#but that guy was kind of stringing me along anyway

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 14 Premium Story

Chapter 14

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

When I returned to the solitary desert castle, Azel was waiting for me, looking down from the upper floor.

His mystical, inhuman eyes were initially lit with a cold color, but perhaps noticing the change in me as I rubbed my eyes repeatedly, the air around him shifted.

Azel: Are you... crying?

Emma: There are circumstances–

Azel: What on earth did they talk about with you to make you cry so much?

Azel: No, is it about me...? I can't understand why you would cry over that little bit of information.

(What do I do, I think he's misunderstanding.)

Just as I opened my mouth to explain, he quickly disappeared into the depths of the building.

Azel returned shortly, holding a wet linen cloth in his hand.

He forcefully wiped around my eyes with the tightly wrung linen, and I let him.

(This isn't an illusion or anything. If this warmth is an illusion, then I won't be able to believe anything I see.)

Azel: Stop crying already, it's an eyesore.

Azel: Did they tell you that I was brainwashing you like some spoiled rich kid?

Azel: But as you know, I only control with money.

Azel: I haven't done anything like secretly burning some strange incense to brainwash you.

Azel: In the first place, people can be controlled much more easily without resorting to such underhanded tactics.

Azel: –No, that's not right. Anyway, you're not the kind of woman to be swayed by others.

Azel: Have some confidence. And stop crying. It makes me look like the bad guy... Well, I might be the bad guy.

Azel, who continued to speak without pause, seemed at a loss for how to deal with a human who kept crying.

(He's probably... trying to comfort me, right?)

(I'm the only one who knows this side of him. That's why no one can believe in Azel.)

*earlier*

Clavis: Emma, do you recognize the scent of this fragrant wood?

A few hours ago – Clavis opened the lid of the small bottle containing the wood piece and handed it to me.

Emma: I don't... recognize it.

Clavis: That's good. If you did, I was prepared to confront God myself.

Emma: ...You're concerned that I might also be under some kind of mind control, aren't you, Clavis?

Clavis: No, no, I'm certainly not doubting love, but...

Clavis: Since we found this, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Clavis: It's quite possible that God is pulling the strings behind the scenes of that gathering.

Emma: But Azel seemed to dislike the apostle.

Emma: Their ideologies are different, I can't imagine them joining hands...

Clavis: Oh? That's news to me.

Luke: Even if what you're saying is true, God didn't stop that riot.

Luke: Even though he could have...

Emma: That's...

Luke: Whether they get along or not, God is condoning the apostle's actions.

Luke: At that point, you could say he's an accomplice, right?

Emma: ...Maybe there's some reason.

Silvio: Ha, you're awfully quick to defend him, ain't ya? Do you like that greedy bastard that much?

Emma: Maybe I've grown attached to him after being around him for so long.

Clavis: Love, huh?

Emma: It's not!

Clavis: Haha, don't be shy, don't be shy. Believe me, I want to support you too.

Clavis: But the situation in Tanzanite is changing by the minute.

Clavis: If God has no intention of stopping the riots and is tolerating the apostle's indirect guidance...

Clavis: It wouldn't be strange if he was plotting something.

Silvio: I think the riots are disadvantageous for God, though?

Clavis: Azel might be finding some benefit within this "disadvantageous situation."

Luke: Whatever the purpose, the scale of the riots might increase in the future.

Luke: Wouldn't it be dangerous for you to be by God's side then?

Emma: ...

Clavis: Your safety is far more important than exposing God's secrets.

Clavis: The infatuation incidents have calmed down recently, haven't they?

Clavis: With the two maids severely punished, no one bothers you unnecessarily anymore.

Clavis: I don't know what happened to you, but now, including Silvio, the three of us can protect you.

Silvio: Don't drag me into babysittin' a woman.

Luke: Don't you want to come back now, Emma?

*back to present*

(Originally, I ended up staying at this temple because of the aphrodisiac incident.)

(I think if I return to the castle now, I'll be treated with respect as the woman God is infatuated with.)

(I don't like that, but as Clavis and Luke said, the situation is changing by the minute.)

(Even aside from those circumstances, it must be a nuisance for Azel to lend me a corner of his private room for a long period.)

(I'm only here because of my selfishness, so I could brace myself and choose to return to the castle... but...)

Emma: I'm... sorry...

Azel: What are you apologizing for? What are you apologizing for?

Emma: I'm not crying because I'm sad.

(...If my selfishness is allowed, I want to stay here a little longer.)

(Until the day I unravel the mystery of the Triple Alliance, break through Azel's illusions, and see the truth–)

Emma: Sand... got in my eyes...

Azel: ...

When I confessed honestly, the linen slipped from Azel's hand.

Emma: It was windy on my way here.

Emma: It hurts... and the tears won't stop.

Azel: ...........

Emma: What should I do in times like this?

Azel: ...I don't know, goodbye, please don't expect God's mercy ever again.

Emma: I'm really in trouble!

Azel: I don't care, damn it.

Emma: You were the one who jumped to conclusions, Prince Azel–

Azel: You're the one to blame for being misleading.

Azel: And stop rubbing your eyes! If there's sand in them, you'll scratch your eyeballs. Are you that much of an idiot that you don't even understand that?

He grabs my hand firmly and pulls it away from my eyes.

Despite his harsh words, he can't hide the hints of worry that surface.

Emma: Hehe... Thank you.

Azel: Shall I torture you with water?

Emma: That's not something a God would do!

Azel: An evil God might.

(Then I'm sure it'll be alright.)

(He's just greedy for money, I can say for sure that he's not an evil God.)

-

After taking a bath, the tears finally stopped, and the foreign body sensation in my eyes disappeared.

Emma: I've calmed down... Thank you.

When I returned to the room, Azel was silently moving his pen at the desk.

Perhaps still sulking, he only glanced at me and didn't reply.

Emma: Is that a divine message?

Azel: Don't ask if you already know.

Azel is always serious when writing divine messages to deliver to the people in the castle in the morning.

He continues to spin instructions without stopping, occasionally checking reports.

Despite calling it a "divine message," I've never seen him use any divination tools, and everything he writes is left entirely to Azel's mind.

Azel: ...What are you staring at?

Azel: You'd usually be reading a book in the corner.

Emma: That's true, but my eyes hurt today, so I don't feel like reading...

Azel: Then sleep.

Emma: It's too early to sleep...

Azel: Then meditate.

Emma: Is there anything I can help you with?

Azel: No.

(...There isn't, huh?)

Even as we speak, Azel's hand doesn't stop.

Only the pleasant sound of the pen melts into the desert night.

(Azel didn't stop the people's conflict. That's a fact.)

(The riot might eventually become the beginning of Tanzanite's collapse.)

(But, if he were a God who didn't care about Tanzanite...)

(I don't think he would be facing official documents like this late at night.)

Living in Tanzanite, you can see that people's lives are surprisingly affluent for a desert country.

This is because trade with other countries is successful, ensuring a minimum standard of living without any shortage of food or water.

Whether it's foreign or domestic affairs, Tanzanite is politically successful.

A part of it – no, all of it is probably thanks to Azel.

The great ship that is Tanzanite is entirely steered by the God.

Listening to the conversations with the messengers who come every morning, I felt like that wasn't an exaggeration.

Emma: ...Prince Azel, you're truly amazing.

Azel: Huh?

Emma: There's no divine message that is completed in an instant with mystical power.

Emma: Since I learned that a divine message is created only after putting your heart and soul into it like this every day, I've come to respect you.

Azel: Well, I'm not putting my heart and soul into it, but...

Emma: You continue this every single day, without rest.

Emma: Not just anyone can do that.

Azel: That's because I'm a God.

Emma: I think it's because it's you, Prince Azel...

The pen, which hadn't stopped no matter what I said, came to a sudden halt.

Azel: Isn't it the same meaning?

Emma: No, it's completely different.

Emma: You said the difference between a God and a human is whether they can predict the future, right?

Emma: Even if predicting the future is what makes a God, it's you, Prince Azel, who puts that into policy.

Azel: ...

Emma: So, it's not the power of a God, but your power, Prince Azel.

Azel: ...I haven't thought about it that way. It's common sense in this country that it's only natural for a God to be able to do it.

Azel: There's almost no one who thinks like you do.

Emma: ...Have I imposed the values of a foreign country?

Azel: Ah, at least it's better not to say that to the people of Tanzanite.

Azel: What you just said is tantamount to denying the mystical.

(Did I make him uncomfortable?)

Azel: But...

Azel: ...I like it.

Emma: ...? I couldn't hear you well...

Azel: It's nothing.

Emma: Wah!

Azel stands up, picks me up, and throws me onto the bed.

As I try to get up, he forcefully holds my head down, burying it in the pillow.

Emma: What are you doing!?

Azel: I'm trying to put you to sleep because you're so noisy.

Emma: I'll be quiet now!

Azel: No, you'll never be quiet.

The hand holding my face down isn't rough, and I can tell he's being careful.

It's unbearably ticklish and unsettling.

Azel: ...Haah, I thought I could finally sleep peacefully alone again from today.

Azel: I can't believe those guys in Rhodolite would send you back to an evil God.

Emma: I was the one who said–

*earlier*

Luke: Don't you want to come back now, Emma?

Emma: I'm sorry for making you worry. But I think I'll stay at the temple a little longer.

Clavis: So love wins after all–

Emma: It's not like that...

Emma: If I'm gone, God will surely cry.

*flashback over*

Emma: –So in order not to make Prince Azel cry, I'll stay a little longer...

Emma: That... hurts, it hurts!

Azel's fingers tighten, and I thrash about.

Azel: That's slander, I'll sue you for damages again. This time it'll be a huge amount.

Emma: But really, isn't it a shame to let go of someone who can cook?

Azel: Not at all.

Emma: It's a shame, isn't it? I could see the tears in your heart, Prince Azel.

Azel: Go see a doctor tomorrow. You're in a serious condition where you're seeing hallucinations.

Emma: ...Hehe.

Azel: What's so funny?

Emma: It's strange, isn't it? Even though you're a God right in front of me...

Emma: I feel like I can be more myself when I'm with you than with anyone else.

Azel: ...

(This is a dilapidated solitary castle, but it's much more comfortable than the royal palace.)

Emma: Maybe it's because you have such a bad personality that I can say anything without holding back...

Emma: Eek...!

Azel, who usually pulls my cheeks, doesn't get angry or reprimand me, but laughs in exasperation.

However, it was a soft smile, like the moonlight.

Azel: Slander again... You're really good at accumulating debt, aren't you?

Emma: ...That might be true.

My heart skips a beat at the gentleness in his mystical eyes, at the sweetness in his voice, and I dive under the blanket.

Perhaps Azel also thought I intended to sleep, as he didn't say anything more, and the calming sound of the pen started to echo through the room again.

(What was that just now...?)

-

(Azel's POV)

I roll the pen on the desk, close the lid of the ink, and head for the bed.

The first occupant was curled up at the edge of the bed.

She was maintaining a precarious balance, just barely avoiding falling off, but a single slight movement would send her tumbling to the floor, prompting a click of my tongue.

Azel: Can you please stop this, day after day?

I carefully lift her body so as not to wake her and move her to the center of the bed.

She's probably unaware of this nightly routine that has become a habit.

Azel: Even so... I bet her eyes will be swollen tomorrow.

Even with her eyelids closed, the area around her eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, was tinged with red.

There's no sign of her waking up even when I lightly trace it with my fingertip.

Azel: Well, it's none of my business.

Azel: ...It's none of my business...

Azel: ..............

As if struggling with something, I furrow my brow deeply—

And then, I gently brush aside the bangs of the sleeping lodger and lightly kiss her eyelid.

Azel: ...There's no such thing as God's protection in reality.

Azel: If this heals by tomorrow, I'm really not human.

Azel: ...........

Azel: ………… What am I doing?

.

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Chapter 15

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[arrow-guy]

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[starrbucky]

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[sunrizef1]

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: hey guys :) this is actually my first time ever writing something so this is lowkey kinda scary. BUT, I really really wanted to write a slow burn between Rafe and his best friend, cause I can see that happening, who doesn't want that anyways? If it works, this'll deffo be a series cause I have a whole concept behind it, guess we're going to have to wait and see. The pictures are taken off pinterest so credit to whoever's they are.

(may have suggested bi!reader, see if you can spot it)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, sexual innuendo's, someone throwing up, just Rafe being whipped for his bsf

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The classroom was bright, colourful colouring cladded the walls, the blue-tack melting slowly in the sticky heat. Rafe sat by himself, struggling to tie his shoes, his father insisted he wore them and learnt to do them himself, his mother however sceptical complied, trying to teach her sweet boy how to do them before they left the house. His face was scrunched in concentration, but no matter how hard he tried, the laces wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Do you need help?” The quiet voice rang out from across the boy, the young girl kneeling beside him. He looked up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I can’t do it,” he muttered angrily, glancing at the messy knot he’d made on his shoe. She smiled, her pigtails bouncing as she leaned closer. 

“It’s okay. I can show you.” Gently, she untangled the laces, her fingers tugging at the blue strings as they came apart. Explaining each step as she worked she focused on the shoe.

 “First, you make bunny ears…” She continued telling the story her babysitter taught her as she learnt to tie up the strings into little bows.

“Thanks,” Rafe said sheepishly, looking at her with a small smile on her face, the girl reminded him of his mom, she was... nice.

“You’re welcome,”  she replied cheerfully, standing up, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels, her red gingham dress swaying along with her movement.

“Wanna play blocks with me now?” He nodded eagerly, taking her hand. Together, they walked over to the small table, the awkwardness of moments ago replaced with a newfound connection. 

“I'm Y/n” she chirped out as she stacked the pink bricks into a little house, the boy looked up from where he’d built his wall of blue blocks. 

“Rafe.” He mumbled out, she peered over at him as he worked, his tongue poking out of his mouth slightly in concentration. She reached her finger out pushing the wall playfully, the blue bricks bashing brutally to the table, the boy looked up to her. 

“Whoopsies..” she smiled out cheekily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n and Rafe, the names often not heard separately, weaved through the thick crowd of teens, every corner of the house filled, whilst the music thumped loudly against the walls, making their way into the kitchen of the beachside villa.

"You know, I’m kind of a big deal round here" He playfully murmured to her, the girl looking at him with a mocked serious expression on her face as she poured the liqueur into the red plastic cup, trying to scout out any kind of mixer within the rubbish on the counter.  "Oh yeah? In what universe?" She pressed as she leant over, grabbing the half empty sprite bottle of the counter.

"This one. I mean, you’re talking to me, so clearly, I’m doing something right." With a grin that only grew wider, the boy shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter between them. Y/n rolled her eyes trying to stifle her laugh, "You’re so full of yourself." He grinned clearly unfazed; "And yet, here you are, still listening."

She shook her head at his bad attempt of flirting with her, hand reaching out to shove his shoulder. That’s just the kind of dynamic their relationship had and she couldn't help the sweet warming feeling in her chest that appeared whenever they joked around like this. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer as he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer.

"You love it." 

“You’re right.” 

She shrugged as she turned to him, the boy standing behind her, now leaning back against the counter as he looked at her. The small kitchen was buzzing full of Kooks and Pogues alike, however no one interrupted them, who would be stupid enough to get between the Kook Princess and her best friend. He smirked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes darted around the room at all the people, but rested back on the girl.

"I tend to be right a lot of the time." He spoke out as he looked down at her studying her face, her cheeks were slightly flushed, he could tell it was from the alcohol, the girl now nursing her second cup, when did she even finish her first?

“Yeah I think 14 years of friendship has taught me that.” she rolled her eyes playfully at the boy, their friendship never wavering in all the years they’d known each other, he was her favourite person- that was for sure. He nodded his head in amusement at her; “And I think it also taught you that I’m the smartest person you know.” He leaned down closer to her while a smirk slipped its way slyly onto her lips.

“I don’t know bout that...” She raised her brow at him teasingly. He shook his head, chuckle slipping past his lips, “Oh yeah? Name someone smarter than me.” She tapped her cup against the bottom of her lip, the pink gloss transferring onto the plastic causing it to sparkle in the lights of the kitchen, “Let’s see... me?” He let out another laugh at her response.

“Nice try. But that’s not true.” He pushed his body off the counter and stood up straight, looking y/n up and down, with a cocky grin

“Hey!” She defended as she placed her empty cup down onto the counter. “Last time I checked it was me who knew how to tie laces first, so can I get a little credit here Cameron!?” He put his hands up in defence, laughter tumbling past his lips again, “Whoa Whoa Whoa! I’m not questioning your mobility skills, cause rumour has it your fingers work pretty well…” He took a step closer to the girl, “But in the brains department, I’m much smarter than you, princess.” She rolled her eyes at his subtle comment about her sexcapades as she shoved his shoulder, “Whateverrrr asshole.” She sings songs out as she turns around to refill her cup.

He shook his head at the girl's attitude, one that he's found comforting over the years. He walked up so he was standing next to her leaning in close to her ear and spoke in a quiet voice, “There’s no shame in admitting that I’m smarter than you, y’know.” He smirked as he looked down at her, and tried to ignore how good her perfume smelled to him, was it new? It definitely was.

“Mmhmm” she hummed out refusing to accept his statement, she enjoyed pushing his buttons anyways. 

He sighed amused at y/n’s stubbornness, even though it annoyed him a bit, “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn huh?” He leaned in a bit closer so his arms were holding him up, placed against the counter right next to the girl's hand which was wrapped around her now full cup.

“So you do think I’m a brat!” She exclaimed eyes wide, gasping in mock offence with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as their conversation from earlier resurfaced, the argument raising between her, Rafe, Toper and Kelce a few days ago. He couldn’t help but smile at her response,

“Yeah you are. The most spoiled, bitchiest, brattiest princess to ever curse Figure 8.” 

“The fuck, am I a witch or something, why am I cursing?” She laughed out loudly, the alcohol in her bloodstream affecting her humour. She rested her head against his shoulder as she tried to regain her composure, giggles passing her lips. He smiled amused at her response, a shiver going down his spine as she leaned against him. He was a weak man, but only when it came to y/n, and even the simple touch of her head on his shoulder made him want to pull her closer.

…what the fuck are you thinking?

"I take it the alcohol is getting to you huh?” He asked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” She shook her head as she lifted it upright away from his shoulder. He looked down at the girl, noticing her rosy cheeks, "Uh huh, that's why your face's red then?" He teased her, knowing she hated when people pointed out when she was drunk, even back when they used to sneak out to drink the stolen bottle of whiskey from y/n’s father’s office on the beach in the late hours of the night. 

