#he’s like mid twenties and excited for this new place and he just wants to be friendly

[girlishwhimsies]

thinking about an au where johnny moves to tulsa when he’s older instead of growing up there

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got their, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[konigsblog]

mooooore of kidnapper konig lying abt his age!! he’s just obsessed and loves her so much 💔

at your order, anon !! plenty of sickening and disturbing thots™️ plaguing my mind with this concept. :( 🩸

CW: DARK CONTENT. KIDNAPPING, NON-CON/RAPE, AGE DIFFERENCE/GAP, MANIPULATION, VIRGINITY LOSS. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

a continuation of fifty-year-old könig who lies about his age to get with a younger woman. 🖥️

it was too easy for the depraved man. you're naive, and your vulnerability is almost laughable. it's as if you haven't learned a thing about internet safety when you decide to meet up with an older man, believing he's in his mid-twenties. 

he's a depraved bastard, a complete loser who hasn't had pussy in nearly a decade due to his disturbing, uncomfortable, manipulative behaviour. the yearn to ruin your body and life intensifying each day.

könig senda you a location—the place he plans to take what is rightfully his. it's a discreet and quiet area, far from civilization. you send könig multiple text messages asking if he gave you the right address, anxious as you take a good look at your surroundings, all alone, or so you think.

too distracted while waiting for a response from the man you'd been talking to and falling for, you didn't pay attention to the sounds of the leaves crunching beneath hard military-issued boots, thumping footsteps becoming louder and louder. your eyes widen, realising it is far too late to react and run. you wail out through horror, attempting to free yourself—a fruitless attempt at prying könig's filthy hands from your body—before you're knocked unconscious by his gloved face.

your vision is hazy and blurry, and you can't see anything as you're awoken. you babble through confusion, realising your sounds are hushed by a ballgag and you're unable to move, the gag stifling your sounds of agony, discomfort, and betrayal. your limbs are tied with thick rope, keeping you from squirming away from his sick and twisted attempt at ‘love’. 

you tremble and thrash, hyperventilating and sobbing out, the feeling of könig rutting against your swollen, slick folds leaving you petrified and unable to comprehend what's happening. you'd told him during your conversations that you were a virgin and that you wanted to lose it to him. the news left könig bubbling with excitement and anticipation, the thought of being your first leaving his fat, meaty cock hard. you were beginning egretting your promise to allow him to take you, his frustration visible at the sounds of your pain, ache, and refusal to be quiet.

könig leans himself down onto you, his heavy bodyweight against your weak body leaving you unable to move and unable to catch your breath. you shake and whine out, wailing pathetically with each drag and thrust, the agonising sensation between your soft, bloodied thighs. he's merciless and violent—nothing like the soft, kind-hearted man he portrayed himself to be.

the entire time he degrades and shames you for being so stupid and ridiculous and for getting yourself into this mess. his large hand around your neck restricts your breathing as you splutter and mumble out a plea for gentleness, at the very least. you notice the wrinkles on his face and the scars along his large, burly, overweight body, looking nothing like the photos he put on his dating app profile. there's nothing you can do to free yourself from this form of hell and torture.

what are you supposed to do afterwards? the rope burns on your skin cause your skin to become sensitive; the slightest touch to the bruises and marks along your body is painful, nipping at your marked skin. your tears stain your gorgeous, pure face, squirming away from his touch when he tries to cup your jaw, the softness of your skin representing your youth, before being bruised with a hit from könig, furious at your resentment. 

you're a quiet, shaken-up, traumatised thing for könig to abuse and use for his own selfish gratification and delectation. the need and crave for power and control and to corrupt and warp a mind like yours, so pliant.

[velvetcloxds]

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM | S.R

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: toxic family, parental role reversal, guilt

summary: spencer and the team come over to your new place to celebrate you finally leaving your toxic childhood home

a/n: started off strong , became too real, rushed the ending

It wasn’t much of an achievement for most, moving out of the house you grew up in, doing so in your mid-twenties even less so. But Spencer thought it the biggest achievement, the bravest step you’d ever taken, and you were touched by his excitement. It was a small little apartment, open floor space, everything flowing into one and with your boxes still scattered everywhere there was hardly room for everyone- but Spencer bought a cake. Rossi said he was bringing pasta and you just barely heard Emily promise to bring champagne, so you couldn’t talk anyone out of making a fuss.

It was a confusing set of emotions, you’d been dreaming of leaving for years, since your second year at university, but guilt always stopped you in your tracks. You didn’t want to leave without her, leave her in it, feel responsible for her, like getting a good job and finding a good place should be to save her and not yourself, not just yourself. And you waited, begged, bargained, fought with all your might to have her see things for what they were and leave, you would’ve done anything to make it happen for her- but despite it all, despite years of pain, she wasn’t ready to escape and as much as you wanted to make her ready, you couldn’t. You were, you didn’t have it in you to stay even if you wanted to for her, you had to get out, for you.

“Do you think there’s enough candles?” Spencer was fiddling about in the living room area, though it wasn’t truly ready to be lived in yet, furniture wasn’t in the cards for a while so of course he’d taken to constructing some with all your boxes.

“I think it’s plenty,” you smiled and it felt more sincere than it looked, only barely hiding the embarrassment from not having working lights set up yet. “More and we might set the place on fire before I unpack,” you pulled some paper plates and cups from the grocery bag, hoping no one would mind as much as you did.

You knew they wouldn’t, knew they wouldn’t mind sitting on dented boxes, eating cold pasta, and drinking fancy alcohol out of party cups. If anything it just felt like a testament to your fate, to how rash your decision was, how unprepared you were for whatever was to come. It reminded you that you had no idea how to exist outside of your terror, if you weren’t protecting your mother, what were you doing? Throwing lackluster dinner parties while she was still ever miserable with a horrid man and no escape. It made you feel all the more guilty, and all the more selfish. You couldn’t comprehend the excitement you were expected to be expressing. With all your might you had to convince yourself not to run right back to that blush pink bedroom stained at every inch with dried tears and echoed with screams of bitterness.

You had to convince yourself once again that you were free and you deserved to be as much, you didn’t choose to be born into that madness, you had every right to run away from it. She chose to stay, countless times, no matter how many scary nights or pleating fits of fear, she chose to stay.

“I think we can paint the walls if you’d like, Morgan would help me, though I wouldn’t ask Garcia because she might end up choosing a bright green or yellow,” you met his breathy scoff with a lazy hum, stilled in the middle of counting out the right amount of bamboo forks, staring at the only corner you’d managed to unpack- the photo frames. Spencer followed your gaze, and landed on a large frame with a colourful picture of you and your mom at the theatre, only a few months ago, her smile was only ever that big when you were away from home, from him. You dropped the lightweight utensils with a sigh, everything felt wrong, you felt wrong. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” he knew the answer but didn’t know how to approach the situation without asking anyway. You hummed, bit back a fake smile that would only turn to a frown even if you tried to stop it, and folded your arms around yourself to ground you.

How a space so small, so full, could feel so void, lonely, you weren't sure. Your mom had been dying for years, not physically, but he’d been hacking away at her soul since you could remember- left a shell of her, a ghost, you’d mourn her daily, he made sure of it. Now the mourning was different, the grief, leaving your best friend, your shadow felt like you’d buried her alive and left her screaming. Horrendous thing, the juxtaposition of it all, you couldn’t spend another second in that house, can’t imagine taking another breath without her at your side. You hoped she’d follow, it’s why you borrowed the queen size mattress and not the single from Hotch, space for her, somewhere to escape to when she was ready, but who’d protect her while she wasn’t?

“I was thinking,” careful hands slid over your elbows, loving smile met your gaze. “With your power still out, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the dark. Maybe I can stay over?” Spencer was never so forward, if he were he’d present you with ample facts to support his case first, not such a simple little tale of charm.

“Please,” you’d not usually accept so easily, but you were being profiled, you’d learn to know when you were and though not always intentional, Spencer tended not to notice how unsubtle he was with it. You smiled, traded your own embrace for his, looked up at him with your chin planted on his chest. “How am I reading, Dr. Reid?”

“Not well,” he tutted, brows dipped with sympathy, eyes sparkling with genuine care as foreign as it comes. “Which is valid, every horrible and amazing feeling that you’re experiencing is completely valid.”

“I’m scared she’ll never forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for, you are not her keeper, she knows that, you love her but that’s still the truth,” he kissed your forehead, squeezed you a little tighter than before. “You know all of this, but I won’t stop reminding you.”

“Can we visit her?”

“As many times as you need to.”

You stood like that for too long before the room echoed with far too eager knocks, dinner was cold but delicious as only Rossi can achieve and when the cake came you were sat on the floor next to Spencer, smiling as Derek bargained for the biggest piece. Spencer’s hand was entangled with yours in his lap, head on his shoulder and for just a second you felt light, weightless- new.

“Are you still okay, sweetheart?” he whispered with a soft smile, hopeful and you nodded, instantly took the plate when JJ handed you the biggest piece of cake.

“I think so, Spence, I think it’s all going to be okay.”

Maybe it was delusion, maybe tomorrow you’d wake up drowning in dread and pack your few unpacked boxes to go back, maybe you’d stay and spend every second hating yourself for giving up on her, not saving her, maybe she’d finally leave and start over. Maybe you’d stay stuck in time, lingering between the first time he did it and the last, forever the little girl who grew up too soon because someone had to take responsibility for saving her. Maybe you had no purpose beyond that, maybe that’s what you were made for, to fix her and comfort her and stand up for her. Maybe you were the biggest of failures for thinking you could have more from life than that horror, that love ridden burden. Maybe peace only comes after and not during life, born into chaos, into hatred out of young love, maybe the idea of your freedom was as fleeting as his affinity for family. How can someone raised in darkness ever dare to look for light, let alone try and live in it? Maybe you were only ever meant to be nothing more and nothing less than a lesson about how broken people make broken children. Shackled by the knowledge that you never should’ve been, she’d left him sooner if you weren’t.

Imagine that, your whole life devoted to making up for being born, for making it impossible to leave until it was far too late. Hope and freedom, like love, is nothing but a golden cage.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 4 - Thin Ice | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to Casterly Rock for the next round of the tour, Aemond has some explaining to do | Word Count: 7.4k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general raging dickhead, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing, heavy petting

A/N: I feel like apologising for long chapters is beyond me at this point. But ohohoho we getting into itttt~

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

It turned out that alone, never really meant alone.

Alone in the sense that Aemond and yourself would be carted around by the various staff at Hightower Management, put into various hotels and expected to keep up with training, without the keen eyes of Otto nor Alicent watching over either of you.

Part of you was excited about the notion of a tour. But the more dominant part was immensely nervous. Without Helaena or Aegon to take the edge of Aemond’s personality, it might be silent torture or it might be entirely indifferent, as you and Aemond had been throughout the match and after-party well over a week ago and, as well as the time in between.

