never felt like she was enough, no matter how hard she worked or how well she did. There was always that underlying fear of not being good enough, of not living up to other people's expectations and, even worse, her own unrealistically high expectations.

Days and nights melted into a haze of books and coffee as she sank deeper and deeper into her quest for perfection. She found herself studying until the early hours of the morning, neglecting her basic needs.

Eating had become a sporadic activity, limited to quick and insufficient snacks. Drinking water was a luxury she couldn't afford to waste time on. Taking a shower or even going out to get some sun was completely out of the question.

Her body began to show signs of abandonment, her eyes sunken and tired, her skin pale and lifeless. The dark circles that adorned her face were like badges of honor, marking the sleepless nights and days of incessant study.

But Y/N ignored all the signs.

She was determined not to be overcome by her own limits, even if it meant sacrificing her physical and mental health in the process.

Chris, worried, tried in vain to bring a little normality to her life. He watched from afar every day, helpless in the face of the web of obsession that enveloped Y/N.

He would try to talk to her, sometimes even begging Matt to do so - his brother had a way with words, but she would always evade it, sinking deeper into her bubble of study and self-denial.

Y/N didn't want to worry him, didn't want to admit she was losing control. She was determined to face this battle alone, no matter the cost.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The clock on the wall read almost 9 pm of a Tuesday, and Y/N was still locked in her shared room with Chris, immersed in a sea of books and papers. Her desk was a chaotic mess, with crumpled papers and several tabs open on Google on her laptop, each representing a different subject that she was desperately trying to absorb. Her hand hurt from writing so much, her eyes burned from reading so much, and her body was weak from the time she had spent there.

Chris entered the room for the fifth time that day, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a pink plate with a simple sandwich in the other. His heart sank when he saw Y/N's state, her tense and exhausted expression, her almost obsessive determination to continue studying, ignoring everything else.

His blue eyes traveled across the mess of the table slowly, noticing the plate of Y/N's favorite cookies, which he had brought hours earlier, still untouched, and he swore he felt his heart break again.

"Hi babe... Here, you need to eat something." The boy approached cautiously, trying not to scare her. His voice sounded softly, showing her the plate with the sandwich.

Y/N looked down at the ceramic, her tired eyes reflecting a mix of stubbornness and exhaustion.

"I... I need to keep studying." She murmured, shaking her head, her voice weak and shaky. "I have an important test, Chris. I can't stop now."

Chris felt a wave of frustration and anger rise up inside him. He knew how important that test was for Y/N - and all the others she studied incessantly, but he also knew that she was pushing her limits. He refused to stand by and watch as she destroyed herself.

“Y/N, you can’t go on like this.” He insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "You need to rest, you need to eat, you need to do something besides studying!"

"I can't, Chris. I can't stop now. I need to..." Y/N shook her head determinedly, keeping her blurry eyes fixed on the papers in front of her.

Chris sighed heavily, dropping the plate and cup onto the wooden surface with a thud, his own frustration spilling over into angry tears.

“You’re destroying yourself, Y/N.” He murmured, his voice choked by the weight of his own emotions. "And I can't stand here and watch it anymore."

With that, Chris turned and left the room, leaving a very lost Y/N behind, her teeth biting her lower lip hard in an attempt to stop her feelings from taking over herself, an atmosphere full of tension and despair taking over the environment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Then came the day when her body finally said enough was enough.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/N was sitting at her desk as usual when a wave of exhaustion hit her with full force. She felt dizzy, her vision blurred, and her hands shook uncontrollably. The world around her seemed to fall apart as she fought to stay conscious.

The girl gripped the edge of the wooden surface tightly, trying to stabilize herself, but the force used was almost nil, her fingers sliding across the table and her arms falling limply. Her senses gradually disappeared, causing her body to bend to the right until she completely collapsed, escaping the safety of the chair.

The sound of Y/N's body hitting the floor made Chris jump out of bed in instant fright. The boy sat up abruptly, his sleep-clouded eyes traveling around the room in search of the source of the rude sound. His heart raced with panic when he saw his girlfriend lying on the floor, motionless.

Chris ripped the blanket off his body, quickly standing up and running to her, ignoring his own confusion and worry flooding his mind.

"Y/N! Y/N, baby, wake up!" He shouted, desperate, as he knelt beside her, pushing the pink gaming chair away.

With shaking hands, he checked her breathing and pulse, relieved to find that she was still breathing. Carefully, Chris turned her onto her side, briefly remembering when Nick told him that this was the correct procedure to do when a person suddenly passed out. His wide blue eyes ran frantically over her body as he silently counted the seconds in his mind.

Relief flooded him as he saw Y/N begin to regain consciousness, her eyes blinking slowly as she tried to understand where she was.

"Chris? What... what happened?" She murmured, her voice weak and her brow furrowed in confusion, her right hand rising from its limp position and reaching towards her head, pressing against the side, a pained expression spreading across her face.

Chris ignored her question momentarily, lowering himself to her level and pulling her into a hug tightly, sighing deeply as he repeated in his mind that she was there, alive and fine.

"You passed out, sweetheart. I heard the noise and... Oh God, Y/N, I thought you had..." The tears - which the boy barely noticed coming into his eyes - began to flow freely down his cheeks, his heart aching at the thought of the possibility of losing her.

His thoughts self-sabotaged him, making him feel guilty, he felt that he should have realized sooner - despite all the countless attempts to try to bring her out of her bubble, that he should have done something to prevent her from getting to that extreme point.

Y/N slowly sat up with the support of Chris's hands after he backed away, still feeling weak and bewildered.

Upon hearing her boyfriend's words, she felt her own eyes fill with tears, the accumulated emotions overflowing into a torrent of anguish and despair.

"I'm sorry, babe. Fuck- I'm so sorry. I... I can't do this anymore, Chris." A sob escaped her throat roughly, her voice choked with crying. "I'm destroying myself because of my own expectations. I... I don't know what to do anymore." She whispered, lowering her gaze to the ground, trapping her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to stop the ugly sounds that wanted to escape in an avalanche. "Oh my God, I hurt you."

Chris held her gently, pulling her to lay her head on his shoulder, cradling her in his arms like a baby while they were still on the floor, unburdening herself of all her worries and fears. He listened intently to her ranting, his heart clenched by the pain Y/N was facing alone.

“Hey, hey, baby, don't do this to yourself. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.” Chris murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. "I'm here, always have been and always will be. I promise we'll get through this, love."

"I'm so sorry, Chris." The girl murmured, lifting her gaze from the ground and focusing on the brunette's orbs, wondering how he still allowed himself to love and help her so much, even after causing him such worries and fear.

Chris shook his head, silently reassuring her that everything was fine. He pulled his girl's pink chair towards them, slowly lifting himself so as not to hurt her and sitting on the plush seat, before guiding Y/N onto his lap, sitting her sideways on his thighs and laying her face on his shoulder, his mind working hard to come up with an idea to help Y/N find a healthy balance between her academic aspirations and her personal well-being.

"Why don't we establish a more realistic study plan, hm? With time to rest and all the self-care that will be good for you, I'll help you." The brunette whispered, looking down anxiously, hoping she could understand his point. "We can also seek professional help, a therapist, who will help you deal with your emotions and anxieties. If you want, I can participate in all the sessions with you."

Y/N looked at Chris with gratitude in her teary eyes. She knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but with Chris's loving support by her side, she felt a spark of hope light up in her heart.

"Would you do that for me?" Her voice came out in a broken whisper, her heart warming at his sweet words.

"I'll be right by your side, my love. Always." Chris responded without blinking.

He lowered his head, sealing the top of Y/N's hair for long seconds, stroking the area with his nose lightly. His hands wrapped tightly around her body, keeping her secure in his lap and against his own body, before beginning to draw invisible circles with his fingers against her covered back.

"Sleep, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. Everything will be alright."

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taurielofmirkwood77777 · 1 year ago

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Can we all stop with the "Aziraphale is wrong, Crowley is right" mentality please? The whole season was spent of saying "nothing is just black and white, everything is in shades of grey" and yet a lot of people are still falling for the black and white thing. BOTH were right and BOTH were wrong. Let's unfold this, shall we?

Starting with the elephant in the room, yes, Aziraphale was wrong for thinking he can change Heaven. We, as an audience, saw just how awful Heave can be, when Aziraphale didn't for the most part. He doesn't know why Gabriel is fired and he never learned how Heaven treated "him" after he averted Armageddon. He doesn't know all of that, but we do, so it's not fair to blame him for it. Him believing that he Crowley wants to be an angel again is simply due to the lack of communication between them. Both in season 1 and 2, Crowley mentioned multiple times that him falling was not fair because he never did anything more than just ask questions, unlike other demons who were all against Heaven. So Aziraphale assuming that that means he would like another shot at being an angel is completely reasonable.

Now, Aziraphale was also right for taking the job. Considering the events of season 2, it was very clear that Heaven wouldn't simply let Aziraphale and Crowley exist in peace after everything. Yes, they had 4 years of peace, but for immortal beings, that's more like 4 hours. Aziraphale wants to make sure that he and Crowley CAN exist without the constant fear of revenge or punishment. After all, we were just introduced to the Book of Life and there's nothing stopping Heaven from erasing one or both of them from existence forever. Aziraphale doesn't want to be with Crowley if that means living in constant fear, because that's not really a living, is it? He needs to do something about it. Even if Crowley doesn't see it that way, Aziraphale has to do something to keep them both safe, if not the entire Earth. So his choice of going to Heaven may not be "good", but it sure is the most logical.

As for Crowley... poor Crowley. He doesn't get it. In season 1, he came to Aziraphale and had to work to convince him to stop Armageddon from happening. And the moment he thinks that it can't be stopped, he decides to run away. And that idea stuck. Up until that moment back in season 1, Crowley didn't even entertain the idea of leaving Earth. But from that point onward, it's the only thing he thinks about. He brings it up every chance he gets. You could even argue that being a coward is one of the reasons he became a demon in the first place (sorry not sorry). But running away isn't an option. Running may save him from the problems going on on Earth, but no matter where he goes, he can't get away from Heaven and Hell. They can always pull him back, they can do worse things from afar. But Crowley doesn't see it. He tells Aziraphale "You can't leave this bookshop." as if that's not what he was planning to do since episode 1. Crowley loves the Earth. Even more so than Aziraphale. He plays dress up every chance he gets, he drinks poison for fun, he cares about the health of ducks and is clearly indulging himself in alcohol much more than Aziraphale does in food (speaking of, he was also the first one to consume human food and drinks and the reason Aziraphale does so in the first place). He's the one who convinced Aziraphale to stop the destruction of Earth in the first place. But Crowley is also very stubborn.

At the same time, Crowley knows better than anyone how Heaven and Hell work and how that can never be changed. He saw first hand how Heaven treats its own angels (I'm including Gabriel in this) and realises it's all a trap. He can tell. He fears for Aziraphale's life, and even for his if he were to accept it. Crowley tries to warn him more than anything. But just knowing everything is a scam is not enough.

The only way for Aziraphale and Crowley to be able to just be together is for them to make sure they can. And the only way to do that is by going in the belly of the beast.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #good omens analysis #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands

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narryffdreaming · 4 months ago

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lia and harry's story (two)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut (here and there) word count: 15,7k

(ONE)

Harry never texted her.

Of course he didn’t. And it wasn’t as if Lia actually expected him to, but then why did he even bother asking for her number in the first place? Why pretend he wanted to talk to her? Why pretend there was the slight chance they would ever interact again?

Lia tightened the grip around her grocery bag and sighed. Her mind was about to explode. It really was. She was too tired, and not even the fact that it was already Friday and the weekend was ahead of her was enough to cheer her up.

There was just too much going on. She couldn’t stop thinking, so she hadn’t been sleeping very well.

After Harry had left her apartment, Lia had locked the door and leaned her back against it. And then she’d closed her eyes and recalled everything that had just happened — from Harry running after her, to him looking one last time over his shoulder and waving one final goodbye before walking down the stairs.

Their interaction had started for the wrong reasons, but it had been too good to be true, and not at all a fantasy of her mind.

Harry standing in her living room had been real. His words, his stare, his smile. The sound of his laughter. The way he had cared about apologizing to her…

It had all been real, it had all actually happened.

And it had stirred a new feeling of excitement in the pit of her stomach. It had made her walk to the kitchen with a massive grin on her face, then giggle to herself while preparing things for the next day.

Then of course, as minutes went by, everything she had just spent weeks promising herself she wouldn’t do anymore, happened all over again.

She wasn’t proud of it. She tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t. No matter how innocent his actions had been, they were enough to fuel her with endless ideas and possibilities of how that night could’ve ended instead. And although she felt terribly embarrassed to admit, for more than one second she’d allowed herself to truly entertain those thoughts.

She imagined a conversation where she had been interesting and fun enough to captivate him. Or to fascinate him, just as much as he had fascinated her. She imagined her acting confident enough to seduce him, confident enough to flirt with him. She imagined Harry reciprocating the feeling. And a moment where, instead of leaving to go back to work, Harry ended up touching her freely and thoroughly. She imagined him hugging her, kissing her. Making her feel everything she so desperately wanted to feel. She so desperately needed to feel.

By the time she was lying in bed in silence and staring through the window, reality had hit her again: inviting Harry inside of her apartment had been a terrible, terrible idea.

She’d just gone from wondering what being around him would look and be like, to actually knowing it. And no matter how great she could be feeling right then and there, at the end of the day it would only complicate things. She knew that. It would only make everything worse.

At the same time, as ashamed as Lia felt of her imagination, the truth is that Harry’s real words weren’t helping her, either — like when he mentioned he owed her a drink, or when he asked for her number.

Those very real words weren’t easy to get rid of. They echoed inside Lia’s mind constantly, ruining all of her attempts of never thinking about him again. They kept her company in the mornings while getting ready for work, then at lunch and in between classes, and also all over the afternoons. They popped up again, randomly, as she jumped off the bus and waved a timid goodbye to the very well-known driver, and again later at night when she took a shower, ordered takeaway and went to bed once again.

During the weekend, because she needed a distraction, once again she’d taken a train back to her parents. And it helped her, mostly because it meant also getting to see her brother and sister-in-law. Something she enjoyed. Something she always thought she should do more often, anyway.

But then it was Monday, and she was back into the real world. Going from her apartment to work. And from work to her apartment.

By Friday, after almost getting no sleep all week and paying no attention to anything but work, she wasn’t only ashamed and embarrassed—she was also sad and frustrated at how lame and uneventful her life was.

She was tired of living inside of her imagination, and angry at only watching others reaching their dreams and happiness. She was mad for not being able to let things go, and she was bored of the way she handled things.

And, above it all, she was longing for someone who could take all her loneliness away.

It was a mix of emotions that she could only express by huffing and grumbling to herself as she stood in front of her building, one hand inside of her stupid gigantic bag while she frowned and blindly searched for her keys.

She had only left the house to go to the grocery store, so why did she even take that thing bag with her? And why was there always so much stuff inside it?

She was so distracted and so madly annoyed at herself and her life, that she didn’t hear the bam when Harry closed the door of his car; nor the beep beep when he pressed the alarm and locked it; nor the pitter-patter when he got closer to her building. She also didn’t notice when he stopped by the first step, nor when he leaned his side against the railing and crossed his arms on his chest, nor when he watched her with an amused smirk on his face.