“Yeah well you’re high!” she spoke out defensively in a matter of fact tone as she pointed to his pupils, blown wide from the line he’d taken in the bathroom not all that long ago. The boy knew she didn’t necessarily approve of his so-called ‘habit’, always droning on about how it was bad for him. He rolled his eyes at her snarky comment, “I’m barely even that high anymore. Just a little buzzed now.” She placed her hand on her chest as she spoke, as though she was making a sincere oath, “Well I’m perfectly fine.” He couldn't help but find her dramatic nature endearing, it must’ve been why they'd managed to stay friends for so long, she never took any of his shit- as she liked to call it.

“Besides, Rose invited us round to yours tomorrow for dinner, remember..?” She tilted her head as she referred to the joint dinner which was held monthly between both their families, insisted by both their fathers who claimed it was, ‘a great way to keep business natural’. Y/n dreaded the evening every month, the dinner filled with talks of money, success and reputation, if Rafe wasn’t there then she’s sure she’d surely try to gauge her eyes out with Rose’s pristinely polished silver forks. He had to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling at her tipsy state, it entertained him that she was trying so hard to prove that she was sober.

“Yeah I remember princess.” His eyes flicked to the hand on your chest and he swallowed before his eyes went back to her own, “You’re gonna have a hangover tomorrow, you know that?”

Has this top always been so low cut...

“No I won’t” She dismissed as she rolled her eyes at him, lifting her cup again in a cheer towards him finally bringing it to her lips, the liquid burning her throat as it slid down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe pushed past the guy, his gags muffled by the loud music as he bent over throwing up into the potted palm near the front door of the house, sighing out through his nose. Where was this girl? Fucking tequila shots set him up, and now he was stuck in an almost empty house as people flooded out saying their goodbyes, occasional person trying to grab his attention as he walked straight past them.

“Hey Matt!” 

He yelled out grabbing the boys attention who turned to him walking over to meet Rafe who was walking towards him. Hand coming down onto his back to greet him he spoke,

“Hey great party man, have you seen y/n?” 

The boy nodded, slurring his own words, evidently y/n not being the only one who took part in the drinking competition tonight. “Yeah I uh- the dining room man,” was all he managed to mutter out before being called from the other side of the house, his girlfriend coming around the corner yelling something - about how some guy had gotten stuck in his cat's litter box? He let out a loud groan squeezing his eyes shut before turning to Rafe and patting him on the arm in a goodbye. The dining room. He walked through the house pushing past a couple, who he was pretty sure were about to fuck against the hallway wall, muttering a firm ‘move’ as he walked past them. The music still pounded loudly from the speakers littered around the house, walking through hall he called out, 

“Y/n?” 

Walking through the doorway he saw the girl, standing on the table, arm raised above her head happily as she sang out.

Is that a wooden spoon? 

“I just wanna live in this moment foooreverrrr...”

 She sang out, her words were slurred as she swayed her hips around running her hand down her body as she tried to perform the song blasting through the speakers, her limbs uncoordinated causing her to stumble slightly, catching herself before she toppled off the edge of the table. Rafe sucked the air in through his teeth holding his breath, watching the girl teeter on the edge of the table before she stabilized herself. The lights of the room caught on the small crystal sequins of her top, causing glittering sparkles to reflect onto the walls as she swayed around the table. He walked over to her, the girl noticing his footsteps towards her turning towards him, dropping to her knees on the hard dark mahogany wood as she sang out to him now, ever so enthusiastically.

“Started giving up on the word foreverrrrr!!!!” She was so incredibly off tune as she ran her hands through her now messy hair, but he couldn’t help but be entertained as she pointed out to him passionately, gripping the wooden spoon lifting it up to her lips. 

“Until you gave up heaven so we could be toooogetheeerrrr” She wobbled on top of the table, the boy rushing forwards arms out in case she dropped off the edge of the rounded surface. Her hand reached out running down his chest as she sang to him still holding up the wooden spoon to her lips as though she was performing a one woman show.

“You’re my angel, angel baby angel… you’re my angel baby” The girl's hands ran up to his hair as she messed it up, the boy groaning at her actions as she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, spoon dropping to the floor with a clatter. “Okay y/n.” He spoke rolling his eyes at her drunken antics, trying to coax her down from the table. Standing just in front of her, he looked up, seeing her swaying back and forth, he couldn’t deny the concern that she would lose balance and fall off - wouldn’t be the first time. “Okay angel, you’ve gotta get off of that table before you hurt yourself.” He said as he grabbed her hips as he played along with her singing, what was this song anyways? She complied as she held onto his shoulders, still humming along to the song slowly to herself.

He smiled as she hummed along to the song, he loved this side of her, she was always so reserved and in control of herself but right now she was so free and playful and

Seriously?

It was different from how she held herself usually, her family causing her to always hold herself to such a high standard, he preferred when she'd just relax. He kept his hands on her hips as he let out a small laugh pulling her down, “You’re singing is truly terrible, you know that right?”

“Whatever” she spoke back as she stood up straight swaying slightly. “If Topper and Kelce were here they’d sing with me…” She spoke out slowly, intoxication evident in her movements

“What’s this shitty song anyways? He spoke out hands on the girl's shoulders leading her out the room towards the doors to leave, mumbling a small ‘watch it’ guiding her around a broken vase on the floor. 

“Shitty song!?” she gasped out, offense evident in her tone. “Don’t do Troye Sivan like that!” she said defensively.

“Who?” He continued as he guided her towards the steps of the patio, she stopped turning to him with a frown on her face, he had to stifle his laugh as she tried to defend the song, she was so worked up about it in her drunken state.

“Sorry princess, I didn’t know you were such a hardcore fan of, what was it Trevor?” looking down at her with a smirk, his grip kept on her hips as he waited for her response, guiding her down the stairs slowly, knowing her luck she’d slip and twist her ankle.

“Troye Sivan!" she exclaimed annoyed at him, "He’s so fine.” Y/n slurred out as she stepped down the patio slowly holding onto the handrail and looking down at the steps, he couldn’t hold back his laugh, watching her drunken mind struggle to keep up with what she was saying and doing. 

 “Is that so? I thought you only had eyes for me” He teased, he knew you were just being playful from the alcohol, but deep down a part of him wanted to see how you would respond to his teasing.

What was in that coke today...

“Oh but Rafey- he’s queer.” She spoke out sadly as though someone had ripped her heart out and stomped over it, stumbling slightly on their way to Rafe's car, her hand holding onto his arm for stability. His heart patted faster in his chest at the childhood nickname of his, seeming to have stuck with her from their early days. He held her slightly closer, hand slipping down her back resting on her waist to help keep her steady, as she hummed out at his movement. He let out a breathy chuckle at her saddened response,

“And isn’t that a shame.” He teased as he helped guide her to the passenger door to his car, opening up the door and setting her down onto the seat, her hand reaching out, holding onto his polo shirt to pull him closer to her, the boy moving forwards with his brow raised,

“Yes?” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she mumbled out almost incoherently, fingers running through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He found himself gritting his teeth slightly at her gentle ministrations, that prickling feeling creeping up his spine as he reached his arm around resting it on her back. 

“Thanks for helping me, my angel baby.” Her hand reached up fingers now brushing against his cheeks, which were subtly flushed. His hand held onto her own, pulling it away as he sighed out, she was ever so touchy when she got drunk, he’d noticed that when they were younger and since then vowed to always be the one to get her after a night out, God forbid someone took advantage of that, his body heated up uncomfortably at the thought. 

“You’re gonna be fucked tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself that to her as she slumped back into the seat, still humming along to the tune of the song, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the dash of his car, having to pull his eyes away from her shutting the door. 

what the fuck is going on with me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

to be continued.....?

[ossiethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[princessbrunette]

all of a sudden, jj suddenly felt severely underdressed in his black muscle tank and cargo shorts. it’s not that he hadn’t been in a strip club before, he’d just never come to see pogue!bunny!reader at her place of work.

you’d left your shoes at the chateau after one of the many infamous pogue parties that you’d been invited to. if it were any other kind of cheap shoes, you’d probably just said forget about it. but for some bizarre reason, you’d worn some of your prettiest shoes that cost you an arm and a leg from the bills thrown your way at the club, so you’d been damned if you let those just get tossed in the trash because guys don’t know the value of things.

jj had actually used it as an excuse to slide into your instagram dms. shooting you a super casual ‘hey, left your shoes at the chateau. want em back?’ to which you responded ‘my hero!!!! <3’ and so on. anyway, the agreement was — he’d bring your shoes to you on your break.

it’s not as grimy on the inside as it is on the outside, but he doesn’t have much time to look around before he’s hearing the slapping of bare feet through the hallway — and suddenly a scantily dressed figure is throwing itself into his arms in the dimly lit space.

“holy— jesus christ.” he catches you anyway, though you can tell he doesn’t know where to put his hands, settling on the fat just beneath your ass. he swore you were put on this earth to tempt him.

“you came!” you smile in that melodic voice, unhardened by your surroundings. hell, he nearly did come.

“well, you called.” he shrugs, trying to be all nonchalant about it. he swings the shiny pink heels around his fingers and you squeal, taking them from him. “yeah— so, uh— if that’s all i could probably just see myself ou—” he juts a thumb towards the exit, going to stuff one hand in his pocket and missing all together as he backs away. he wasn’t sure why he was being so awkward, aside from the fact you were just stood infront of him wearing a tiny little triangle bra and a g string.

“stay!” your brows furrow adorably and it physically pains his chest, infact — he’s pretty sure he had a physical reaction, face screwing up with a wince. how does one tell the girl he’s attracted to that if he stays any longer he will pop a hard on? “s’the least i can do. come watch the show. i can hook you up with wings and some beers for free?” you bat your faux-lashes, the glitter on your cheekbone glowing in the low lighting as you tilt your head sweetly, putting on a show to convince him.

“wings, beer n’ boobs? you’re talkin’ my language young lady.” he smirks, unable to hide his usual ways and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“yay, follow me!” you grip his hand, long acrylics scratching against his wrist and he rolls his lips together, eyes practically following each jiggle of your ass cheek as you walk before he even realises he’s in the main section. you settle him in, a little booth that usually probably occupies pervy businessmen— which really makes the blonde feel out of place. he came alone, and now he was sat here — occupying a booth. what kind of creep comes to watch strippers alone?

he’s about to jump up and make up an excuse to leave in pure embarrassment, but you’re smoothing your hands along his shoulders, batting your lashes and telling him you wish you could stay and chat but you’ve gotta go dance, and that his wings and beer will be coming soon. he blinks at you, under a trance and settles into the worn and suspiciously sticky leather arm chair.

soon you’re up on that stage and he wants to sink into the fucking ground. you’re unbelievably hot, and now it’s like something out of a porno he made in his mind, watching you saunter around the pole, dropping down to the ground and arching your back, shaking the meat of your ass effortlessly as faceless men throw money your way. he had nothing to throw but some receipts and old nickels in his pockets and he didn’t think you’d appreciate that — which didn’t matter anyway, because he was somewhat stuck to his seat.

he lifts his hands to adjust his cap before realising he’s not wearing one, and just as he realises his dick is sitting hot, heavy and hard in his shorts— you’re off stage, bounding over with everything jiggling. lord help him.

he thinks he might die when you clamber confidently onto his lap, straddling him front on.

“so how was it jayj did you like it? i know it’s a lil’ weird seeing me up there, i’m your friend n’all but was the song choice good atleast?” you tilt your head like a befuddled puppy dog before wriggling around— crotch to cock. “oh, nevermind. i can feel that you’re like super hard so i take it that you liked the show!” you smile, like you’d just said the most innocent sentence in the world. jj blinks, lips agape.

“uh— y—no, yeah it was… well, y’know. the body doesn’t lie.” he bucks his hips lightly in gesture before immediately internally questioning why he’d do something so creepy. luckily, you giggle — but he’s not sure if it’s because you liked it or because you’re well trained.

“well, next time you get paid come get a lapdance i’ll fix that problem jayj, even give you a discount.” you let that giggle slip through again, but there’s a breathiness to your tone that feels all too real. his brows jump up, eyes flickering unashamedly to your tits as you lean forward to his ear. “or jus’ get me drunk again next weekend? will probably do it for free ‘cus i like you.” you admit, looking all nervous when you pull back. you just shook your ass on stage, yet jj maybank was making you flustered.

“for sure. yeah uh— can… can definitely do that. yep.” he plays it calm and collected, sees you out with another bone crushing hug against your tits before speed walking to his company truck that he drove over here. his shift was over, so he wasn’t rushing to get back to work. moreso to beat off in the parking lot thinking about pulling that g-string of yours to the side.

[euphor1a]

Just the tip

* part of “boyfriend chronicles” — can be read as a stand-alone.

ꨄ pairing: mingyu x f!oc

ꨄ genres: non idol!au, established relationship, fluff, smut, slice of life.

ꨄ summary: he tried his best, he really did. but lord, for how long could he control himself when you looked like a pretty, little angel, all his to ruin?

ꨄ rating & word count: 18+ ; ~9.5K  

ꨄ warnings/tags: fluff (called me single in 100 languages typa way), plentiful pda, they’re so in love that it repulses me /j, profanity, explicit sexual content; dom/sub undertones (a bit of switch action as well), semi-public sex, breast play, biting/marking, size kink, praising, pet names, fingering, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, “just the tip”, unprotected, penetrative sex, big d*ck!gyu, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), creampie — this is a work of fiction and it doesn’t represent mingyu in any way.    

ꨄ a/n: this series is slowly starting to look like my villain origin story 😔... like wdym i can’t have kim mingyu 💔💔? *sigh* anyway, it’s been a while, enjoy <3!

His footsteps are light despite him being in a hurry. It’s almost as if he could start flying at any moment. Mingyu wishes that was an option. The sunlight filtering through his living room windows barely makes it to the kitchen, where he’s struggling miserably. 

Large, shaky hands grip onto the petite looking sliders he has just finished making, carefully placing them inside the various colorful lunch boxes splayed out on the kitchen island. Mingyu is heaving ever so slightly, a bit of perspiration starting to collect on his forehead. He’s nervous. And it’s silly, he knows. But he can’t help his rushing heart that is hammering against his chest. 

It’s been over ten minutes since you texted him that you’re on your way to the park you two are going to meet up for your date. And he’s still here, in his pj’s, trying to finish packing the picnic basket as quickly as possible without absolutely destroying it. Even though Mingyu woke up criminally early with the intentions to cook everything himself, he somehow managed to fall behind because of the stupid cupcake batter that refused to make anything edible out of itself. 

With what feels like the umpteenth sigh of the day, he manages to complete arranging the boxes inside the basket. However, he almost slips while hurrying to reach his bedroom. A string of curses leave Mingyu’s pouty lips, the muscles in his arms flexing to support his whole body against the wall. He still needs to get ready, leave his house, and buy some sort of dessert from the local bakery before finally meeting you.

Thanking himself for picking up and ironing the outfit yesterday night, he dresses up in a flash. Mingyu ponders if he should do something with his hair, but ends up keeping it the way it currently is. Sure, it is kind of messy, but it also gives him that ‘casually sexy’ look. A satisfied smirk and the bare minimum skincare along with sunscreen later, he regards himself in the mirror for one last time. Looking more than good to go.

That state of peace only lasts for a moment though. Not wanting to be even more late than he already is, Mingyu grabs his phone, wallet, keys and the basket. After another minute of scrambling, he puts on a random pair of loafers and heads out. Even though you haven’t contacted him since earlier, he feels anxious. Who knows for how long you’ve been waiting all alone? 

His long legs help him blaze past the bustling neighborhood, hands clutching on the basket’s handle in an attempt to stop it from swaying unsteadily. Mingyu is so wrapped up in his thoughts of you that he actually walks past the bakery — before realizing and taking a 180° turn. The elderly owner smiles at him brightly as he enters the cozy shop, somehow catching up on what exactly is happening with the usually calm and collected guy he has seen for so long. “Aah, Mingyu! Welcome, my boy! Long time no see, eh? What brought you here all of a sudden? Mayhaps a special day with a special someone?” 

“Hi, Mr. Owen! Hah, really though… I don’t remember the last time I found myself having a little dessert. Glad to be back here! Although, I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t hear the last part…” Mingyu trails off, eyes taking in the pretty pastries and all sorts of baked goodness displayed in front of him. His heart jumps a little when he thinks about how your face contorts in pure joy whenever you ravish the sugar rush from something sweet. “Uh anyway! Please pack me a dozen of these pastel colored macarons! And maybe four of those glazed donuts? Oh my god… are those heart shaped pies?? Looks so cute! Please pack two of them too!” 

The man nearing his late 60s can’t help but laugh at Mingyu’s excited rambling as he points at the things he wants. “Calm down, calm down, I’ll get to everything one by one.” He folds up some new boxes before putting the delicate confectioneries into them. “You really don’t have to say anything though, the answers are written all over your face.” 

Mingyu, who was busy admiring the heart shaped pies, looks up, confused. “Huh?” 

“The question I asked earlier. Which you pretended to not hear. The answer to it is written all over your face.” Owen shakes his head with a smile on his face. 

“Oh–” Mingyu looks down at his feet. Is he really that obvious? But even if he is, should he care about it? Feeling happy and elevated to meet his girlfriend doesn’t always need to be embarrassing. 

“Don’t mind my little teasing now, will you? Do you want me to put these in your basket?” He’s brought back to reality by Owen’s voice. Mingyu nods and brings the picnic basket up on the counter. 

While the old man adds up the prices to write a bill after carefully putting all the desserts in the almost full basket, Mingyu finds himself zoning out. Would you like all the things he’s bringing? What if you have some secret allergy he doesn’t know yet, and you’re unable to eat? A pout forms on his lips. But then he remembers — he’s been pretty late by now, and you’re waiting for him in a place you’re not familiar with at all.

He hurriedly pays and grabs his basket, apologizing to Owen for not being able to hang around longer and leaving immediately. Once he’s outside again, he quickly takes his phone and calls your number. Mingyu almost feels jittery, scenarios going through his head that aren’t exactly nice. Thankfully for him, you pick up after a few rings, greeting him cheerily.

“Mingyu! Hello baby! I’m here already, are you on your way?”  

That alone is enough for the six feet tall, grown ass man to wish he could disintegrate into thin air right now. Not in a negative way, though. He just finds it extremely devastating that you called him “baby” like that. But Mingyu is quick to recover from that feeling. “Hi angel, I’m on my way!! I’m sorry you have to wait there all alone… I’m like a three minute walk away from the park. Do you, maybe, wanna keep talking over the phone?”

“Aw sure! And don’t worry about it please, I’m just standing beneath a large tree and enjoying the scenery! It’s so pretty here!” 

Three minutes feel like thirty seconds with you, as he already gets through the park’s elegant looking entrance. His eyes immediately start searching for you. “Baby, I just got through the main gate! Where are you?” 

“Oh! That was quick, Gyu; should I come over to the entrance?” 