It was sort of routine now, the way you both trained. Only speaking to one another if you had to.

Even then, he did seem a little chattier. But it was a miniscule difference.

He’d not said a thing about his ex-dinosaur-girlfriend (as Helaena so carefully put it) being at the after-party. Not like he would say anything to you anyway, but still, what was that all about?

Helaena had told you as much as she could really, given all she knew being on the outside. Alys was twenty years Aemond’s senior, now in her mid-forties you surmise from the timeline. Besides grossing you out mildly, Helaena had bestowed her knowledge that as soon as Alicent found out about the supposed relationship, it was immediately put to an end.

Enter. The pregnancy scandal. Alys had approached Otto in a very business-like manner, breaking the news she was pregnant and that it had been Aemond’s, despite the timing of it clearly not matching up. Alicent was absolutely beside herself, which knowing her now you’re not sure if you could picture it, and insisted that it was entirely not true and that Alys had just wanted money.

Aemond’s or not, she was paid a handsome sum to keep quiet. And in the end? It turned out she wasn’t pregnant in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t seen her at the party, as it’s not really my story to tell”, Helaena had said.

It left a bad taste in your mouth when she finished explaining. If that was all true, why the hell would she turn up to the after-party with the necklace Aemond had gifted her all those years ago? Why would she even get involved with a man twenty years her junior? It reeked somewhat of grooming, etching a permanent frown into your features at the memory of Aemond at the party, his shoulders rolled forwards, looking down and shrinking in her presence.

He looked so small then.

That’s all you could think about as you both sat in the back seats of the car driven by a man called Arryk Cargyll, who would be transporting and looking after you both since Criston was attending to Helaena and Aegon on the other side of the tour. He was significantly chattier and less stone-faced than Criston, which you chalked up to him being probably younger.

But even then, he barely spoke a word the entire way to your first stop of the tour. Casterly Rock, hosted by Jason and Johanna Lannister, representing the Westerlands.

At least the hotel was nice. You and Aemond had separate rooms next to one another. And aside from the odd light switch and the hum of the shower, he didn't make himself known.

Even now, as you sat on the bed, clad in black sweatpants and a sports bra, having visited the hotel gym, you listened to the shower through the walls in the quietness of the late evening. Staring off into space. The intrusive thought of Aemond showering briefly zipping through your brain and not at all imagining-

Incoming Video Call from El 🦌

Thank the gods for that.

You swipe the screen, greeted with the smiling face of Ellyn sat on what used to be your shared sofa.

"There's my hoe" she lovingly calls, stuffing a crisp into her mouth.

You hum a laugh, "Charming El" you smile, moving to lay on your front so you can prop the phone up, "What's the occasion? Do you miss me that much?"

She rolls her eyes, "Fuck off. I always miss you" she smiles brightly, "Forgive me for wanting to check in on my amazingly successful figure skating queen"

"Amazingly successful, huh?" You joke, "High praise coming from Floris' sister. How is she by the way?"

"She's fine. Getting discharged soon they think, she messed it up pretty bad" Ellyn shrugs, "hey, you might see Maris when you're out there"

"I'll give her a big sloppy kiss for you" you smirk.

Ellyn pulls a face, "Don't do that she'll punch you in the face"

You laugh. She absolutely would as well. The Four Storms indeed.

"I saw your Instagram pictures. You look fit" she says with a mouth full of crisps, "Anyway, who you dressed up for in there?"

You look down at your outfit, furrowing your brows, "A sports bra?" You joke, "Hardly dressed up, El"

She smirks, "How are things with Aemond?"

"Oh for fucks sake…" you roll your eyes, hearing her cackle through the phone, "Well, we didn't start the greatest"

"Tough crowd?"

"He may have insinauted I wouldn't handle it because I wasn't from any notable house"

Her mouth drops open.

"Death. He deserves death"

You laugh loudly, covering your mouth, "El!"

"Did you put him in his place?"

"Tried to!"

"I bet he went real quiet after you showed him up at that match!"

You smile at her, "Oh you watched that?"

"Course I did!" She returns, "not fair you looking like a snack on the ice like that. You could tell you didn't like each other though"

Ooft. "Yeah…" you trail off, "...it's a work in progress"

"I take it you haven't smashed yet then?"

"El!"

"What!" She shouts back, making the phone crackle due to her volume, "Just cos he's a dick doesn't mean he's unfuckable"

El, you're making it really hard to deny it right now by confirming my exact thought process.

You sigh, "I'm not fucking him, El. He hates me"

"Do you hate him?"

You bite your lip, "I tolerate"

"Fucking liar" she sneers, "anyway I gotta go, I'll watch your next match. Slay all day, love you!"

You sigh, dropping your phone, listening as the hum of his shower stops, and the bedroom light switch clicks against the wall.

How did you end this conversation thinking about Aemond having a shower more?!

Stop that. Bad girl.

You could hear him plug in what you assumed was a phone charger into the wall, something akin to bed slats cracking a second later with the weight of him slipping into bed.

His bed was right next to the wall, the same as yours.

You tapped your phone anxiously, biting your lip as if something were on your mind.

But you didn't have the heart to even tell yourself what you were thinking about.

Or rather who.

The bitterness of hotel coffee never fails to make you wince as you sit in the fancy hotel foyer, dressed in your usual all black sportswear while the space around you looks indicative of a Greek palace, all cream and decorated with keen detail.

Casterly Rock is unnaturally hot right now, so all you’re able to manage is a sports bra and a thin crop top on your torso, with of course, leggings on your bottom. Your foot taps impatiently, waiting for Aemond to come out of his room so Arryk can drive you to the ice rink for morning practice, raising an eyebrow when you look at the clock on the wall and see it’s already 6am.

He’s never usually late.

Arryk walks towards you with an unnatural spring in his step to say how early in the morning it is, smiling beneath his facial hair, looking entirely put together in the suit he wears. Does he wear that everyday?

“Aemond will be a while yet, shall I get you to the rink first so you don’t lose out on practice?”

You nod, downing the rest of the coffee to give you some semblance of life, standing up to follow him, “Sure, thank you”

You follow him to the car, sliding into the passenger seat, rubbing your eyes.

“Is he alright?” you ask, as Arryk pulls his seatbelt on.

He nods, putting the car into gear and setting off, “He’ll be alright. Just a small headache. The eye sometimes gives him some bother”

You drive in silence for a bit, the roads mostly clear from how early it still is.

“Have you been with them long? Working for them I mean?” you ask, trying to fill the silence with something.

“A while. I joined after Aemond’s accident”

You swallow.

The accident.

Sensing your silence, Arryk looks over briefly, “You don’t know?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “I figured if he wanted to tell me he would”

Arryk nodded and turned away again, clearing his throat with his eyes back on the road. He didn’t say anything else until you arrived at the ice rink, obviously not wanting to let slip any sensitive information that Aemond wouldn’t have wanted to share. But it was clear he knew.

It felt like everyone around you knew some kind of secret, and you were purposefully being kept on the outside, but just within reach.

This ice rink was by no means large and you’re thankful at least that it’s empty, so that you can do the pre-practice stretches in relative peace. You just stick your airpods in and play whatever you have on shuffle, using the free time Aemond isn’t here to start on the ice.

It’s nice every once in a while since starting training with Aemond, to have everything to yourself, music in your ears, hair down, the breeze of the air conditioning through your locks. Sometimes you find yourself just gliding, eyes closed and inhaling slowly and purposefully through your nose, letting the smells around you fill your senses.

After doing countless laps and trying certain jumps you know you’d be doing with Aemond later, you look at the clock. 45 minutes have passed and still no sign of Aemond.

Feeling entirely too hot from the exertion of practising, you huff and tug the shirt you’re wearing off, leaving yourself in only the sports bra.

Modesty be damned, I’m too fucking hot for this.

Tugging it over your head, adjusting the sports bra underneath, you don’t even register the double doors opening with the airpods blasting in your ears. It’s only when the flash of white hair passes as you slide along the ice, that you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Fucking hell” you mutter quietly, pulling out your airpods quickly.

Aemond shucks his bag onto the floor, not making eye contact as he slips onto the bench with his skates in his hands. He looks more irritable than usual, dropping his skates with a sort of carelessness you wouldn’t usually associate with him.

You watch his face, tense and irritated, looking down as he ties them, his eyebrows drawn together.

Skating up to the edge, you bite your lip, wondering if you should say anything at all. Would it just make him more difficult? Would he just stay quiet?

“Are you okay?” you ask, coming out more weakly than intended.

“Yes” he answers harshly, unconvincing, “Fine, clearly”

Woah, okay.

You lean over the edge on your elbows, watching as he fails to tie his skates the first time, cursing to himself at having to do it again, irritably looping them once more.

“Arryk said you had a headache”

Sighing once he’s double tied his laces, he leans on his knees, finally looking up at you, his whole body tense and rigid. He doesn’t say a thing. He just stares, as if he’s shocked you had the audacity to even talk to him, his glass eye reflected in the sharp blue tone of the lights.

It's like all the air has been sucked out the room. And the world only has you two left in it. The way he stares makes you both uncomfortable and breathless at the same time.

And you're unsure if you think it's a good thing.

A glimpse of what he acted like when you first met is there, watching the way his grip is tight, his forearms taut and shoulders hunched.

He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“I have some ibuprofen…if you want it”

His mouth closes instantly. And his brow softens somewhat, although not unwinding entirely. His gaze falls to the floor for a moment, and he nods, looking completely resigned, much like he did on the night he talked to Alys Rivers.

Like a child in pain.

Hopping off the ice, you rifle through your bag that’s seated next to him, eventually extending the pills to him. He moves his head, his good eye starting at your legs and running over the entirety of you, before looking at your eyes. It makes you go all warm, watching the way he pauses at your middle, where the slightest bit of skin shows beneath the sports bra.

“Thanks” he says quietly, taking the pills from you and popping some out the foil. His fingers graze yours only slightly, and you press your lips together, turning away from him quickly to get back on the ice.

Your chest feels all hot and tight. Must be the hotel breakfast. That bacon did taste funny.

Something inside tightens as you turn to watch him swallow some water, watching the muscles of his neck. And then his large hands palm at his hair, pulling it to the back to tie it haphazardly, with no real care as several strands fall out from his grasp.

Why is that kind of hot.

What is wrong with me.

This is Aemond we’re talking about.

Despite knowing that there is no way those pills have kicked in yet, he tugs at his shirt as he gets out on the ice. He has one hand occupied with his phone as he meets you in the middle.

“Fuck. Speaker’s not working” he murmurs, fumbling with the settings on his phone.

“Oh”

You move from right leg to left leg, anxiously. Pulling at the fabric of your leggings while you think of a solution.