“Need some help there?”

Lia jumped and turned around, and the gasp that left her mouth was muffled by the crash of her bag hitting the ground, right next to her feet.

“Shit.” Harry ran up the steps in a blink of an eye, then squatted in front of her.

Lia tucked her chin and looked down, letting her arms hang loosely by her sides and watching as he gathered the few objects that had fallen from her bag and threw them back inside.

He was wearing her favorite t-shirt — again. The old tight fabric perfectly outlining the muscles on his back and shoulders as he moved his arms here and there.

His voice was a soft murmur in the back of her ringing ears, and she only noticed he was actually saying something when he placed one elbow on his bent knee and looked up at her with a frown on his face.

“Sorry.” Lia shook her head and took a step back. “W—what?”

“I was just apologizing.” He stood up, pulling her bag along with him by the thick strap. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lia tightened her fingers around the single grocery bag she was holding, gripping at it as if her sanity depended on that frozen pizza she’d just bought for dinner.

“Right.” She nodded slowly, then licked her chapped lips. “It’s fine, yeah. You didn’t scare me.”

Harry half-snorted, half-scoffed. “I sure did, love. Is everything alright?”

Lia slumped her shoulders, and a lough sigh escaped through her lips and nose. She closed her eyes and scratched her forehead, then told him the exact same lie she’d been telling every single person who’d asked that same question in the last couple days.

“Yeah… Everything’s fine. Long week at work, that’s all.”

Harry hummed, and when she opened her eyes again, she found him leaning his lower back against the railing of her building.

He looked at her curiously, green eyes staring at her as if he could see a different answer written all over her face.

It was unsettling, but also oddly comforting at the same time.

“Haven’t seen you at the bar anymore,” he finally said.

Lia looked around the street, watching the few people walking by.

She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t even a question, to begin with. He didn’t see her at the bar, because she didn’t go to the bar. Period. It seemed obvious, and boring.

Was there anything else she could say instead? Something that would be more… Interesting?

“Hey.” Harry circled her wrist with one hand, then gently squeezed.

Lia looked back at him, only to be met with the beautiful sight of a closed-mouth smile, a dimple, and wrinkles around his eyes.

“You sure you’re ok?” He let his arm fall back to his side. “You look tired.”

Lia shifted on her feet and looked down, pulling her hair over one shoulder. She used her fingers to brush through her locks and put down some of her untamed strands. Then, as she rubbed under her nose with the side of one finger, she took her occupied hand to pull the hem of her sweater down.

“I look like a mess, I know,” she mumbled, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess… I haven’t been sleeping that much.”

Or at all.

“That sucks.”

The tone of his voice carried his sentiment, and she fed her curiosity by glancing at him. Once again, she met his green, caring and concentrated eyes, and for a moment she was convinced the entire world had stopped just for them.

There was a curl threatening to fall onto his forehead, and a very obvious stubble around his soft mouth — covering his chin, the sides of his face and the mole on the left side of his bottom lip.

The smoothness of his facial hair drew even more attention to his unprompted dimples, and the boyish breeze around him clashed with the intensity pouring out from his broad shoulders, sharped jaw and thick neck.

He stood so unconcerned in front of her, casually leaning against the cold iron that led to the front door of her building and holding the strap of her bag with both hands as it hung in between his parted legs and—

“Oh my God!” Lia gasped. Shit. She straightened her back and took a step closer to him, stretching her arm to clasp her fingers around the strap of her bag. “‘M so sorry. You’ve been holding this and I just… I didn’t… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Shaking her head, Lia pulled one side of the strap towards her chest, expecting Harry to easily let it go.

Harry tugged back, though, yanking her forward and in between his legs.

A yelp left her throat as she stumbled on her feet, her hand flying up along with the grocery bag to hold herself on his chest.

Harry’s free hand landed on her waist, keeping her in place while his other hand remained attached to the strap of her bag, just like hers.

“Just to be clear,” Harry murmured, sinking his fern green eyes into her dark brown ones. “I never said you look like a mess.”

Lia pressed her lips together and breathed out through her nose, then drifted her eyes down and between them.

Her hand was still on his chest, and a tingling swept up through the back of her neck and across her face — she had just shoved a grocery bag into Harry’s chest. A grocery bag, with a frozen pizza in it.

And he didn’t seem at least one bit bothered by it.

“It’s not what I meant, either, y’know,” he added. “When I said you look tired.”

Lia swallowed the nervousness down, ignoring the way her cheeks were burning.

(Or, well, maybe actually trying to ignore the way her entire body was burning.)

“What… Uh… What did you mean, then?”

Harry shrugged, slightly digging his fingers into her waist. The way he held her, so firmly and yet so casually, made her heart skip a couple of beats. It was hard to pay attention to what was happening whilst also being hyper-aware of everything she was feeling, and an overwhelming emotion she couldn’t name spread all over her chest.

“Just that I can tell you’re not doing ok.”

Oh.

Lia frowned.

Was that…

Was that supposed to make her feel better?

Harry let her waist go and reached for her hand, covering her hold around her bag. “May I?”

She answered by loosening the grip on the strap, and his response was just as instant — he slid his fingers under her palm and held her firmly, meanwhile lowered the item to the floor with his other hand and slowly dropped it between his feet.

“I can also tell you could use a good night of sleep… Or maybe two,” he added. He took his new free fingers to his chest, removing the grocery bag from her other hand and putting it on the floor, too. “Probably could use some loosening up. Have some fun. Laugh a little.”

“Right,” she whispered, if only to stop him from listing everything that was wrong with her life. Or everything that could be better. Or everything that was missing. “That…” She cleared her throat. “Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because… I mean… None of that sounds good, y’know?”

Harry’s lips twitched up.

“Yes, I know…” He nodded. He took his hand up to her face, brushing her skin while putting her hair away and locking it behind her ear. “Sorry. Promise it’s coming from a place of worry, though. That’s all.”

Her chest tightened, and her stomach swirled.

“I—I mean…” Lia licked her lips. “No need to worry. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”

“Hmm…” He let his arm fall on his lap, but his other hand kept holding hers, thumb moving in circles and gently brushing her skin. “Is there anything I can do? I’m here if you need any help.”

Lia furrowed her brows. “Like what?”

“I don’t know…” Harry shrugged. “Whatever you need. Or want.”

An awkward laugh left Lia’s mouth, and she shook her head.

If Harry knew what was keeping her awake at night, he wouldn’t be offering that.

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Ok,” he murmured. “What about tonight, then? Any plans?”

“Well… I just bought myself a frozen pizza, so…”

“Hmmm.” Harry smiled. “Yummy…”

Lia bit her lip. The low and teasing tone of his voice made her skin tingle.

“And what about after dinner?”

“What—What about it?”

“Any chance you’ll come over to the bar? I still owe you a drink, remember?”

She brushed the tips of her fingers on his t-shirt, drawing random patterns before slowly pulling her arm away from him.

“I... I don’t think so. Sorry. I just... I’m really tired, and I don’t think being around too many people will help… It’s just… I don’t know… I guess… A lot of information? If that makes sense? Sorry, I don’t know how to explain it and—"

“Hey,” he called, squeezing her hand. “I get it. Makes perfect sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Of course. The bar can get really loud and crowded… Not fun at all if all you want is to relax.”

“Yeah…” Lia blinked. Again and again. “That’s… Yeah. Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know… For understanding? I guess? Not a lot of people do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause people suck.”

Lia snorted, and chuckled. She dropped her head, covering her mouth while her shoulders moved up and down.

Hopefully, even though he was standing extremely close to her, Harry wouldn’t see the way her entire face scrunched up when she laughed. It wasn’t a very pretty sight to see.

“Lia?”

She cleared her throat, shaking her head twice before taking a deep breath in and lifting up her chin.

“Yeah?”

Their eyes found each other, and Lia immediately froze.

Harry wasn’t laughing, and he wasn’t smiling. But he wasn’t mad, either. He held her stare with an inquisitive look, and it was so intense that it made her gulp down, unsettled by the hint of something flashing through them—something she was afraid to name, but wasn’t so hard to guess.

“I’m glad you called me an asshole.”

She raised her eyebrows, and her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, “You are?”

“Mhm.” Harry nodded. “I really am.”

“W—why?”

He slid his tongue between his lips, getting them wet. They glistened under the sunset shades that surrounded them, and Lia stared at their slow movements as he spoke. “It brought us here, didn’t it?”

Shutting her mouth, Lia blinked blankly at him.

“I mean, of course I wish I hadn’t made you feel like that in the first place, but still… I’m glad you called me out for it.”

“Yeah I don’t… Usually do that, y’know? That’s why I freaked out and… Why I was so embarrassed about it. I guess I’m just… I’m just not brave enough to speak up. I don’t know.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll respectfully disagree with that. You seem a lot braver than most people I know.”

Lia looked down, not able to hold back a smile.

“I think…” she murmured. “I think I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Is it? Huh… Could stay here for hours.”

Heat flushed up her neck, then spread all over her face.

“Don’t you have to work tonight?”

“Oh, ooook then.” Harry laughed and stood up, straightening his body and causing her to stumble backwards. “Gotcha. Message received. I’m leaving now.”

“What? No!” Lia shook her head. “What message? I wasn’t—I just… It’s Friday, so I know it gets busier at the bar and… I wasn’t… Y’know… I didn’t mean… I just—"

“Hey, hey…” Harry squeezed her hand, pulling her to step closer and into him again. “I know. I’m just teasing you, love. It’s fine.”

“Ugh… I really suck at this.”

“You don’t.”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t, and I mean it. If anything, I think it makes you even more interesting.”

They stared at each other.

Stared at each other.

And stared at each other.

They stared and stared, until the trembling inside Lia’s belly felt too much and she looked away.

Harry cleared his throat.

“Ok… I’ll let you go now, since it’s getting late and you’ve got a frozen pizza to cook…” he teased, happiness lingering in his voice. “But I’ll see you around, tho, right?”

“Y-yeah, sure… I—I’ll see you around.”

Lia nodded, forcing her smile to stay longer even though the idea of saying goodbye to him only brought sadness to her chest.

What the hell was happening?

And how long would it take until she saw him again?

— — — — —

Pam was on the phone with her mom and Jim had just walked in the office when Lia’s phone buzzed on the couch, next to her thigh.

How’s pizza? Keeping you company?

Lia furrowed her brows, checking twice that the texts had been sent by an unknown number. And then her heart skipped a beat, and her hands began to sweat.

The idea of Harry reaching out was just as exciting and joyful as scary and unbelievable. To be fair, she couldn’t imagine who else it could be, but she also was too afraid to just assume. What if someone was pranking her? What if he was pranking her?

Her phone buzzed again.

This is Harry, btw.

“Shit,” Lia murmured.

She sat upright and pulled the blanket off from her lap, then grabbed her phone with her trembling and nervous hands.

It took her at least five minutes to come up with a calm and collected answer.

still in the oven hi harry:)

Heat spread through her cheeks.

She was so lame. So boring.

Why was Harry even texting her?!

Her phone buzzed again.

Hii :) That’s a shame You should’ve found yourself better company

Lia stared at her phone and bit her lip.

The opportunity was there, right in front of her. In a fantasy world, she would’ve pointed out how he should’ve kept her company instead. Or maybe she would have invited him to be that better company.

Both options ran through her mind. Both options tinkled on her fingers. And yet, it was Lia’s world she lived in, so she settled for the safest words to say.

it was the best thing I could find at the grocery store

Opposite from her, he didn’t take a second to reply. As if he didn’t even need to think before he spoke.

Hmmm Maybe next time you should try somewhere else, then

She read his text once, and twice. For a moment, an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach turned into nausea, but then her mind seemed to act on its own. Disconnecting from the rest of her body as it directed her fingers to type again.

I might… do you have any recommendations?

The three dots on Harry’s side of the conversation came up quickly, then they flashed for a while. And then, they disappeared.

Lia swallowed hard, watching the screen for another minute or two just to make sure that no more answers would come through. When they didn’t, her stomach clenched, and the nausea became hard to ignore. So she put her phone away and stared back at the TV, pulling her knees to her chest and pretending to pay attention while she kept checking through the corner of her eyes. Then wincing every time she thought about her last text to him. Or how she never got a reply.

Not then, not ten minutes later, and not even half an hour later.

No matter how much she checked her phone, or how many times she peeked at the screen for a new notification, Harry’s answer was nowhere to be seen.

— — — — —

Half a pizza and three episodes of The Office later, a loud knock on her door had Lia jumping on her seat. She paused the show with a frown, then waited to see if something else would happen.

Maybe she could get away with pretending she wasn’t home. Maybe whoever was on the other side would give up and move on to the next door.

But then…

Another knock. And another one.

And Lia finally got on her feet — because what if something bad had happened? What if someone was hurt?

Another knock on the door.

“Just a second!” she yelled, walking as fast as she could with her slippery purple socks.

She rubbed the tip of her nose and took a deep breath, then turned the key around and stepped aside to reveal…

Harry?

Lia jerked her head back, chin slightly going down while she blinked at the tall figure standing in front of her.

“Good evening, miss,” he said with a thick British accent and overly-polite voice. A proud smirk matched the twinkle in his eyes, and it only got deeper when he raised one hand and showed off a glass. “Did you order a mojito?”

Lia just… Stopped functioning? Or her mind went completely blank. And then, after a moment, her body reacted unconsciously, all at once—her arms fell to her sides, her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened.

Maybe only a second passed until Harry chuckled and spoke again. Or maybe a minute, or maybe an hour. It would be hard to tell, and she wasn’t even paying attention to that. It didn’t really matter.

“Surprised?” he asked.

Lia blinked once. Then twice. Then a couple of more times.

“I…”

Dizzy, she shook her head and closed her mouth, swallowing the awkwardness down and darting her tongue between her lips.

“I mean…” She pulled each side of her cardigan with one hand and crossed her arms on top of her belly, covering the old white loose tank top she had at some point of her life turned into pajamas. “Yes? Y—yes! Of course! What are you doing here?”

Harry shrugged. “I brought you a mojito.”

Lia glanced at Harry’s hand, then at his face, then back at his hand. The glass looked minuscule while wrapped inside his long fingers, but it was there. It was actually there.

“But I don’t… I didn’t …”

She furrowed her brows, and slowly dragged her attention back to his eyes.

What the hell was happening?!

“I know.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I brought you a mojito.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugged.

“Because I wanted to cheer you up.”

“But why?”

Amusement crossed Harry’s face. He tilted his head to the side, and his lips twitched into a smile.

“Sorry,” Lia said. “I just…”

She glanced at the glass in his hand. Green leaves, ice cubes and lime wedges. Her stomach fluttered, and she tightened the grip around her own body.

It truly was a mojito. A mojito.

Out of all the things he could’ve surprised her with, that’s what he had chosen?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, then slowly released the air out of her body. It was embarrassing to have to do that in front of him, but it was the only way she knew to be effective and get rid of the tension off her shoulders. It was what she did all the time — breathe, sigh, breathe again. Calm down her desperate heart.