“Nono princess! Stay where you are, I’ll be there. Just give me some directions!” Mingyu insists. To his surprise, you don’t give up for your cause.

“Why?” Your voice is nearly a whine, “It’ll be way easier if I just go where you are!” 

With his heart doubling in his chest from fondness, he sighs, “Fine… I guess. Come over quickly then, will you?” 

“Yep yep, already on my way! I can’t wait to see you!” You giggle excitedly, keeping your eyes on the path as you wander back towards the main gate. Mingyu waits by the side of a decorative statue for you. His gaze is searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person he’s grown to adore endlessly. 

It’s only a matter of seconds for you to spot each-other, two pairs of eyes lighting up with joy. You run to him giddily, colliding into his firm chest that you’ve fallen asleep on several times now. His large arms wrap around your small frame to pull you closer, as if on instinct.

You inhale his scent deeply, a mix of his cologne and the smell of fresh laundry from his black polo shirt. However, you do avoid getting your face smushed up against him— for the sake of your skincare and makeup. Both of you stay locked in each other’s embrace for a while, before eventually pulling away.

“You look so unbelievably pretty, my love.” Mingyu leans down to place a kiss on your head. “And smelling like a dream, as well.” Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you fiddle with the belt loops of his beige trouser.

Only now, you’ve become aware of exactly how fucking good he looks today. This black polo fits him like a glove, paired with trousers that accentuate his long legs. Oh and, he also has a pair of eyeglasses that adorns his handsome face. The whole imagery is pretty devastating to your brain as it fails to process everything your eyes have registered. Why is it even legal to look like this?

You suddenly feel majorly weak in the knees, but Mingyu supports you with his unoccupied hand, flashing you a cocky grin. “What happened, baby?” He teases, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. You hold onto his arms and regain composure, clearing your throat from embarrassment. 

“Uhm, you look… really really great as well.” His eyes twinkle as he smiles upon your compliment, the hand around your waist pressing you into him. Your heart flutters in your chest from the close exposure. Mingyu seems a bit more touchy-touchy than usual, considering that you guys are in public.

“All for you, my angel,” your boyfriend mutters right against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. As if that wasn’t satisfactory enough, he lets his lips brush over the shell of your ear, catching you even more off-guard. What the hell is in the air today? 

“Uhm– let’s go find a spot for our date? Or are we gonna just stand here?” You look up at Mingyu questioningly, doe eyes causing his heart to skip a beat. He sighs, just slightly annoyed with how his mind goes to unspeakable places with just that.

“Of course, baby, let’s find a place to sit down.” He smiles brightly, watching you wrap your smaller arm around his. To his dismay, his hungry eyes once again take in how pretty and irresistible you look in this flowy, white sundress. 

The soft material caresses your thighs with each stride; Mingyu wishes it was his hand instead. It’s absurd, but the way this dress has pretty flowers and hearts printed across it makes him wanna mark you up. The poofy sleeves, the sweetheart neckline that shows just enough to drive him crazy — God. Even the way your hair is loosely braided with stray locks tucked behind your ear? He genuinely wants to cancel all plans and take you to his home and do you all day.

It’s crazy, really. How can you just look like that and expect anyone to act like a normal functioning human? Mingyu shakes his head a little and inhales shakily. You deserve to get pampered on a picnic date as much as you deserve to get mind-blowing orgasms. 

“You’re not paying attention to me at all…” The sound of your dejected voice breaks him out of his reverie. Shit.

“No, no! Baby, please, I’m sorry… Uh, to be painfully honest with you, I’m distracted because you look so exceptionally pretty, like an angel who’s descended on Earth. But still, I’m really sorry for not listening to what you have to say. I promise I’ll focus from now on!!” He laces your fingers together and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’re such a flatterer, Kim Mingyu.” You try to hide your smile, sounding a bit angry to tease him. Your beloved boyfriend hates it when you call him by his full birth name; and this time is no different. However, to your surprise, instead of throwing a tantrum like he usually does, Mingyu leads you to the side of the path. 

“Wha—” you start, but close your mouth out of shock when he covers your frame entirely and leans down to press a sweet kiss on your lips. Your hands press against his toned stomach for support, your head emptying entirely. His lips are so soft against yours, the heat radiating from his body warming you up a bit too much. 

You pull away first, your whole face heated from his sudden action. As you take deep breaths to compensate for the air you lost during the kiss, Mingyu finally speaks up. “Don’t be mad at me today, my love. Please. I’m gonna be so, so sad. I promise I’ll do better but god, please don’t be upset.” His lips have formed his signature pout, your heart melting at the spot. 

You let your thumb caress over his pout, tip-toeing to peck him. Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile, his unoccupied hand curling around your waist. “You’re so cute, how can I be mad at you?” You giggle, absolutely adored by this soft giant begging you to not be upset. 

“If I am cute, then what are you, princess?” Mingyu grins, nuzzling your hand before you move it away. You shake your head, not willing to debate on who’s the cutest. 

“Anyway, we should really find a place to sit down and get our picnic started. I was just saying that there aren’t a lot of people in the park right now, but we should still find a place with enough privacy.” 

The way Mingyu nods is like a puppy tilting its head. God, the way you’d commit arson for this guy. With a soft sigh, you continue. “And, I also have my own basket, which I left at an empty space I found by where I was standing. Let’s go there first, then we can move further into the park where not a lot of people will potentially find or bother us.” 

It takes you guys a few minutes to go and fetch your own basket, and probably another ten to fifteen minutes to find a spot for your picnic date. Mingyu is extremely happy with the grassy little patch surrounded by tall bushes and large trees, a big smile on his face as he takes out the picnic blanket he brought along. He can’t wait to show you all the food he made. 

Once he’s done setting the blanket, you take off your pastel pink mary janes and settle down on the blanket with your picnic basket nearby. Mingyu looks at you, a bit surprised. “You’re taking off your shoes?” The question makes you narrow your eyes. 

“And why wouldn’t I be taking off my shoes? To make this brand new blanket dirty?” His mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, before he nods. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. “You can keep your shoes on, if you want. There’s no need to stink up this place.”

“HEY! I’m not that unhygienic, that last time I just forgot about laundry for some reason. I already told you… And I’m not wearing any socks today…” Mingyu trails off, discarding his loafers with a ‘hmph’. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop sulking, Gyu.” You watch him as he sits down as well, adjusting his trousers a bit to be more comfortable in this position. He overlooks you for now, reaching for his basket and carefully taking out the desserts first. Then, he produces a bunch of different tupperwares out of it, placing all the food in the center of the mat, between you two. 

You reach for your own basket as well, cautiously eyeing your boyfriend who seems to be extremely invested in unpacking all the food. The only things you’ve brought along today for the picnic date are flowers, a flower vase, a small canvas and some tubes of watercolor, besides your necessary belongings. Although it’s kinda embarrassing, it can’t be helped because Mingyu insisted on bringing everything for the date. 

“Gyu,” you murmur, hands anxiously gathering the loosely made bouquet inside your basket. It’s oddly nerve-wracking. You’ve never really received or given flowers in a relationship before. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, eyes furrowed as he rummages through his basket. With a sharp inhale, you slowly retrieve the flowers, extending them towards him. Mingyu immediately turns to look at your shaky hands holding a bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs, his face heating up as he realizes what’s going on.

“____, my baby,” he coos, bringing his hands to wrap around your trembling ones. “It looks so pretty, did you bring them for me?” You avoid eye-contact, but nod to give him confirmation. The wave of weird emotions that hits Mingyu is hard for him to explain. Usually, he’s been the one giving flowers to his partners in relationships. But, being on the receiving end for the first time, he feels as if he’s on top of the world. 

“C’mere.” He leans in to grab your waist, bringing you closer to him, before hoisting you up a little to place you on his lap. Mingyu fixes your dress, then  pulls you closer to rest against his chest. His left hand remains wrapped up around your midsection. “Thank you so much, love. I’m over the moon that you got me flowers. I’m so lucky to be dating you, angel.” He presses a kiss on your cheek, your heart almost bursting inside your chest. 

“Do you know Victorian floriography?” you look at him, slightly embarrassed. When he shakes his head as ‘no’, you go on, “It’s the language of flowers. Back then, gifted flowers used to have hidden meanings… But it’s kinda coming back in trend, I guess.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu ponders, “Then, does this bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs have a secret message as well?” You nod, looking up at him with a shy smile. 

“Find it out later, okay? For now, please explain what you’ve brought along in so many boxes…?” Trying to change the topic, you take away the flowers to put them inside the vase you brought along, settling it in an empty space between all the packed boxes of desserts.

He chuckles nervously, suddenly remembering all the food he brought. “Uh… right. I might’ve gone a bit overboard with it, but I promise, sixty percent of everything you see is made by me, with so much love.” 

“Whoa!” you exclaim. “That’s a lot of things you made with your own hands… I’m honored.” Mingyu presses a kiss on the side of your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you stop yourself from making any noises. It’s… weird that he’s being so intimate while you are pretty much in public. But god, does it do things to you… 

“You haven’t tasted anything yet, though. Heck, let me show you what’s inside first.” He reaches for the closest tupperware, and to your surprise, you see various, colorful fruits, all cut up in small heart shapes and laid out in rows. 

“Omg, so cute!!” you squeal, clapping your hands together in excitement. Mingyu beams at you, clearly happy with your reaction. 

“Hehe, there’s a lot more to see!” He stretches to grab two more boxes, each revealing tteok-bokki, your mouth inevitably watering from the sight. You’ve had these delicious rice cakes made by him a few times prior, and you loved it to bits. 

He leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Should I take out the chopsticks?” Mingyu closes the box with fruits in it, moving it to the side. “Let’s go from spicy to sweet, hm? I also made tiny sliders because you seem to like miniature food a lot! After these, we can have the desserts!” 

You nod in agreement, snuggling up to him more. Receiving treatment like this makes you feel like a princess. Even though you’re not sure how much he has brought along, you internally make up your mind to at least taste everything and applaud the effort he put into it.  

Once you guys are done eating everything he had prepared himself, you urge Mingyu to take a break and save the desserts for the very end. He agrees, not willing for the date to end anytime soon. 

“I brought along something else as well… if you let me go for a bit, I can take my basket and you can hold me again.” You say after a while of chatting about this and that. Your boyfriend eyes you curiously, loosening his arms around your waist momentarily. That is enough for you to grab your basket and settle down on his lap again. 

“What did you bring? I’m so curious! Wait— tubes of paint?!” To add more to his surprise, you take out the small canvas, a literal gasp escaping Mingyu. “What can we possibly do with these? I don’t see any brushes…” 

“It’s so surprising to me that you’re always on Instagram, yet you have no clue about this.” You tease, placing the canvas in a position where both of you can access it very comfortably. He raises an eyebrow at your comment, feeling very attacked. But he refrains from saying anything.

“Let’s just start doing it, okay? It’ll make sense immediately because it’s nothing complicated.” You sigh, taking Mingyu’s palm in yours. He looks confused as you take the red watercolor tube first, getting rid of the cap and squeezing out a generous amount on the top of pinky finger. 

“Oh…” He lets you take his hand and bring it to the center of the tiny canvas, pressing the paint covered finger carefully against the paper. “But what’s that supposed to do? It just looks like a blob of paint…” Mingyu looks at you questioningly as you retreat his pinky from the canvas. 

“Oh hush, don’t be so impatient!” You scold him jokingly, pointing towards a bunch of tissues. “Clean up your finger now! You’ll find out soon enough.” He puffs out his lower lip, reaching for a tissue while grumbling.

You take the tube of blue watercolor and cover your whole thumb with a thick layer of paint. Mingyu watches you curiously while you press on your thumb in the opposite direction of his ‘blob of paint’, trying to get the sizes as close as possible. “That is so fucking adorable?!” Your boyfriend erupts in cute aggression when you lift up your thumb, revealing a heart made with your fingerprints. 

“It’s so cute, you’re so cute, fuck, I–” He stops himself before any inevitable words roll off his tongue. Mingyu is well aware that you prefer to take things slow, and he wants to make sure that you can process everything at your own pace. His thoughts are interrupted by your giggles. 

He tightens his hands right beneath your chest, pushing you close to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “Is it that funny? So fun to watch me lose my shit because of how fucking adorable you are, hm?”

“It’s not like that…” you murmur, goosebumps all over your body. “I just thought that it’s kinda amusing how you were all clueless and nagging about it earlier, then suddenly, you were screaming about how cute this is.” It’s hard for you to not make any sounds when he’s caressing your sensitive areas, but you attempt to keep your voice low and steady. 

Mingyu wishes he could explain how much that tiny heart shaped painting actually means to him. It’s almost like all your heart is into those two blobs of red and blue paint, looking back at him, telling him secrets you’ve never shared with him before. He feels all warm and fluffy inside, his senses all wrapped around your nuances. “Can I keep that for myself?” 

“Of course!” You smile brightly at him, extremely giddy that he wants to keep this small token of your feelings for him which will last way longer than the flowers. “Let the paint dry first, though.” 

“Sure, baby.” He squeezes you in his arms. “Can we have the desserts now? I know it doesn’t look like it, but there are plenty of them.” Mingyu whines, feeling sort of desperate to show you everything he bought earlier. Thankfully for him, you nod, perking up at the mention of many desserts. 

He reaches for the box with pies first, knowing very well you’ll absolutely adore them. And you do, blessing his ears with one of those cute squeals of yours, eyes sparkling at the sight in front of you. “OMG!! So pretty! And it looks delicious!” 

“Mhm, I had a feeling you’d love to have these. Let’s dig in!” Mingyu takes out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting out some of it on both of your hands. These pies are very conveniently palm-sized. With its crust shaped like a heart, ruby red filling made out of cherries — it sure does make you feel hungry just by looking at it. 

“C’mon, take a bite,” your boyfriend muffles out, mouth already full of the big bite he has just taken. You nod gingerly, taking a shy bite of the pie as well. The buttery, flaky crust, paired up with a bit of the sweet cherries melt in your mouth, a satisfied sound rumbling in your throat. 

“Mm, it’s really good!” The smile on your face is like a whole trophy to Mingyu. You liked it. He’s so glad that he can’t really explain. 

“Yay!!! I got you donuts and macaroons as well!” He blurts out, all giddy looking at you savoring the sweet dessert. Once you’re done with the pie, he reaches for the boxes of both donuts and macarons, earning a small whine from you.

“I can’t eat that much… I’m almost full.” 

“Why? You only ate a little…” A frown forms on your boyfriend’s lips.

“Gyu. I had a ton of tteok-bokki. Then sliders. Then fruits. On the dessert side, I already had a pie. I’m really, really, sorry, but that looks like a lot of macarons and donuts. My stomach will either burst or I’ll just throw up at the end of this!” You try your best to make your point stand, pleading with your eyes for him to understand.

Mingyu heaves out a sigh. “Fineee. You’re gonna take the macarons back home with you, then. I bought these especially for you. And I’m not listening to any complaints about that.” 

“Gyu, that kinda makes me feel bad though… you basically did everything for this date.” 

“Baby, I did everything voluntarily because I wanted to treat you like this. Like you deserve to be treated. And c’mon now! You brought flowers for me, and came up with a fun little activity to do. What about all the dates we’ve had before that were totally planned by you? So pretty please, with a cherry on top, don’t turn me down?” 

You turn in his lap to face him, blinking back the silly tears that clouded your vision. He hums in approval as you wind your arms around his neck and pull him in for a sweet kiss. Although, you pull back soon enough, resting your foreheads together instead. “You mean so much to me,” you mutter, eyes locking with him. 

A strange warmth spreads throughout Mingyu, radiating inside-out and filling up his heart. He doesn’t really know what to say back — simply because he’s over aware of the fact that he is completely and utterly in love with you. But he doesn’t want to hurry, he wants to move with you, as you slowly open up your petals to him, like a flower does to a sun. 

“I wish there were words in my vocabulary capable of explaining how much you mean to me.” He smiles softly, pressing a butterfly kiss to the corner of your lips. Mingyu absolutely adores the sound of your giggle that drifts to his ears. 

“You’re so cheesy, I kinda like it.” 

“Just 'kinda'?” He can’t help his own chuckle. “And here I thought I was getting a lot of charm points for being cheesy.” 

“You can be cheesy all you want, baby. I think most of your charm points come from your physical features at a first glance.” You boop his nose, both of you bursting out in laughter. 

“Are you saying that I’m handsome?” 

“Mhm. Very handsome, in fact. Very tall as well. Very… very big too.” You can see the playful glint vanishing from his eyes. Mingyu inhales a shaky breath. 

“Let’s get to those donuts now. Please?” 

You nod, moving around to get back on your previous position. He bites back a groan as your hands feel around, squeeze and grab on his thighs before you settle down. “What donuts did you bring?” 

“Glazed donuts, cause you really liked them the last time!” He wraps an arm around your waist, adjusting you to be closer to him. Mingyu is well aware that he’s barely holding up. But, he’s trying to convince himself that being closer to you can get him through his… hard times.

“Whoa omg these look so good?!” His inner monologue is interrupted by your squeal. A small smile curls up his lips. 

“Right? Dig in, baby!” He encourages, leaning forward to take a donut for himself. You follow suit, excited to bite into the sugary heaven. 

The sweet dough crumbles in your mouth upon the first bite, the sugar glaze hitting your taste buds just right. As you savor the pleasant taste of it, a satisfied hum rumbles in your throat. “Gyu, this tastes heavenly. Way better than the last time we had it! And I loved the ones we got back then?!”

“I’m so glad, my angel. I’ll get you more the next time we meet up~” Your boyfriend nuzzles your hair affectionately, his heart doubling in his chest from adoration. It’s hard to explain how great he feels simply by seeing you happy, enjoying your food. Maybe, it’s because Mingyu himself loves to eat heartily and cook for his people; he hopes that he can see you like this forever. 

It would be so nice, he would cook for you everyday and help you out whenever you felt like cooking, and dine-out and order in as your heart desires. 

You’re almost done with your second donut by now, but Mingyu hasn’t said anything or even touched his portion after saying that he’d bring you more. Kind of worried, you turn your head to look at him, finding his eyes transfixed on you. 

“... Hello? Why’d you go silent? Is something in my hair or—” you stop halfway when you notice his gaze has shifted to your lips now. It makes you swallow nervously, anticipation building up in your system. You know that look all too well. 

“There’s something on your lips.” His voice is nonchalant, relaxing your senses a bit. You nod, attempting to wipe off the crumbs with your hand, but he catches your wrist, leaning in swiftly to wrap your lower lip between his. 

Goosebumps spread all over your body, hands automatically winding around his neck as he suckles on the delicate flesh of your lips. His free hand rests against the small of your back, urging you to turn towards him fully. 

You really don’t understand how he can kiss you this good when you are yet to open up to his tongue. Your body has already started to heat up, breathing uneven. With shaky hands, you clumsily take off his glasses, his lips curling up in a smile against yours. 