“We could uh…use my airpods” you respond, pulling the case out, “one each?”

He only moves his eye to meet you, his mouth wrinkled down in disgust. For some reason it makes you laugh.

“Oh come on, they’re not dirty” you smile, handing him one, “business partners, right?” you say, sticking the left one in your own ear.

Not friends.

Business partners.

He sighs, reluctantly sticking the right one in. You put the music you’ll be performing in a few days on repeat, sticking the phone into your sports bra in lieu of pockets.

“Give it to me” Aemond says, one hand limply extended.

“What?”

He looks at you, “Your phone” he adds, “I have pockets”

You pull an awkward face, swallowing thickly.

For some reason retrieving the phone from the sports bra feels weirder than putting it there, especially when you hand it to him and he presses it against his thigh to stuff into his zip pocket. God his hands are so massive now when compared to the size of the phone.

Stop. That.

Oh gods, was I sweaty. That’s so gross if I was.

He luckily doesn’t comment on anything like that. A small mercy.

You practise one. Two. Three times. The clock ticks by quickly as you're both immersed in training. Trying various parts of the routines, as well as a particularly difficult new jump, one that at first you have some trouble with.

Aemond throws you in the air and you have to spin three times, timing it perfectly so that your front is against his in time for him to push you back for the exit, hands joined.

It’s had…questionable results so far.

Misjudging how quickly you need to spin in the air, your feet aren’t in the right position and you fall chest to chest with Aemond, his arms reaching around you to make sure you don’t slip.

“Shit!” you whisper, annoyed at yourself, “Sorry”

You hate that when he catches you, his grip on your bare arms, that you can’t help but blush, every hair standing on end. Especially when he looks down at you, hoisting you up back on your skates once you’re balanced, “You okay?”

Completely too annoyed at yourself to care right now about the proximity, you shake your head, “Can’t hack that one”

Aemond bites his cheek, “Let’s try a double spin first then”

Realising you’re still very close, you skate back, clearing your throat, “You sure?..”

He shrugs, “We can work up to the triple if we want, but as long as we do a throw, still counts”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ears, “Sure..”

If there is something you’ve noticed since you met and began working with Aemond, it’s that his style of skating, much like Helaena’s and Aegon’s, is very technical. Calculated. Overly-thought out.

Much like ballet, figure skating is as much about performance and emotion, than technical ability. Unfortunately for Aemond.

He’s so pragmatic about his approach that there’s barely room for any real emotion in his performance. He’s always straight-faced, tight-lipped. So much so, you wonder if he actually enjoys any of it.

As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. Starting with the double was an easier approach, and it came more naturally. So when you did several attempts after the triple, tucking your arms in on yourself for the spin, the last few were landed, making your insides swell with pride. Eventually, you look at the clock and wince at the time, so both of you take a break for a much needed drink.

After having crossed the technical bridge, time for the emotional one you suppose? No harm in asking, right?

“Can I ask you something?” you ask quietly, leaning backwards against the ledge, arms rested on it.

Aemond’s eye finds you mid-sip of his water bottle, and he licks his lips, his weight on one leg, wordlessly urging you to continue.

You swallow, wondering how best to word it, “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

Isn’t it obvious?

Your eyes zip around briefly, “This? Figure skating?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Answering your question without needing words.

“I enjoy it enough”

Enough.

Aemond is so guarded. Even now, he holds his arms over his chest, protecting his heart. Silence stretches between you at his answer, as unconvincing as it was, you nod your head with eyebrows raised, not wanting to say anything more that might dampen the mood on your training for today.

Being around him is like stepping around a sleeping dragon. One brush against it, however soft it would be, it’d wake in a sort of angered panic, assuming danger.

That is how you would describe him. Whatever you said or did, it’d be interpreted as an attack.

“You don’t believe me” he responded after some time.

As much as you feel you dislike him, you can’t lie to him, so you shrug, “Not really”

He narrows his eyes, “Why”

Fucking hell. Here we go. Now I’ve done it.

You sigh, already feeling an argument brewing where you hadn’t intended, “I think it’s no secret that when you perform you look like you’d rather be anywhere else” you say, shifting about on your skates, stretching your arms anxiously, “Unless you’re just like that with me” you add, under your breath.

He rolls his eye somewhat, humming. In neither acceptance nor denial.

Was that a yes? No?

“I just think if we’re going to stand a chance in these Championships we should at least make the effort with performance. For the scores” you nod to him, “That’s all I’m saying”

Aemond scoffs, “Oh, so you think you’re giving me advice now?”

Oh there’s the sleeping dragon.

Your head retracts, shocked by the sudden sass. Maybe the ibuprofen has kicked in, “We’re skating partners, aren’t we? You don’t value my good opinion, seeing as, shockingly, I existed as a skater before I met you?”

He shakes his head, as if amused, “Just find it funny”

You bite your lip, now visibly annoyed. Your skin blooms in frustration. Not this shit again. No fucking way.

“Funny in the sense that you still think that just because I’m of no notable house, not so far up my own ass I can’t see the sun and not such a nepo-baby that-”

“I fucking told you not to call me that” he snaps, his eye now serious, his stance too as he pushes off the ledge to stand before you.

You shrug, “Is that not what you are?” you challenge, “Your brother and sister get to represent the Reach just because your mother is from Oldtown, and you make it to the Championships every time despite not being able to show a slither of emotion on your face-”

“It’s because I’m fucking good at it” he counters, “Emotions has nothing to do with it”

“Doesn’t it? You can be good at it, but you don’t fucking like it”

He goes all quiet, his fist clenched at his side, shaking.

“It’s as clear to the judges as it is to anyone, you don’t enjoy it. I don’t doubt you probably did at some point”

He swallows, as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.

“And because you’re so perfect?”

“Didn’t say I was-”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not” he interrupts, making you go quiet and still, “Don’t you dare try to act all high and mighty to me. My family is well-established and good at it. There doesn’t need to be a deep and meaningful reason why I do it. I don’t need to dig deep to find any semblance of purpose in my life, unlike your shitty one. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all-”

Aemond stops his chaotic ramble when he finally turns to look at you, seeing the horrified and tearful expression on your face after you’d heard him say it in his fit of rage. His face drops instantly, replaying what he’d said. It didn’t seem like him at all, to go on such a rampage of horrible words.

It felt like someone was speaking through him. Like he was a puppet on a string, performing the actions of others.

But he had said it nonetheless.

You laugh weakly, feeling your insides twist painfully.

“My class, huh?...” you repeat, shoving the knife inside him deeper. The word seems to make him shudder now, despite him being the one who said it.

If you didn’t laugh you’d cry. So you did just that.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel so disgusted to have people of my class doing your sport” you respond, skating backwards away from him.

With tears covering your vision, making the ice look like one big blob of white, all you manage is, “Fuck you, Aemond”

You hear his voice, once, twice, calling your name. The last time is exasperated, carried with a sigh once he realises that you’re too angry right now to even hear him. It all happens so quick you don’t have time to think, the way you pull your skates off without untying them first, hurtling your bag over your shoulder and pushing the doors open so hard they bang against the wall, filling the empty sounding room with an echoed slam.

You don’t look back at him. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.

You don’t even text Arryk to come pick you up. You just walk, legs carrying you as quickly as you’re able, one in front of the other and counting up and down in your head in an effort to calm yourself down. The air was hot and oppressive around you, closing in, making you feel even smaller than Aemond had just a few minutes before.

No tears. Don’t cry. He doesn’t deserve them.

He doesn’t deserve them.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all.

The replay of the words breaks you and you hurl your bag at the closest wall, but it does nothing to expel the annoyance and frustration you feel inside. The skates inside the bag make it so heavy that it falls to the floor with a thud. You stand there watching, breathing heavily in the air of the early afternoon.

For a small, brief flicker of a moment, you regret throwing your bag with the skates inside. Knowing that it was Rhaenys who gifted you them, and that an argument with Aemond didn’t excuse treating such nice things in that way. All the emotions you have kept back are still there, sitting behind your eyes.

Not in public.

So with a resigned sigh, you pick the bag up and walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to the hotel, hoping and praying to every god there is that Arryk or Aemond doesn’t see you on the way back in the car.

The hotel is luckily air conditioned. You can't tell if you're hot because it genuinely is hot, or if you're just so angry you might literally be steaming.

So intent on making a beeline to your hotel room, you nearly collide fully with a familiar brunette.

"Shit! Sorry, I wasn't look-Johanna!" You sigh, red-faced, looking right into her deep brown eyes, that are crinkled up with a smile.

"Gods, you look…hot, and not in the good way" she remarks, her eyes looking over you. You can't help but look at her outfit, all a lovely golden colour that suits her in its entirety.

Instinctively, you wipe your neck, embarrassed at how you must look.

"Yeah, I uh, just came back from training"

She looks around, "Where's your partner? Aemond"

"Oh, uh, he decided to hang back" you lie with a smile, hoping it lands. But her smile indicates that she knows it's not entirely true.

Her deep brown eyes look over your expression, her lips tightening into a reassuring line that’s akin to a smile, “I get it, you know” she says, to which you cock your head, “Not being on good terms with your skating partner”

She sees the way your eyes go wide, and your mouth opens to contradict, “Save it. It’s obvious”

Fuck. Is it really that obvious?

“If it were up to Jason, he’d have stopped competing ages ago” she muses, eyes flickering to the floor every once in a while, tugging her jacket around her tighter, “It’s me who’s the competitive one”

“But you two skate so well together?” you ask, confused. They’d always been very good skaters together, only spurred on by the fact that they were married.

Johanna laughs, “I’m not stupid. I know Jason’s fucking around on me” she admits without a hint of weakness in her tone, “It’s the least I can do to get back at him, forcing him to compete with me”

Part of you feels sad for her that she knows he’s cheating, but can do nothing about it. But you can’t help the mischievous smile on your face at her so-called ‘revenge’. You’re at least grateful that the person you’ll be up against tomorrow isn’t so hell-bent on winning that she’s outright mean to you.

After a moment, she taps your shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Show him what you’re made of”

You blink, still smiling from her quip before. Even when she leaves the foyer, you stay planted on the spot, bag digging into your shoulder from its heavy contents, feeling the familiar heaviness in your stomach as well.

Show him what I’m made of?

I tried that already. And it still wasn’t enough.

If there’s anything to be grateful for, it’s that Aemond isn’t back at the hotel yet.

But it is only in the sweet relief of silence in your hotel room that you realise…

Great. He still has my phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to really wallow in self-destructive feelings. Stipped down to your baggy clothes, sat in bed, flicking through the terrible hotel channels that are just not doing it for you, and picking at several crisps and popping them into your mouth.

Knock Knock.

It almost makes you jump out of your skin, however soft the knock was.