“Sorry.” She blinked, then focused back on his green stare. “I just honestly don’t know how to react… I mean… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

His face softened, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“No need to react,” Harry said, putting his free hand inside of his pocket and stretching his other arm towards her. “Just take it inside with you. Drink it. Give it to your plants. Flush it away. Whatever you want. I’ll never know.”

Lia chuckled.

She unclasped her arms calmly, lifting one of them to wrap her fingers around the glass. They inevitably brushed Harry’s skin, and her breath sped up, matching her already racing heart.

“Thank you,” she said, holding his stare as she pulled the drink closer to her body. “Of course I’ll drink it.”

He smiled into her eyes, and Lia glanced down to the mojito.

“Did you make it?”

At that, Harry scoffed. “‘Course I did. Why? Should’ve I asked Rohan?”

Lia furrowed her brows.

“What? No.” She shook her head. “That’s not… He never gets it how I like it.”

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle left Harry’s mouth.

“Oh my God.” Lia widened her eyes, then raised her chin to stare back at him. Harry was laughing silently at the floor. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t think he’s good… Shit. Not him… The mojitos… I mean… His mojitos are good… It’s just… He’s not… I don’t… He’s—"

“Hey.” Harry placed his hand on her shoulder, and Lia pressed her lips together. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and his eyes soothed her. “I won’t say a word, I promise.”

Lia sighed.

“Thanks.”

Harry let her go, shoving his now-mojito-free hand inside of his other pocket and curling his lips up.

“Hope you’ll like mine, tho.”

“I… I will. Yeah.”

I always do, she wished she could add.

Making sure the words wouldn’t slip out of her mouth, she lifted the glass up to her lips and took a timid sip out of it.

Almost immediately, heat radiated down her throat and through her chest. So she closed her eyes and took a second and longer sip, focusing on properly tasting it this time.

The flavors were all easy to recognize—the mint, the lime, the club soda, and the rum. When she swallowed, she pressed her lips together in a smile, unintentionally humming at the sweetness and freshness.

It was… Delicious. The perfect balance between all ingredients, including the amount of sugar and ice.

Harry cleared his throat, and Lia batted her lashes to focus her sight on him once again.

He watched her with a grin on his face, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Lia whispered. “Really good. Delicious, actually.”

Harry grinned even wider, and Lia found herself smiling, too.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course. Maybe next time you can get some mojitos instead of pizza. I’m sure they’ll enjoy keeping you company.”

Butterflies batted their wings in her belly, and a rush of adrenaline bolted through her veins.

“T—they?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah… Y’know… The mojitos… Me…”

Lia shuffled on her feet, wiggling her toes inside her purple socks.

“I was going to tell you that earlier, by the way,” he added, saving her from the embarrassment of letting him know she had no idea how to answer that. “But things got crazy at the bar and I had to put my phone down so… Sorry.”

“That’s—That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She cleared her throat, then tightened the grip of her fingers around the glass. “Do you… Uh… Do you have to go? Or… Maybe… I don’t know… I mean… Would you… Would you like to come in?”

Harry tilted his head and, just like earlier, his eyes twinkled with something. Something different, though. Playfulness, maybe? Or amusement?

Mischief, perhaps?

Lia wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it didn’t make her uncomfortable, nor embarrassed.

“Would love to, really. But I gotta go back to work… I’m sure my break ended a while ago.”

“Oh… Y—yeah, right. Of course. Sorry.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t be. I’d rather stay here with you, to be honest.”

Feeling herself about to smile again, Lia looked down at the drink in her hand and bit her lip.

“Uh… And what… What time do you finish work, then?”

“Tonight?”

“Mhm.”

Harry took a tiny step forward, and Lia held her breath.

“Well… We close the bar at two.”

“Right.”

The last t left her mouth and echoed in the hallway, and Lia watched Harry’s feet get closer and closer as he walked forward, stopping only when he was right in front of her.

He took a hand out of his pocket and lifted his arm, then placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him again.

The butterflies seemed to abandon her belly and fly all over her body, because every inch and every corner inside her tingled and fluttered.

Harry wasn’t smiling anymore. The playfulness on his face had been replaced by determination, but his eyes were still soft and gentle when staring inside hers.

“Any chance you’ll still be awake by then?”

“M—maybe? I mean, I could be.”

“You could, huh?”

Lia shrugged, then nodded.

The smirk grew easily on his lips.

“You sure? It’s gonna be late… I don’t wanna bother you.”

Lia’s heart pounded inside her chest. So loudly she was afraid even Harry could hear it.

Truthfully speaking, there was absolutely no way Lia would ever stay awake so late just to meet someone.

However this wasn’t just someone, was it? It was Harry.

Harry.

The guy she had been secretly dreaming about for almost a year now.

Would she be able to forgive herself if she didn’t try?

Of course she wouldn’t.

So Lia silently and slightly nodded again.

“Hmm…” He brushed his thumb up and down her jaw. “In that case… How do you feel about watching a movie?”

Lia licked her lips, and swallowed. “Here?”

“Mhmm.”

“After your shift?”

Harry nodded.

“I—Yeah. Okay. I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you stay awake for me, then?”

“Mhmm… I’ll… I’ll be awake.”

“Good.” He moved his thumb up and down again, then slid his hand to her neck and held her for a moment before he dropped his arm back to his side. “See you in a couple hours, then.”

— — — — —

At 2:17am, Lia buzzed Harry in.

She waited for him in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed under her chest. Her insides blazed with anticipation, and the sweating of her hands was getting hard to control—and even harder to hide.

Everything was silent. Quiet. Empty. The perfect scenario for her to get lost inside her mind and start doubting every decision she’d ever made leading to that exact moment in time.

Shit.

Lia looked down at her feet and tapped her heel on the floor.

She couldn’t start spiraling. Not right then. Not when she was about to see the guy she had fantasized about for so long. Not when she was about to watch a movie with the guy she had crushed on for so long. Not when she was finally getting attention from the guy she had silently dreamed about for so long.

She couldn’t. She really couldn’t.

And yet…

She should’ve put on something more flattering to see him... Shouldn’t she?

She didn’t want him to notice she had showered, shaved, and changed her underwear just to see him, so she had put on the same outfit he’d had seen earlier—the same gray loose pants and basic white tank top, and even the same beige cardigan and purple socks. Which was also the same outfit she had slept on the night before, and that she was planning to wear to bed again that night.

Shit.

What was wrong with her?

Why couldn’t she have tried a little bit harder?

Desperation sparked and unrolled inside her, but then the sound of Harry’s feet reached her ears, loud and clear — walking up the stairs, a floor or two below. And that was enough to absorb all of her attention. To make her forget all about everything and look up.

Look up and just wait for him.

Wait to see him.

Those minutes it took for him to get to her floor were the worst. And the longest. Harry took his time, climbing step by step. And the anticipation inside Lia’s body seemed to increase a hundred times.

By the time she finally saw him, her heart was racing, and her belly quivering.

Harry looked handsome. Like earlier, and like he always did.

He was wearing all black, though, something she hadn’t noticed earlier, when he’d brought her the mojito. Wasn’t he wearing her favorite t-shirt when they’d met outside?

His curls were messier than before, too. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a glimmer of sweat peeking from the back of his neck.

He seemed tired, and it made sense that he was.

Guilt flared all over her.

Friday nights at the bar were busy. Anyone could imagine that. And Lia not only could have figured that all by herself, but she had also seen it happening right in front of her eyes at least once or twice.

What kind of person made plans at 2am on a Friday?

Or, well, technically, on a Saturday… But still…

Was that even normal?

Was it a thing?

Was she out of her mind?

Harry looked up before reaching the last flight of steps.

As soon as he met her eyes, he curled his lips slightly up.

“Hii,” he murmured.

Lia bit her lip.

Despite everything, there he was. Casually walking under the yellow lights of her hallway, as if that was exactly where he was supposed to be. Stopping by her door with certainty, as if he had been on the exact same spot hundreds of times before. And looking at her with softness and tranquility, as if she was the only cure for his exhaustion.

Lia liked that. She didn’t know what was happening or why, but she liked that.

She liked that a lot.

“Hi,” she murmured back, offering him a soft smile. “Come on in.”

She gestured behind her, determined to offer her couch if only for him to sleep for as long as he needed to.

“Thanks.”

Harry walked past her with a polite smile on his face, stopping by the door to take his shoes off and then moving towards the couch.

Meanwhile, Lia shut the door, turned the key around, and locked them inside.

And then…

Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach twirled.

It was just the two of them.

Lia and Harry. Harry and Lia. And no one else.

She hugged herself with her cardigan and breathed in, then out. When she turned around, it was just in time to see Harry drop his weight on the middle of her couch.

Thankfully, he didn’t need an invitation to make himself at home. He put the fluffy blanket next to him and scooched backwards, squaring his shoulders against the dark pillows and spreading his legs slightly open. Next, he sighed, dropped his neck, and rested the back of his head on the edge of the couch.

And then, he tilted his chin to the side, and finally faced her.

His strong eye contact captured her, and a shiver ran over her skin.

Harry curled his mouth into another smile.

“So, did you enjoy your mojito?”

Tightening her arms under her chest, Lia looked at her feet and nodded.

“Y—yeah… I… It was really good. Thank you.”

“‘Course. Any—” A yawn got in the way of his answer, and Lia darted her eyes up.

Harry faced the ceiling now. His eyes were shut and his mouth was wide open. His chest went up, up, up. And then he exhaled, loudly, and his chest went back down at the same time he slowly closed his mouth.

Lia pressed her lips together and covered half of her face with one hand, stifling her own yawn.

“Shit.” He chuckled, shaking his head briefly then looking back at her. “Sorry. Long night at the bar.”

She shook her head and dropped her hand on top of her other arm.

“‘S fine. Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda guilty, to be honest.”

“Guilty? Why?”

Lia shrugged.

“For making you come here after work? I mean…” She looked at the TV on the wall across from him, and then at her feet. “It’s so late… I get it if you’re tired. I should’ve thought about that."

There was a pause.

A beat.

Maybe two.

Or maybe three.

Or maybe none.

It didn’t matter. The silent air wasn’t heavy around them.

Eventually, she gathered enough courage to lift her head and look at him again. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise to find Harry already staring, but it still made her chest tighten.

So she bit her lip.

And Harry blinked. Several times.

Then, he cleared his throat.

“You know I wanted to come here, right?” he asked. “I thought I was being obvious, but I don’t mind saying it. Like, I was the one who suggested this, so if anything I’m the one who feels like a dickhead for making you stay up so late.”

An amused—yet small—smile grew on Lia’s face.

“I didn’t mind.” She shrugged. “I wanted to wait.”

Harry smiled, too.

“And I wanted to see you. So that’s settled.”

Warmth filled Lia’s chest, and her body tingled. Unable to hold herself from stupidly smiling, she pursed her lips tightly, then bit the insides of her bottom lip. The feeling took over her brain, though, and without any warning, happiness erupted out of her mouth in the form of soft and genuine giggles.

“Sorry,” she said, taking a hand up to her face and covering her lips.

Harry sighed.

“C’mon now,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. “You’re too far away.”

It was hard to contain the butterflies and nerves, but she still found a way to move her legs and shortened the distance between them. She uncrossed her arms to put her hair behind her ears, looking at the floor and being careful to not step on his feet or trip on his ankles as she made her way past his knees.

His head followed her movements along with his eyes, turning from one side to the other.

When she sat next to him and lifted her chin, she glanced directly at his eyes.

Harry was already beaming at her.

“Hi,” he murmured.

Excitement fluttered deep in the pit of her stomach, and Lia smiled.

“Hi,” she murmured back. “I love mojitos.”

Harry chuckled, moving his head and closing his eyes to the ceiling.

Damnit.

Turning slightly to see him better, Lia observed him with adoration. It felt impossible not to. He was captivating. There was something truthfully genuine about him. A simplicity surrounding his eyes, wrinkling his skin in a boyish way. Even tired, and even after a long shift, a glowing energy surrounded him. And it was mesmerizing.

He was mesmerizing.

“You do, yeah,” he said, still smiling, and tilting his head to face her again. “I’ve noticed.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“I… That’s…”

Lia blinked. Actually, she didn’t know what to say, so she furrowed her brows and shut her mouth.

What did he mean by that?

Had he noticed how much she loved mojitos in general, or how much she loved his mojitos?

And what else he had noticed about her?

Had he noticed how deeply into him she was?

How much she stared at him?

How much she daydreamed about him?

“I should’ve asked you on a proper date, y’know?” Harry said. A playful smile grew on his face, and his tone came out teasingly. “Take you out somewhere nice… On normal hours… After at least taking a shower…”

He sounded calm, as if that was the most natural thing he could say to her.

Lia’s chest, on the other hand, kept moving up and down quickly, as if her heart and lungs had completely forgotten how they were supposed to function to keep her alive.

“A—a… A d—date?” she barely managed to ask.

“Well, yeah.” Harry dragged his eyes off hers, only to watch himself raise his arm and reach for a lock of her hair. “A date feels more… I don’t know… Gentleman…ly?”

He chuckled — tiredly, but honestly.

“Is that even a word?” he asked, twirling her hair around his finger. “Anyway…”

He stopped moving, yet didn’t pull his hand away. Meeting her gaze again, uncertainty flashed through his eyes, but soon was covered with the comfort of his smile. “I should have, but… I guess I just didn’t want to wait. So this late night thing just kinda happened, y’know?”

Lia swallowed.

“Y—yeah… I know.”

He placed his hand on her neck, resting four fingers on the side of her throat while his thumb stroked up and down her jaw and cheek.

“You have a beautiful smile, by the way,” Harry suddenly pointed out.

“W—what?”

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but…” He shrugged. “You hide everytime you smile or laugh, and it’s just... I don’t know. It’s beautiful to see you smiling. That’s all.”

Lia’s neck burned, blood rushed through her cheeks, and the cardigan she was wearing turned out to be too much for her now boiling body. Thoughts swirled so quickly that it was hard to catch them. Her mind raced, and it yelled. It yelled so loudly that it became silent, and everything went blank—as if her brain had finally given up on her.

“Sorry,” Harry said, dropping his hand and shaking his head. He shifted on the couch, then. Straightening his back, he turned sideways and fully faced her, then folded the leg that was closest to her body up on the couch and squeezed his ankle underneath his other knee. “Bet you didn’t think I could get this soppy, huh?”

Harry joked and chuckled.

Lia blinked a couple of times. He was trying to lighten up the conversation, she could tell, but there was no way she would just laugh. She didn’t want to.

So she shifted on the couch and mimicked his previous movements, turning around to fully face him and folding her closest leg to him under the other.

And that was all it needed for their legs to touch.

“Thank you.”

A slow smile grew on Harry’s face, causing Lia’s mouth to curl up as well.

He raised his arm and placed it on top and along the backrest, invading not only all of her senses, but also her physical space.

Lia looked down and between them, watching the way their thighs were pressed against each other. Watching the way so many of her dreams were slightly coming true.

That is, until Harry spoke again.

“Let’s talk about Rohan,” he said, and Lia jolted her head up.

She scrunched her face up in confusion, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before she was able to slowly breathe out one single word: “What?”

“Rohan, from the bar.”

“From the—” Lia shook her head, and the tone of her voice suddenly catched up with her emotions. “Of course I know who Rohan is! But what—You—Why would we even talk about him?!”