Soon enough, he coaxes your mouth open, his hand letting go of your wrist and cupping your jaw instead. You both moan simultaneously, crazed by the sweet aftertaste of the desserts. Mingyu is extremely eager, taking the lead as always, your body starting to quake from the mind numbing kiss.

Picking up on your struggle to breathe, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips. “You have to keep breathing through your nose, baby. You can’t just forget to breathe, even if I’m kissing you so good for so long that your mind goes blank.” 

You flush at the mention of your usual complaint against him whenever he has to give you space to breathe during a make-out. “I… I try, I swear, but it’s…” you trail off between huffs, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Aw, am I giving my princess a hard time?” Mingyu pats your head, nudging you to get back up. You nod, a small chuckle escaping him. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he leans in for a brief peck. “And so pretty, looking like a fairy today.” 

He returns to the kiss with full passion, tongue immediately entangling with yours, a low groan escaping him. You taste so maddeningly sweet, like an endless source of honey to his bee. He suckles on your tongue, his teeth nibbling on your lips, reducing you to an absolute mess. You are, quite literally, shaking, arousal dripping down your core and ruining the pretty lace thong you wore for today’s date. 

“Aah–” you gasp as he trails down to press wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, hands pulling at the sleeves of your dress. You don’t stop him, threading your fingers through the luscious locks of his wavy hair. Mingyu has nearly forgotten that you guys are technically in public, and has made you do the same. He drags your bra strap off your shoulder using his teeth, biting and sucking on the newly exposed skin.

One of his hands is wrapped around your waist to secure you, his other hand slipping beneath the skirt of your dress, stroking your thighs. Only now, you suddenly remember that you’re on a picnic date in a somewhat secluded part of a very public park. “Mm–mingyu– don’t—” you struggle with your words,  overwhelmed by his ministrations. He’s everywhere — touching, squeezing, licking, kissing and biting. “Stop, please.” You whimper, his actions halting immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu lifts his head to assess your situation, looking dazed himself, his voice hoarse. You swallow nervously, your own eyes glazed with tears that had appeared because he made you feel a bit too good.

“We… we’re in public,” You state firmly. “We can get caught in a very indecent state if we keep going.” 

Mingyu takes a look around the surroundings. Tall bushes and plenty of large trees cover this small patch of area entirely. He knew exactly what he was doing when he chose this spot. One would have to wander off very far into the park and physically push off bushes to get in here like you guys did. Which, to him, seems extremely unlikely. 

“I wouldn’t call this public, my love.” He takes both of your hands to entwine your fingers. “And I highly doubt someone would come this far and specifically peek around the bushes to catch us. You do remember how long it took us to get here, no?” 

“Yeah… but, what if—” 

“There are no ‘what if’s, my angel. Even if someone did come this far into the park, they’d still have to manhandle the bushes to be able to see what’s on the other side. Please, trust me…” 

His broken look stirs something in you, and you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “I do trust you. And I want you as much as you want me,” you whisper shyly, your thong uncomfortably damp and sticking to your skin. “But, wouldn’t it be better if we go home quickly, and um, finish what we started…?” 

Mingyu sighs, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as possible. “I don’t think I can hang on for that long, baby. I need you so fucking bad. I’ve been struggling to keep myself together for an embarrassingly long time now. You– You just look so goddamn pretty. Like a tiny little fairy who is all mine to ruin. Fuck, just… just see what you’ve done to me.” He takes one of your hands and guides it to his crotch, blood rushing to your face. 

“If you want me just as much as I do, you must be soaking wet, right?” His whisper is hot against your neck, right hand holding your own to his growing bulge while his left hand slips between your thighs. You gasp when he rubs his fingers against your ruined underwear, a satisfied grunt reverberating in his throat. “Fuck.” Mingyu curses under his breath, his hips bucking up to your joined hands.

“You really want us to go home in this state? Hm?” His voice is a whine, only adding more to your devastation. To be really honest, all logical reasoning left your system the moment he made you feel his hard-on. And then he had to feel your drenched thong in return as well, arousing you to the extent where you don’t really give a fuck about being in the open anymore.

“Hngh, fine— do it quickly.” You whimper, every inch of you begging for his touch, to be relieved. Mingyu smiles, ecstatic upon your words, hungry lips finding yours for a kiss. You moan at the contact, pussy clenching around nothing. 

“As my princess wishes.” He hums, pulling down your dress to reveal your bra. His pupils dilate at the sight in front of him. Even when he dragged down the straps of your bra with his teeth, he didn’t think you’d be wearing a rather provocative lacey piece today. “Fuck,” Mingyu bunches up your dress around your waist, a groan escaping him.

Is this another fantasy of his? Cause no, fuck, you sure do look like it. 

The delicate lace work barely covers anything, his cock throbbing inside the confines of his boxer-briefs. He feels like he’s high. “Baby,” your boyfriend rasps, “do you even understand what you do to me? Hm?” 

“You like it?” your voice is a whisper, fingers digging into his shoulder from nervousness. A part of you knows the answer already, but still, hearing it out loud from him always makes you feel butterflies. 

“You’re really asking me that? Fuck, I love it, you’re so fucking pretty, I can’t believe that you’re real, and mine.” Mingyu groans, one of his hands reaching for your bra and pulling at its cups. His mouth immediately attaches to your left breast as soon as it is released. You gasp, body quivering at the touch. He bites and suckles on the soft flesh teasingly before reaching for your hardened nipple. 

You whimper out his name, fingers gripping on his hair. The way his tongue swirls around and suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves makes you dizzy. More arousal leaks out of your core, desperation cresting higher and higher. You need him in you, right now.

But Mingyu is lost in your breasts, reaching for your right one after a while, teeth dragging over the nipple before his tongue slurps at it. You quiver and whine in his arms from all the sensations you’re feeling. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and he never slacks off at that. 

“You’re so perfect, my little angel.” Mingyu hums, his right hand groping your left boob. “Fits so perfectly in my hand, so cute,” he murmurs before looking up at you. As he meets your tearful eyes, he loses a bit more of his sanity. 

“Damn it, you look so—” he stops short, breathing heavily. Will he ever get used to the way you look during intimacy? Probably not. The flushed face, teary eyes and parted lips always gets him.

“Gyu,” you whine, hugging him tightly. “It hurts, please do something,” your whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. Mingyu can’t help but smirk, wondering if he should tease you. “Need you in me.” your sweet plea stirs him, more blood rushing towards the south.

“Fuck it.” He reaches between your thighs, cupping your pussy. The soaked, warm fabric makes him growl. Your hips immediately start rocking, generating friction — something you’ve been craving for so long now. You sigh in relief, using his hand to stimulate yourself.

“What if someone sees you like this right now? So needy, humping my hand?” Mingyu asks, amused. Goosebumps spread over your skin, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. However, you don’t stop moving your hips, inner walls clenching in desperation. 

“Do–don’t say that,” you whimper, “so embarrassing.” 

“Is that so? But you’re still rubbing into my hand, though.” 

“It’s because you won’t help me…” 

Mingyu can’t help but chuckle, his thumb finding your clit and pressing on it firmly. You scream out, a strong pulse of pleasure spreading through your nerves. He shushes you, alarmed. “Shh, you can’t be so loud today, baby… what if someone hears you and decides to check what’s going on?” 

You bite your tongue, absorbing his words. The thought paralyzes you from embarrassment, but for some reason, your pussy has a mind of its own. “It’s all your fault,” you croon, “it’s all because you can’t control yourself.” 

“I already said this like a hundred times, but, you look so fucking pretty in this cute little dress, baby. So fucking pretty. How am I supposed to control myself? When all I can think about is ruining my sweet angel?” Mingyu rasps, his calloused fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles. You’re certain that your legs will give up at this rate, your whole body teetering from the stimulation. 

“Bu–but—” you lower your voice to a whisper, “people will catch us like this, what then?” He presses a fleeting kiss on the corner of your lips, pushing the soaked lace of your thong to the side and sliding his middle finger between your labia against your slit. You swallow back a moan, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Guess you’re gonna have to keep it quiet in that case.” Mingyu pushes the digit into your sopping hole, making a ‘shlick’ sound that surprises both of you. “Fuck, did you hear that? Did you hear how wet you are for me?” You squeeze him in response, nerve endings on fire. It feels so incredibly good to finally have something fill your aching core. 

“Move, please,” you whimper, getting impatient. As if to test you, he slowly starts dragging his finger down, before pushing it back inside in a rough manner. You muffle your squeal against his shoulder, overwhelmed yet wanting more of him.

Soon enough, Mingyu loses the patience to tease you, his own urges kicking in. His ring finger slides into the depths of your molten warmth as well, your walls clenching around him from excitement. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he hisses under his breath. Slow, languid movements let him feel the way your arousal coats his skin in a silky veil, making him feel kind of suffocated around his crotch.

“Baby,” you whine, “wan’ more, please.” The burning ache for a release fires through your system, every single one of your cells begging for more. A breathy laugh rings in your ears, to your dismay.

“Want what exactly, love?” Mingyu’s eyes are twinkling with mischief, knowing very well that he’s pushing your boundaries right now. 

“Harder,” your choked whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. He clenches his teeth, thumb pressing down onto the swollen nub before anything. A gasp escapes you, face falling to rest in the crook of his neck, breathing uneven. His fingers pick up speed eventually, your lower stomach in knots, a shiver running down your spine. If your mouth wasn’t pressed up against his skin, you probably would’ve blabbered about how good he’s making you feel. 

It doesn’t take long for you to crest up towards the pinnacle, whole body convulsing, preparing itself for the rushing relief it’s about to experience. Mingyu, knowing very well that you’re about to finish, adds a third digit into your slippery warmth, seemingly triggering your orgasm. You muffle your cries in his neck, falling onto him as your legs give up entirely. He holds you securely with his free arm, feeling kinda dizzy himself. His neck is all slobbered up, covered with messy bites you left while trying to silence yourself. 

It takes you longer than usual to recover, finding the strength to stand on your knees. Blood rushes to your face when you regard the state of your boyfriend’s neck, even the collar of his black polo a victim to your actions. Mingyu, on the other hand, barely holding on, finally starts to pull out his fingers from your pussy, your juices leaking out on his hand profusely from the movement. A breathy whimper escapes you, nerves alight for pleasure once again. 

“Fuck, take a look at this,” He holds up his hand between you two, the slightly viscous liquid catching the sunlight and glowing, making you flush. “You treat me s’well, baby, servin’ me liquid gold.” His words only make you even more embarrassed, eyes avoiding him at all costs. The lewd sound of his slurping sends a tingle through your core, droopy eyes shyly catching him lick his fingers clean. You shudder a little when he moans satisfactorily, eyes trained on you the whole time.

In a sudden surge of boldness, you reach out to caress his jawline, bringing him closer for a kiss. Mingyu hums, a smile forming on his lips before attacking your mouth with full force. You gasp and moan while he finds his way to your tongue, the growingly familiar taste of yourself on his saliva causing a new surge of arousal to your core. Quite desperate to feel him now, you fumble with the button on his trousers blindly, undoing it quickly before reaching for the zipper. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu pulls away with a hiss, his stomach tightening from the feeling of your hand lightly pressing onto his clothed cock. Your eyes greedily devour the outline of his boner, almost poking at the material of his boxer briefs. Pussy clenching at the thought of him filling you up, you pull at the waistband of his underwear. 

“My god, Mingyu,” you swallow nervously, unsure how to react as his heavy cock springs out of its confines, slapping against his tummy. You’ve never seen it this angry and twitching, head covered with a light sheen of his pre-cum. Heart almost beating out of your chest, you reach for him, hands delicately wrapping around his length and giving it a few, slow pumps. 

“Baby, fuck—” His eyes shut close, teeth digging into his plump lower lip to restrict any noises. With your thumb, you spread the gathering pre-cum all over his tip, making him whimper in the process. If you don’t get fucked right now, you might just lose your mind. 

“Need you,” you whisper, pressing a fleeting kiss on his nose. Mingyu looks as if he’s pained, a defeated sigh escaping him. 

“My love, I– I need you too. So, so bad, can’t explain.” His eyes tear up suddenly, “B-but—” 

“What happened…?” You ask, alarmed by his expression.

“I— I don’t have a condom.” He frowns, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in the comfort of your chest. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Your heart drops to your stomach because of how devastating his tone is. 

“Nooo! It’s okay… um, we didn’t know this would happen, y’know? So, um, don’t apologize, please. And don’t talk like that.” You nudge him to look at you. 

“Yeah but… what are we gonna do now? We agreed to be safe from the beginning, so–”

“Well, I’m on birth control for my periods either way, so it’s okay.” You cut him off, desperate for him at this point. 

Mingyu looks up at you, hesitant. “Angel, are you really sure about that?”

A sigh escapes you. You know why he is feeling uncertain, you know that you are the reason. “Gyu, I don’t know anything, but I might just go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now.”

He inhales a shaky breath, your words toying with the few last strings of self-control left in him. “Okay, what about this — I’ll only put the tip inside, make you feel super good so you come quickly for me, and then I’ll pull out before I make a mess.” 

Your body shakes from anticipation. “Just the tip?” 

“Just the tip, baby.” 

Even though it’s not exactly what you had in your mind, you agree quickly. Anything to have him inside you. Also, you’re not too sure how that will possibly work out. You’re almost certain that you’ll end up getting more than just the tip.

Mingyu grabs your waist to position you right on top of him, the urgency in his actions painfully obvious. You gladly comply, too needy to say anything. As you feel his bulbous tip lining up against your entrance, you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “Gyu, I can’t wait anymore, need you right now.” 

With a groan, he slowly guides you down his length, only letting his tip and the following inch inside. You whimper, struggling a little as you get used to the stretch. It’s kind of astonishing how even just that fills you up satisfactorily. But still, you crave all of him, your body knowing the euphoria of having him up in the furthest nooks of your pussy very well. “You’re so big,” you murmur, inner walls clenching around him greedily, eager for more. Mingyu huffs out deep breaths, his ears turning red. How cute.

He collects himself in a moment, firm hands around your hips to make sure you don’t slide down further than he intends to give you today. “You feel s’good, so wet and hot, I feel like I’ll melt.” Mingyu sighs, helping you ride him, his thumb rolling your clit in lazy circles. 

You muffle your cries as he moves your hips in a slow and steady pace, inevitably sliding down his cock, little by little. However, he doesn’t really notice it, lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him so deliciously. “Gyu, harder,” you plead, a bit tired of this torturously slow pace. 

Mingyu complies almost immediately, pulling you even closer, his own hips bucking up to meet you halfway, while he continues to guide your movements. You moan out happily, arms winding around his neck. His thrusts are shallow, but the frenzied movements trigger more pleasure in you.

Eventually, he loses control over your movements, momentarily giving up against the fiery impulses running through his nerves. With all the lubrication between you two, you slide down as much as possible with nothing to restrict you. A string of incoherent words leave you, your body extremely giddy to get what you’ve wanted for so long. 

“Fuck, no, this isn’t working,” Mingyu finally regains his senses, groaning as the untouched parts of his cock are engulfed by your warmth. He swiftly pins you down on an empty side of the picnic blanket. “Bad, bad girl.” 

You squirm under him, whining while he pulls out of you, until only the tip is inside. “Now tell me, what should I do, now that you’ve broken our little deal.”

“Fuck me.” you whimper, your eyes teary by now. Mingyu tuts, shaking his head. You try your best to channel your pitiful, puppy dog eyes, ready to beg if that’s necessary.

“Such crude words from my sweet, little angel.” He sighs, “You’re really into testing my patience, aren’t you? Does it make you happy? Watching me lose my senses over your words?” 

“Don’t hold yourself back, please. I want to make you feel good too. Please, Gyu. Fuck me, make me yours, I don’t even care if people see or hear us anymore. Please.” Your voice is broken, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Mingyu swallows nervously.

“Fucking hell.” The growled expletive marks the end of whatever self-control shit he was on. With one hard thrust, he smoothly fills up your touch-starved pussy entirely, coaxing out a loud moan of relief from you. His right hand immediately covers your mouth. “You might not care about some rando catching us like this anymore but I’ll be damned if someone sees you like this.” 

Mingyu lets go of your wrists, putting his left hand on the small of your back to support your body. “Don’t you dare complain about how you can’t walk later. You brought this upon yourself, remember.” He nibbles on your earlobe teasingly before starting to move against you. His thrusts are on the rougher side, your stomach tightening as the pleasure starts to build-up. 

With your free hands, you reposition his palm covering your mouth, suckling on his fingers instead. In response, you feel his cock twitch so vividly in your pussy, a groan reverberating in his throat. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” 

Mingyu pounds into you in a frenzy, quite obsessed with the raw feeling of your spongy flesh gushing around his cock. You moan and cry around his fingers, clenching happily as you feel your release right around the corner. He also picks up his pace, grinding down onto your clit in the process. Your brain has lost all the critical thinking power, salty streaks running down your cheeks as you’re overwhelmed by the sensations.

You remove his fingers from your mouth, desperate to be heard. “‘m gonna come–” 

“Fuck, come for me, love, I’m gonna pull out,” Mingyu grunts, his pace faltering as his movements lose rhythm, inching closer to his own release.

“No, no— come in me, baby. Please. Don’t ruin my dress.” He has no idea what you are on about, but he’d be lying if he said that it doesn’t sound tempting.

“Princess, do you even know what you’re saying?” He still asks, praying that you come back to your senses, for both of your good.

“I want you to come in me.” You manage to blurt out before your body convulses as the orgasm hits, gummy walls squeezing his cock to a halt. Mingyu curses under his breath, putting his fingers back in your mouth before you can scream your lungs out. Soon enough, he also reaches his peak, the thick, milky white liquid filling up your pussy to the brim. 

“_____, fuck…” he whimpers, reveling in the newfound intimacy between you. You urge him to lay on top of you, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“Gyu,” you whisper, “you mean so much to me.” Mingyu nuzzles your face adoringly, pressing butterfly kisses over your bare skin, wherever he can reach.

“And to me, you’re like the sun.” His silly words make you laugh.

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I’m like the earth orbiting around you, thriving because of your warmth and light?”

You flush at his words, beyond touched that he’d think of you in such a beautiful way. “You make me sound so insincere, Gyu.” Mingyu laughs at your pout, starting to get back up. 

“Yeah well, I still have to figure out what your flowers mean, remember?” He reaches for the packet of napkins lying nearby, sighing at the sight in front of his eyes.

“Yeah…” you trail off, “Do that once you’re home, okay?” He nods, seemingly distracted.

“I’m sorry love, I made such a mess.” 

“We.” 

“Hm?” 

“We made a mess. So don’t be sorry. I’ll help you clean up.” You offer him a smile, which he matches happily. 