Your jaw clenches when Aemond’s voice calls your name, staring at the door as if looking right through it.

He sighs, his voice muffled, “Come on, I know you’re in there” he says quietly. You can hear him shuffle from foot to foot. You can imagine him, standing there, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his leg shaking while he turns his thoughts over in his head.

He sighs again.

"Please"

Part of you wants to smile at the way he says it. Like it's hurting every little bit of him inside to even consider apologising. But the thought of the smile never really comes to a full one on your face, and your lips continue to turn down into a frown, watching his shadow moving side to side underneath the crack of the door.

You didn’t move an inch. You just watched as he stayed for longer than you thought he would.

The shadow moved, and your phone slid face down under the door, before his footsteps were muffled and far away down the hall. You heard his hotel room door close softly, the light switch clicked against the wall, and the bed slats once again creaked louder as he flopped down on it.

Knowing he is right there, on the opposite side of the wall, no longer gives you that fluttering feeling. It makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable that he’s so close without seeing him. Restless.

Padding over to the door to retrieve your phone. Several messages line the home screen, obscuring the view of your background, you and Ellyn at the ice rink for Christmas and her falling into your arms, not being quite as adept at the skill as her sisters. It never fails to make you smile.

Rhaenys - Manager: 3 unread messages

El 🦌 - 1 unread message

Unknown number - 5 new messages

You cock your head somewhat at the unknown number. And with 5 new texts from it too.

Swiping open your phone, you're met with the absolute essay of the text from the unknown number.

Fuck that, I'm not reading it without a drink in my hand.

So you sit on the bed, a can of gin and tonic in one hand, scrolling through the long text.

At first it doesn't really make sense.

You raise an eyebrow. Reading on.

You swallow, reading all of the words.

You hate that you laugh at that last bit. You can imagine him pacing around, seeing the unread texts he'd sent and hitting himself realising your phone had been in his pocket the whole time.

Something squeezes tight in your chest, reading all of it over one more time.

Aemond hadn't apologised. Not specifically anyway.

I didn't mean any of it.

You sigh, tipping your head back against the headboard with a light thud, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel.

It's late. The match against the Lannisters is tomorrow.

Do you forgive him?

It felt wrong to forgive him for what he'd said, especially after all the times he'd been rude to you before.

Forgiveness would imply that he'd apologised, which he hadn't. You felt like you at least deserved that. And if he couldn't give that to you…

You save his number under ⛸️. Not having the energy to write his name right now.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, your leg moving erratically. Thinking of what to say back.

Be civil. But not too nice. Otherwise he might think it's all good.

You didn't want him to think that.

So you settled for something simple. Something indifferent.

Being in the dressing room without Alicent to fuss over your skates compared to now, sitting in front of the vanity, alone, with your hands clenched tight in front of you, it makes the loneliness tug at your heart. Sitting heavily in your chest.

You should feel pretty. Your outfit is a standard leotard with mesh detailing at the collar, short sleeves, little rhinestones dotted on the skirt to catch the light. The fabric was white, similar to the one you wore at the first match, but not exactly the same, and you can imagine what it would look like when you were skating, capturing the glimmer of the lights and cutting through the air like a whisper.

You’d done your hair yourself, half up half down. With a silver ornament at the back to keep it secure. The pieces that were pulled at the front were waved to the best of your ability, hair sprayed within an inch of their life to stay that way. Your makeup was the same, a barely-there approach, as it was all you were comfortable with.

But you didn’t feel pretty.

Aemond hadn’t replied after what you’d said the night before. You watched as the three bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times, but in the end it was clear he was intent to leave you to your thoughts and give some semblance of space. Since he said himself, he knew he’d fucked up.

You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not that he didn’t reply. All you could think about right now was the match, the move you had practised the day before, and how you were going to best execute it.

“Triple spin in the air, land on the right leg…” you mumbled, tracing the steps of the routine in your head.

The door to your dressing room swung open and your eyes locked eyes with Aemond’s in the mirror. Your heart lurched into your throat seeing him, after what had happened in the last 24 hours, with your partnership potentially hanging by a thread. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, sensing that you really didn’t know what to say.

He briefly met the gaze before looking down, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His hair, as opposed to last time, was in a loose bun, straight strands framing his chiselled face.

“We’re on in 10” he said simply, his left leg twitching in barely-contained anxiety. He bit his lip harshly, something akin to irritation gnawing on his insides.

Anxiety you knew didn’t come from performing the routine itself.

He was afraid of what you would do. Or what you would say.

Swinging your legs off the chair, you pull one of your feet up to the cushion, making sure the laces are well tied and in their place, your eyes trained solely on them and not on him, who was still standing by the door, as if guarding it.

“Look, I-”

“I’m fine, Aemond” you interrupt him, lacing the other one, “Let’s just get this over with please”

Aemond looked as if he’d been slapped. Like he did that night when he’d spoken to Alys Rivers.

“I didn’t mean any of it” he continues, despite what you’d said. When you look at him now, standing up on your skates, he chews on his lip, taking his time to make himself look at you. His eye rakes over your outfit for this routine, leg still bouncing, “You look nice, by the way”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Will you stop saying that like we’re friends, Aemond” you snap, “Just business partners, right?”

Aemond sighs, “Will you stop twisting anything I say into an insult about you?”

“So, is that what that was yesterday? Me twisting your words?” you look at him incredulously, daring him to deny it.

“No-fuck-I didn’t say that” he barks back, his volume increasing, clearly struggling to string together the right words he wants, “What I meant was-”

You shake your head, having had enough, “Just leave it, Aemond. I don’t need to hear it, from you in particular. Can you move please?”

He stays stock still against the door, blocking your path, even stepping forward as a means to say he is most certainly not finished. For a brief second, panic flits through you, not quite remembering how tall and broad he is compared to you.

“What I said yesterday was wrong-”

“You’re fucking right, it was wrong!” you bark back this time, stunning him into silence. He wears a stoic look, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Do you know how hard I worked to get where I am today, despite my class as you so nicely pointed out. If it really offends you so fucking much to be paired with me, then why agree to it in the first place if you’re just going to bitch and whine about it all the damn time!”

“I-”

“No! I deserve to fucking be here, Aemond, just as much as you. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough in your opinion, but I am slowly realising that I don’t care about that. If you don’t think I am good enough to be associated with you or your prestigious family, I am totally fine with th-”

“You are good enough” he says flatly, his eye twitching somewhat as his muscles tense up, “Better than most, in fact”

You scoff, not affected by it now. No way.

“Well, you have a funny fucking way of showing i-”

You didn’t realise it at the time, how close Aemond had really stepped towards you, so embroiled in the argument with him that it didn’t seem to matter. His stance, his attitude, didn’t make you flounder.

But what did make you stiffen up and go hot all over was when Aemond’s hand made its way around your waist to pull you close to him, and his other hand cupped the back of your neck to tug your face flush to his, silencing you with his lips on yours. 

His fingers curled over your skin in a desperate hold, the one around your waist feeling like it was burning a brand right through your outfit. Your hands braced on his chest in shock of what he’d done, fingertips barely touching the skin above his black shirt, so much so you swear you’re able to feel the thrum of his rapid heartbeat.

Just as quickly, he pulls back, his cheeks flushed near-undetectably and his mouth open to breathe, with soft pants coming from his plush pink lips. Your wide eyes flit over his own, from one to the other, to gauge a reaction, despite him being the one who had kissed you. The sapphire glistens in the somewhat low and harsh light of the dressing room and his good eye doesn’t nearly look as blue, but almost so dark from how wide his pupil is dilated, that it’s completely black.

Neither of you wait to see what the other has to say, now that a line has been crossed, it cannot be uncrossed. 

It’s unclear who moves first, but all you know is that you’re kissing again, your hands on his shoulders, his own tightening impossibly around you. You feel the weight of every movement behind his lips, tilting his head to gain better access to your hot and waiting mouth as he slips his tongue against yours, sending off each individual kiss with a wet click. It’s a mess, your teeth knock near-painfully against one another, tongues fighting an ever-losing battle.

Aemond moans low in his throat, almost inaudible as he savours the taste of your mouth, his lips anchoring yours open the entire time. With his weight falling forwards, your backside meets the harsh edge of the vanity, making you wince a gasp quietly into his mouth. It only serves to spur him on, his hands fall to your hips, squeezing the flesh beneath the outfit in his large palms, kneading it as if to commit the contours to memory. As if he thinks he may never get to do this again.

He moves like it’s instinctual, his hands falling to grasp at your buttocks, he growls, lifting them onto the vanity, his hold so tight there that it sends a gush of arousal straight to your centre, especially when Aemond leans forward once more to stand between your legs, his obvious erection slotting neatly against your clothed core. His hips move with the rhythm of your desperate kissing, chasing the friction against your flesh he so desires, and you can tell by the way his lips part against yours, a breathy moan slipping into your mouth.

"Fuck" he breathes quietly.

You moan back when he squeezes your waist tightly, his fingers digging in. Thank the gods, this isn’t a cutout dress, otherwise his fingerprints would be clearly visible in red, digit shaped marks for everyone to see. For some reason, that excites you, a dull buzz making its way up your spine as you increase your hold on his shoulders and then his neck, hanging desperately onto him as he pushes flush with you, his chest almost touching yours.

Aemond’s hand drops to your thigh, squeezing the skin in his fingers, his thumb making its way up until it grazes over your clothed heat. It’s like he knows exactly what to do to you, and his fingers tease your clit through your leotard, pressing softly and drawing a desperate breathy moan from your lips. Your hips move towards him, chasing the brief, softened contact he applies, core clenching around nothing-

“On the ice in 2!” someone says from behind the door.

 

Aemond immediately withdraws, cheeks now genuinely flushed against his pale skin. His wide eye continues to hold your gaze, searching your expression for a reaction to what the two of you just did. 

His throat bobs as he swallows and steps back, peeling his hands off you and adjusting his trousers to hide the tent that has formed, the size of it shamefully impressing you for a second. Your hands pull back slowly, slipping off the vanity on wobbly legs and smoothing the skirt back over yourself, briefly noticing the imprint of his hand marks on your bare thigh.

His hair somewhat dishevelled, he uses his hand to smooth it back down. He wets his lips, missing the door handle once before finally catching it, “See you out there..” he says shakily in a weak voice, before he disappears, leaving the door open.

Leaving you to comprehend this sensation that tugs in your stomach. Leaving you to remember the way he’d just kissed you, just touched you, like nobody had ever done before. Even the mere thought of it makes your chest erupt in pink and flutters settle in your core.

Aemond had just kissed you.

And you liked it.