Harry shrugged, a playful and amused smirk crossing his face. “Because you two seem close… Have fun together…”

Lia gasped, her mouth falling open as one incredulous and single laugh bursted out from her chest.

“We barely— We just talk!”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

“So?” Lia scoffed discreetly, the sound getting caught on her throat. “That’s hardly having fun.”

“Hmm… Well, I don’t know. I just thought something would’ve happened between you two by now. That’s all.”

Lia flinched her chin back, eyebrows raising while she batted her eyelashes in disbelief.

“That’s—Again, what?!”

Harry shrugged, his expression getting serious as he looked away from her.

“He’s clearly into you,” he said. “You know that, c’mon. Thought you fancied him, too. That’s all.” Another shrug, and then, “Don’t you?”

“Oh my…” Lia whispered.

She furrowed her brows and dropped her chin down, once again looking at their thighs.

“I can’t believe this. Why… Why would you think that? That’s so… I mean, where did you get that stupid idea from? And why would you even bring it up right now?”

Her shoulders fell. And her body relaxed.

Damn. It felt so good to just say whatever was going through her head. At least for once.

“So… You don’t?”

Lia breathed in, and raised her chin.

Harry was looking at her again, but he kept narrowing his eyes, as if he was ready to call her out for lying.

He wasn’t teasing her.

Harry was actually doubting it.

He was actually after an answer.

Lia blinked. Multiple times. And then more laughter bursted out from deep inside her.

“Oh my God, Harry! No! Of course not!”

“You say it like it’s supposed to be obvious!”

Harry laughed, too—although from the way his voice wavered, it seemed more like nervous laughter. Or maybe a questioning one. Or a suspicious one.

Either way, it wasn’t actually joyful. It didn’t feel like it, at least.

So Lia pressed her lips together, then took another deep breath in.

Honestly, where was he coming from?

Had she ever done anything that could lead him to believe that? Because she was convinced she hadn’t. In fact, all along she had been afraid Harry would find out how attracted to him she was. Not to Rohan.

“Well… Yeah.” Lia shrugged. “I don’t know, but to me it is pretty obvious… I mean… Why would I even be here if I fancied him?”

“Huh.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

He blinked once, and then squinted, focusing on her eyes as though he was trying to find the secret answer for an unasked question written deep inside them.

That whole interaction was too weird. And not at all what Lia was expecting for that night—or any other night, for that matter.

“I just…” she said, then paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Pressing her lips together, she batted her eyelashes and looked towards the back of the couch, targeting the wall. She sighed, and tried again. "I don’t… I don’t get why you thought I… That I wanted… But you didn’t notice that I—Y’know… That I… Ugh!"

Shaking her head, Lia took her hand to rub her forehead and chuckled. No matter how much she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t do it. She really couldn’t.

They were having such a great night…

What if she ruined everything?

What if she told him how much she fancied him and he decided to leave?

What if she decided to be open and honest about her feelings for him, and he turned her down?

She wouldn’t be able to talk to him again. She wouldn’t be able to look at him again. And she would never be able to get over the humiliation.

So she couldn’t risk it. She just couldn’t.

“Hey,” Harry said, placing his hand on top of hers.

Immediately, Lia loosened up. She relaxed the grip of her fingers, dropped her shoulders, and looked down at her lap.

And then, she frowned.

Apparently, she’d been gripping at her own hands, tightly squeezing them while completely unaware of it. Her muscles were sore, and there were small prints on the places where the tips of her fingers had sunk on her own skin.

“Lia…” Harry sneaked his fingertips underneath her palm, breaking her hands apart. “What’s going on? What were you going to say?”

“Uh… No—nothing.” Staring at their now connected hands, Lia shook her head. “Nothing, yeah. Forget about it.”

“Oh, c’mon!” His voice was cheerful, almost playful. “Say it… Please?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. Really.”

He kept his thumb on the back of her hand, gently and slowly caressing her skin.

And Lia focused on that. She watched the way he moved up and down. She absorbed how soft yet rought the brush of his finger felt. She appreciated how warm, large, and strong his hold felt.

“Lia…”

Harry tugged her hand, pulling it off from her lap and holding it against his chest.

The movement caused Lia to lean forward, and she looked at him.

Harry’s intense green eyes were truly, really hypnotizing.

She licked her lips, then softened her voice. “Just… Let it go… Please?”

Harry flickered his eyes between hers, and he studied her in silence for a moment.

Instead of making her uncomfortable, though, it gave her enough time to focus some more on physical things. Like how he kept holding her hand firmly inside his. Secure. Fully enveloping it while clutching her palm against the middle of his chest.

Lia was almost sure she could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, and the fabric of his t-shirt was right under her skin.

Without dragging her eyes away from his, she moved her own thumb up and down, too. It was a subtle and cautious movement, but enough to brush and feel the texture under the pad of her finger.

Harry curved one side of his mouth up, and gave her palm a little squeeze.

“Fine. I’ll forget about it.”

He lifted his free hand to his hair and pushed the short curls out of the way, then dropped his arm next to Lia’s shoulder.

After a moment of patient and quiet staring, he added, “You’re not awkward, you know? Or boring. And it’s not true that people don’t want to be friends with you.”

Lia pressed her lips together, straightened her back, and shifted backwards.

Right…

They were back to that, then.

It was nice of him to say that, sure it was, but she didn’t agree with his words. In fact, she couldn’t even believe he truly meant them. Not when, up until then, he had never cared about getting to know her.

On the other hand, she also wasn’t expecting him to throw her own words back at her, especially because weeks had already gone by since that embarrassing night.

Her chest tightened, and she took a deep breath in.

God. She really didn’t want to think about that night, but there was a weight in her stomach, a heaviness she didn’t know how to get rid off, so she still found the strength to open up her mouth and say, “You never wanted to, tho, did you?”

Harry widened his eyes, and Lia looked down.

She focused on their still touching hands, then brushed off the weight of her words with a shrug. “I mean, it’s fine. I’m just saying.”

A couple of seconds passed without any answer, so Lia peeked at him through the corner of her eyes.

Harry was staring at where his other hand was, near her shoulder — with narrowed eyes, pursed lips and furrowed brows. He seemed lost inside his thoughts, and Lia rolled her lips into her mouth.

She hadn’t been wrong for pointing that out, right? It wasn’t like she wanted to, but more like she had to. More like she needed to. Because it was the truth, and it was what he had made her feel and believe all along, wasn’t it?

The fact that he had apologized to her didn’t erase the fact that he had made her snap in the first place. Right?

Or was she supposed to completely forget about that?

Harry sighed, and Lia blinked. She relaxed her jaw, darting her tongue through her lips as she focused on him again.

“That’s…” He paused, eyeing his thumb as he grazed it over her shoulder, on top of her cardigan. “It wasn’t like that. I’m just… I’m not good with people. That’s all.”

…

What?

Lia was glad he wasn’t looking at her face, because she couldn’t help but frown.

“Yes, you are,” she said, wandering her eyes around his distressed expression. “I’ve seen you with Rohan, and you’re good with him. You joke a lot, and you laugh, you offer your help when he needs it… And with Sage, I mean… I’ve only seen you around her a couple of times, but… You seemed to get along with her really quickly, so…”

The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up very slightly, only enough for her to notice it. Just like she noticed the way the muscles of his face relaxed, making all wrinkles disappear.

He tilted his head, and met her gaze.

Narrowing his eyes, he asked in a low and amused murmur, “How do you know that, huh? Have you been watching me?”

Shit.

“I… I mean…” Shit. Shit. Shit. “I think I…” Well, there was no point in denying it anymore, was there? “I have, yes. Yeah.”

Harry dropped their hands on his lap, then moved his thumb up and down, stroking the back of her hand.

“You have, huh?”

Lia shrugged. “Yeah…”

“Hmm… I never noticed.”

With another shrug, Lia looked away.

She wouldn’t answer that.

She already knew he’d never paid any attention to her, so of course he wouldn’t have noticed the way she watched him. The way she daydreamed about him.

There was no need to point that out, though.

“Still,” Harry added, “Rohan is probably just an exception.”

“Right… And Sage?”

“Just another exception.”

Lia snorted. And chuckled.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes for a moment.

She needed to organize her thoughts and memories, because she knew that wasn’t the truth. She’d watched him for long enough to know that he was a joyful and caring person, but she didn’t know if that was something she should let him know, or not.

When she opened her eyes again, she met his calm and gentle stare. She bit her lip and leaned her side against the pillows, resting her shoulder under his stretched arm.

Harry kept moving his thumb gently on the back of her hand. Simply watching her.

He didn’t seem bothered by the time it took her to answer, nor seemed to be about to rush her.

It was different from what she was used to. Coming from him, sure, but in general, too. And it caused the words to simply roll out of her mouth.

“I just… I’ve seen you around people, and… I don’t know…I used to see you with that girl… Well, that woman, y’know? And you always seemed so gentle to her… I mean, a gentleman, really, and I—”

Harry shifted, suddenly and abruptly. He withdrew his arm from the couch and looked away from her, then rubbed his finger under his nose.

Lia pressed her lips together, stopping herself from talking even further.

She’d said something wrong, hadn’t she?

She totally had.

Of course she had.

She looked down at her lap, biting the inside of her bottom lip.

Harry was still holding her, but he had stopped brushing his thumb on the back of her hand.

And she didn’t want him to stop. She really didn’t.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I—” Shit. “I shouldn’t have said that… That was just… I didn’t— I mean—”

Shit.

What was she supposed to say now?

She had gone too far.

She knew that.

She knew she had entered a touchy subject.

Of course she had.

Honestly… What was wrong with her? Why would she even bring that woman up? Why would she bring someone Harry used to date up into their conversation? Why would she—Oh shit. What if… Wait, were they still together? Were they still a couple? The idea hadn’t crossed her mind… She hadn’t seen her at the bar anymore, so she’d just assumed and— Shit.

She looked up at him.

“Are you… You and that woman… Do you still… Are you two…”

“I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh. Okay. So… Is it over? Between you two?”

Harry nodded.

“It’s over, yeah. Look, I don’t… We haven’t seen each other for a couple of months now and… Yeah, it’s over. I’m not going back to that.”

Lia sighed through her nose. Emptying her lungs all at once.

At least, when he spoke, he kept his eyes on her. And Lia knew he was being honest, she recognized the struggle to let something out of your mind.

She didn’t mean to pry, though. All she needed to know was if Harry was cheating on someone or not. And if he wasn’t, then that was enough for her. It’s not like she was planning on telling him about her own ex-boyfriend, or the few horrible one night stands she had before moving to that building. She wasn’t ready to share that much, so… Yeah, Lia understood him.

“It’s fine.” She curled her mouth up, wanting to go back to playful smiles and soft touches. “We don’t have to talk about it. Honestly. I just wanted to know if you were… You know, cheating or something.”

As soon as the last words left her mouth, Lia saw Harry flinch. His eyes darted to their laps and his shoulders tensed, and it was very obvious that she had hit a nerve there. Another nerve.

It didn’t seem like something that made him angry, though. He didn’t look like someone who was about to yell or get into a fight. He looked… Sad? Ashamed? He looked like someone who really needed a hug. And that made Lia’s heart drop.

Had Harry’s heart been broken, just like hers?

Even worse, had Harry’s trust been broken, just like hers?

“I’m really sorry, Harry. I just… I meant… God. I keep messing it up, but… I swear in the end all I wanted to say is that I’ve seen you around other people, and that I always thought you seemed to be really nice… And like… A fun person to be around, y’know? Like, you seemed really sweet, and… I don’t know. Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Harry took his free hand to cover his mouth and cough, clearing his throat.

“Don’t worry about it. She’s just… She’s a complicated story and I wasn’t expecting this to come up so… Bad reaction on my side. Sorry.”

Lia sighed.

“I should’ve just… All I meant is that you seem good with people. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well…” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know about that. It takes a lot of effort, I think.”

His voice sounded lower and deeper, and Lia recognized the vulnerability in it. It felt as if he was confessing something to her, as if he was sharing a hidden part of him with her.

Lia also recognized the struggle he had just described, and how real the statement was — interacting with people truly took a lot of effort for her, too. To the point where most of the time she chose to not interact at all.

“Yeah,” she said, so soft it felt almost like a whisper, “I know what you mean.”

Harry peeked at her from the corner of his eyes, pulling his lips into a thankful smile, then looked away again. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t place his arm by her shoulder anymore, and he also didn’t brush his thumb against her knuckles anymore. He just seemed lost inside his mind.

It was easy to tell, because Lia also recognized what that looked like. What that felt like.

Apparently, the table had turned between them, and she felt the urge to make him feel better—just like he had made her feel better earlier that day.

Did Harry feel as lonely as she felt?

Gulping down, Lia looked at their still connected hands. His entire body language had changed, but he hadn’t let go of her, he hadn’t stopped touching her.

Her lips turned up into a smile, and she bit her lip.

Tightening her hand around his, she squeezed his fingers. She watched as she moved her own thumb up and down on the back of his hand — brushing slowly, from his wrist and up to his knuckle.

Silence engulfed them comfortably, all while she steadily moved her thumb up and down.

Up and down.

Up… And down…

Up…

And down…

His skin was warm and smooth under her fingertip. And the idea of pressing a kiss to his cross tattoo kept flying through her mind.

So she took a deep breath, then blinked a couple of times — because no matter how tempting it was, there was absolutely no way she was ever going to take the risk.

“I knew your name from the first day, y’know?” Harry said.

Lia drew her eyebrows together, and lifted her head to look at him.

“What?”

Harry shrugged, then curled the corner of his mouth up. “That day… When you said I never cared to know your name? That wasn’t true. I just never asked because I didn’t need to… I asked Rohan to ask you.”

Lia dropped her mouth open and widened her eyes.

When she spoke, though, her voice was barely a shocked whisper, “No you didn’t.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head and looking away for a moment. His smile was big to the point of showing off his teeth, and his eyes were practically fully closed, creating wrinkles around them.

His reaction was so genuine…

And apparently contagious, too, because before Lia could prevent it, her lips had already turned up into a foolish, big, and stupid grin as well.

“I did, yeah. However…” He looked back at her. “I gotta be honest with you… That wouldn’t have happened if I’d known you two would end up fancying each other.”

“Oh my God!” Lia dropped her head back with a groan. Again? Really?! “Harry… C’mon…”

“What?” He laughed.

Lia looked down and back at him, trying her best to hide the annoyance out of her face — although she could feel it in her body as she breathed out and loudly through her nose.

“We don’t fancy each other.”

“Mhm. You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Aren’t you his favorite customer, tho?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, but he definitely isn’t my favo—”

Shit.

Harry tilted his head, then lifted his lips up in a smirk.

“He isn’t what? Your favorite?”

Lia snorted, then tried to pull her hand away from his.

Harry didn’t let her, though.

“Who’s your favorite, then?”

“This is… This is just… It’s just ridiculous, y’know?”

Harry hummed.

“Maybe. I don’t know. For what’s worth, I still think he fancies you, but…”

With a dramatic pause, he leaned forward, as if he was about to make the most important point of the night, or as if he was about to share the deepest secret of their lives.

Lia swallowed.