Mingyu scrutinizes you one last time, making sure that you look presentable from head to toe. “Yeah, everything looks okay… except that your dress is all wrinkled…”

“I told you it’s fine, I’ll fix it up after a wash, don’t worry!” You reassure him, redoing your braid. “And please wash this outfit as soon as you get home, okay? I know it all dried up now, but still…” 

“I could say the same about your panties.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah, but I doubt it’ll be wearable after today.” You sigh, checking yourself on your selfie camera. “C’mon, let’s go now. It’s afternoon already!” 

Mingyu hands you your basket, holding your free hand as you slowly take a few steps. “Are you sure you can walk?” 

“Yes, positive! I have to get home somehow.” You smile through a wince, making him shake his head. 

“Let’s go to my place. You can go back tomorrow morning after you’ve recovered from the pain. I’ll cook us dinner, help you take a bath, give you meds and cuddle you to sleep.” Mingyu offers, pushing off the bushes so that you guys can finally leave your little sanctuary. 

You both step out on the nearby trail, intertwining your fingers together back again. “Why do you always make it so hard to decline, Gyu?” He gives your hand a firm squeeze, winking at you playfully. 

“It’s a part of the package, baby.” His cocky chuckle infuriates you, but lord, is he right about that. 

This man might just be the end of you. But would you really mind it?

end of act one ♡ next

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 end notes ꒱

wahhh you made it to the end!! thank you so much for reading 🥹🫶🏼; i apologize if there are any mistakes in there, this is very roughly edited jdjfhfjhjff!! BUT i really hope that this was enjoyable and i was able to portray the lovebirds well 🤭! do let me know what you thought of this, please! reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated <333! you can also send feedback through asks if you’d prefer that! 💖

until next time!

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[freedomfireflies]

Jealous*

Summary: The fourth part to 404*

The one where Harry's even more annoying when he's jealous.

But he's kind of cute, too.

Word Count: 5.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“Head back, tongue out.”

Quickly shifting onto your knees, you glance up at the man before you. Watching eagerly as Harry’s large hand strokes the hardened cock that lingers near your lips.

His other palm reaches out for your neck, slowly sliding up into your hair before tugging you back even further. “Like this,” he murmurs, only satiated when you oblige. “Good girl. Show me your tongue, Tink. Come on, not gonna ask you again.”

Quickly, you rush to obey, presenting it to him willingly as you scoot closer and silently plead for his offering.

He gives you a rare, pleased smile that makes your insides jump before he brings his cock closer to your mouth, tapping it twice. “Gonna swallow it all, yeah? Like a good little cumslut?”

Nodding fervently, your lashes flutter in a somewhat desperate attempt to coax him closer to release.

To this, he exhales an amused breath, smirk growing until you see that familiar and infuriatingly charming dimple. “You’re a lot less annoying when you’re desperate, you know that?”

You swat at his thigh. “Shut up and cum in my mouth already.”

“Eager, are we?”

“The fuck do you think? Just do it, come on.”

“See, there you go again. Don’t know how to romance a guy, do you?”

“And why would I ever want to romance you?”

He laughs and sweeps the tip of his cock along your bottom lip. “Because deep down…you like me. Don’t you, Princess?”

And before you can reply with another quippy retort, he’s sliding himself along your tongue, and filling your mouth completely.

It doesn’t take long for that warm, salty tang to go slipping down your throat. Effortlessly coating your taste buds as Harry tightens his grip on your head and releases a rather lascivious groan.

“Fuck…there you go, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall to keep upright. “Take it…fucking take it, Tink, good. Feel so fucking good, don’t you? Such a tight little mouth, yeah?”

He’s babbling, a string of nonsense and praises falling from his tongue, but you revel in it. Indulge in the way you’re the only one on his mind, the only one to make him fall apart so quickly.

And you imagine you’d both like to stay here in the lobby coat closet for at least a few more minutes (or a few more rounds), but before you can entertain the idea, your phone is going off.

The shrill alarm cuts the moment in two, slicing it right down the middle as you pop off his cock and reach over to turn it off.

In turn, Harry blinks, breathing still a tad ragged as he steps back. “What…what is that for?”

“Oh, I have a meeting with Mr. Prescott in five.” You straighten up onto your feet and swipe the back of your wrist across your mouth. “This was fun, though. Thanks.”

Harry blinks. “Wow. Way to dine and dash.”

“Funny,” you snort as you head for the door. “Anyway, I think I’ll be good for a while, so…no need to keep dragging me in here.”

“I didn’t drag you,” he argues with a huff while yanking his jeans back up. “I casually suggested it and you jumped at the opportunity.”

“Mm…wrong.”

“Mm…right. Face it, Princess, you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Actually, I think about everybody but you,” you tell him. “Seriously, just the sound of your name kills my libido. It’s quite sad.”

His eyes roll. “Fucking go already, I have shit to do.”

“Fine, but you have to wait at least three minutes,” you remind him as you slip out into the hallway. “I mean it. Cassie almost saw us last time and I was mortified. So be less suspicious this time.”

“Come on, do you really think I want people to know we’re shagging?” he retorts, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall in wait. “Getting seen with you at the bar was already bad enough.”

“Yeah? Is that why you stuck your hand down my pants in front of everybody?”

“Okay, you know what—”

“No, I don’t. Bye,” you call before swinging the door shut.

Harry’s muffled grumbling follows you all the way to the elevator.

You can’t help but grin as you step inside and hit the button for the fifth floor, flashes of his hands and practiced fingers flooding the forefront of your mind.

You might still hate him, but you suppose you don’t mind his company as much anymore. He’s not as irritating as he was when you first started this little arrangement, and you’ve noticed his technique has gotten better. He’s always been good, but recently he seems to be trying incredibly hard to make each time the best. 

Not that you’d dare complain. After all, it’s not like you’ve really—

“Wait, hold the door!”

Quickly, you reach out and press your palm against the sliding entrance, keeping it inside the frame as the stranger swiftly slides through.

You watch as he gratefully slumps against the railing, seemingly out of breath as he nods his appreciation and allows you to release your hand.

“Thank you,” he exhales, head dropping back against the wall as the elevator takes off. “Thought I was gonna have to take the stairs.”

“No problem,” you return before gesturing toward the buttons. “Which floor?”

“Fifth,” he answers, smiling when he notices it’s already been selected. “You, too?”

“Yeah, I work in the lab.”

Curious, the man straightens up. “No kidding. You’re one of the engineers?”

“Mhm. For about four years now.”

“No fucking way,” he replies, studying you with interest. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, actually. Pay is good, hours are better.”

“Ah, very nice,” he muses. “In that case, do you think you’d be able to show me to Prescott’s office?”

“Sure. I’m headed there now, actually.”

“Yeah?” His head tilts. “Wait, shit…you wouldn’t be working on the Keaton Project, would you?” 

Surprised by his knowledge on your current work, you blink. “Uh…yes, actually. How did you…?”

“I’ve been hired to help with your development operations,” he tells you. “Just for a couple weeks, see where you’re at.”

“Oh, that’s good. Harry and I could use the help.”

The mystery man smirks. “Good. S’what I like to hear.”

With that, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, allowing you and the stranger to begin down the hall and toward the main office.

After a rather interesting discussion with Mr. Prescott, you learn a bit more about Lucas, your new project partner. 

He’s incredibly smart and well spoken, he’s got some wonderful ideas for the website, and he’s absolutely going to drive Harry up the goddamn wall.

You’re practically giddy as you lead Lucas back to the lab to help him get set up. Already imagining the scowl on Harry’s face when he learns he’ll be sharing a space with someone else. Someone arguably much better suited for the position and with much fresher ideas. 

Unfortunately, Harry has already left for the day by the time you return. And while you’re somewhat disappointed that you’ll have to wait on the introductions, you use the rest of the shift to get acquainted with Lucas.

Turns out, he’s delightful, and you laugh harder with him than you have anybody else in a long time. He’s rather flirty, too, you notice, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to have such forward attention and you revel in his sneaky smiles and playful remarks.

You leave the lab that afternoon with a large grin, laughing when he calls, “Goodbye, Duchess,” as you walk out the door.

Come Monday morning, Harry is in a foul mood. You notice it before he’s even set foot into the room, the exasperated expression on his face visible from the parking lot.

He walks differently when he’s upset, you realize. With his hunched shoulders, clenched fists, and heavy footsteps that echo through the halls.

Everyone within a hundred-foot radius takes notice, shooting him odd looks as he strides by, but he pays them no mind. Instead making a beeline for his corner of the room where you reside before throwing his things down with a huff.

“Morning, Sunshine,” you call, turning in your chair to watch while he slumps into his. “What the hell is going on with your hair? It looks…well, like shit.”

A venomous glare is shot through the dark frames of his glasses. “Blow me, Princess. I’m not in the fucking mood today.”

“I can see that,” you reply calmly, hiding a smirk behind the rim of your coffee mug. “Hope you’re at least a little nicer to the new guy.”

Harry’s frazzled and irritated shuffling stills. “What new guy?”

“The new guy,” you say, nodding toward Lucas who’s beginning to make his way through the lab. “Prescott told you, right? He’s working with us for the next couple of weeks on development operations.”

Harry’s attention follows the tall, lanky figure as he moves between the tables, a frown beginning to form. “What the fuck?” he scoffs quietly but full of repulsion. “I’m sorry, since when do we need a fucking babysitter?”

“He’s not a babysitter, Harold. He’s just extra help—”

“We don’t need extra help,” Harry bites back. “Okay, I had it covered—”

“Clearly, yeah. Is that why the simulation kept glitching—”

“It wasn’t glitching, the code was just off. But I had it handled—”

“Sure, yeah. Obviously. That’s why Prescott hired someone else—”

“Duchess,” comes a new addition to the conversation, forcing you and Harry to lean back as Lucas approaches. “Hey, listen. Thank you again for showing me where to set up my shit, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you return with a smile. “Seriously, anything we can help you with, just let us know.”

He nods. “Perfect, yeah. Most of it is just working on the HTML, but eventually I’d like your input on the file transfer.”

Peeved, Harry’s eyes flitter across the man’s face. “Right. And you are?”

“Lucas,” he replies brightly, offering you both a charming smile. “Yeah, sorry. Met Duchess here the other day on the elevator. You must be…Harry, right?”

Harry’s eyebrows begin to weave together, broad shoulders straightening up ever-so-slightly. “Why the fuck were you in our elevator?”

“Well, Duchess was showing me up to the lab," Lucas says, nodding his chin at you while you share a smirk. "Helped me set up, which was really sweet.”

You wave the compliment away while Harry slowly turns to you and subtly mouths, “Duchess?”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Yes. Well. Anyway, Harry and I are really excited about working with you. Aren’t we?”

Harry merely returns your stare with a glare of his own before gritting his teeth. “Fucking ecstatic.”

If Lucas picks up on the charged air between you, he doesn’t comment on it, instead grinning again as he steps back. “Perfect. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod. “Absolutely. Oh, we’re still on for lunch, right?”

“Of course,” he calls before returning to the hallway, leaving you with a very displeased partner. 

You blink.

“Lunch?” Harry repeats, almost incredulously. “You’re having fucking lunch with the babysitter now?”

You snort. “It’s lunch, not an orgy. Relax, Harold—”

“And what the fuck is with the degrading nickname?” he continues, nodding his chin in the direction Lucas disappeared to before nudging his glasses back up. “He sounds like a fucking twat.”

“For your information, Duchess means queen,” you tell him haughtily. “And I love it. It’s a lot nicer than anything you call me.”

“I call you the same fucking thing—”

“No, you call me Tinkerbell,” you correct. “And Princess. Which is nice. But Queen trumps Princess. Sorry.”

He makes another noise before spinning around in his seat, turning his back to you. “Fucking ridiculous. Fine, have your fucking tea parties and your fucking nicknames while I get some real shit done.”

“It’s not a tea party, it’s lunch—”

“Oh, my apologies, your Royal Fucking Highness.”

You smirk.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Got it stuck right up there. Poor thing had to go to the emergency room just to get it removed.”

Lucas laughs – a loud, infectious laugh – while glancing down at his plate with a shake of his head. “Shit. I bet he enjoyed that.”

“No. No, not at all,” you chuckle. “And he wouldn’t speak to me for about a week afterward. Honestly? It was the best week of my life.”

“I imagine.” He runs a long finger around the rim of his glass in thought. “So, he’s always been like that, then? Kind of…sullen? And moody?”

Smiling to yourself, you run through your memories of the brooding man you’ve known for years. Remembering the first day you met, and the way you instantly became enamored by those bright green eyes and chestnut curls.

“No,” you admit. “No, he used to be…fun. Nice. Shy, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was…I mean, he was nervous, I think. It was one of his first jobs out of university, and I think he just wanted to do a good job.”

“Makes sense,” Lucas replies. “From what I’ve seen, he’s quite good at what he does.”

“He is,” you agree, almost begrudgingly. “Always has been, which is really annoying.”

He smiles. “So, what happened? What made him switch?”

You release a heavy sigh and shrug your shoulder. “Honestly…I don’t know. There was a bit of a dark period. He stopped talking to people, stopped going out. Got a motorcycle of all things. And then he just…wasn’t the same.”

“And he never talked about it?”

You snort. “No, Harry doesn’t…talk. About personal things. At least not with me. And asking never gets me anywhere.”

A quiet pause settles over your small table before Lucas leans closer.

“I think he trusts you, Duchess,” he says. “And I think he’s scared of how much.”

“That’s quite an observation from someone who just met him.”

“What can I say, it’s my superpower,” he teases. “But I mean it. His hostility felt…forced. Like he was putting up a wall to save face. And if he really didn’t like you…he wouldn’t spend so much of his time trying to be near you.”

It’s a nice thought. Sweet, even, and you’re almost tempted to entertain the idea.

But you know Harry. You know his cruel jokes, and his pensive demeanor. You know that he fucks to drown out the rest of the world, and that he’d rather spend the rest of his life alone than in someone else’s company.

So, you simply sigh, and offer Lucas another shrug. “Yeah, well. If that were the case, I’d hope he’d at least—”

“The fuck is all this?”

The two of you turn toward the sound of Harry’s huffed remark, smirking to yourselves when you see that familiar frown.

“Uh…lunch,” you reply calmly, raising an eyebrow. “Like I told you.”

Harry comes to a stop just beside the table, flicking his glare between you. “It takes you a fucking hour to eat?”

Your eyes narrow. “It hasn’t been an hour, and we were talking.”

“So you were wasting time?”

Lucas grins, and you catch the way he glances down at the table to hide his amusement.

You straighten up and direct your displeasure toward Harry. “We were not wasting time, we were eating and getting to know each other. Is that all right with you?”

“No,” Harry says simply, and it infuriates you. “You don’t get paid to talk shit.”

“We were not—” You suck in a sharp breath, silently commanding yourself to remain relaxed. “Do you want something?”

“Yes, actually. Prescott wants to see us.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Don’t know.”

You look to Lucas, confused and slightly annoyed while Lucas leans back curiously.

“I’ll come with you,” he offers as you both stand. “If it’s about the project, maybe I can help explain—”

“We don’t need your help,” Harry interjects bluntly. “And he didn’t ask for you. He asked for us.”

You shoot another peeved look his way. “Harry—”

“Really, it’s no problem,” Lucas tries. “I probably need to get caught up, anyway—”

“Then catch up on your own fucking time,” Harry nearly snaps, large hand outstretching to snatch onto your upper arm. “If we need you, we’ll ask for you.”

With that, he begins to drag you away from the table, leaving Lucas and his mystification behind.

Stumbling along, you begin to fight against Harry’s firm grip, already wildly annoyed. “What the fuck is your problem—”

“Your car is fixed, right?” is all he says, keeping his eyes forward as he leads you through the lobby and toward the parking lot.

You hesitate. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

“Where is it?”

Your lashes flutter as you look from him to the array of vehicles before you. “Um…there. By the tree.”

With a short nod, he yanks you forward, guiding you to your car without so much as an explanation. 

Still irritated, you slip yourself free right as he stops beside the trunk. “The hell are you doing—”

He opens the backdoor. “Get in.”

“What?”

“I said get in,” Harry repeats, “Duchess.”

You frown. “And why would I do that?” 

“Because I’m gonna fuck you.”

And you almost want to laugh because you can’t believe where he got the nerve. “You’ve got to be kidding—”

“I’m not,” he says, rather assuredly before guiding his glasses back up. “Get in.”

“Harry…this is so fucking—”

“Don’t care.” He nods his chin toward the backseat. “In, Princess.”

You reckon you should stand your ground and refuse him. Tell him how childish he’s being, how vulgar, how rude. Make it clear that he doesn’t get to stomp his foot and demand you do as you’re told just because he’s upset.

And yet…your legs urge you forward until you’re slipping inside the car and settling on the other side.

Harry follows suit, yanking the door shut to close out the rest of the world before facing you. “Take off your jeans.”

However, your expression is menacing as you begin to fumble with the zipper on your pants. “You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, but he’s beginning to smile as he tugs off his own belt. “But I’m not as pathetic as whatever the fuck that was.”

“What was? A harmless, friendly lunch?”

“Please,” he snorts. “He was clearly flirting with you, and it was hard to watch.”

Your eyes roll as you tug your jeans down your legs. “He was not flirting with me, he was just being nice—”

“Guys aren’t nice,” he retorts. “Not for nothing. He wanted something from you, and I spared you from having to pretend you were interested. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, really? And what did he want? To fuck me? Like you so desperately want to do?”

He scoffs, but he’s smirking. “I fuck you to make you feel better.”

“Right, okay.” You wiggle your underwear down your thighs. “Who’s to say he wasn’t gonna do the same?”

“He wasn’t,” he replies simply. “Trust me. Get up.”

With a huff, you oblige, turning around so you can settle on your hands and knees while Harry gets situated behind you. Strong hands melding to your hips to keep you steady.

His fingers move to smooth between your cheeks and down to your cunt, stroking it softly to prepare you.

Then, he chuckles. “And who is this for, hm?” he taunts, dipping into your arousal to spread it around. Ignoring the way you inhale a sharp hiss. “Me or him?”

You brace yourself against the seat of the car, chin dropping to your chest. “Him,” you grit. “Obviously.”

Harry hums, thumbing at your clit. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, there’s a sharp smack to your left ass cheek that makes you reel, the pain instantly dissolving into pleasure as you whine. 

“Try again,” he tsks before slipping a practiced finger inside. “And this time…be honest.”

“I’m always honest,” you argue, already breathless from the feel of his touch. “How could it ever be for you?”

You can’t see him, but you imagine he’s smiling, entertained by your bratty behavior as he adds a second digit. Curling and pumping at a deliciously slow pace. 