Shit.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics 

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep ​ | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess | @gaeela-6

[thelikesofus]

Buddie prompt thing.... What about Buddie pretending to be a couple to get something free in a restaurant or another place like that? Idk if it's too vague or basic but it's what I always go for for silly quick moments

Banana Boat Super Sundae Supreme

Buddie | 1k | Getting Together, Valentine's Day

Read on AO3

“Why here, Buck? You know this place will be overrun tonight, right?” Eddie reminds him but Buck just tugs Eddie through the door of the dessert bar by his elbow and makes a beeline for the back corner and the only empty table. 

Just as Eddie warned him the place is packed with couples all staring moony-eyed at each other over various bowls of ice cream and cakes. A strange kind of longing makes a home for itself in his chest.

“You ask too many questions,” Buck says as he shoves a menu into Eddie’s hands. “Just trust me okay? At least I’m not dragging you to an underground poker ring in a dodgy back alley.”

Okay, that’s fair. 

Buck nudges the toe of his shoe against Eddie’s shin under the table. “We’re just having dessert, okay.”

Of course, just dessert, on Valentine’s Day, just the two of them, surrounded by twenty other couples and Eddie is stupidly in love with his best friend—but that’s neither here nor there is it?

He’s not surprised that Buck asked him to go out tonight. He is well aware of how much Buck loves Valentine's Day and that even though he’s single again he would still want to be out enjoying the atmosphere. So Eddie breathes past the lump in his chest and nods, opening the menu in front of his face to hopefully hide his grimace. “Okay.”

A mildly frazzled-looking waitress approaches their table, clicking the end of her pen and flipping her notepad to a new page before she even looks up at them. “Hi, my name of Ava, what can I get for you tonight?”

Eddie is about to order the brownie—his usual choice any other time they've come here, usually with Christopher in toe—when Buck talks over him in a jumbled rush of excitement. “My husband and I will have the Banana Boat Super Sundae Supreme, please. Ah, with two spoons.”

Husband? Eddie’s head whips up from his menu to where Buck is grinning at him broadly—there’s a panicked edge to it though, a pointed look in his eyes like he’s trying to communicate something important to Eddie without giving anything away. What though, Eddie isn't sure, his mind still catching on the ‘Husband’ of it all like a stuck record.

“Oh.” The waitress looks surprised—Eddie can relate— and he tracks her eyes as they slide back and forth between them and to where Eddie’s hands are gripping his menu like a lifeline. That’s when he sees it, The big bubble-lettered sign hanging in the front window advertising the store's Valentine’s Day Couples Special, a sundae for two by the name Buck mentioned. How he hadn’t noticed it yet—in all its bubblegum-colored glory—he's not sure.  He drops the menu and tries to look like he hasn’t just been caught out. 

“Oh—umm, Honey, we forgot our rings again.” Buck squeaks, pink dusting across his cheeks as he reaches across the table to wrap his long fingers and wide palm over Eddie’s left fist, running his thumb over Eddie’s bare ring finger. 

Ava looks apologetic, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Eddie barely suppresses a cough. “Right,” His brain rushes to come up with an excuse, refusing to leave Buck high and dry in this apparent ruse. “No, it’s okay. We’re firefighters and we can’t wear our rings at work, it’s a safety hazard.”

“Yes!” Buck says brightly, clinging to Eddie’s hand still, “A hazard because it could get caught on things and you could end up getting degloved. Which is when your ring catches and just like pulls all the skin off your finger and—.” 

“Buck.” Eddie squeezes his fingers and Buck clamps his mouth shut mid-sentence, flashing the wide-eyed and slightly green-looking waitress an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ah, just the sundae please.” 

She shoves the notebook into the front pocket of her apron and disappears with a quick nod. 

Buck collapses back into his chair like his strings have been cut. “That was close.”

He tries to take his hand back but Eddie doesn't let him get far, he still has questions. 

“Husband?” He hisses—or at least tries to—it comes out sounding softer and more teasing than intended. 

“Sorry, it sounds more grown up than ‘boyfriend’. I thought it would be more convincing.”

“Why didn’t you just clue me into your plan beforehand?” 

Buck dips his chin, looking embarrassed. “I–I wasn’t sure if you’d still say yes to going out. But Eddie, just wait till you see the size of the sundae, it's huge. I saw the advert on their Instagram and–.” 

He’s looking frantically around the room as if to try to find another customer eating the aforementioned sundae and somehow convince Eddie that the last five minutes of terribly executed lying were worth it. But Eddie doesn’t need to be convinced. Buck could have told him that were going to stand on a street corner and pretend to be mimes for nothing but a laugh and Eddie would have done so without question just to make Buck happy.

Eddie sighs. “Buck, hey?” He reaches out and catches Buck’s hand before he can pull it out of reach. “We have done much stranger things than pretending to be married for cheap ice cream. Of course, I would have come. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

It’s a little too close to being too honest but the way Buck’s shoulders sag with relief, paired with the shy, grateful smile tugging at his lips soothes Eddie’s anxieties. “I know.”

“Good. So next time you want me to get ice cream with you as your husband, you should just ask.” The words leave his mouth before he can really think them through but before he can find enough reasons to panic Buck is reaching out and taking Eddie’s other hand until he’s got them both gripped in his on the table between them.

“Maybe we could try ice cream as boyfriends first?” His smile is a little bit cheeky and a little bit hopeful and Eddie loves him so much. 

“You’re a dork.” Eddie rolls his eyes and grins because if he doesn't he’ll cry, all the happiness bubbling inside of him threatening to burst at the seams. “But I like the sound of that.”

He hooks his foot around Buck’s ankles, trying and failing to contain the stupid, sappy, ridiculously happy grin that takes over his face when Buck lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles.  

Their sundae arrives and true to Buck’s word it is a massive. Buck insists on taking a photo to show Christopher and then makes Eddie fall a little more in love with him when he also asks the waitress to put through two orders of the brownie to go. 

prompt me out of my writing slump

[steamy-linguine]

LATE NIGHT BEER PT. 2

Logan howlett x Fem!reader

Read pt. 1 here

A/N: I told you I’d write a part 2. Let me know what you think

Warnings: 18+ SMUT

Another night came and you were in the kitchen sitting at one of the stools waiting for him with a new pack of beer.

You turned your head when you saw him and smiled and he didn’t say anything but instead he joined you and the two of you popped open two bottles.

Logan was growing close to you and it both excited and scared him. He was still rough around the edges, a man who was mysterious and used little words and cursed like a sailor but something about you pulled a different side out of him, he felt vulnerable.

He knew what it meant to let people in, the risk that came with it but the more he tried to push it out the harder it was. He looked over at you when you weren’t looking and admired your beauty.

You were young, somewhere in your mid twenties but you were an old soul and he appreciated that about you, it was nice that you both shared some common interest. The night concluded with the two of you discussing music and finishing up your beers and going to bed ready to start your days but today was different.

Instead of being in the confines of a classroom, the two of you were both tasked with trying to stop a mutant. It’s powers were a mirage, creating scenes that were just projections of one’s deepest desires to distract while it could easily kill.

“Should be easy, right?” You asked Logan and he looked at you and saw the uneasiness in your eyes and for a second he wished they had sent anyone else because he knew you weren’t very skilled in combat and he was going to be too distracted trying to protect you.

“It’ll be fine.” His tone was gruff making you grow quiet and he regretted sounding so harsh. The two of you walked through what was a container yard but it was desolate adding to the eeriness.

The sound of quick feet moved around the two of them and they both looked around trying to figure out which direction it was coming from.

“Stay close,” Logan ordered and he continued to walk through the ship yard and then he stopped.

He couldn’t hear your footsteps anymore.

“Aurora?” He called your name as he turned around but the scene around him melted away and he knew immediately he was in trouble as the ship yard turned into a bedroom, his bedroom. When he heard the sounds of your voice calling his name from many directions and he turned to see you on the bed.

You laid on his sheets wearing his red flannel that he loved. It was big on you but still somehow hugged you in all the right spots. The top two buttons undone as the collar hung off of your shoulder revealing your collar bone. Logan was frozen in place, lost for wards as he watched you crawl to the edge of the bed with desire brimming in your eyes.

“Is this what you want Logan?” Your voice was smooth like whiskey laced with sweetness. He had never heard your voice sound like this before, he was drowning in the sound of it.

He moved closer to the edge of the bed and your hands found their way to his waist, fingers dancing against the leather of his suit as you stood up straight and smirked at him.

“Aurora…” He said your name again and you placed your finger on his lips, shushing him.

“Just let me take care of you…” you whispered into his ear.

He couldn’t shake the feeling. He knew somehow the setting of it all wasn’t right but due to the mirage it was making him forget where he truly was before but to him it didn’t matter now, he had you. Lips pressed delicately against his neck and he groaned as his claws retracted and his large hands found their way to your hips.

“Aurora…” he moaned out your name.

You laid on the ground, head pounding and blood dripping from the side. You groaned as you stood up on your feet and began walking the ship yard. You didn’t remember much, just that you were with Logan and the next minute you were caught in some sort of a dream like scenario, you on the beach and then a hard smack on the side if your head made you fall to the ground.

“Logan!” You called out for him as everything around you finally stopped spinning.

Stay close…

It was the last thing you remembered him saying before the two of you got separated.

You were still trying to gain control of your powers, still testing its limits so you were surprised they asked you to accompany them wolverine. Storm insisted on it, saying it would be good for you to be in real situations rather than just simulations but you knew Logan didn’t need your help, really. He was strong, skilled in combat, and he literally couldn’t die.

The thought of being there with him felt a little silly given your lack of experience but x-men always worked as a team, never solo.

You stopped when you saw him. He was standing still, unmoving and you knew he was trapped.

“Logan!” You screamed at him hoping to break him from his trance but you knew it was too late and the mirage had him trapped. The mutant wasn’t too far from him, their eyes glossed over with white as they used their powers to trap him but this was the perfect moment for you.

You acted fast as you held your hand up and blasted them directly and it sent them flying to the ground as they let out a loud scream now blinded from the energy of light that came from her.

The mirage melted away from Logan’s vision and he was back now in this reality, the mutant on the ground in pain and you joined his side. Logan took a quick glance over you and you smiled at him.

“So much for staying close huh?” You rasped out.

***

The day turned to night and Logan decided he deserved a nice beer after all the shit he went through. He entered the kitchen and there you were already waiting for him with a brand new pack of his favorite beer.

You remembered.

“I thought maybe we could celebrate my first mission and I also owe you a pack.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

“You shouldn’t have.” He said as he found his way to the seat beside you and you grabbed them both a bottle and popped them open with ease.

“I honestly didn’t think I would be of much use to you today.” You admitted to him.

“Why?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Well y’know your…Logan. You don’t need an inexperienced mutant with you in battle-“

He placed his hand over yours, shushing you immediately as you looked in his eyes and he held a very serious stare, “Without you being there, I would still be there trapped…so thank you.”