He was so close. He hadn’t shaved in a while, because his stubble had gotten longer around his mouth and along his cheeks. It looked messy, almost kind of dirty, but also extremely sexy on him.

And his lips…

Oh God… Harry’s lips were so… Attractive. They looked soft, smooth, and gentle. They weren’t the biggest or plumpest she’d ever seen, but she had certainly never wanted to kiss someone’s lips so badly like she wanted to kiss his.

“I’m happy to know you don’t fancy him,” Harry said, his voice a tone or two lower than before.

And the way they moved…

“You are?” she murmured.

“Mhmm…”

What would it feel like to kiss him?

What would it feel like to taste his lips?

Because she wanted to.

So bad…

She wanted to taste his lips.

She wanted to touch his face.

She wanted to feel his scruff under her skin.

What if she did?

What if she extended her arm and brushed her fingers against his cheek? Over his facial hair?

Would it be soft?

Would it be scratchy?

“Hey there,” Harry said, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch was both rough and delicate, holding her into place and drawing her attention back to his eyes while still being careful not to hurt her. “You seem distracted.”

Her skin tingled, and her heart hammered in her chest.

Shit.

The smirk on his face and the tone of his voice were enough to let her know he’d seen her staring at his lips.

And Lia didn’t—Shit.

She was supposed to say something.

She knew she was supposed to say something.

But every fiber of her body quivered with nervousness, and all words got stuck in her throat.

And the way he kept looking at her…

Fuck.

Looking at her with those patient and soft green eyes…

As if he had all the time in the world to stare at her…

Or as if he had all the time in the world to wait for a proper reaction…

Shit.

Lia’s brain was frozen.

She had been physically attracted to him for such a long time, always watching from far away and never able to see him up close. To really see him…

And he was being so nice to her…

So, so nice…

Beyond what she could’ve ever imagined he would be…

She didn’t want to misinterpret his intentions, though… Or get her hopes up…

She didn’t want to overstep…

And yet…

How could she even misinterpret his intentions, when he was right there, acting like that?

Looking at her like that?

Oh God.

Lia’s breath quickened, just like her heartbeat.

She wanted him. So much. She truly wanted him.

Her chest tightened so hard that it was almost painful, like she needed to release the tension somehow or she would explode. She could feel it bobbing up and down in double quick time, just like she could feel her pulse throbbing not only against her ribcage, but also inside her throat and her stomach. And all over her legs. And right into her… Fuck.

She clenched the muscles of her thighs, and swiftly shifted on the couch.

“Lia…”

She needed a distraction.

She needed to divert her mind from how much she wanted him. And she needed to pay attention to something that wasn’t his intense eyes burning into hers.

She needed to say something.

“Lia, hey…”

Anything.

C’mon.

Just say something.

Lia…

Say it.

Say it!

“I always wanted to see your tattoos!” she blurted, although a little bit louder than she intended to. “Just…” She cleared her throat. “Y’know… Up close.”

There was a pause. A loud and meaningful pause, as a heartbeat coming back to life.

She swallowed hard.

And then Harry’s expression softened, and his mouth turned into a smile.

A smile that genuinely lighted up his face.

A smile so sincere and spontaneous that it slowly caused Lia to smile, too.

So they both stared at each other, and smiled at each other.

Widely, openly, and simply.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Well… That worked out just fine, didn’t it?

She nodded.

“Mhmm…”

Harry went back to his previous position, letting her chin go and casually placing his elbow on the backrest of the couch. Then, without dropping the hold of her hand, he stretched his left arm and offered it to her. “You can look at them now, if you want.”

“Really?”

He brushed his thumb up and down the back of her hand and nodded.

“Of course. All yours.”

Lia nibbled her bottom lip and, without giving him any other answer, slid her gaze from his eyes to his lips, then directly to the sleek lines of his arm.

Scanning the black ink covering most of the skin, she didn’t waste any more time before taking her free hand to his left wrist. As soon as she touched him, her fingertips tickled. She slid her tongue between her lips and outlined his anchor tattoo with delicacy, dancing with the tip of her index on top of his tender and smooth skin.

Next, she moved on to some very tiny tattoos, brushing each one while she tried to make sense of them. There didn’t seem to be a connection between the different drawings or words, but they somehow still fit together.

Reaching the side of his forearm, she traced a mermaid, then leaned forward when she couldn’t see the entire silhouette.

With a deep breath, she moved her soft touch upwards, reaching his rose tattoo.

That one seemed older, as if the ink had faded already.

She could still see it perfectly, though.

Drawing her index finger over the stem, she traced it from the bottom and up to the petals, then back half-way down to follow the path to the two leaves.

She took her time with that one, tracing it so carefully and so attentively that it felt bigger than it looked.

She was enjoying the moment. Too much, to be honest. It felt intimate… Better than she could’ve ever imagined.

Her fingertips went from tingling to burning, and when she noticed that their deep and slow breaths were the only sound echoing inside her living room, her stomach bubbled.

Light-headed, it took her a while to finish. She wanted to give equal attention to each one of the petals, but she also didn’t want to ever stop touching him. She wanted to get even closer, and she wanted to get to know him even more.

Would other parts of him feel the same?

Would he ever let her explore his entire body like that? With the same discretion and delicacy?

Would he ever let her admire and adore every inch of him?

Would he ever let her know every part of his life?

Lia was almost getting to his elbow, finishing his rose, when Harry shivered under her touch. She paused her movements and looked up, meeting his determined and fervent stare.

He was breathing steadily through his parted lips, and he seemed flushed.

Lia’s heartbeat sped up again, and she bit back a smile — was he enjoying all of it as much as she was?

Shit.

She hoped he was.

He was so pretty.

And she wanted him. She really wanted him.

She felt ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. She just did — she wanted him.

She really-fucking wanted him.

She wanted to hug him tightly, she wanted to lay on his chest, and she wanted to tangle their legs together. She wanted to snuggle on his lap, press her nose under his jaw, and smell the curve of his neck. She wanted to visit every corner of his body, kiss every spot along the journey, and taste every flavor of his soul.

And it was scary, because she couldn’t remember ever wanting someone that much.

She couldn’t remember a time in her life when her entire body had ached to touch someone. To kiss someone.

She had never felt that desire burning up through her veins, tingling down her toes, blazing up her fingers.

She had never experienced an overpowering feeling like that.

To want someone like that. To need someone like that. To desire someone like that.

Like she wanted him. Like she needed him. Like she desired him.

So bad.

So, so bad.

Shit…

She bit her lip.

What was she supposed to do with all those feelings?

She grazed her fingers over the hem of his sleeve, then kept her hand on his arm, wrapping it around where the fabric ended and his bare skin began.

“Where…” Lia murmured, almost out of breath. “Where do they end?”

Harry blinked, then cleared his throat.

His voice was also barely a whisper when he answered, “My tattoos?”

“Mhm.”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Oh…” She glanced to where her hand was, then bit her lip. “Okay…”

She didn’t want to get her hopes too high up, but it seemed like Harry was just as affected as she was. The atmosphere and the interaction between them had turned into something different. Something exciting. She had no doubts about it. She knew she wasn’t the only one feeling something. She knew he would say yes to whatever she asked.

For the first time, she couldn’t even question it. She just knew it.

Harry sighed. It was enough to get her attention back, but he still moved his free hand back to her chin, once again encouraging her to stare into his eyes.

“You’re just so…”

“W—what?”

“Beautiful.”

Lia’s stomach swirled.

Tightening the grip on her chin and slightly pinching her skin, Harry used the tip of his thumb to touch her lips, caressing them with a stroke that went from one side to the other. He went back and forth a couple of times, then stopped precisely on top of her cupid’s bow. When he pressed his finger down, and into her closed mouth, time stopped around them.

Lia watched him breathlessly through glossy eyes, whilst Harry immersed himself into his very own movements.

He brushed his other four fingers towards her neck, invading the side of her throat. Then, he slid his thumb down, and pulled her bottom lip along with it.

He stared at the way his fingertip glided through her warm, pink and damp flesh; getting wet from the ring of his finger to the tip of his nail.

Frozen, speechless, and out of breath, Lia lost herself in time, not even remembering what they’d been talking about or how they’d gotten themselves into that situation. Or how long they’d spent in that same position, sitting on her couch.

As soon as his thumb reached her chin and he let go of her mouth, Harry batted his eyelashes, dragging the tip of his tongue in between his own lips and licking them.

And then, still hypnotized in her mouth, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Lia nodded, because it was all she trusted she could do.

And Harry sighed, dragging his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her forward.

He leaned to meet her halfway, closing his eyes and pursing his lips before crushing their mouths together. His lips were cold and wet, and he didn’t move them against hers, just like she didn’t move hers against his. They simply remained forcefully pressed against each other, as if their mouths connecting was intense enough to freeze them both.

After a moment, Harry softened the grip on her and pulled away from her mouth.

The sound of their lips disconnecting echoed in her apartment, vibrating into Lia’s chest and mind. Only then she took in what had just happened, and she gasped quietly, drawing a deep, audible breath in.

Harry blinked.

“Lia, I’m—”

Cradling his cheeks, Lia leaned back in, closing her eyes and pressing her mouth against his once again. Their lips fit perfectly this time, molding around each other as she took his upper lip between hers and slightly sucked it into her mouth. Without rushing, she darted her tongue over his flesh and savored him, finally getting a taste of what she’d been craving for so long.

Her belly fluttered as her body reacted to the minty, juicy, and warm sensation. Something she could only describe as delicious, addictive, and magnetic.

With a gentle bite, she pulled away and blinked, letting his lip slide slowly through her teeth as she created some distance between them. When she looked at him, she found him frozen in place with closed eyes and parted lips, breathing out small puffs of air that made Lia ache for his mouth all over again.

“What?” she whispered, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. “What were you going to say?”

Harry fluttered his eyelashes open, but only for half a second, immediately shaking his head and going back in for a new kiss. He didn’t hold back, then, nor wasted any more time, sliding his palm down her spine and crossing both of his arms around her waist whilst dipping his tongue between her lips and searching for hers.

And Lia gave in just as quickly and just as desperately, granting him free access as she met his tongue with her own and moved along with his body, putting both of her legs up and kneeling on the couch.

There was a new sense of urgency between them. Their mouths moved in perfect sync, meeting over and over again for desperate kisses that erased all of her doubts and paused all of her thoughts.

His mouth was tender, and yet hungry for her. He explored her with the same curiosity, desire and need she explored him, tugging her closer whilst shifting to get closer as well.

Her belly bubbled and swirled. Sweat dripped down her neck, and a wave of annoyance quivered through her. It was too good to be true, and yet it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She needed more.

So she pulled away and broke the kiss, straightening up and moving her arms to take her damn-freaking-useless cardigan off.

Everything happened so fast that she barely acknowledged Harry’s help, or the way he smiled at her reaction. All she noticed was how he dropped the item on the floor and didn’t miss a beat before launching himself onto her neck, spreading open-mouthed kisses while sneaking his hands under her tank-top and pressing his palms onto her back.

Following his pace, Lia threaded her fingers through his hair and closed her eyes, relishing on his actions. Harry shifted backwards, and without even once breaking them apart, he squared his shoulders with the back of the couch and pulled Lia along, guiding her to climb on top of him.

Lia held herself onto him and kneeled on the cushion, swinging one leg over his lap before easing her weight down and landing on his thighs. It was all he needed to be able to taste her skin with the same urgency he’d tasted her mouth. Burying his nose, parting his lips and poking his tongue out. Sinking his fingertips into her sides while shifting the brush of his scruff up to her jaw, then further down to her ear.

And then a soft, unexpected moan vibrated in the back of her throat, and Harry stopped moving.

“Damn,” he breathed into her neck, then dragged his mouth up and back to hers. “C’mere.”

He kissed her eagerly and passionately, taking his hands up to the back of her head and getting his fingers tangled with her hair. Then pulling her closer and right onto his lap.

The new pressure between her legs spurred another moan from Lia’s chest, which was quickly muffled by their twined, impatient tongues. And by the way Harry sighed into her mouth.

He untangled his fingers from her hair and wandered both of his hands through her back, tracing roughly all of her curves before landing on her bum. He spread his hand open and gave her ass a rough squeeze, then directed her to adjust on top of him and roll just the tiniest bit on his length.

The new friction was enough to smudge her wetness over him, and a delicious throb and shudder shot through her body. She moaned louder this time, and a low and guttural sound rasped in the back of Harry’s throat.

“Keep going,” he mumbled. “Yeah?”

With a nod, Lia placed her arms around his neck, turning her building emotions into a desperate hug before unashamedly rolling her hips once, twice, and thrice.

Shit.

Knowing he was getting hard was hot, but being able to feel him getting hard as she pleasured herself on it was on a whole other level. It turned every sensation into flames, and it made everything inside her combust.

And apparently it made Harry go feral as well. Wandering his hands all over her body, capturing every inch of her. Squeezing her waist, exploring her chest, grasping her thighs, sliding to her bum and clinging to it while scooching down on the couch and guiding her to keep rocking back and forth.

Harry was in charge, there was no doubt of that. He guided their kisses skillfully — with a mix of hunger, lusciousness and softness. He moved vehemently, devouring her tenderly and yet with no mercy at all. He tasted fresh, and sweet, and powerful. Pulling away for half a second only to tilt his head to the opposite side and start all over again.

Lia had never been kissed like that, and she already knew she would never be kissed like that again. The way he grabbed her — so tightly — and the hungry sounds in the back of his throat — so manly — made her body ache for more. Pleasure pulsed through every single one of her veins, and everything burned. Burned. And burned.

Dropping her hands down his chest, Lia tugged at the fabric of his t-shirt and helped him get rid of it. Just as easily and hurriedly as they’d gotten rid of her cardigan. And then Harry dropped both hands to the hem of her top and tugged it up, too.

“Off?”

Lia nodded and lifted her arms, and soon the item was thrown somewhere she couldn’t see and Harry’s mouth was attached to her breast. And also his hand. With every single one of his fingers digging into her.

She sighed, and perhaps she even quietly moaned, too.

It was just so unexpected and so… Good.

So, so good.

The way he sucked her in and flicked his tongue — up and down, side to side. The way he sank his teeth, meanwhile squeezed his hand around the other one. The way he pinched. Teased. Played with it. With them. With her.

“Oh God,” escaped through her mouth, and Lia bit her lip. Embarrassment quickly spread through her face, so she pressed her cheek on the top of his head and looked away. Hiding from him.

Harry let go of her with a pop and one last flick of his tongue, then crossed his arms around her back. He kissed her chest, and her shoulder, and her neck. Trailing a wet path all the way to her ear.

“You sound really nice,” he murmured. “And I’m so turned on right now… But I don’t… I don’t have a condom with me.”

Lia pulled away from the position she was in and shook her head.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d bought a condom.

“Me neither.”

She leaned in, searching for his lips and kissing him again.

Harry kissed her back, until he twisted his fingers around her hair and yanked her away from his mouth.

“We can’t…” he breathed out. “We can’t keep going without a condom.”

Lia blinked and looked at him.

Harry sat underneath her. His lips were wet and swollen from so much kissing. His hair was disheveled and untamed. And his t-shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“I—I know, but…”

She slid her palms down his chest — his solid, warm, hairy chest.