“You’re right,” he finally answers. “You hate me. You’d never get wet for me.”

You swallow another noise. “Exactly.”

“And if I fuck you…you’ll moan his name. Won’t you, Tink?” 

“Yes.”

“Think about him the whole time. Beg him for what you think he can give you.”

“Shit—”

“Imagine his tiny, soft little cock. Too small to get you off. Probably wouldn’t even feel it, would you?”

He’s cruel. Sadistic and outrageously annoying. But he knows exactly how to play you, and you damn him to hell for how well it works. 

He reaches around your body to tug your shirt up, pushing it over your tits until he can take a nice handful.

You love his hands. Love the way his skin feels against yours. The way he tweaks your nipple and rolls it around.

“Like that, don’t you?” he coos, the rhythm of his strokes through your pussy ever steady. “Know you do. Cause I know your body, Princess. Better than he ever will.”

You try to ignore the pleasure that ripples across the deep of your stomach, keeping your focus on the stitching beneath you. You hate when he’s right.

Suddenly, and without warning, he rips his fingers out, leaving you empty and dripping while you groan.

“Easy,” he tuts, now tugging his cock free. He shifts some, propping his leg up onto the seat while his other foot remains on the floor. “Gonna have to be quick, aren’t we? Since you wasted so much of our lunch break with him.”

You exhale a scoff at this, glancing back just long enough to glare.

He grins.

“Stay still,” he instructs, dragging the tip through your folds. Spreading you gently and moaning when he sees his cock glisten with you. “Just like that, s’a good girl. Gonna make it better. Gonna fuck you right.”

The first push in is heaven. It always is, and you aren’t sure why. Like adding the final piece to the puzzle. Complete, in a sense.

Your nails curl into the seat below, a futile attempt at finding some stability as his thick cock stretches you open. 

You hear him hiss through gritted teeth, his hands once again finding your waist to hold you in place. “Breathe,” he suddenly calls, smacking your leg once. “You’re not breathing.”

“Sorry,” you gasp, forcing air back into your lungs. “Don’t…don’t know why I do that.”

He makes a small, entertained noise before allowing you a moment to adjust. “Feels that good, yeah? Do I take your breath away?”

“Blow me,” you retort, but you can’t help smiling. 

Finally, he settles himself all the way, sinking into your warm cunt rather comfortably as you both release sighs of relief. 

“There it is,” you hear him murmur, his fingers curling into your side before he pulls back. “Okay, easy. Easy, Tink, yeah? Shit—”

The rapid but hard pace is addictive. Perfectly full and pleasurable with each thrust and snap of his hips against your ass. 

Despite the somewhat small space, Harry finds a way to bend your body to his will. Keeping you below him as he drives himself faster and faster. Uncoordinated and unrhythmic. He’s merely chasing the feeling, chasing the way your pussy pulls him in. Clenches around him, soaks him, keeps him warm.  

“You know what?” he suddenly seethes, surging forward until he finds a new angle. “I think you were right…think you should have gone with him.”

You want to respond – want to make any other noise besides these strained whimpers, but it’s useless. Your voice forming around his name yet again as your toes curl.

“You were better before he came along,” he says, hand coming down to slap against your ass. The sound echoing around the tiny constraints of the vehicle. “Tighter. Needier. So fucking easy.”

Your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back. He’s feeding into the part of you that likes to be degraded, and you feel a chill dance down your spine.

“Did anything I fucking wanted. Took my cock like a good girl,” he continues. “Let me stretch you. Let me train you. Break you. Have my fucking way with my fucking pussy. Behaved so well for me.”

Another spank is had to your tender skin, and you cry out as you bury yourself into the seat below.

“Now, well…now you're just useless to me. Aren’t you, Princess?” His movements get sloppier. Faster. “Now you waste your time with him.”

In any other moment, you’d refute his comments. Play his game, egg him on.

But in this moment – a moment where your singular focus is him and only him – you find that you can only shake your head quickly and with misery. “No. No, just you.”

You hear him chuckle, and it makes a new wave of arousal rush between your legs. A type of praise you thrive on. “Just me, huh? But you’re not my whore anymore, are you? You’re his—”

“No,” you whimper, writhing when he reaches down to press his fingers to your clit. “Yours…you…only you.”

“I don’t know, Tink. Seemed awful smitten with him. Same way you used to be smitten with me—”

You can do nothing but whine pitifully as you push back into his touch, ass raised and spread in front of him.

Another smack ripples across your cheek before he kneads the flesh with his free hand, circling your clit with the other. “What? What do you wanna say, baby, hm? Wanna beg me to let you cum? Is that what you want?”

You try to nod, but your cheek is pressed firmly to the seat of the car. 

“I know you’re close,” he murmurs, shifting some so he has a better position to fuck himself into you quicker. “God, you’re so fucking close. Can feel your pretty little walls clamping down on me. You’re fucking shaking, baby, come on. Come on, let go. I’ll let you cum. Go ahead.”

To accompany his instruction, he begins to rub the sensitive nerves in a harder fashion. Pressing them down as he forces your body to comply.

It happens all in the same moment. There’s no time for preparation or warning as you release a strangled gasp that disappears into his equally fervent moan.

Instantly, he releases your clit to take hold of your hips with both hands, and slam his cock into you – sheathing himself completely as he releases his load.

It’s familiar and incredible. The car is hot and filled with the sounds of your ecstasy. You’re drowning in it – drowning in him. In the way he makes you feel, in the blinding pleasure that still travels down the back of your neck all the way to your toes.

It’s deep and it’s full and it’s endless. One of the best you’ve had, and you can’t help but smile as you work to catch your breath.

You begin to slump forward as Harry chases after you. Slipping his arm beneath your stomach to keep you upright and turn you toward him as his cock slips out. 

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, glancing over the part of your face he can see. “You all right? You breathing?”

You nod weakly. “Mhm. M’good. So good.”

You catch his soft smile. “Good.”

He reaches for your panties, gently dragging them back up until they settle around your hips. Keeping what’s left of his cum inside of you.

“Just in case Lucas gets any ideas,” he teases, shooting you a wink before helping you sit up. 

You both begin to wrangle your clothing back on, redoing belts and buttons as you work to catch your breath. 

Oddly enough, Harry doesn’t rush to exit the car, and you find yourself somewhat surprised. Instead, he merely readjusts his glasses, runs a hand through his hair, and slumps back against the seat.

And for some reason, the sight of his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils makes you grin. And you find that you can’t resist moving closer and crawling onto his lap.

Once you’re straddled across his thighs, you dip down, and take his lips with yours. Kissing him hard and with everything you haven’t been able to give him before, ignoring his look of his surprise. 

But he kisses you back, exactly the way you knew he would. Taking hold of your body once more to keep you close.

Tongues and teeth clash – it’s messy and rushed, yet effortless and easy. And you can’t help but smile giddily as you tug on his bottom lip.

When you finally pull back to breathe, Harry is wearing a similar expression, seemingly dazed and amused as he holds you on his lap.

Chuckling, you swipe your thumb across his mouth. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

He nips at your finger to make you squeal. “I know.”

A quiet moment settles then as you study him, feeling entranced and relaxed by the soft green behind his crooked glasses.

With a gentle smirk, you push them back up, and whisper, “Were you really jealous?”

His snobby scoff makes you laugh. “I was not fucking jealous, Tinkerbell. You just don’t know him.”

“Neither do you,” you retort. “He’s really nice. He just wants to help.”

He groans again, letting his head drop back. “For fuck’s sake, Princess. You’re so goddamn trusting—”

“Yeah, I am. After all, I trust you.”

His eyes fall to yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles again, and you feel your heart flutter. Reminded yet again of the way things used to be – a time before the hostility and angry comments.

You think back to what Lucas said. His inquiry on the shift, and while you’re sure nothing good can come from your prying, you find yourself asking, “What happened?”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“To you. To us, I guess,” you ask, growing oddly nervous under his confused stare. “When you first started, you were so…nice. And happy. And sweet, even.”

His expression falls, settling into a chilling frown.

“And then…I don’t know, something happened,” you continue, now a bit quieter. “You changed, you got…angry, and tense, and you just…you hid yourself away, you know? And don’t get me wrong, I like bickering with you, I just…I guess I’ve always wondered what…went…wrong?”

You feel him tense beneath you. The way his hands tighten and the way that soft green turns into a raging storm of indifference and spite.

Almost within the blink of an eye, he disappears into another version of himself. One that refuses to participate in this discussion and one that desperately wants to remove himself from you.

You can feel him slipping away. Can feel the drop in your stomach – a pit a mile deep. Normally, you like to piss him off. But this is different, this is…this isn’t what you want.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing once. “Why does it fucking matter?”

“I don’t…I guess it doesn’t,” you stammer, shrugging once. “I just wondered, is all. I don’t mind, or anything, I just…I was thinking about it—”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know. Lucas asked, and I thought—”

“Lucas?” It’s a venomous scoff that makes you jolt. “Let me guess. He was just trying to help—”

“No, he just…he asked what you were like, and I said that you…you—”

“I what?”

“That…fuck, I just said things used to be different,” you huff, but your cheeks feel warm. You’re embarrassed. Disappointed in yourself for pushing. For ruining the first calm moment the two of you have ever shared. “And it made me think about it, so I…I wanted to ask—”

“Well don’t,” he seethes, releasing your waist as if trying to get away from you. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“I know,” you agree, sliding off his lap to give him a bit of space. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…I thought maybe I could help.”

He shoots you a look that splits right through you. It’s cold and it’s incredulous and it makes your throat run dry. 

“Why?” he says again, studying you closely. “Why the fuck would you want to help?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure. “I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a part of me…a very small part…that doesn’t totally hate you? I guess?”

You wince as you say it. You hate the way it sounds. Hate what it implies because you do hate him. 

But not enough to leave him when he needs you.

Harry’s lashes flutter at your response, and he watches you for a moment more before he leans back, and his expression twists.

“Yeah, well…it doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, almost to himself as he reaches for the handle on the door. “So don’t fucking worry about it.”

Confused and somewhat dejected, you lean forward. “Har—”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“…what?”

He sighs, looking down toward the floor. Refusing your eye. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t…I don’t want to do this. With you. It’s too fucking…there’s too much extra shit. All right, it was fun, but I don’t…I’m done.”

There are a hundred things you want to say. A hundred excuses, a hundred pleas, a hundred retorts.

But none of them feel fitting as you watch him push the door open and step out. 

He hesitates, almost as though expecting you to stop him. To argue and call him back.

Yet you don’t. Because you know that nothing you say will ever be able to change his mind.

He’s already decided.

“Fine,” you whisper, offering a short nod. “Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

He looks at you. Finally. Expression filled with a solemn sort of goodbye before he nods as well.

And the door slams shut.

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[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and had sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s whose name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing out dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture most. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It felt instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the next room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they didn’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head back so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want or need Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

[newobsessionweekly]

Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Little did you know he feels the same way about you.

Warning: None. Pure fluff. Not proofread yet

Fluff

A/N: Yes, i'm back with another fluff. And yes it's shorter than the last one (i hope so) . Anyways, I love this one. I love all of them and I hope you enjoy it as well! Also i suck at title so forgive me. I have a surprise coming up so stay tuned. Also, the feedback is always welcome and would help me out. Have a wonderful day, bubs. and lots of love 🫧 Requested: Yes Words: 2.3k GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

You made your way through the crowded streets, heading to the police station, a direct order and classified information dictating your day.

Inside the station, the air is alive with activity, officers bustling about as they go about their duties. The scent of coffee and paperwork fills the air, a familiar aroma that feels like home. You navigate the labyrinthine halls with ease, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way toward a specific desk.

And there's Tim, your best friend and partner in crime. He's every bit as striking as you remember, with his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His piercing blue eyes hold a hint of world-weariness, a testament to the countless battles he's fought both on and off the streets of LA.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight, Tim frowning over some files, trying to find a way to catch that woman. Gladly for him, you were sent there to give them a hand.

Playfully, you snuck up on him, sliding into the chair beside Tim with a mischievous grin. "Hey there, partner." you greeted him, nudging his shoulder.

Tim's head shot up, a surprised, almost intelligible, smile breaking through his expression as he grumbles something indecipherable, but you know him well enough to recognize the hint of amusement in his eyes. "Can't a guy get some peace and quiet around here?" he mutters.

"Don't be so exited to see me, I might think you like me or something." you played the sarcastic card as you reached over to snatch the file from his hands.

"So, what brings you to the lion's den today?" Tim asks, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as he leans against his desk, arms crossed.

You lean in closer, your fingers brushing against his arm as you secretively whispered, "I heard there's a handsome police officer in need of my assistance. Thought I'd drop by and grace you all with my presence," you quip, earning an amused snort from him.

A playful smirk crosses Tim's lips as his breath winds warm against your ear. "Right, because we all know this place wouldn't be the same without you."

As Tim leans in closer, his voice low and husky, you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, captivated by the warmth of his presence and the depth of emotion in his eyes. And as he grins at you, that familiar twinkle of mischief dancing in his gaze, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's been by your side through thick and thin. You chuckle, knowing Tim's gruff exterior hides a soft spot for you. "Actually, I'm here on official business," you admit, your expression turning serious.

As you steal a moment to admire Tim, you can't help but notice how the dim light of the station casts a soft glow on his rugged features, accentuating the lines of his jaw and the shadow of stubble along his chin. His tousled hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes your fingers itch to reach out and brush it away, but you resist the urge.

Tim's interest is piqued as he straightens up, all traces of humor fading from his face. "What kind of business?" he asks, his tone more serious now.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing "Well, you know how my department has been working on that recent string of burglaries? I think I might have stumbled upon some information that could help you catch the woman behind it," you explain, your words coming out in a rush as you anxiously await Tim's reaction.

Tim's expression shifts, his eyes narrowing as he processes your words. "You think you've found something?" he asks, his voice tinged with a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

You nod eagerly, a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as you showed him the files. "Yeah, I've been going through the data from our latest investigations, and I noticed a pattern," you explain, your excitement palpable.

His lips twitch into a half-smile, a flicker of pride evident in his eyes as he looks at you. "You're amazing, you know that?" he says, his voice low and sincere.

Tim's eyes soften as he looks at you, a warmth radiating from him that makes your heart skip a beat. You find yourself getting lost in the depths of his piercing blue eyes, unable to tear your gaze away.

There's a subtle warmth in his touch, a lingering of his hand on your arm as he gestures or a light brush of his fingers against yours when passing papers. It's a touch that speaks volumes, conveying a depth of affection that goes beyond mere friendship.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, you can't deny the way your heart races at the sight of him, or the way your skin tingles with electricity whenever your hands accidentally brush against each other. It's as if every touch, every fleeting glance, only serves to deepen the unspoken connection between you, binding you together in a way that defies explanation.

Your voice barely more than a breath as you lean into his touch, savoring the feeling of his fingers against your skin. In that moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of warmth and affection.

As you and Tim discuss the details of the case, a beautiful woman approaches with a stack of papers in hand. "Sir, I finished up the paperwork from this morning's arrest," she says, flashing a bright smile, confident and proud of herself.

You switched looks between the woman and Tim, admiring him and how his muscles were more visible. He switched in his seat to face Chen, as written on the tag. With one hand still laying on your waist, slowly moving up and down, sending cold shivers down your spine despite the warmth, he took the papers from her with his free hand and inspected them with a serious expression.

"Quit frowning, you'll get even more wrinkles." you told him as your elbows rested on his desk, your hands cupping your cheeks. You can't resist the urge to tease Tim, your playful banter a familiar comfort amidst the tension of the moment.

You smiled at him as he ignored your remark, he turns at the woman nodding his head, acknowledging her with a grunt. "Officer Chen, this is Y/N," he introduces, gesturing towards you. "She's an old friend of mine, works in the forensic department."

Lucy offers you a friendly smile and extends her hand. "I'm Lucy. Nice to meet you," she says warmly.

You shake her hand with a smile of your own. "Likewise," you reply, noting the earnestness in Lucy's eyes. "So this is your rookie." you turned to your best friend and then your attention focused on his rookie once more, "Tim speaks about you all the time."

Tim clears his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, we should get going," he says, his voice a tad too loud in the suddenly awkward silence. "We've got patrol duty."

Angela overhears your name and practically materializes at Tim's desk, her curiosity piqued. "Why did no one tell me Y/N is here?" she asks, her eyes wide with interest.

Before you could think, you jump from your seat, missing Tim's warmth as you embraced Officer Lopez in a tight hug "Honey, glad to see you. It's been too long." you told her, gently caressing her back as you withdrew from the hug.

Pulling back, Angela's gaze flickering between you and Tim with a knowing glint in her eye. "I know, I've been busier than ever," she says with a chuckle. "But I might have some free time tonight. Gotta go, but I'll give you a call!"

Angela shows your best friend a mischievous grin as he clenches his jaw, uncomfortable at the attention you received. "Boot, prepare the shop for patrol." he barked at Lucy.

"Yes, sir." she nodded, following Angela's steps.

As you gathered your belongings, Tim could calmly breathe as the two of you had been left alone. It wasn't the fact he didn't adore your friendliness and caring side, he was jealous when he had to share that with anyone.

"Hey, uh," he called out, his tone tinged with an underlying nervousness.

Turning to face him, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to search yours, as if seeking reassurance or perhaps something more.

"I was thinking," he began, his words trailing off for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued. "I was thinking we could grab a drink after our shift. You know, just to unwind."

His suggestion caught you off guard, and for a moment, you struggled to find the right words.

"That sounds great, Tim," you said, exited at the thought of escaping the daily chaos "We should ask Angela too."

As soon as the words left your mouth, his expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he replied, his tone betraying a hint of resignation.

Lucy couldn't help but steal glances back at you and as she made her way to the patrol shop. "So, Angela" she began, her voice filled with unstoppable curiosity " What's the deal with them?"

Angela chuckles softly as she saw the spark in Chen's eyes "Oh, they've been friends for as long as I can remember. They're practically inseparable."

Lucy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise "You wouldn't tell he'd have friends… at all."

Lopez helps Lucy with the bags as they made their way to the shop "Oh, they go way back."

"Really?"

"Let's just say there's a lot more to their relationship than meets the eye," she says cryptically, enjoying the opportunity to tease Tim.

Lucy's eyes widen in realization, her gaze flickering back to you and Tim standing by the entrance of the station. Tim's smile is wide, his eyes lighting up like torches as your cheeks rose a bright, red colour "You don't mean…" she begins, trailing off as the pieces start to fall into place.

Angela simply nods, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Exactly," she replies, her tone filled with amusement. "But don't take my word for it. Just keep an eye on them, and you'll see for yourself."

As Lucy and Tim hit the streets on patrol, he is back to his grumpy self, his jaw clenched as he drove through the streets of LA. His rookie tries to lighten the mood with small talk, but Tim's responses are short and curt.