He let his hand stay over yours and you smiled at him. He pulled his hand away and his eyes flickered to your head.

“How’s your head bub?” He asked as he placed his hands on your jaw and turned your head slightly, the heat rising to your cheeks. He had never been this close before, let alone placed his hands on your like this but his touch was gentle.

“I’m okay Logan.” You assured him and he pulled his hands back and grabbed his beer.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you today. The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt.” His voice was filled with regret and hurt.

You shook your head, “It’s not your fault and I don’t blame you for it. Shit happens.”

You gave a reassuring smile and he returned it, although the guilt was still eating inside of him but he decided he would push it down for now.

He took a sip of his beer and placed the bottle back on the counter, “You know you blinded that mutant today.”

You gulped your beverage and placed your drink down. “I know…It’s unfortunately apart of my powers. They can be so strong the blasts can cause some long lasting effects…It’s why I don’t really like to use them, I have no sense of control yet.” Your voice trails off.

Logan placed his hand on your shoulder and you looked at him, “Hey, don’t be ashamed of who you are. You saved me.”

He smiled as you as he removed his hand and you both drank for a bit in more silence.

“I blinded my mother on accident when I was a kid. I was just trying to help her but I instead made her life far more difficult…My father couldn’t forgive me for it. So it’s hard to not be ashamed of who I really am.” You confessed to him.

You exhaled as you remembered it and Logan nudged you.

“We’ve all got a past. Don’t let it control you,” He told you and he almost snorted at his words considering he couldn’t even take his own advice.

“Thank you Logan for just…Being a good friend to me.” You said.

A friend.

There were nights where he didn’t come down, even though he loved the excitement of it all, not knowing if you were going to be in the kitchen waiting for him but some of those nights he would try to keep himself at bay. He had to just remind himself that you guys were friends and it needed to stay that way, maybe even less than that. Although he enjoyed your company (way more than you knew) he couldn’t shake off the fact that you were better off with someone younger and with less baggage than him and he tried to keep away but it became harder.

Some nights, he would lie awake in bed and imagine you would be next to him. His nose buried into the crook of your neck and he would inhale your scent (since he remembered it), you smelled of Jasmine, and he would wrap his hand around your throat and lightly squeeze as he would push himself deep inside of you but then he would remember he was alone in his bed and it was just his imagination.

“Logan,” you called his name softly and he nodded at you encouraging you to continue.

“I heard you call out my name today. What did the mirage show you?” You asked and he sat in silence almost dumbfounded trying to come up with some lie.

“Nothing.” He brushed it off.

You frowned, “I don’t believe you.”

“No really it was nothing.”

He couldn’t tell you. I mean you would think awful of him if he did and he really couldn’t blame you for it. You two are just friends (as you said). He didn’t want to jeopardize that with his perverted thoughts coming to the light.

You held the same frown at him still not believing a word he said but you pushed it away choosing to ignore it. When you both finished your drinks, it was a little past 11 and you both said your goodnights and went your separate ways.

Logan went to bed that night dreaming of you. His need to have you was becoming obsessive and he knew it was going to get bad, just like how he was with Jean but this was different.

It was primal.

He awoke that morning staring at the ceiling in his bed and decided he had to put an end to this although it wasn’t what he wanted but it needed to be done before things took a turn.

The next two weeks dragged painfully as he chose to ignore you and you could feel it. He wouldn’t look in your direction anymore whenever you would be in the same room. If you two were walking through the hallway, he chose to make a quick detour to stay out of your way. He even didn’t come down anymore for late night drinks, leaving you alone with two bottles.

It wasn’t until the start of the third week that you both shared words again. Logan was getting ready for bed when he passed the window in his bedroom and in the garden he could see a figure of a woman, a figure he recognized all too well sitting in the grass.

“Go back to your room, it’s late.” Logan called out in the distance as he made his way over to you.

“What are you my father?” You argued back and it caught him off guard, not used to you speaking to him like that.

You noticed how he looked taken aback and you scoffed.

“Aurora,” he stood in front of you where you sat in the grass. You had on a silk white night gown with lace edges and a white silk robe that covered your shoulders. “Please, go inside. It’s late.”

“What is your problem Logan? You’ve been acting weird toward me, ignoring me. Did I do something wrong?” You asked and he could see the hurt in your eyes and he felt guilty realizing how badly he fucked up.

He knew you deserved an answer.

“No, you did nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me Logan, I’m not one of the students.” Your voice was quiet but there was a firmness in it as you held your gaze on him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to come up with words, something to tell you right now. For a second he thought of being honest but his fear held him back. He looked back over to you about to open his mouth to let the words flow but he closed it and silence remained between the two of you.

“Fine. I don’t need an explanation then,” You stood up on your feet and tried to walk past him but he grabbed your wrist, his touch was gentle against your skin and he pulled you back.

“I’m sorry.” He said and he had meant it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt your feelings. Your eyes roamed over his face and you could tell he meant it.

The crickets chirped and the sound of the water running in the fountain nearby filled the air as you both looked at one another. He could tell you were looking at him for more, trying to figure out what was going on in his head but unfortunately that wasn’t your power.

Everyone that knew Logan had told you he was impossible to read sometimes. Always disappearing for days, weeks, sometimes months trying to find something yet always running away with no explanation and you hated that because you knew that feeling. Running away, trying to figure out who you were with a past that was filled with hurt.

That’s why you liked Logan so much. Not just because the two of you shared a feeling of grief but because he understood you and there was never a sense of judgement.

“What are you running away from Logan?” You asked him as your hand grazed his arm and he tensed up.

If I let you in, this will just do more harm than good…

He stood there and you moved your hand from his arm and grabbed his large hand with your small ones, your fingers brushing over his knuckles and fuck, he felt something stir inside of him.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” You asked him in a whisper and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours for a quick second and pulled back when he realized what he’d done. He was going to apologize but you were faster than him and pressed your lips against his and this time you broke the kiss.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me Logan?” You asked him trying to catch your breath, the both of your foreheads pressed together and noses touching. He didn’t even know how to answer anymore, his mind scrambled from your touch but felt ashamed almost like a school girl for choosing to ignore you because of a crush.

“I didn’t know if this is a good idea.” He admitted not wanting to dump all of his fears on you but the sentence was enough for you to understand.

“Well, how can you know if you don’t try?” You whispered.

You closed whatever space was left between the two of you and you kissed him again. Your lips were just as soft as he imagined.

Not wanting to get caught, he wasted no time by dragging you back to his room when he made sure the door was locked and he could finally have you to himself .

The room was warm, filled with soft moans as his lips pressed against every inch of your body, making sure you felt worshipped because you deserve nothing less. “Logan…” you moaned out his name as you looked down at him, your weight being supported by your elbows as you were on his bead leaned with his head tucked in between your thighs tasting your sweetness.

You moan as he licks around your sensitive bud, fingers finding his hair and pulling on it as his large hands push down on your legs to keep them spread for him. It wasn’t long before you reached your climax, crying out and he lifted his head and moved up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and that excited you all over again.

This is just how Logan had dreamed of it. You underneath him, your lips swollen from all the kissing and biting at your lips, and the moon shinning in through the window casting a perfect glow on your naked body. He sat on his knees, stroking himself in his hand as his eyes raked over your body taking in the sight of you for a mental image he would always remember.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, wanting to test the waters once more and when you nodded your head he grabbed you by your legs, pulling you closer to him and he pushed himself inside of you. You both had been wanting this, needing this.

You were trying to adjust to his size, it hurt taking all of him but, oh, in all the right ways.

“So fucking tight…” he groaned out as he pushed his hips into you and you let out another moan, music to his ears.

His lips found your neck as he sucked on your sensitive spot and he continued to press into you going at a painful slow pace that was edging you.

“Please go faster.” You begged him and god, he loved hearing you beg.

“Is this not enough for you sweetheart?” He asked you starting to go just a little slower and your eyes rolled back.

“Please Logan.” You begged but you knew he needed more as he pulled away from your neck and his eyes met yours.

“Logan please, I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted it for so long…” You breathed out and your words made something in him stir.

You’ve wanted this for so long…

He thrusts into you hard making you groan as he picks up his pace. “Since you asked so nicely and you’ve been so good f’me…” he rasps out in between his breaths as he rolls into a rhythm of fucking you just how you want it. How you both want it.

How could he not give you what you want when you beg so perfectly like this? So perfect underneath him, calling his name out as you reached your orgasm and he fucks you through it, continuing to fuck you even as he reaches his own orgasm and he presses a sloppy kiss to your mouth as he fills you, holding onto your thigh tightly.

He pulls out and falls onto the side of you, the both of you breathless as you both laid in his bed.

You move closer to him, laying your head on his chest as your fingers made their way up his toned core and found its way to his chest.

“I forgive you.” You said to him and you couldn’t see his face but the corners of his lips upturned into a smile as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

[pimsri]

Think I'm gonna have a place to note down stuff about my rook as I play through the game. Keeping track of new bits and pieces about them and what I changed (probably they'll change a lot as I play) Currently at the part where I now have all companions unlocked. Not sure how far into the story I am yet lol. Imma put them in this tumblr post (tumblr has unlimited text and allow image so it's just convenient lol)

Here's Cygnus Aldwir!

Can only choose 1 pronoun so I picked they/them but I imagine them to be he/they just like me :)

he's about mid-twenty, no older, I don't think.

Associated animal is the swan.

Background for now: orphaned Dalish. Picked up by another clan and raised by the clan’s mage who doesn't really want to raise him. Called him “little ugly duckling” and gave him the name Cygnus. Despite this, that mage tried his best to love and raise him. He left on his won, without telling anyone, after it turned out he's also a mage.

Introverted, laid-back, and shy, but very adventurous. Like excitement and danger. Would be the guy trying the most dangerous rides at the theme park! This is where their confident side shines!

Pursuits of adventure and excitement is part of the reason they left the clan. Joined the Veil Jumpers hoping to find a place they belong.

The thing about them is that they have a burst of energy, and then sleep like stone. This is very important: they're a sleepy boi. Love to nap and can fall asleep anywhere and in any situation.

I think they have ADHD.

Hobby is making tea. In their adventure, they likes to gather ingredients: leaves, shrooms, seeds and flowers to put in their tea.

I said that they're shy, but not that they have self-esteem issue. They have moments where they doubt themself, but not hate themself. More like being reserved and private. So sometimes they stutters and have awkward moments, but don't beat themself over it.

What they have issue on is probably being indecisive. To them, it's either taking decisions on impulse, or being so anxious about making choices that it impacts the situations itself.

As far as sexuality I think they're panromantic but more toward the demisexual spectrum.