God, she was so, so needy. She couldn’t stop now. She didn’t want to stop now. She was so lost in pleasure. So lost in how he looked. How he tasted. How he sounded. How he smelled. So lost in how he made her feel, and so incredibly aware of how her deepest dreams were finally — finally — coming true. Of how much she wanted him.

So, so lost, and so, so aware, that funnily enough she didn’t even notice when she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, then held onto his neck and resumed the rolling of her hips — back and forth, back and forth.

“Can’t we just…” Lia murmured, then stopped to bite her lip and hum.

“Jesus Christ.” He crossed his arms around her back and kissed her. “We can. Yeah. We sure can.”

He squeezed his hands around her, constantly guiding her to keep grinding on him, and soon the entire living room was filled with their urgency. And the urgency between them was filled with pure determination. And their determination was made of hurried breathings, dizzy groans, and hot moans. And everything became so intense and so greedy that it suddenly became extremely uncoordinated, and Lia couldn’t focus on kissing him anymore, and she had absolutely no idea what she was doing with her hands anymore.

Harry must’ve sensed her, because he was quick to crawl one hand up her spine and place it on the back of her head, entangling his fingers with her hair and keeping her face close to his. At the same time, he kept his other arm firm and secure around her waist, and made sure she wouldn’t break their closeness, nor stop the back and forth of her hips.

Dizzy, Lia hummed another moan. She rested her forehead against his, smudging their noses together while they breathed from each other’s mouths. She blinked, and through blurry eyes watched Harry’s eyebrows pulled together, and his eyelids shut tightly. He kept his lips parted while he panted, breathlessly just like her, and then he tightened his hold on her, scooched even further down the couch, and thrusted his hips up, meeting the rolling of her hips.

His hardness stroked exactly where Lia needed him the most, and her entire body jolted.

With a moan, she placed her hands on the back of the couch to hold herself and closed her eyes, concentrating on how incredibly good he felt between her legs.

“Fuck,” Harry’s husky voice grunted, his hot breath hitting her mouth and cheek. “That’s… That’s it. C’mon.”

Lia felt him vibrating all over her body, and electricity blasted her senses.

It was maddening, and agonizing.

It was addictive, and satisfying.

Harry’s body kept stroking and rubbing the right place between her legs, the one she needed for the bubble of tension and pleasure to grow. It spread to her lower back, her belly, her chest, her core. It caused Lia to squeeze her eyes, to furrow her brows, and to tremble. It prompted her to move faster. And also to straighten up a little, shoving her chest onto Harry’s face as she moved her hips to find the constant pressure on that exact wonderful spot she needed to finally explode.

As soon as she found the position she was looking for, she grasped onto the couch and focused on pressing down — pressing down, down, and down, while rolling more, more, and more.

“Fucks sake you’re so hot,” he breathed out, digging his hands into her thighs and his lips all above and around her breasts. He thrusted up to meet her again, gripping and squeezing as she lost the strength and coordination of her body. “Don’t stop. C’mon.”

“Oh my—”

Letting her mouth fall open, Lia cried a gasped moan into the top of his head. A mix between shock, euphoria, and need.

She shut her eyes tightly and shivered, squeezing his waist between her thighs and falling onto him while every single one of her muscles contracted and relaxed all at once.

Frantic.

Shattering.

Fiery.

Pleasure rippled through her. It waved all over — from her belly, to her cheeks, to her toes.

Everything went dark as the thrill and the fizz took over every inch of her. She didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a while since she’d been with someone, and even longer since she’d had an orgasm while being with someone, so it made sense that her feelings were so intense. Or that her exhausted body couldn’t handle the sensitivity.

So she nuzzled on his neck and embraced the bliss, catching up her breath while he guided her to ride out the high with slow and gentle touches.

But then, Harry cursed.

He shifted slightly underneath her, grunted, cursed again, and then apologized.

Lia opened her eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times to focus on her surroundings. Harry’s neck was all she could see, though. Pretty, smooth, sweaty skin of his neck. The urge to kiss him was instant, so she licked her lips, snuggled closer, and pressed her mouth to the side of his throat.

Harry squeezed her hips and thrusted up, his covered length sliding onto Lia’s front.

“Fuck. Shit—Sorry.” He chuckled, saying the same words for what felt like the hundredth time. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“S’okay…” Lia murmured, sliding her hands from his shoulders to his chest. Her lips brushed his skin as they moved, and she took the opportunity to kiss it again, and again.

“I’m just… I’m really hard right now…” he confessed the obvious, dropping his head back and grunting to the ceiling. “Shit.”

He shifted again. As if trying to get away from the friction. Or maybe searching to get some more of it.

Lia hummed, slithering her fingers further down his upper body while she scooched backwards on his thighs.

As soon as she reached his high-waisted pants, Harry jolted. He circled her wrists with one hand and squeezed her hip with the other, warning with a chuckle. “Lia…”

He never stopped her, though. So she brushed her nose up and down his neck, and drifted her fingers smoothly along the black fabric.

“What?” she whispered, then pressed a kiss right under his ear. “Want me to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

Lia smiled.

Turning her hand upside down, she covered his bulge and stroked him over his pants. Once, and twice.

At that, Harry moaned.

The sound was so husky, so low and so manly, and yet so vulnerable and so weak at the same time, that it prompted her to repeat the movement. Again. And again.

Even through the fabric of clothes, he felt amazing under her palm—long, thick, and firm.

Lia could only imagine what he would look like, or even taste like. And so she asked, repeating the same question he’d breathed out earlier, “Off?”

Harry barely nodded once before he was already shifting and unbuttoning his pants, and he didn’t even have time to pull his briefs down before Lia’s hand was already working on him. Each time with more strength and confidence. Over and over. Licking her palm to make it easier. Better. Brushing around his tip. Twisting here and there. Squeezing and gripping as she moved up and down.

“Holy shit.” He bucked his hips forward, then covered her hand with his, panting heavily while guiding her touch.

Lia hummed. Parting her lips, she pressed her mouth to his jaw, then slid her tongue to taste the scratchiness of his facial hair.

He moaned again, and then he took his free hand up, ranking his fingers through her hair and yanking her head away from where he couldn’t see her.

“Kiss me,” he murmured, directing her face to his and drawing her in to get exactly what he wanted.

Lia’s response was immediate, losing herself with his mind-numbing, sloppy, and harsh mouth. Kissing the hell out of him while he writhed and struggled beneath her. Going along with the urgent pace of his hand and swallowing each one of his raspy curses and low rumbled moans. Whimpering along when he drove their connected hands from his base to his head, and then back to his base. Or when he squeezed her hand so they could squeeze himself together, or when he stroked further down and managed to focus on other sensitive parts of him.

The way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he sounded, the way he felt. Watching him, listening to him, and helping him as he crumbled beneath her with pure and raw pleasure. Everything was so powerful that she wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up leading her into another orgasm.

And then every muscle of his body tensed as he pulsed one last time and growled with pleasure.

Lia broke the kiss and pulled away, keeping the pace of her hand and watching the way his mouth fell open, how he furrowed his brows while shutting his eyelids tightly, and how he shuddered underneath her touch. And just like that, the mess was all over her, and him.

The sight was so intense and intimate, that it filled her heart with emotion. So Lia took her free hand to his face, cradled his cheek, and kissed him again. Capturing his bottom lip between hers, sucking it into her mouth, and pouring him with affection.

Harry hummed, closing his mouth around her upper one while slowly coming down from his own high.

He sounded content, and relaxed. And a happy smile bursted out from Lia’s chest, inevitably breaking their kiss.

Smiling as well, Harry leaned in to peck her mouth one more time and pulled away, collapsing onto the couch.

“Holy shit…” he chuckled, breathlessly and quietly. Only for them to hear. “Just… Just so you know… Tomorrow morning I’m going out… And getting us some bloody fucking condoms, ok?”

THREE

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #this is it for now #there's only so much i can embarrass myself without caring too much about it hehe

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fridgrave2-0 · 5 months ago

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I'm tired of pretending that I'm okay with ford being an absolute asshole towards fiddleford and basically abusing him.

first of all, yes, it's not ford's fault that he was manipulated (doubtful tbh) and abused by bill, but that doesn't give him the right to be a jerk who closes his eyes on his friend's deepest traumas. the traumas fiddleford got only because stanford completely ignored his warning and got fidds involved into bunch of shit. like his monster hunting which wasn't even the reason fiddleford went to gravity falls in the first place. he was there to help ford build the portal, not to be a part of ford's anomaly quest. and when fiddleford spoke out against it he was ignored because ford doesn't give a shit about anyone else but himself or his muse. fiddleford got traumatized physically and mentally so deeply that in the need to be able to sleep at night peacefully he completely destroyed his mind to the state that even bill was scared to be in there. and what stanford did? he (the one who couldn't care less about fidds warning him about gremoblin) critiqued fiddleford for using the memory gun and didn't even bother to apologize or say that he's sorry in the journal. god, what am I saying, he didn't even took fiddleford to the hospital after fiddleford feel from the sky through the roof of a fucking barn with a dozen of poisonous quills in his body AND A BROKEN ARM. ford described what happened to fidds in the journal, said he "took him home for a treatment" and the next two paragraphs on the other page is "good news the hyperdrive works" LIKE IS THAT THE ONLY THING YOU CARE ABOUT WHAT THE HELL??? "despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant... I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive that I realized". no shit sherlock, who would've imagine that seeing your worst nightmares and being poisoned can leave a mark on your mental state. sure it's just fiddleford, he's just overreacting because he's "sensitive"))) /src

ford was ignoring fiddleford's concerns all the fucking time that mcgucket was there with him, he took a superstitious and religious guy with anxiety into the forest with real ass monsters who's no one but ford is used to see. fiddleford was warning stanford about shifty and got kidnapped with his identity stolen by the shapeshifter because ford didn't listen. well, at least this time stanford had bothered to apologize for another traumatic event- ah no, next thing ford said is that when the portal is finished all the traumas fiddleford had been through were "worth it". ford just finds ways to make everything worse

we all know that fiddleford has an addictive personality and that the memory gun is the biggest example of that. what we don't talk enough about is that ford at some point decided that sleeping is for losers, but didn't stop at himself and made fiddleford drink 13 fucking cups of coffee, not allowing him to sleep, what in the future made fiddleford a caffeine addict. ford is not only an overworking idiot who gladly damages his own health, no! he wants fiddleford to be the same and quote "gets frustrated" when fiddleford cares not only about his own, but their both basic needs. fiddleford had to work on the portal, get in the trouble with monsters because of ford, but also babysit this manchild to prevent him collapsing from exhaustion (which is more impossible than building a giant portal into the multiverse)

and here we are, the portal testing. once again (and as always) fiddleford did warned ford about everything. fiddleford was working without breaks for days to make sure if the portal will work, and when he found the flaws, he wrote a whole fucking thesis paper, putting all ford's research into a solid work (not taking even smallest credit even tho he was the one to build the portal. when fiddleford had his own theory in the university, ford helped him to only proof that fidds wasn't going crazy by checking the calculations and ford bothered to take the credit for the whole theory, but fiddleford who was a part and a victim of this monumental theory of weirdness didn't took it because he unlike ford doesn't care only about fame). but what did stanford do? he assumed that fiddleford wanted to steal his fucking fame and backstab him. ford didn't even bother to look at something fiddleford was making for three days without resting to make sure that portal won't hurt anyone in the town and that ford won't end up with empty hand if the portal was indeed a lost cause. stanford coldly dismissed fiddleford like they weren't friends, said that he doesn't really waiting fiddleford for the test of the device that fiddleford did built, and even knowing that the portal was dangerous fiddleford chose to come for the test

and then fiddleford got in the portal and it was the biggest traumatic event for him. it was the breaking point for him from which he couldn't stop using the memory gun. it damaged him so much, that he turned from that bright 30-y.o. man into the familiar to us old man mcgucket in the span of two years. his life was ruined for another 30 years, a half of his life he was a mad lonely guy who lived in the junkyard. the man who could've become someone like steve jobs but much better if only he didn't go to help stanford. his family could've been full, tate could have his father. the incident with the portal was the moment of no return for fiddleford, and what did stanford do?

when fiddleford got sucked in the portal, he thought only about the success of his work, that for fidds it was "a remarkable opportunity to confirm or deny the theory" (which he already did with his pre-test research). he didn't think that it was dangerous on the other side, that the portal wouldn't just disintegrate fidds on atoms. and when stanford saw him speaking in a non-human way, shaking and twitching in shock like fiddleford did after the gremoblin incident, ford decided it was nothing. when fiddleford warned him about the apocalypse because he was in the portal and saw it with his own eyes, ford, as always, didn't listen. he didn't just not care about fidds' condition — he diminished everything fiddleford was feeling and everything he witnessed only because it didn't fit in ford's believes which were based just on bill's words (and for stanford it's not something new to belittle things related to fiddleford. he wasn't taking fidds' dream of creating a portable computer seriously, believing that his weirdness theory was much more important)

and after this, stanford insults fiddleford and his family in the journal. he says that he doesn't regret their partnership (it's not really a partnership if stanford didn't count fiddleford as an equal) and friendship breaking up. "to think I considered him a friend!" I doubt he ever did. stanford doesn't know shit about being a good friend (or even a decent person) to someone who sacrificed everything for him. who did put his life aside to be with ford, who cared enough to stay despite stanford again and again putting him in danger, constantly waving him away and feeling no remorse for that. fiddleford was breaking himself for this guy, he canonically was going through "I am nobody to ford if I don't build stuff for him" (and in the end this is exactly what happened). fiddleford didn't tell ford most of his fears and concerns because he didn't want to bother him. fidds was constantly scared and kept in inside because he wanted to be a "better partner". "if I have an anxiety, I will pop anxiety pills", "I'm gonna get through this". and then he didn't

fiddleford was abused by stanford. he was to stanford that ford was to bill, in some ways even worse. it's fucking wild that fiddleford did forgive ford after 30 years of a neverending madness nightmare with his mind being destroyed so much as like it was the earth in the times of the dinosaurs after being hit by the meteorite. fiddleford had lost literally everything, he wasn't even himself for a half of his life and still fidds found the strength to forgive someone who is responsible for it and who used him with regular emotional neglect. and you know what? fuck this. ford would never forgive bill and fiddleford had every right to stay mad at stanford. ford needed to be stuck in the portal to get his head out of the ass and by that time there were only crumbs of someone who fiddleford once was

fiddauthor and billford both are about abuse and toxic relationships. it's up to you what you like to ship, but we need to acknowledge the fact that fiddauthor isn't some fluffy healthy thing where both are happy. fiddleford was never happy and stanford didn't care about fiddleford and his feelings. they made each other worse and ford ruined fidds' life. THIS is the real fiddauthor

#gravity falls #tw abuse #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #ford pines #bill cipher #fiddauthor #billford #the book of bill #tw emotional abuse #tw emotional neglect

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captain039 · 1 month ago

Text

PART 2 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, sexual, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

Previous part <-

“Would you like to come to the lab with me?” The question stunned you into last week. You’d been staring at the wall while pouring milk into your cereal lost in thought till Viktor's words reached your ears.

“What?” You heard him clearly but your mind doesn’t process it, but he repeats the question all the same.