"My private life is none of your business."

"Come on, Tim," Officer Chen insisted, casting a sidelong glance at him. "You've been avoiding this conversation all day. What's going on with you and Y/N?"

Tim lets out a frustrated sigh, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "There's nothing going on," he replies tersely, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The rookie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced by his response. "Bull," she retorts. "I've seen the way you look at her. You can't hide it from me."

Tim's jaw tightens even further, his knuckles turning white against the dark leather of the steering wheel. "Look, Officer Chen," he begins, his voice strained. "I don't know what you think you saw, but Y/N and I are just very close friends. That's it."

Lucy lets out an exasperated sigh, frustration bubbling up inside her. "You can't tell me you don't feel something for her. I've never seen you light up the way you do when she's around."

Tim's expression softens slightly at her words, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a scowl. "Feelings don't matter," he says brusquely. "Even if I did have feelings for her, which I don't, there's no way she feels the same way about me. I'm no dating material. "

Lucy shakes her head, her voice firm. "You're wrong, Tim," she says, her gaze unwavering. "You're worth more than you think, and Y/N knows that. You just have to give her a chance."

Tim falls silent, his thoughts swirling as he grapples with Lucy's words. Maybe she's right, he thinks, maybe he's been too quick to dismiss the possibility of something more with you. But the fear of ruining your friendship looms large in his mind, holding him back from taking that leap of faith.

He suddenly pulled the car on the right side, making Lucy frown. As she watched Tim forming Angela's number, a cloud of questions blurring the rookie's mind, eager to hear what he had to say.

"Hey, Angela." he began, a nervous edge creeping into his voice as he ran a hand through his hair "Listen, don't ask any questions, ok? If Y/N calls to invite you out tonight, please, just say no" his foot tapped impatiently as he awaited her response. "Thanks, I'll owe you one."

"What was that?" Lucy asked as Tim pocketed his phone and revved the engine.

"I just made sure I have a date with Y/N tonight." With a grin, he pulled back onto the road, leaving Lucy to process his unexpected move.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hi hi! jade req again, kinda toxic this time

can we get jade with a reader who’s really easy to manipulate and they know it? idk if it makes sense but like jade realizing reader isn’t oblivious to his manipulation, just kinda self-destructive and hopelessly into him

jade thought he was being slick because reader wasn’t calling him out on anything, but he overhears their conversation and finds out that they’re fully aware jade is a ton of red flags but is still staying anyway, and his reaction to that

i really hope this makes sense! idk how to word it

jade w/ an easily manipulated reader ✧･ﾟ

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Aw! Thank you for another request! I love Jade and Octavinelle so much! I hope that I did your idea justice. Please let me know if you'd like another request in the future! Onwards to the story! ^^

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Summary: Jade Leech has been stringing [Name] along for fun and due to the instruction of Octavinelle's Housewarden. He thought he was doing well... but it seems [Name] may have had ulterior motives.

TW/CW: Toxicity but the standard Fish Mafia kind

Notes: established "relationship", they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is described as human and younger than Jade/frosh, ADeuce if you squint, implied to be post-Azul OB

Guest Stars: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Grim, Azul Ashengrotto & Floyd Leech (referenced)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Jade Leech

As much of a sadist as Jade can be, he's not exceptionally cruel outside of what he deems as the necessity for his purposes.

He is a bit smug when he thinks he has [Name] under control.

Jade is pretending to be "honor student Jade Leech."

He acts as their friend and support albeit for the Lounge.

He pretends to care, to do everything to help them.

He smiles at them, speaks politely, and even "affectionately."

They trust him and they tell him things they shouldn't.

He will use those bits of information when the time comes.

Every time they have an inkling of doubt, he squashes it.

His surprise is evident when Floyd points out that it might not be the case this time, but Floyd is Floyd and doesn't explain.

Wanting to make sense of this discovery, Jade observes [Name].

He watches to see if [Name] really has caught onto him.

Jade is intrigued and what he finds does not disappoint.

He is surprised to find that they caught on long ago.

But they stayed? Why?

Because they "love" him?

Why would they love the guy trying to string them along?

It didn't make sense to him. He felt a tug at his heartstrings.

Did he feel bad about this?

He didn't know what to do.

Jade starts to avoid [Name] after realizing their feelings.

He retracts further into his honor student persona.

[Name] will not win this fight. He will not be bested by a freshman.

The battle has just begun and Jade needs to bury this sinking feeling in his chest. What does it mean anyway?

Floyd serves as a live studio audience to Jade's struggles.

Jade is an observer. That had been his role for so long, that he wasn't sure when it began. Ever since he was young, he would watch and calculate while Floyd was the type to rush into things, be impulsive, and just a tad stupid at times, at least when they were young. Jade never intended to make his observations a skill, but sooner or later, everything becomes an asset.

That's what his father had always said.

His mother worried about the sadistic streak in her son, but she couldn't do anything to prevent its development. Jade was, after all, a member of the Leech family. He and Floyd would join the family business sooner or later unless they wholly refused its offer.

"[Full Name]," Jade mused to himself, "How interesting."

Azul had been the one to ask him to pay extra close attention to Ramshackle's Prefect in case they strayed too far from things, or got into any trouble. The magicless human that had saved others from themselves, they interested the owner of Mostro Lounge. Jade had simply agreed with Azul's request, observation was his skill, after all.

It had never been meant to evolve, and certainly not into this.

Jade watched as this person fell for his polite words hook, line, and sinker. It was almost too easy. They were shockingly trusting, telling him all sorts of things he could use to be downright evil if he wanted to be. It wasn't time for that, not yet, but one should always guard their secrets (perhaps not as much as Azul, but at least a bit).

He didn't need to do anything unless the moment called for it.

At the time, it had not been necessary.

That was weeks ago.

Azul hadn't given further instructions and, to be fair about it, Jade didn't want to earn that octomer's ire. Not today, anyway. He and Floyd were troublesome, yes, but not stupid.

So, as Azul had instructed, he was trailing the Prefect until told otherwise (or until it became boring, whichever arose first). Though their reactions had been predictable, he could argue that things were getting boring now.

Floyd would have given up ages ago, he was sure of it.

[Full Name] was currently spending their time with their classmates, Ace Trappola (easily swayed by competition and bets) and Deuce Spade (note: gullible as a child). Jade had kept an eye on the three of them (and Grim) because of their closeness. It was rather irritating how buddy-buddy they were. He had worked a bit to get [Name] alone those few times they had spoken privately.

Standing away from the trio, Jade listened in on their conversation.

"[Name], I don't think that this is good," Deuce told them, clearly worried for their friend's mental state, "You need to be more careful. Don't you remember what happened to me and Ace?"

"I fucking remember!" Ace chimed in, "It sucked. Don't trust fish."

"Nya! Fish are food, not friends," Grim told them, "Especially eels!"

"Ah... You guys..."

Jade almost wanted to chuckle at Grim's words of "wisdom" but he withheld it, knowing that he mustn't give away his position. Not yet.

"You shouldn't trust Leech-senpai," Deuce continued, "Do you not remember how he and his twin brother acted before?"

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US, [NICKNAME]!!" Ace interrupted Deuce, earning him a glare from the navy-haired boy, "Sorry, Deuce-chan."

"Don't call me that."

What Deuce was doing could only be described as glowering.

"Lighten up and help me convince [Nickname] not to get themselves murdered by a shady eel and a shadier octopus!" Ace told him, slapping Deuce on the shoulder, "Just because they're better doesn't mean they're changed fish! Fish are suspicious!"

"Ace, do you have some fish-related trauma outside of campus that I should know about?" Deuce asked him, "It's starting to seem—"

"FOCUS ON [NICKNAME], DEUCE."

Ace's reddened face was a sign that Deuce was on to something with that fishy nonsense. Jade Leech would remember that fact.

Fish trauma. Noted.

"....Okay," Deuce agreed, turning back to [Name], "Do you want to tell us what you've been doing with Leech-senpai? We're worried..."

Deuce trailed off for a moment before he added a Deuce-typical offer.

"I can fight him if you want me to. They're messing with my friend."

"N-no thanks, Deuce... I don't think I need that," [Name] said, laughing at the antics of her friends and roommate, "Honestly, I know he's not being honest with me... But I don't really... care?"

The words surprised Jade but he refused to give himself away. There was more information to be gathered, for his own needs and Azul's.

They don't mind my dishonesty? Heh...

"I have never been more concerned for you than I am right now," Ace said, tone lacking its usual goofy undertone, "Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about anything? They would help..."

Ace wasn't sure what to do but this was a worry. So frantic to say his sentence Ace neglected to register his misnomer for Vice Housewarden Trey Clover and everyone's favorite senpai Cater Diamond. He could lay awake and think about that later.

Deuce clearly felt similarly as he reached out to put a hand on [Name]'s. He wasn't good at solving problems of the emotional variety but he could be a support. Or, he would try to be one.

"Even if we can't say anything helpful... We can be here to listen."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," [Name] tried to assure them (but it wasn't working), "I just... I like Jade-senpai... and if this is how... he will talk to me... then I am okay with it. I've just been going along with all... that."

Jade felt time stop for a millisecond as he processed the words. They had been "playing along"? They didn't fall for every trick? Perhaps this was more interesting than he had thought. Still. He didn't like being bested, perhaps he needed to up his game...

"[Name], that's not good... I don't think..." Deuce managed.

"I wish Mom and Dad were here..." Ace mumbled.

"[Name], don't leave me for a fish! It's not even tuna!"

Grim clung to his human with small paws, tail swishing.

Jade was baffled not by those that Azul had previously controlled but by [Name] themself. They were something odd amongst the students of Night Raven College. They didn't shy away from his... methods.

But they said they liked him. He wondered if that made him feel something. He wasn't one to like other people, stay around them long... especially these landfolk.

It was a foreign concept.

Oh dear. [Full Name], you've managed to intrigue me now.

To the concern of Deuce, Ace, and Grim, Jade Leech wouldn't be letting his human prey go any time soon. Not for Azul, or his brother... This was something he was pursuing now. For better or worse.

I hope they're prepared to best me once more.

What would they say if I said I "loved" them? ♪

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[supernovafics]

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: college!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k words

summary: in which a plethora of coincidences keep pushing you and steve toward each other and you kind of hate it

warnings: slight!fuckboy steve, explicit language, angst, some fluff

author’s note: hope y’all enjoy<3333 (full folklore series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You didn’t know his name, but you saw him almost everywhere. 

Actually, you did know his name, Steve, but you didn’t really know him. 

What you did know was that he had been a shitty group partner to have last semester for a history class, and that he had an on-again/off-again, more so off-again, relationship with your roommate who you had a polite but surface-level friendship with. He also frequented the diner you worked at a few minutes off campus with his basketball friends and dates; and you couldn’t help but notice that it was always a different girl each time. 

Even though there were a bunch of opportunities for something to happen between you two, you’d never had an actual conversation with him. Not that you necessarily wanted to. But, after having the plethora of instances where you could’ve talked to one another, it sometimes surprised you that you didn’t at least have some sort of a friendship with this guy you’d see way too often. 

You chalked it up to the fact that even though you two would share passing glances every so often with one another, you’d never been in a one-on-one situation with him. 

Until you finally were, and it was in perhaps one of the worst and weirdest ways possible. 

You were walking down a random aisle on the fourth floor of the campus library when you bumped into Steve. Well, “bumped” is a bit of an understatement because you quite literally tripped over him. 

For some reason, he was sleeping in the middle of the aisle, and you didn’t notice until it was too late since your eyes were solely trained on the shelves as you searched for one book in particular. 

“Jesus Christ,” You yelped as you tumbled to the ground, glad that your brain thought quick enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant. 

When you looked at what caused you to fall and saw Steve leaning against a bookshelf with his legs out, you inwardly groaned because, of course, it was him. 

“Ouch,” He said with a small yawn as he rubbed the leg that you tripped over. “Weird wake-up call.”

“Why the hell are you sleeping here?” You asked as you started to get up. 

“I was trying to study for a test and then I got tired,” He shrugged and then finally looked at you. “Hey, you look crazy familiar.”

You almost laughed at that and thought about simply walking away from him, but decided against it. The universe clearly wanted you two to have a conversation with one another, so you decided to finally give it what it wanted.  

“We were in the same group for a history project last semester,” You answered. 

“Oh yeah,” He said and his eyes cast downward. “Sorry about that. I know I was probably the worst person in that group.”

“Very, very true,” You nodded, although you were no longer upset about that whole situation. Not that you were ever truly mad, anyway. “Also, you had, or maybe still have, some sort of fling going on with my roommate. Lissa.”

“That is definitely a past tense thing,” He responded with so much certainty that you silently wondered what happened between them. You weren’t close enough with Lissa to talk to her about that sort of thing, though.  

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere else though, too,” Steve said and then thought for a moment. “Oh, you work at that diner, right?”

“Yup, mostly weekends but some weeknights too.”

Steve nodded at your words. “Huh, surprised we never talked before.”

You didn’t tell him that you had been thinking the same thing and instead decided to sit down across from him putting your legs out as well. “What class are you studying for?”

“Psychology,” He answered and then showed you the textbook next to him, which looked eerily familiar. 

“With Dr. Brooke?” 

Steve nodded and you fought the urge to look around to see if you were on some sort of elaborate prank show. Because it didn’t fully make sense to you how all of these fucking coincidences were happening. 

“I’m in that class too,” You responded after a brief stint of silence. 

In this case, it kind of made sense that you didn’t know he was also in that class because it was huge, with at least a hundred fifty people in that auditorium-type room. 

“Wow,” Steve verbalized the surprise you were inwardly feeling. “Weird.”

You couldn’t help but finally let out a small laugh. “‘Wow’ and ‘weird’ are probably the understatements of the century.” You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them. “I think we kind of have to be friends now. These coincidences are too fucking insane to not be.”

He smiled at you and there was something about it that made you fully understand why he so easily had a new girl to bring to the diner every week. 

“What if I take you on a date?”

A part of you immediately felt surprised by his question and how abrupt it was. However, the other part of you sort of saw it coming because it made a little bit of sense. Case in point, the fact that you would frequently see him with a new girl. Asking someone out was probably equivalent to breathing for him. 

“No,” You answered simply before standing up. 

You didn’t notice the immediate confused look on his face as he followed suit and abruptly stood as well. 

“Why not?”

There were a lot of reasons you could’ve given him as the answer to that question. Such as how he’d been with your roommate, and although you weren’t best friends with Lissa, something about it still felt at least a little wrong. Or the fact that the thought of being added to his list of conquests made you feel physically ill. 

“I’d just rather not,” You ultimately answered with a small shrug and then started walking away. You quickly pushed away your lingering thought that told you that if the circumstances were different you would’ve fully considered saying yes to him. 

Steve didn’t follow you as you walked away. Instead, the wheels in his brain started turning as he thought about how he could get you to go out with him, something told him that you would be harder to get than the majority of girls he’d been with before. 

However, he never shied away from a challenge. In fact, there was a part of him that loved them. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. were there clues i didn't see?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow through the hordes of people, Steve managed to find you the next day in your shared psychology class, and he sat right next to you. 

“Hi, friend,” You said when you noticed him and smiled. 

Before he could say anything in response, class started and the professor started speaking, almost immediately jumping into the lecture; and he was very intense about his no talking policy. As you half-listened to him discuss the final chapter that would be on the test next week and tried to take somewhat useful notes, you were interrupted by Steve bumping your elbow with his and sliding his notebook over to you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the action before you read what was written in the margin.

Do you like pizza?

You almost laughed at the randomness of the question. You met his curious gaze for a brief moment and then wrote your response.

Obviously. I’m not a psycho

You pushed the notebook back to Steve and then went back to paying attention to the lecture. Moments later, he slid it back toward you. 

Wanna get some tonight? I know a really good place a few minutes off campus 

If it’s just a friendly hangout then yes

No. Date?

You rolled your eyes at the question and moved the notebook back toward him without saying anything. You could see in your peripheral that he was adding something else before pushing the notebook to you. 

Please?

You crossed out that question and his previous words, and then under it drew a tic-tac-toe board, putting an X in the middle. 

You watched as Steve made his move, an O in the top left corner, and then wrote something else. 

If I win, will you say yes?

Your one worded response was immediate. 

No.

And then you made your move, putting an X under his O. 

He didn’t write anything else, which you were actually surprised about, and instead just continued playing tic-tac-toe. You won the first game, and then he won the next two, and you were close to starting another one with him, because you wanted to redeem yourself, but you forced yourself to listen to the end of the lecture. 

“So pizza date tonight? I’ll pick you up at 8?” Steve asked when class was over, and the both of you started packing your things. 

You laughed a bit. “I think we have very different memories of the conversation that just took place in your notebook.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you were glad when he was bombarded by a few of his basketball friends. You used that opportunity to slip away and out of the room without having to say anything else to him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“gave me the blues and then purple pink skies. and it's cool, baby, with me.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Surprisingly enough, when Friday night rolled around, Steve showed up at the diner alone; for the first time probably ever. 

You didn’t say anything to him aside from giving him a small wave, which he returned with a smile. 

You weren’t the waitress taking care of him that night, and you could tell that Casey, who you worked with most nights, was also surprised to see him by himself because just like you, she was used to seeing him with girl after girl. 

Toward the end of your shift, you slid into Steve’s booth, sitting across from him. “You’re probably bored out of your mind being here alone, aren’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite from one of the few stray fries left on his plate. “I’d rather be alone if it’s not gonna be you sitting across from me.”

You pretended as if his words had no affect on you, even though they slightly pulled at your heart. You had to remind yourself of his track record, most of which you’d seen firsthand. And because of that, you also reminded yourself that you could only be friends with him. 

“Very smooth,” You said and then slid back out of the booth. “But, also probably the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the truth.” You heard him say as you walked away, and you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. 

Barely ten minutes later, he went up to where you stood behind the counter putting napkins in a dispenser. His bill was paid and you had expected him to leave at any moment, and you hated that the thought of him leaving made you feel a little bit sad. 

“What time are you done here?”

You met his gaze. “In exactly five minutes, actually.”

“Can we do something after?” He asked and when you tilted your head at him, he followed up with, “I promise I only have the friendliest of intentions.”

“I finally brought you to the friendship side?”

“No, but for this instance, yes.”

That managed to make you smile a bit. “Can we go to that pizza place you were talking about? If they’re still open?”

“Yeah, it is. They close at three because the stoner crowd usually shows up around one and that’s peak business.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded.  “I don’t drive, so I’ll meet you at your car.”

A confused look crossed Steve’s face. “You don’t drive? How do you get here?”

“I walk from my dorm, it’s only about ten minutes,” You answered with a small shrug. 