[brodygold]

Something Fresh

Brody had always been focused on taking the Golden Army to new heights. The team was already a dominating force on the field, known for their discipline, athleticism, and commitment to excellence. But Brody knew the team needed something fresh to stay on top. That’s when his mind went to nutrition. The meals that fueled the Golden Army’s players had to be top-notch, crafted with care to enhance their performance. Brody wasn’t just looking for any chefs; he wanted chefs who would dedicate themselves completely to the team.

After extensive research, he found two young, talented chefs who were making a name for themselves in the culinary world. Alex and Matt had the skills Brody needed, but what he really wanted was their loyalty. Total loyalty.

That’s where the special VR headsets came into play. Originally designed to enhance focus for athletes, Brody had reprogrammed them to reshape not just how a person thought but who they were. He wanted to invite Alex and Matt to the Golden Army’s state-of-the-art facilities under the guise of a job offer, and then immerse them in a world where they would become devoted members of the Golden Army, body and soul.

The first to arrive was Alex. He was in his mid-twenties, with short, neatly styled brown hair and a fit build that reflected his healthy lifestyle. When Brody reached out to discuss the possibility of working with the Golden Army, Alex was thrilled. He had no idea what Brody really had in mind.

As Alex stepped into the Golden Army’s impressive facilities, he couldn’t help but feel awestruck. The sprawling complex was filled with cutting-edge equipment and luxurious lounges, all with views of the pristine training fields. Brody greeted him with a broad grin and a firm handshake.

“Bro, I’m glad you could make it! This place is incredible, right?” Brody said, guiding Alex through the halls.

“Absolutely! It’s way beyond what I expected,” Alex replied, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Brody led him to a sleek, modern lounge, where a comfortable chair and a VR headset awaited. “So here’s the deal, bro. We’ve been working on some advanced tech that can really enhance your focus and performance. I thought you’d want to check it out.”

Alex looked intrigued. “I’ve heard about VR tech for training, but I’ve never used it myself.”

Brody flashed a confident smile. “You’re in for a treat, bro. Just take a seat, and I’ll show you how it works.”

Alex settled into the chair, slipping the VR headset over his eyes. As the device powered on, the world around him faded away, replaced by a stunningly realistic kitchen environment. He found himself standing in a gleaming kitchen, the countertops adorned with polished gold accents and state-of-the-art appliances. Everything felt immaculate and oddly calming.

In front of him hung a perfectly tailored golden suit jacket, alongside a crisp white dress shirt and a black bow tie. The sight felt familiar, almost like it was calling to him.

“Bro, this is where you belong now,” Brody’s voice echoed through the headset, smooth and hypnotic. “You’re not just a chef anymore; you’re part of something bigger—the Golden Army.”

Alex took a step closer, reaching out to touch the golden suit jacket. It felt soft and powerful in his hands. He slowly slipped it on, and as he did, it molded perfectly to his frame. The white shirt and black bow tie completed the look, giving him an undeniable air of authority.

“Bro, you’re gonna love this,” Brody continued. “You will never take off this uniform. It symbolizes your commitment to the Golden Army. You cook for them, you live for them. You belong to the team now.”

In the virtual world, Alex felt a wave of purpose wash over him. He was no longer just a chef; he was essential to the Golden Army’s success. The thought of returning to his old life faded away as he immersed himself in his new identity. He could already picture the players enjoying the meals he prepared, their success intertwined with his efforts.

Brody watched with satisfaction as Alex relaxed into the chair, fully absorbed by the VR headset. The transformation was complete. Alex had been reshaped, and the headset would remain in place, keeping him locked in this new reality where his loyalty to the Golden Army was absolute. The golden suit jacket was now a symbol of that loyalty, and it would never come off.

With Alex now under control, Brody turned his attention to the second chef—Matt. Matt was a bit older, with a rugged, athletic build that spoke to his years of experience. He had a reputation for creating high-energy meals for athletes, and Brody knew he’d be a perfect addition to the Golden Army. But just like with Alex, he needed to ensure that Matt’s commitment was complete.

When Matt arrived, Brody greeted him with the same warm smile and handshake. “Yo, Matt! Great to see you, bro! We’ve got something really cool lined up for you today.”

Matt looked around the lounge, noticing Alex sitting still with the VR headset on. “What’s up with him?” he asked, an amused expression on his face.

“Oh, he’s just trying out some new tech, bro,” Brody replied casually. “You’ll get your chance soon enough. It’s a game changer.”

Brody led Matt to the same chair and handed him the second VR headset. “Alright, bro, put this on. You’re gonna love it. It’s designed to enhance focus and performance, and I think you’ll find it fascinating.”

Matt eyed the headset with curiosity, then shrugged and slipped it on. As the device powered on, he was transported to the same dazzling kitchen Alex had experienced. Everything was pristine, the golden accents gleaming in the virtual light. Waiting for him was a golden suit jacket, a crisp white dress shirt, and a black bow tie, all perfectly arranged.

“Welcome, bro,” Brody’s voice filled the headset, guiding Matt deeper into the experience. “This is your place now. You are more than just a chef. You are part of the Golden Army, and your work is crucial to the team’s success.”

Matt felt a sense of pride swell within him as he stepped forward to claim the golden suit jacket. Slipping it on over the white dress shirt felt empowering, as though he was accepting a new identity. The black bow tie completed the ensemble, and he admired how professional he looked in the mirror.

“Bro, you’re not just cooking; you’re fueling champions,” Brody continued, his voice smooth and authoritative. “You will wear this uniform always. It’s part of your commitment to the team.”

As the hypnotic suggestions seeped deeper into his mind, Matt found himself imagining preparing meals for the Golden Army players. He saw their grateful faces, their success tied to his efforts. His old life faded away, replaced by a singular purpose: to serve the Golden Army.

“Never take off the uniform, bro,” Brody repeated firmly. “You belong here. You will serve the Golden Army, body and mind. The headset stays on. The uniform stays on.”

Matt nodded slowly, his thoughts now completely consumed by the virtual world. “I will, bro. I’ll serve the team.”

Brody watched with satisfaction as both chefs, now fully hypnotized and dressed in their golden suits, stood motionless in the room. Their minds had been reshaped, their identities transformed. They were no longer just Alex and Matt, but were now the chefs of the Golden Army, dedicated to the team’s success in every possible way.

With their golden suit jackets on and their loyalty secured, Brody knew the Golden Army had just gained two crucial members, bound forever to the cause. The headsets would never come off, and neither would the uniforms. The Golden Army was stronger than ever, and Brody couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the delicious meals that would fuel their future victories.

The Golden Army had something fresh in store.

[sunnysidewrites]

Demon prince!Seungcheol

Inspired by this prompt: “I’m a demon, not a hot water bottle. Stop cuddling me.” “But you’re so warm.” “Like hell. Fire, brimstone, eternal burning.” It had absolutely no effect whatsoever, and the demon sighed, wrapping one arm around the other. This is my re-debut (although not sure if this counts as a re-debut or if it's just a one-time thing) after nearly a 6-year hiatus and needless to say I am extremely nervous and excited!!! (talking in idol terms luv that) I am hoping that also means my writing quality has matured as well (I think??? or not but guess we will find out)! This is for everyone who knew me back then and is still around to see this play out! sorry if it's not the best i am EXTREMELY rusty but hope you enjoy lovelies <3333

wow omg it’s great to dive into writing after so long im getting emotional

you know the drill folks let’s get to it!!

Humans and demons have lived in co-existence for centuries and it’s more or less a chaotic neutral environment given the unique circumstances of these 2 different… races?

It can be difficult to distinguish the demons with the humans since they try to blend in seamlessly for their own sense of peace and security

Despite a big chunk of demons integrating with humans, there are still parts around the world, albeit small, where they have their own territory to control

They usually operate in more traditional political systems, such as still maintaining kings and queens

Humans can live there as well, but it is predominantly demons who are seen as the norm and the former as commoners/lower class

You happen to be one of the lowly commoners who have been working as a maid in the castle since you were young

you and Seungcheol, the Crown Prince, were actually kinda close as kids!!

you could tell all he wanted to do was let loose and have fun but was forced to follow the rules and take everything seriously 24/7

even as a 5 y/o you could see how much he yearned to be a regular kid but duty calls :”((

there were many times you hung out together in secrecy since you as a lowly maid could not be caught DEAD associating yourself with someone of such a high status

and add being human on top of that!! <3

But Seungcheol didn’t care you were literally his first and only friend at the time

Any time a guard looked for him, he and you would duck somewhere to hide together, stifling your smol little giggles im dead

As he grew up and more burdens were placed on his shoulders, you could no longer keep the same innocent, playful friendship between the two of you

Your interactions with him went from running around in the garden to stealing quick looks at each other when you passed by him in the hallways

He went from a happy lil child to a very assertive, stoic man who always picked his kingdom over anything

Despite his new persona, he would occasionally still show you very rare displays of fondness??

You would sometimes randomly find gifts on your bed with a note and well it doesn’t take a genius to know who it’s from

“I swiped the last cookie for you before Penny stole it and I know you would become a demon yourself if someone took your sweets”

“I noticed your uniform was ragged and a little ripped so here’s a new set. be more careful or our next encounter won’t be as pleasant”

“Here’s an extra blanket loser don’t freeze to death on me”

Your heart feels warm knowing that he still shows you his softer side to you while he’s practically a statue to everyone else

Now you were both in your mid-twenties and he’s been busier than ever with political meetings and social gatherings

You were his main maid since out of all of the staff, you were the only one who could really put up with his absurd requests and got along with him in a manner no other maid could, even the older ladies

There were times he summoned you to his headquarters for the sole reason of wanting some company

He would bring up some dumb question and you would be like no offense but this is kinda useless

But little did you know he would do that intentionally to see you crack a little smile, maybe even a laugh in there since he’s been seeing you look more despondent lately

“Even though we can’t run around the palace like how we did as kids, I’m still here. I’m the same Seungcheol – well, actually not really but I still look out for your wellbeing”

“Thanks, not-the-same-Seungcheol”

It’s rumored that the Crown Prince is coming of age to take over the throne soon, but before doing so he needs to find a bride yes it’s one of those tropes ok deal with it

You’re cleaning the hallways one day with some other maids and you can’t help but overhear their gossip

“Did you hear Prince Seungcheol is now engaged??? I think it was just last week”

Your ears perk up and your scrubbing slows down slightly so you can focus on their conversation

“Yeah, I heard the woman is a princess from some neighboring kingdom… It’s really hitting soon that he’ll be the new king”

“I don’t know how long she is going to last… he’s so cold and doesn’t seem to care about anyone. but what can you expect from a demon?” 