“Would you like to see the lab?” He rephrases.

“Lab- your lab?” You ask turning to him breakfast forgetting.

“Unless there is another lab then yes my lab” he teases gently but you’re too baffled by the question.

“Lab, right” you mutter.

“Yes- sorry, uh clothes, shoes” You whiz back into your room and change quickly, getting your clothes on in a rush and your shoes breakfast forgotten.

“I’m ready” you smile as Viktor holds the bowl of cereal up to you quirking a small eyebrow. You huff and eat quickly before you go with him to the lab. He’s a man of few words but you’re excited to see his lab even though you’ll have no clue what’s going on in there it feels like a privilege. When you enter it isn’t what you expected, maybe some microscopes, boilers, those glass jars you can never remember the name of. There’s notes everywhere scattered and stacked, tech and gear over the place a big chalk board with what you assume are equations.

“Morning Viktor” Jayce says back to you both as he leans over the desk.

“Morning Jayce,” Viktor says back and walks in you stand by the door a bit unsure till Viktor turns to you and cocks his head for you to follow. He lays down his books and you follow making Jayce turn around at your footsteps. He smiles brightly surprised to see you as he greets you.

“Morning” you say back to him shuffling over to Viktors desk. You don’t want to touch anything half afraid too.

“Come to see where all the brain power flows?” Jayce chuckles leaning against the table arms over his chest casually.

“I don’t know what any of this means” you comment staring at the chalkboard.

“Good thing we’re the scientists then” Viktor comments with light sarcasticness that makes you smile. You hang out for a bit asking questions Jayce mainly answers even though you don’t understand half the answers, by lunch Jayce has gone for a food run and you’re nothing the ache in your legs grows worse the longer you stand.

“You can sit” Viktor says tugging the chair beside him out a bit. You sigh in relief mentally and sit down legs relieving.

“You are in pain?” Viktor frowns as he looks to you noticing how you stiffly move your legs and wince.

“It’s fine” you brush off with a small shrug as Jayce comes back with food and drinks. You don’t miss the frown and studying gaze Viktor gives you and it makes you tense so you hide your pain more than before. You eat chatting to Jayce with Viktor's input occasionally before Jayce is pulled away to the council.

“Still can’t believe he’s on the high council” you comment in the quiet room.

“He is a brilliant man” Viktor says and you smile and nod shifting in your seat again to ease the ache in your hips.

“You are still in pain” Viktor comments not even looking at you, like he just knows.

“It’s fine Vik really” you sigh.

“You never call me Vik” he says and you tense a bit, no, you do not.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“And it is not fine” he turns his chair to face yours his gaze studying like he can see straight through you.

“I know what it is like to hide pain in plain sight” he says and you are saddened at the words.

“I’m fine just slept funny is all” you shrug.

“Give me your leg” he says and you frown at him as he gestures to your left leg.

“I- what-? Ok?” You stutter lifting your leg to his hand. He lifts it into his lap with surprising strength lying your calf across his thighs.

“Viktor I don’t want to hurt you” you say trying to pull your leg back.

“You are not hurting me,” he says calmly, gentle hands moving over your calf muscle. You frown a bit but watch as he gently prods against the muscle, your knee and ankle listening to when you hiss or feeling when you tense.

“Up your whole leg?” He asks and you nod a bit flushing when his hands move to your thigh.

“Ah-“ you make a surprised noise recoiling a bit forcing your leg off his lap. Your cheeks are a bright red and you’re holding your breath.

“Did I hurt you too much?” He asks frowning with worry and you shake your head still hot.

“I’m fine” you shake your head again. Jayce returns breaking the moment and you’re thankful for the distraction and interruption.

You leave around the afternoon sitting and standing too much. You lie down on your stomach facing the wall as you sigh. You hear the door open and close with a small click of the lock, he’s home early. You hear a call of your name and wonder if you can play it off being asleep but sigh.

“In here” you call and hear the shuffle of feet and soft thump of his cane.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly and you shake your head.

“No I wasn’t asleep” you answer as he shuffles over and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I realise my actions today were too…personal, I wanted to apologise” he says voice quiet and you feel yourself growing hot again, burying your face into the pillow instead so he doesn’t see your red cheeks.

“It’s fine” you say mumbled into the pillow.

“I noticed your joints are inflamed” he says softly and you sigh and nod.

“This is not news to you” he comments and you shake your head.

“Like you said. Hiding pain in plain sight” you whisper your shoulders sagging as you move your head to the side to breathe again.

“How long?” He asks.

“Five years, they didn’t catch it till I was an adult. Blaming it on growing pains” you mutter softly in explanation. You don’t want to lie to him but you feel guilty for telling him.

“It doesn’t matter now, it’s done, it is what it is” You sit up and sigh cursing the way your hips ache and flare shooting down your legs.

“Thank you for bringing me to your lab today even if I didn’t understand any of it” you chuckle changing the conversation. Viktor sighs but follows with a nod.

“You are welcome,” he says quietly.

You don’t sleep that night the throbbing pain in your legs too much, you think about running a hot bath with some salts and oils, you’ve taken about four pain killers now and nothing. You’ve shifted to the couch using the arm rest to elevate your legs a bit jolting when you realise Viktor is still awake.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Viktor's soft voice says and you nod.

“Why’re you still up?” You ask watching him wash a dirty mug.

“Work,” he answers.

“Still in pain?” He asks noticing your position and you brush him off with a shrug. You’ve put walls up, and being vulnerable in that way around him feels, wrong, there is nothing wrong physically to look at with your body, not like his, his leg brace, the cane, the back brace he also wears, not that it makes him wrong.

“I know I pushed before too far without asking but…” he walks over to the couch where you lay.

“May I try again?” He nods to your legs you sigh feeling tense as it is.

“I know they’re inflamed Viktor” You don’t mean to snap you don’t but you’re exhausted, it’s almost 2 am and you’ve gotten no sleep and going out today ruined you and your body’s flared in pain.

“No, not to prod, soothe,” he says and you frown soothe how?

“May I?” He nods again and you sigh but move your legs so he can sit down before you awkwardly rest your legs back on his lap again. You feel like you’ll squish him, your size compared to his, you’ve always been a bigger woman, but with Viktor you’re afraid to crush him.

“You’re very tense” he whispers his hands smooth as he gently begins to massage your right calf closest to his stomach, that’s what he meant by soothe, you thought he’d warm them up or something that didn’t cross your mind. Science he’s good at that. Gentle hands with light pressure easing out the inflamed muscles and joints. You’re embarrassed by your prickly leg hair but he doesn’t comment or seem to mind as he runs his hands gently over your calves. He massages around your ankles before going to your knees eyes flicking to you.

“Can I go higher?” He asks and you flush but nod sinking a little deeper into the couch as his hands go to your thighs and gently knead the muscles. You’re wearing pyjama shorts which might as well be underwear with how short they are but it gives him access to your whole and you’re sighing, eyes slipping closed at the feeling of his now warm hands gently kneading your flesh. If he could do this every day you may marry the man even if he said no you’d still marry him. Your pain doesn’t fully leave but your muscles are relaxed for once without the help of medication and Viktor’s hands are warm and slightly rough. You’re in some sort of trance heart beating evenly, breathing evening out, he slows hands resting on your shins.

“You should go to bed, this couch is not good to sleep on,” he says voice a little rougher than normal and you have to stop yourself from jolting out of the trance you’re in.

“Does it feel better?” He asks looking at you in a small glance and you nod flushing as you sit up.

“Thank you” you mutter embarrassed and get off the couch easier and shuffle to your room.

“Goodnight,” you say and close your door before falling on your bed.

“Goodnight… Love” Viktor whispers to himself.

Next part ->

#x reader #Viktor x reader #Viktor arcane #arcane

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yanderes-galore · 8 months ago

Note

First of many. Here we go.

Angel Dust (Platonic)

Your prompts

Sure! These prompts give mental breakdown vibes so... that's exactly what you're getting, lol (Or at least it's what I'm aiming for-)

Yandere! Platonic! Angel Dust Prompts 2, 28, 61

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?"

"Being alone is worse than you hating me."

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Emotional Manipulation, Mental breakdown, Drinking/Intoxication, Clingy behavior, Poor mental health, Drugs mention, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Projecting trauma, Unhealthy friendship, Swearing, Mature themes, Angst, Overly affectionate behavior, Dubious turned forced companionship.

Since you became a Sinner and entered the Hotel, you were close with Angel Dust. At first you found him a bit jarring and crude. Eventually, however, you managed to become a support system for the both of you.

Naturally you knew about Angel's job. He worked for the Overlord Valentino and said Overlord overworks and... Hurts him. The thought made your blood boil, but it wasn't like you could pick successful fights with an Overlord as a Sinner.

Angel appreciated the sentiment, even if he had to hold you back from attacking his boss.

The issue with Angel's job was his behavior due to it. He was often self destructive, ranting and venting with you and Husk over a strong drink. He's often stressed... But you're always there to help.

In fact, it seems you became a coping mechanism for Angel. With you, he feels like he doesn't have to drown himself in alcohol and drugs. Even Husk notices how calm yet clingy Angel is when you enter the room.

He's always playful with you, a smile on his face when you show concern. You care so much about him.... Angel isn't sure what he'd do without you.

Which is why when you push him away... He nearly breaks.

It's his toxic trait, he's too selfish when it comes to you. However what Sinner or Demon isn't selfish? He's allowed to have nice things, isn't he?

Angel had a tendency to be... Possessive. You are one of the only ones to care for him like this. Which... Makes him follow you around... And be a bit manipulative.

He's allowed to have you... Right?

So who are you to deny him his comfort?

Angel wasn't in his right mind when you chose to distance yourself from him. He had recently come back to the Hotel from a job at Val's studio. He already wasn't pleasant before he had a few drinks.

Yet when he called your name in a needy tone, you didn't come. Why? Well... It seems you noticed you were becoming an unhealthy coping mechanism for him. You knew it wasn't healthy.

But Angel wasn't going to just let you ignore him... Not after all he's gone through.

He didn't care how unhealthy it was. Angel knew he needed you. You helped him get rid of the pain.

Like an addict to a drug... He needed to stay beside you to forget about Val.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!" Angel yells, his voice in a hiss. "Do you know how in demand I am!? You're lucky I give this much care to you!"

Angel knew deep down he was corrupted. Every sinner was, especially someone like him whose always around Valentino of all people. As much as he hated to admit it... He was acting the same way Valentino acts around him towards you.

"Are you just going to ignore me...?" Angel seethes, laughing softly when you back away from him. "Really now? You act all sweet then abandon me in my darkest moments...."

"I don't mean to, Angel-" You frown. "You've just... This has all been unhealthy lately and-"

"We might need a break?" Angel clicks his tongue, glaring at you. Despite this... You still see a certain softness in his eyes. "Hell no. Healthy? When is any relationship healthy in Hell?"

Angel Dust steps closer, wrapping himself around you in an attempt to feel your warmth. You can tell he's drunk and it appears ranting to Husk didn't work. You push your friend a bit, but he tightens his grip with an annoyed groan.

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you!?"Angel growls, "I'm so fucking tired of playing these games!"

"Angel, please! You're a mess...!" You plead, unable to pry the demon off you as you fall onto the couch.

"With you, I don't have to play pretend!" Angel cries out, grip unrelenting. He's in a haze... Unable to think properly. "I can be myself..." You feel his grip loosen... "I don't have to act with you, I don't need to play a role... I just get to have your comfort."

You frown when he slips off you a bit, leaning against you as tears spill down his cheeks. He hated being vulnerable... But he felt he could do that with you. Which is why...

"You can't leave me alone!" Angel sobs, "You can hate me if you want... I don't care...."

He looks you in the eyes... You can see the hurt in his gaze. You don't want to encourage him. However... You find yourself giving into his emotional manipulation.

He really has learned from the best at it.

"Being alone is worse than you hating me." Angel admit, pulling himself closer against you. He perks up when you embrace him... Hiding the grin on his face.

"I don't hate you...." You whisper, the demon watching you closely with watery eyes. "I just wish... You had an easier way to cope."

"You're better than any drink or drug, doll." Angel winks, grinning softly. Even if you were just friends... He was always so affectionate. "Not sure what I'd do without you...."

You stay silent as Angel busies himself with holding you. Truthfully, he'd rather die again than give you up. Part of him feels bad for using you...

Yet he's used to it. Perhaps he's learned more from Val than most think...

"You should feel lucky to have me...."

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere angel dust #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #platonic yandere

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mysaintkitten · 1 year ago

Note

hi g!! firstly i have to tell you how much i love your work, you’re incredibly talented and i’m always so excited whenever you post something.

i have this idea for a story: you and neil have dated for months but you recently split up and neither of you seem to get over the other, so one night after a failed attempt on forgetting him you somehow end up in his bed again. old habits die hard…

hope u have a nice day :)

first of all .. thank you so much !! you are so incredibly kind !! second of all, i made this a liiiiiittle bit angsty and fluffy but still smutty !! i loved the breakup sex idea so i was so eager to write about this :)

Break Up | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: you and neil split up (NSFW!!!! NO MINORS!!!!)

WARNINGS: (brief) fighting, (brief) mentions of mental health struggles, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie

word count: 3.8k

the break up was messy. both you and neil shot vile, unnecessary insults at each other as he scrounged around your shared apartment to gather his belongings before leaving.

“you’re pathetic, neil. absolutely fucking pathetic.” you spat, desperate to make a dig that’ll hurt him.

“you know what? you aren’t even worth all this anyway.” neil snarls before swinging the door open, “you’re a cold-hearted cunt and i hope i never have the displeasure of seeing you again.”

you scoff, “feelings mutual, sweetheart.”

before he’s even fully out the door, you violently slam it shut, bumping neil in the process. he mumbles a few more profanities before finally leaving.

moments after this altercation, you’re left pacing around the living room. your mind flooded with him, the memories, the pain. what starts off as vicious rage, quickly switches into overwhelming despair. you just collapse. your knees falling to the ground as you sob into your hands. how did this happen? how can something so good sour so quickly?

neil fell victim to the same fate. he kept his composure until he got into his car. as soon as he shut the door, he was hit with a subtle waft of your essence. he wasn’t sure what exactly he was smelling, whether it was your detergent, or body wash, or perfume, but it was your smell. and it hit him like a ton of bricks. he teared up a bit, but he tried his best to stay calm until he found somewhere to stay for the night.

he drove to some miscellaneous pizza place and cried in the parking lot. god, he thinks, this is almost worse than crying in front of you. he feels pathetic, angry, depressed. he wipes his face and heads into the pizza shop, orders himself a pizza, and calls jonathan while he waits.

“hey dude, i know this is short notice, do you mind if i crash at your place for a bit? (y/n) and i broke up, it was really bad man ..” neil asks while pacing around outside the shop awkwardly.

“yeah, dude, of course. however long you may need. plus, while you’re here i need to discuss some things to you about a shipment that lucien and i picked out.” jonathan responds.

neil appreciates jonathan’s hospitality, but the last thing he wants to talk about is business. he wants to crawl onto jonathan’s couch and sleep, at least for a day or two, just avoid the world all together. but he’s an adult man, a business man at that, depression won’t pay the bills.