“Oh, okay,” He responded, and didn't say it aloud to you, but he now knew that he would make it his mission to pick you up at the end of your shifts so that you wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark anymore. “I’ll meet you outside.”

When you stepped out of the diner, a minute earlier than expected, you were quick to get in Steve’s car.

“Do you have a sweater or something I could wear? I left my jacket at home,” You asked, not really thinking too much of the question because you hated wearing the baby blue dress that was your uniform anywhere other than the diner. 

Steve reached into the backseat and handed you a hoodie, which you immediately slipped over your head. The hoodie swallowed you whole and made it look as if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, but it felt so comfortable that you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked when you both finally decided to leave the pizza place around two in the morning. He had walked you to the passenger side of his car, but before you opened the door to get inside, you turned around to face him and you didn’t say anything as you met his eyes, which was what prompted his previous question. 

There was a lot that you were thinking right then, and most of the thoughts surrounded the fact that you had thoroughly enjoyed yourself on this “non-date” with Steve. He was genuinely nice and funny, and such a fucking charmer that it made you want to roll your eyes while giggling at his words. And he was being honest about keeping things friendly for the most part, although you had a feeling that not being a least a little flirty was impossible for him. 

And it was all of that put together, that made one thought sit heavily at the forefront of your mind. 

“I think I wanna kiss you,” You finally answered, and you were surprisingly not scared by your complete honesty. 

He smiled at that and his hands found your hips as he moved the tiniest bit closer to you and his next two words came out softly. “Do it.”

You had to pull your eyes away from his because you were so close to listening to him. 

“I can’t.” Your voice was quiet. 

“Why not?”

“Because I really just want us to be friends.”

“We can still just be friends even if you kiss me right now,” Steve told you, and although you were unsure if you fully believed him, you still decided to take his word for it and you pushed yourself up on your toes a bit to press your lips against his. 

You could tell he was initially surprised by the abruptness of it, but he kissed you back almost immediately. Your arms came up to wind around the nape of his neck to steady yourself as your back was pressed into the side of the car. 

It felt almost surreal how much better this was than you thought it would be. Your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this was already something that had happened a million times before. 

You expected to be able to kiss Steve once as a way to sort of get the attraction you felt toward him out of your system so that you could then let things become completely normal and solely friendly between you two. But, right then– with his lips against yours, and one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek– you were hit with the sudden thought that you would need this to happen so many more times. 

You didn’t necessarily want to pull away from Steve at that moment, but you had to because you were completely out of breath. 

“That was— That was really good.” Your lips were still tingly as you licked them and you felt slightly light-headed, but in a good way, if that was possible. 

Steve pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek. “You sure you wanna still be just friends?”

That was the question that you now were unsure of the answer to. 

However, a small “yes” was what you responded with after what felt like a year’s worth of silence, and you could hear exactly how unconvincing you sounded.

Steve nodded and you could tell that he was pretending to believe you. “Okay.” 

He was about to finally pull away from you, but you stopped him. “What if…What if we are just friends, but we can kiss and maybe do other things,” Your mouth was moving much quicker than your mind could fully process the words you were saying. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about what you were proposing, but most of it seemed really good to you. “But, you shouldn’t date people, and I won’t either.”

“Okay,” Steve responded, smiling amusingly at your words. “But, this is starting to sound a lot different from a friendship.”

“Shh,” You said as you slotted your lips against his again. You knew how all of that sounded, but it made you feel a little better about the situation you were putting yourself in because you convinced yourself that you couldn’t get hurt this way. And aside from kissing Steve, not getting hurt was all that really mattered to you right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“one single thread of gold tied me to you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

[ectologia]

Can I please make a request? Instead of being told to kill Best Jeanist to prove himself to the League of Villains, Keigo is taken to a room with an innocent civilian and told to rape her. He goes through with it and feels guilty but ends up enjoying it a lot more than he’d like to admit. The nastier the better!

I love this idea! hope it’s nasty enough for you anon ♡

BAD GUY

KEIGO TAKAMI X F!READER + FEATURING TOUYA TODOROKI (DABI)

𝐂𝐖 ♱ DUBCON/NONCON, KIDNAPPING, SHIBARI, CHAINS, VAGINAL BLEEDING, GAGS, BLINDFOLDS, ABUSE, PROFANITY, CREAMPIE

“The fuck you mean change of plan?”

Keigo shifts in his rigid stance, his fingers twitching in anxious waiting.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it pretty boy.” Dabi slings an arm over Keigo’s tense shoulders, hooking the heavy appendage around his neck to tug him along.

The moment the door is swung open, he’s met with the foul stench of stale air and oxidised blood. His nose twitches and curls at the numerous metal chains clinging to the crumbling walls of what he can only assume is some kind of dungeon or torture chamber. His eyes squint at the distorted figure hung against the back wall.

Your broken, bruised wrists twitch in their rusted confines, cuffed to the ceiling where your ankles are collected with them, legs spread and strung open like a dirty fuck-puppet.

Keigo’s eyes follow as he watches Dabi saunter towards you, slapping your inner thigh and jolting you awake. “Got this one special.” he jiggles the ripened flesh, swinging you back and forth in your restraints. “Stretched her out for you ‘n everything.” Keigo’s top lip raises in disgust as Dabi brings two fingers down to press against your swollen pussy lips, spreading the delicate flesh open to give an informative view of your gaping hole, already stuffed with blood and a not so ominous white fluid, dribbling down your puffy slit all the way to your taint.

Keigo stares wide eyed and somewhat disturbed, blinking down at the miniature puddle of semen, tinted red.

Dabi clicks his tongue, sighing. “Well, come on then. This bitch ain’t gonna fuck herself.”

A blond head snaps up, eyes slitted and narrowed. “What?”

A dark chuckle resounds throughout the dimly lit vault. “You heard me, hero.” Dabi circles Keigo like a sickly vulture with a wicked grin, shuffling through his pocket. “You wanna’ prove your loyalty to the L.O.V?” He fiddles with the wheel of his lighter until the wick ignites.

“Fuck her.”

“Who is she?” Keigo snaps back in an instance.

Dabi snickers, eyeing the swiftly burning embers of his cigarette. “How the fuck do I know? She’s just some random chick we picked up. Who cares anyway, don’t gotta know her name to stick your dick in her.” He reasons, smirking behind the smouldering stick tucked between his fingers.

Keigo snarls through grit teeth. “Is this what you meant by change of plan? you want me to ra—”

“Rape her?” Dabi cocks his head with a mocking pout. He takes another lengthy drag of his cigarette before pivoting to face Keigo, allowing the murky tendrils of smoke to encase him in a cloud of grey. “Yeah, I do.” He tuts. “But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it Hawks?”

Against his will, Keigo is shoved towards your limp body, flinching. He grimaces as a sloppy string of drool slides off of your tongue, slipping through the metal ring of the gag fitted between your teeth, prying your tired jaws open.

“If you’re worried about your lil’ reputation, don’t. She can’t see you.” He juts his chin towards the stained cloth tied over your eyes, used as a make-shift blindfold.

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” Keigo huffs, refusing to acknowledge the pebbled nipples and perfectly vulnerable pussy spread out in-front of him like a fucking buffet.

“You wanna be a villain? Then you gotta’ fuckin’ act like one.” Dabi slumps against the wall, folding a thick arm below his chest.

Keigo scowls, thumbing the leather of his belt. “Alright, you gonna get the fuck out, or what?”

“Nah, boss wants me to watch. Make sure you don’t try anything funny.”

A bitter chuckle escapes Keigo, shaking his head. “Or you’re just lookin’ to get off to this shit?”

“Hey, I’ve actually got better things to being doing then sitting here and watching you fail at lasting more than 2 minutes.” Dabi frowns, flicking at the brittle ash clinging to his cigarette.

The situation isn’t funny, so why does he feel like laughing?

Your ears perk at the taunting clang and zip of a belt buckle being dropped to the ground. Your frantic attempts to pull away prove futile the moment two thickly gloved hands wrap around your thighs, cupping the domes of your ass to bring your pulsing slit closer to his already pumped and steaming length.

“Look at you.” Dabi whistles at the scene. “Already got a nice little boner going on, ready to pound some pussy blondie?”

“Shut up.” Keigo barks over his shoulder, fisting his bobbing cock as he decides the best way to approach.

Does he go in slow and let you adjust?.. Or does he just shove it all in at once and get it over with? short and sweet.. Well, not really sweet but you get the gist.

Is there really any nice way to rape somebody?

He goes for something in between, sheathing himself all the way inside until the chubby tip of his prick prods at your cervix. Your screams are muffled by the silver o-gag separating your tongue from the rest of your contorted mouth, only allowing slips of guttural hums and cries. It’s difficult to fuck your pussy comfortably given how you’ve been practically pinned to the wall, so Keigo makes do, using the stringy chains wrapped around your limbs as a handle to pull you back and forth on his dick while he juts into your swollen cunt.

“Mmh.. Shit.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it feels damn good fucking you like this. Completely helpless, hanging from the ceiling with your legs bent backwards all for him to rape and hurt. His rhythm increases in tempo, no longer shy, shallow thrusts but deep, meaningful, powerful ones. He leans backwards, using one hand to tug on your restraints while the other fondles your fat tits and nipples. The flimsy nibs are picked and flicked at, twisted between the rough pads of his leather-clad fingers.

“There you go.” Dabi hums, almost raising a hand to applaud him in his endeavour. “That’s much better. Now slap her around a bit.”

Keigo’s hips falter as he turns his neck to Dabi.

“You heard me bird boy, spank that bitch.”

Keigo huffs. With every sharp blow, a new red and purple mark seeps through the canvas of your delicate skin. Your tits and thighs jiggle against the harshness of his hand, twitching and flinching away from his abuse.

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” he hisses, turning white knuckled as he clamps down harder on the ringing chains holding you above him. “She’s fuckin’ clenching man.”

Dabi nods in agreement, nursing on the damp end of his cigarette.

“Can I nut in her?”

“You do whatever the fuck you want, I ain’t gonna say no.” Dabi laughs. “And she sure as hell ain’t either.” He jabs the smoked pick in your direction before dusting himself clean of it, crushing the paper beneath a thick rubber sole.

“Fuck sake, I’m gonna cum so hard.”

He howls, throwing his head back the moment his cock spurts, pumping your pussy full of hot jizz. He hooks his elbows below your knees, pressing himself into you while he empties his heavy balls into your womb. “Take it, oh yeah, take it girlie. Take it all in that tight little fuckin’ twat.” The rapid shiver of your legs does well to encourage him.

Ropes of sloppy, bubbling white cum spew out onto the floor as he retracts, dripping down with a wet pap.

Keigo turns, gasping and heaving like a wild animal, his red raw cock bouncing against his balls as he moves. “Am I done here?..”

Dabi taps a finger against his chin, blinking up at the ceiling as though deep in thought. “Hm..”

“I think you can go another round.”

[muchmossymess]

uh oh guys, hot take alert:

i think revali may have invented hand held aerial archery HEAR ME OUT- (this is a long one boys)

okay. evidence one: why the fuck would a rito shoot like that. like, it makes nearly zero sense, it would be such a hindrance to their flight and their main stake is that they can be higher than you can shoot whilst still pinging you... which revali has overcome with his gale

evidence two: tulin and the concept arts. obviously rito style archery would be held in their talons. before totk came out idk if anyone had really thought about it too much, but the developers had, as you can see in concept art (from the creating a champion book). and like, its logical, powerful, and allows for peak maneuverability. also, when in flight revali (and teba) holds his bow in his talons before switching to his wings. surely its easier to keep it in your wing (obvi ignoring the effects to flight but hes doing that anyway firing the damn thing) rather than switch back and forth- unless you were taught that way, because why would you hold it elsewhere, you need it in your talons to shoot.

evidence three: we dont see any other rito do it (...kind of). throughout botw and totk, we never see another rito flying with a bow in their hands. in totk, its mostly tulin, who holds it in his talons, but in botw the big one is teba. during the medoh quest, he actually gives *link* his bow, and therefore does no shooting in the sky. teba and harth had both tried to take on medoh before, but we never see this, and while they holds their bows in their hands *on the ground,* we dont see it.

...except for aoc (uh, spoilers?). there are two times we see a rito other than revali hold their bow in their hand for aerial archery. but it is not with any rito soldiers, either during cutscenes (the bows are only on their backs) or gameplay (they swoop down, and then hand hold bows on ground. they arent seen flying at all but thats prolly for the same reasons as botw: its very hard to code that (and so they write the lore around that fact)). the first time we actually see another rito do this, we dont see it. Its teba, as he comes thru the portal, but all we see is the arrow shot, and then him freeze frame with the bow in one wing. we dont see the bow in his hand for the rest of the fight. the second time we actually see him fighting like this, it *is* in the air, but its noticeably different to revali.

hes a lot slower, it clearly takes a LOT more effort to shoot the bow, and he only pulls off one arrow at a time. its canon that revalis bow is heavier/harder to draw, and he manages to effortlessly stream arrows whilst fucking floating midair. i think teba, forever a revali fanboy, heard of how the champion mastered his own style of archery and sought to teach himself, but lacked one key thing: revalis mastery of wind.

evidence three point five: revali could easily use his powers to hold him in the air longer/slow his descent long enough for him to fire his shots. it makes sense, really. if he can use his gale to propel him, he can sit on the updraft for a hot sec, or even curve the path to carry him along while he lines up the shot. this would mean he wouldnt need to flap as much as other rito, who would obviously need to keep flying

evidence four: revalis fighting style and his needs. revali works with non rito, obviously. he needs to be able to communicate with them on the battlefield, and they wont understand the muffled chirps if he holds his string in his beak, so he needs his mouth free to speak hylian. also, revalis main tactic is fly up with gale, shoot, fall, either shoot more or use velocity and weight to knock around opponents, and then fly back up. he often needs both feet planted firmly on the ground to get a good hold of his gale, something that is harder to do if you have a bow in the way.

also, take for example the kick he delivers link in their fight (aoc). that would possibly damage the bow, or give the opponent a chance to grab his weapon, if he held it in his talons. and to switch from feet to back is a risky maneuver during freefall, and could lose precious seconds, and then when you get back in the air you need to get it off your back again. its much easier to keep the bow loosely in your wing the whole time, meaning your free to attack melee, land and rise all while not wasting a single moment getting your next shot lined up.

so yeah, i think the rito used the talon grip for aerial archery, and would often use the hand held method on the ground for a variety of reasons (more powerful shots?, easier in some situations like hunting), but revali was perhaps the first to use hand held aerial, another reason he was one of the greatest archers ever.

[tojisun]

"...but you were a stray piece, unable to truly fit in." GHOAP WHEN I CATCH YOU. WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!!!!

I think what I really enjoy about hyde is seeing the strength and selflessness they have in this situation, even at the expense of their own self. Because it is a Herculean task to leave the person you love and the person you grew a connection with, even if the extent of those relationships fell short of what you wanted. But there's also an element of hope in their character, at least for me there is. This same strength could easily pick the pieces of themselves back up. It could easily hold those pieces together again. It could easily allow them to move on. But the human aspect of their character is that they'll likely hold onto them (figuratively) for as long as they can, even when they don't know the way Ghost had begun to warm up to them, the way Soap was filled with sorrow once he found out they had left. It's just the way grief works - you gotta go through the waves before there's any chance at moving on.

It makes me wonder how Ghoap fare after they find out Hyde left. We know they grow a little connection to them, especially Ghost since he doesn't warm up to people well, but did the boys have a deep enough connection to grieve for what could've been? Does Soap even know that Ghost was warming up to Hyde? That he was looking forward to the three of them? Did Soap truly want a poly relationship? Do they realize how selfish they had been for indulging in each other freely but stringing Hyde along with scraps of their affection? all thoughts, all wonder. no need to answer any of those questions btw, just wanted to share my thoughts!!

im so sorry it took so long to reply to this ask because of how much it meant to me. im so so happy to see the love for hwwl and hyde, and how even amidst the dogshit i put them through, you guys indulge me anyway 🥹

and absolutely!! going into writing hwwl, as inconsistent and short bursts they are, i have always known two things: hyde will always leave, and ghoap will always face some type of hurt because of it. i guess another thing to glean from that is that hwwl wouldn't have a happy ending in a romantic way. there's no good suffering (hyde and their selflessness leading to a requited love) nor a chase (ghoap running after them to bring them back into their fold) nor a revenge arc (someone else loving hyde the way they should, and it being thrown to ghoap's faces). it is just a quiet splintering, as everything is with hyde.

i'm so so glad to see you mention the element of hope in their character. hyde deserves that at least. yes, they let themselves be dragged into the mess with ghoap because it had been the only way they can even have ghost in their life, but they also deserve to step back. there were sooo many scenarios i wanted to bring out that would end up with hyde leaving - some of them explosive, and some of them so entrenched in turmoil - but just thinking about how they left in the midst of mending things with ghost (that one-sided animosity that ghost held onto) was such a sweet release. it's like when an over-inflated balloon is held carefully, and the tight hold on the rubbered end loosens up slowly until enough helium leaves so that no explosion happens. and it's as peaceful as it could be; a kind escape, and hyde deserves a quiet parting so no... ghost (ha!) can haunt them in their new voyage.

thank you so much for this and teehee i answered ur questions!! mostly because i do love shaping hwwl like this, through asks, but also the next instalment is being a bastard and i can't finish it ugh </3

but did the boys have a deep enough connection to grieve for what could've been?

i thought about this day and night because i know in my heart of hearts, ghost wouldnt. johnny would, at least for what it was - before it was ghost and soap and hyde. he would miss that slip of thing that only he and hyde had. and i think johnny needs to feel guilty every time ghost comes over to pull him in ghost will always wait for him, of course he will, but i see this distance creating another friction, then another cause for ghost's resentment to hyde

Does Soap even know that Ghost was warming up to Hyde? That he was looking forward to the three of them?

he will never because ghost will deny himself, and therefore johnny, any moment of regretting. hyde left them, why would ghost let their past haunt him? (it always does).

Did Soap truly want a poly relationship?

not at first. he was... selfish. he just wanted them for himself; with no commitment. he rationalized it by saying that in their bleak reality, with such a thunderous life, it was difficult to have anything more than pressed bodies and hot kisses. but when he is alone in his bunk - hyde had already started pulling away by then, and ghost is away on a mission with gaz - johnny thinks and feels and yearns

Do they realize how selfish they had been for indulging in each other freely but stringing Hyde along with scraps of their affection?

ghost knew hyde loved him. he know hyde only agreed because that arrangement was only ever the extent that ghost would give of himself to them. and he used it to tag them along because johnny liked - loves - hyde, and ghost loves johnny so he will give him everything johnny knew. he just... pretended he couldn't see because he trusted hyde to pull away if they don't want this fucked up arrangement anymore. he just didn't expect them to leave