“yeah yeah,” neil answers, “sounds good. i’ll bring a pizza by too. maybe i’ll pick up some beers.”

“sick!” jonathan says eagerly, he appreciates the bare minimum, that’s what neil likes about him, “let me know when you’re here i’ll buzz you up.”

they say their goodbyes and neil hangs up, continuing to linger outside the store. he basks in the silence of the streets, the cool breeze, the dull and numb feeling that’s stuck in his chest.

once the pizzas ready, he thanks the workers and tips them graciously. he then picks up the beers for him and jonathan to share, before quickly speeding over to jonathan’s apartment, trying to get there while the pizzas still warm.

he arrives to jonathan’s place and they do as expected, eat, drink, watch movies, discuss business. neil feels as though he’s watching himself through some sort of film, like he’s not in control of his body. it felt uneasy. he believes the severity of the breakup has caused him minor disassociation, in some way. he’s desperate to vent. he has thousands of pent up feelings boiling within him and he needs to let out even the slightest bit of steam.

neil swallows harshly, “you know, man, i just really think i screwed it up with (y/n) ..”

“yeah, chicks are crazy.” jonathan retorts while grabbing neil’s empty plate from in front of him. jonathan doesn’t like to talk about feelings very much, that’s what neil doesn’t like about him.

but neil gets the hint. no sense in rambling to a man who won’t listen. so he grabs his beer and chugs down the rest, almost immediately proceeding to crack open another one.

jonathan puts on a movie that he knows neil likes and the two sit in near silence and watch. jonathan’s silent because he’s paying attention, neil’s silent because his mind is reeling. all he can think about is what he said to you, what you said to him, what it’ll be like to see you out in public. it branches into what’ll it be like when he sees you out with someone else? he can’t stomach the thought right now, he needs to go to sleep.

neil sits through the movie, trying his hardest to pay attention to what’s on screen and try to forget what had happened earlier. he wasn’t successful. but he tried.

the movie ends and jonathan pats his knees before standing up, “well, i gotta crash,” he yawns, “help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. use the tv if you’d like, just keep the volume at a decent level.”

“no yeah, definitely. thanks again, man.” neil responded.

the entire night he lays awake. he tosses and turns trying to sleep, but his mind won’t rest.

he stays this way for a few days.

he starts to slowly move on, little by little, until one day he hears that you were spotted with a guy. as soon as those words hit his ears, he feels a lump form in his throat. that’s it. that’s his breaking point.

without much thought, he storms off to his car and drives over to the shared apartment that you have now taken basically full ownership over. he hurriedly rushes inside while being bombarded with visuals of you with other guys, you fucking them, them using you, and worst of all, them just being affectionate with you. thinking of you holding their hand, them kissing your cheek and making you giggle, you dancing in the kitchen with them. just like you used to do with him.

before he’s even realized it he’s ended up outside your door. he stands there for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, he didn’t really come over with a plan, he just felt compelled to come.

neil raises his hand and knocks on your door. he can hear your footsteps approaching. but what if it’s a guy coming? your new boy-toy? he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he sees your new partner right now.

you swing the door open, confused and shocked to see neil on the other side.

your eyes widen, “uh .. neil .. what ar-“ you say before he nudges you lightly out of the way, “i forgot some things ..” he mumbles before quickly making his way to your bedroom.

“neil? what did you forget?” you call out, trying to catch up to him, “hello? what did you forget?”

“oh, am i interrupting something? just give me a minute.” he groans rudely

“interrupting? what are you implying?” you question, feeling even more confused.

“oh, nothing, i just didn’t know if your new boyfriend was over, or whatever.”

the confusion starts to become anger, “what? neil, what the fuck is wrong with you? who said i have a new boyfriend? and what business is it to you anyway?”

he turns to you and laughs, “we’ve been broken up for less than a month and you’re already moving on! did i not matter at all to you?”

“again, even if i was seeing someone new, it’s not your business.” you snap, crossing your arms in front of your body.

he just scoffs as he feels tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes, “i’ll get what i forgot and i’ll leave. you’ll never see me again.”

you can hear something in his tone, “neil? are you alright?”

you’re fuming, he’s infiltrated your space and now he’s attempting to start a fight? but simultaneously, you still feel a deep sense of empathy for him. you’re still in love with him after all.

“i’m f-fine.” he stammers, actively keeping his back towards you while sifting through piles of clothes, he can’t bear to see your face right now.

“are you sure? you don’t sound alright ..” you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder soothingly.

“i’m fine! jesus, (y/n)! just let me look, please!” his voice cracks as he swats your hand away, he knows he can only keep up this front for so long.

“neil, we were together for months, i know you better than you know yourself, tell me what’s wrong.”

we were together.

those three words made him nauseous to hear, he knew the two of you were done, but to hear it hurt on a different level.

he loses it, the tears start to pour out from his eyes.

you hear him begin to cry quietly, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“what is it?” you ask one last time as your voice begins to break, you had been struggling as well. but you, like neil, kept it mostly to yourself. you rotted away in your apartment, barely even showering or maintaining yourself. but today he saw you on a relatively good day, you felt motivation to shower and clean. if he had caught you on any other day, you would’ve been absolutely mortified.

neil finally turns around, his face red and cheeks wet with tears.

“what happened to us?” he sighs, “we were so good, (y/n),” your eyes are nearly welling with tears. “i thought i was going to marry you.” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

you’re at a loss for words, you didn’t know what happened either. it’s like one day something between you just switched. you were both stubborn, but that had never been an issue, until it was mixed with unexpected changes and outside stressors, you eventually just couldn’t stand each other.

you can’t hold it in anymore, you begin to sob in front of him.

“i loved you, neil.” you walk closer to him, “i didn’t mean what i said. i just felt hurt, and i wanted to hurt you back.”

“i know,” he chuckles through the tears, “i know. i felt the same, i didn’t mean it either.”

you missed neil, so so dearly, and you wished that he could come back to make amends. now here he is, and here’s your opportunity.

you swallow your pride, “i miss you.”

you see something shift within him once those words leave your mouth, “i miss you too.” he mutters.

he grabs your face and runs his thumb along your cheek before planting a kiss on your lips. you’re shocked, but you wanted this. you’ve been craving this. you kiss him back.

he pulls away briefly to see your expression, but you lean forward immediately to kiss him again more passionately.

he groans into your mouth, bringing his hands down to the dip of your back.

“missed you so much ..” he whines into your mouth while wrapping his arms around your waist, clenching you close to his body. you bring your hands up to your head and run your fingers through his hair, occasionally bringing your hands down to touch his shoulder blades.

neil slips his hands under your shirt and unclasps your bra.

“mmh .. neil, we can’t ..” you groan between kisses, although you aren’t making much efforts to stop him

he slips his tongue into your mouth and makes the kiss sloppier, moaning softly in the process

“let me make it up to you .. please ..” he begs, creeping his hands down to your ass.

he grips it gently and feels himself growing hard. since the breakup, he’s had a lot of pent up sexual tension. he’s been couch surfing, which isn’t exactly ideal for private intimate times, so he was rarely able to get off. so now even just the sensation of your ass has him popping a chub already.

as you kiss, he starts to slowly guide you towards the bed. eventually the end of the bed meets the back of your legs, and you stumble back with neil on top of you.

you detach from his lips and shuffle your body back, neil follows your lead and moves his lips down to your neck, kissing and sucking softly. his lips on your neck and the warm friction of his body is causing you to get undeniably wet. this isn’t the best way to go about things, you and him should’ve maybe had a civil and thoughtful discussion. but you suddenly feel his bulge graze against you, neither of you are in the right state to sit and talk.

his kisses begin to move downward to your collar bone, almost to your chest, but he halts.

“can you take off your shirt?”

without responding, you slip your shirt and now unclasped bra off. he resumes his kisses down your chest until he gets to one of your nipples, he swirls his tongue around the harding bud, suckling on it gently soon after while moaning lowly.

you gasp and arch your back, “missed these tits ..” he groans against your skin, bringing one of his hands up to knead your other breast.

before long, his kisses trail down your torso, sliding his hands down your sides to grip your hips. his kisses stop at your navel, where he looks up at you from between your legs, slinking his fingers down to your waistband where he hooks his fingers in. he tugs them down lightly, but stops. watching your face attentively for your approval.

you raise your hips and allow him to continue to pull your pants and underwear off. he moves out of the way briefly to efficiently tear them off, before quickly going back to where he was originally, directly between your legs. he groans at the sight of your wetness.

neil places small kisses along your inner thighs while latching his hands beneath them, his lips inching closer and closer to your pussy. he plants a wet kiss on your lower lips, making you whine at the sudden, but much needed gesture.

he continued to kiss, sloppier and sloppier, until the kisses become blatant licks against your clit.

“mmh! ne-il!” you whimper, rutting against his face slightly. he hums, gripping your thighs harder, “missed this cunt so much ..”

as you moan and rut, neil gets more determined to make you come on his face. he laps you up, occasionally dipping down to use his nose while he prods your hole with his tongue, or using his chin to rub your clit while he stares at you twitching in bliss. he’s utilizing his face in ways he never has before, he seems nearly ravenous.

he sucks on your clit gently before detaching his mouth, “use my face t’come, show me how much you want it.”

“i want it,” you moan breathily as you lock your fingers into his hair, “i want it so bad!”

he smiles against you. sucking, rubbing, and licking all of your sensitive areas. you using his face purely to get off gets him unbearably hard, he begins to grind against the mattress beneath him for some sort of relief

your gasps and whines progressively get louder and louder, to the point where your eyes are squeezed shut and your mouth hangs slightly slack, neil just watches. he missed you as a person, as a partner, but he also missed watching you be pleased. the way your body and face contorts, knowing it’s all from his touches, it just couldn’t compare to anything else.

his jaw is sore, his scalp hurts from your pulling, and the entire lower half of his face is dripping wet with a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva, but he has no intentions of stopping. not until you come on his face.

your ruts start to get quicker and needier, your thighs shaking and tensing in the process as you gasp and beg for neil to make you come.

“please, please, please,” you babble quietly, “i’m so close.”

neil can barely breathe, and he’s so incredibly hard he’s afraid he may faint from the loss of blood and oxygen flow. he groans against your pussy, crude sounds of moans and slight squelching fill the room.

your orgasm is inching closer and closer until it finally hits. your mind going blank and your hips movements coming to a stop, your thighs clench around him and twitch around his head. you’re quiet as you come, as if the air has been sucked from your lungs. neil licks you through your high, until you’ve become too sensitive and have to push him away.

“too much .. too much ..” you whine, neil hesitantly pulls away. he could stay between your legs forever.

he places small kisses on your inner thighs and sighs deeply against you. once he catches his breath, he trails back up your body with kisses. eventually his lips end up at your neck, he places a small lick onto the shell of your ear while sneaking his hand between his legs and palming himself.

“nothing else compares to you .. nothing .. no one ..“ he mumbles, hastily unzipping his fly and pulling his pants down with one hand, “i think your pussy was designed just f’me ..”

you whimper and place your hands on his clothed back, “this .. off .. please-“

he places one more wet kiss on your neck before sitting his body up. his eyes are glossy and his lips are a rich pink colour. he takes off his shirt and you can’t help but compliment him,

“you look so handsome.” you chuckle

he smirks, “thanks, i think eating pussy gives you some sort of natural glow, or so i’ve heard.”

you roll your eyes playfully and hook your fingers into his boxers waistband, “take these off, too.”

neil laughs breathily and removes his boxers, his hard, sensitive member springing free. his tip glistens from his arousal, you bring your hand to his cock and grip him weakly while pumping him.

he moans and his eyes shoot down to between his legs, watching you pump him, “oh, fuck ..”

his moans enable you further, you begin to pump him quicker. he huffs and whines before gripping your wrists and stopping your movements, “stop, stop”

you let go, “if you keep going i’ll come on your hand, i need your pussy.” he mewls as he lowers himself between your legs and aligning his cock head with your opening.

your pussy is extremely slick from the combination of his spit, your orgasm, and your persistent arousal, so he slides himself in with no issue. making the both of you groan at the sensation. as he bottoms out, he just sits inside you for a few moments, simply enjoying the embrace of your warm and wet cunt. you whine at the fullness you had been missing, while neil was away you’d attempt to finger yourself, but your own fingers didn’t compare at all to his cock. the feeling reminds you of what neil said, “i think your pussy was designed just for me”, maybe it’s truer than you thought.

his hips shift back and he slowly thrusts himself out, before quickly snapping back in. his pace is quick and needy, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fuck you so desperately.

“neil-l .. mmh!” you gasp, swinging your hand over your mouth to cover your loud moans. neil chuckles and swipes your hand out of the way, “let me hear you, your noises are so pretty.”

“o-oh, stop ..” you tease, having just enough composure within you to still banter slightly with neil as he fucks you

“‘m serious ..” he moans, “hearing how good my cock is making y’feel .. so fucking sexy ..”

his pace gets rougher, and you almost instantly lose whatever snarky response you had in mind, “god, f-uck!” you cry out, bringing your hands down to your sides to grab the duvet beneath you.

as he thrusts into you, his eyes dart between your fucked-out face and your tits, which are bouncing slightly from his force. he places a hand onto your hip and the other onto your tit, both hands gripping harshly on whatever they’re grabbing. you whine at the aggression, feeling it get you hotter and wetter.

neil huffs and glances down at your pussy, whimpering at what he sees, “jesus, so fucking wet”

“you got me t-this wet ..” you stammer, feeding into neil’s neediness.

he moans, “y-yeah?”, his voice high and shaky, normally he’d want to come off as dominant and basically stoic, but right now he’s absolutely pussy-whipped, he couldn’t pull himself together if he tried.

hearing the pleasure in his tone makes you hum, your legs wrapping around him and squeezing him lightly.

he laughs and gulps, “so desperate to keep my cock inside.”

you nod quickly and snake your hand between your legs to rub your clit as you clench around him involuntarily. neil whimpers small sounds of approval, knowing how close you are to coming. his breaths are heavy and he’s having a hard time keeping up the quick rough pace, both of you are approaching your orgasms rapidly. the aesthetics of it really don’t matter, the pleasures your bodies are giving each other is what matters above all else.

“gonna come ..” neil swallows, “gonna come ..”

you wanna tell him you’re going to come too, but you physically can’t vocalize it, but you assume your whimpers and clenching and wetness is telling enough.

moments later, you’re coming on his cock, “n-eil!” you shout as your body convulses slightly from the overwhelming sensation. watching you come pushes him over the edge completely, “yeah, yeah, fuck!” he rambles, his brows furrowing and mouth hanging slack as he comes while continuing to pump himself inside you.

you ride out your orgasms until it eventually becomes too overstimulating for the both of you, he pulls out his softening cock and huffs. your thighs twitch at the feeling of his and yours come begin to slowly drip out from inside of you. neil smirks proudly “i missed seeing this too .. so goddamn much ..”

after that, you and him sit in silence for a little. you don’t really know what to say, and you don’t know what you are. still exes? friends? partners?

instead of pondering, you think fuck it and just ask;

“what are we now?”

“what do you want us to be?” he responds

“i want us to get back together.”

“i want that, too.”

——

back to my old reliable .. neil !!!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #hope y’all like this #:)

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