They both giggle and move to another room to continue cleaning and you can’t help but feel fired up from the way they were talking about him as if they knew anything about him

Sure, he was not really the friendliest and was very brutally honest with his curt words but it didn’t make him a bad person

Your heart aches after hearing the news and you recall a past talk you had with Seungcheol when you were younger

“Do you believe in love?” you asked him, the both of you lying down on the grass while looking up at the vibrantly blue sky

“Pshh, not really. Father always said marriage is for the people, not for love”

“But shouldn’t you love someone in order to marry them? you will be spending the rest of your life with them”

“I don’t think that is what he wants from me. I would be letting him down”

“Is that what you really want, though? to be stuck with someone you have no feelings for?”

he sighs deeply and looks down. “Well, I guess not… I do care a lot for someone”

your heart dropped. guess he already has his eyes set on someone else. “o-oh, well that wouldn’t be fair to you or to them right?”

he shakes his head, quickly glancing at you before looking away. “but it wouldn’t work out anyway. I wouldn’t want to drag them into the mess of my world. I want them to be free of what I go through. I just hope they know I’ll always care for them from afar.”

You shake your head out of a daze, painfully reminded of how raw that moment still feels

I wonder if he still cares for that person he mentioned, you think to yourself as you continue scrubbing the tiles. But what does it matter now that his future is sealed with someone else?

Shortly after that day, it was formally announced to the kingdom that the Crown Prince and the soon-to-be Crown Princess will be holding a wedding ceremony in just a short few weeks

On the outside, you smile politely and clap your hands but it takes every fiber of your being to not want to fling the door to your cramped bedroom and collapse on your bed and spill the tears you were desperately attempting to hold in 

As you stared at him and his fiancee out the balcony waving to everyone, you swear you thought you saw him give you a forlorn look that lasted for a millisecond before he returned to his usual expressionless state

From that moment on, you barely saw Seungcheol at all

This man was constantly getting pulled in all different directions, especially with the royal wedding around the corner

The night before his big day, he summons you to his room again and your mind is buzzing with loads of thoughts of what he could possibly want to talk to you about

You cautiously enter and close the door slowly before turning back towards him

He looks more disheveled than usual, his hair tousled, his usual prince attire crinkled and slightly unbuttoned

“You look stressed, what's wrong??”

He closes his eyes and sighs for a moment before slowly opening them again and says while still not making eye contact with you, “I… I feel like I’ll have so many regrets once tomorrow comes”

You’re like why is that??

“Do you remember me mentioning I cared a lot about someone back then?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “Yes… why?” thanks for the reminder

“I keep thinking about them… and all of these what-ifs. I know I can’t do anything about it, but–”

“Of course you can do something about it! I know you’re a stickler for the rules, but if the cost is your happiness, is it really well worth it?”

He shakes his head, looking even more troubled than before. “I can’t risk putting them in that position. Yet I… I want to,” he articulates slowly, as if it’s only dawning on him now that he’s finally learned what he truly feels

You feel as if the waves of heartache and anguish are drowning you but you try to be strong for him and present a smile if not for him, then for yourself

“I think you know what you need to do, Seungcheol”

And with those words, you quietly bow out and make your way to your room

The next morning, you wake up with puffy eyes from crying all night and begrudgingly get out of bed to get ready for the busy day ahead

After a hectic morning and afternoon, the ceremony finally begins

The moment we’re all waiting for is “Speak now or forever hold your peace”

And the most baffling thing happens because it’s not you who speaks up, not some secret lover, not some random citizen in the audience

but it’s Seungcheol himself

“Wait – I don’t think I can go through with this”

SCANDALOUSSSS

That’s right, he causes a whole uproar and everyone is like what tf is he talking about?!?!?

You are unfazed to a certain degree due to the conversation you had with him last night but you’re still confused on where this is going to go

Never in a million years would you have imagined for him to say his next words

“I’m in love with someone else: Y/N”

And all the maids around you gasp like WHAT. IS. HE. TALKING. ABOUT.

You aren’t sure whether to feel mortified or happy but whatever it is, all eyes are now on you

The current King is like MISTER?? WITH A H U M A N????

“I know it’s never been done before, having a demon and a human marry each other. but I’m tired of always having to do the right thing and for once, I want to do something that is right but for myself”

You’re looking at him in complete bewilderment and disbelief like you were talking about me this whole time??!!

“If we can prove that humans and demons can come together, it’ll be a huge stepping stone politically for everyone involved. I can’t change how I feel about her but I can change our worlds with her by my side”

He makes his way towards you and grabs your hand and this time he does not break eye contact even once

“I want to be with y/n, and no one else”

You’re melting like putty in his arms it’s honestly really sweet!!!

The King eventually caves in although he’s obviously not happy with all of their efforts wasted but he’s cool enough to welcome in this new change

Everyone’s reactions are pretty mixed understandably but they don’t seem like they hate it which is probably the best reaction you’re gonna get

“You’re not asking for my hand in marriage are you?? bc that’s a little too quick on a first date”

He shrugs and nonchalantly says, “Not until you’re ready” JESUSLFSJDS

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of crazy events that you get caught up in as the Crown Prince’s new lover now 

By the time it’s time for bed, he summons you for the last time as you being a maid and not as a Girlfriend

Well turns out he’s actually a big baby and the whole time he tried to conceal his feelings for you all he wanted was for you to be by his side pshh lame amiright

“You sure move fast with wanting me to be in your bed already and we haven’t even gone on an actual date yet”

“Shut up and just lay beside me”

After you turn off the lights and get under the covers, you can’t help but notice he’s extremely hot (literally and physically) and considering it’s 20 degrees you’re taking all of that warmth

Of course, Seungcheol tries to make it a big deal and get you off of him even tho he secretly enjoys it

“I’m a demon, not a hot water bottle. Stop cuddling me.”

“But you’re so warm.”

“Like hell. Fire, brimstone, eternal burning” 

Like that was gonna stop you who does he think he is for putting you through all of this and at the very least not giving you some cuddles???

He sighs and wraps one arm around the other after he notices your breathing slowing down

“I don’t have to care about you from afar anymore,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face before also slowly losing consciousness

[foreverfangirlsblog]

Tormented Tales (Husk x Reader Coffee Shop AU)

Summary:

Coffee shop AU with Husk and a twist!

Notes:

Word count: 2283 Requested by: Melted_Halo on AO3 Ty for the request! I hope you don’t mind my twist on this chapter! Im assuming (like Angel Dust) that Husk had a different name before he sold his soul? Or adopted the nickname Husk later in life/death. So I literally looked up popular names from his time period to make him a name lol.

The bells chimed as you opened the door and walked into your regular coffee shop. Your town wasn’t necessarily big, but it wasn’t small either. It was quaint. If you go to places regularly enough you’d know everyone there, and boy did you frequent this coffee shop a lot. Your best friend actually worked there. “Hey Lily!” You smiled at her as you approached the counter “I’ll take my usual”

Lily greeted you back and nodded before punching your order into the system and waving you off. One of the many perks of having a friend who was in charge of the towns coffee shop, you never really had to pay for your drinks.

After you sat down at your regular spot you noticed someone knew in the shop behind the counter making drinks, being trained by Lily. ‘Who’s this cutie?’ You thought to yourself as you couldn’t help but notice his attractive features. The stranger was around your age, probably early to mid twenties. His face a bit pale, with bushy eyebrows and unkept wild black hair to match.

Distracted by the man, you didn’t even notice when Lily came to give you your drink. “Hello, earth to Y/N”

“Sorry Lily I was uh…distracted” Lily smirked at you, noticing where you were looking before she interrupted. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Oh you mean Charles? I just hired him a few days ago, todays his first official day behind the bar. Teaching him how to run everything”

You hummed, acknownledging her explanation as you sipped your drink.

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

As days turned to weeks you couldn’t help but frequent the coffee shop a bit more and more to admire the new cute barista at work.

Today Lily wasn’t here, something about a wedding she had to go to out of state. When you went into the shop today you immediately noticed, to your surprise, that Charles was at the counter and seemed to be working all by himself. ‘I guess it is pretty slow at this time’ you shrugged as you approached the counter.

“Hi” you greeted sweetly.

Charles looked up at you with a stoic face “Hey, um, Y/N right?”

You looked at him a bit surprised that he knew your name. “That would be me” you said awkwardly “How did you-“ you were going to ask how he knew your name before he cut you off.

“I see you in here everyday, I’m always making the drink you order…couldn’t help but notice you.” He blushed a bit, “anyway you want your regular?”

“Yes please” you nodded in confirmation, excited that he knew your name and your regular order.

“Alright that will be $5.23” he deadpanned as he reached his hand up towards you for payment.

“Uhhhh” you hesitated before frantically looking through your bag to find any form of payment.

He chuckled softly at you “I’m just fucking with ya doll, go sit down I’ll bring it to you in a sec” he winked.

You blushed at his words before nodding appreciatively and going to your usual spot. You always loved to watch him make drinks, especially when it was yours. It also helped that he looked rather handsome in the uniform, who knew a simple white button down long sleeve could look so appealing on someone?

In no time he walked up to your table with your drink in hand. “Here you go Y/N”

“Thanks” you replied as he turned away to go back behind the bar “Wait a sec!” You said quickly making him pause before he could get too far.

“Something wrong with your drink?” He asked nervously

“No no, I just wanted to know if you’d sit with me, maybe we could chat for a bit”

He looked around the empty shop and shrugged “Don’t see why not” he smiled.

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

You ended up staying to chat with him for his whole shift. Occasionally you two would get interrupted by a customer, but he would quickly take care of their order then come back and pick up the conversation as if he never left. You two talked about seemingly everything. Your age, his troublesome family, how he lived a casino.

“You know I even do a little bit of magic” there was a sparkle in his eye as he revealed this new fun fact to you.

“Oh this I need to see to believe” you teased. He laughed at you but complied, pulling out of deck of cards he just so happened to have on hand. “You always keep those on you?”

“All true magicians do” He quickly and skillfully shuffled the cards and had you choose a card and memorize it. Next thing you know the card you thought was shuffled back into the deck was getting pulled out from behind your ear.

“Wow!” You exclaimed “You’re actually really good at that! Show me another!” Husk chuckled and was about to protest but his coworker came up to him.

“Hey Husker I’m here for my shift so you’re good to go now”

“Thanks,” he said a bit irritated and dismissive

“Husker?” You questioned.

“Dumb nickname,” he replied rolling his eyes before turning back to you “anyways want to get out of here?”

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

The two of you left the coffee shop and wondered around town still chatting about whatever came to your minds, until you figured it was getting late. “Well I think I should probably head home now, it was lovely spending time with you today”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?”

“No that’s alright”

“I insist Y/N, its not always safe around here you know that,” He wasn’t wrong, there’s no denying that there was a creeping sense of danger growing in the town recently due to some girls going missing, and you didn’t really want to say bye yet, so you accepted his offer.

As you walked home he started asking you more and more questions “So what’s your dream”

You laughed at him “My dream?”

“Yeah you know, your goal in life”

You hummed thinking to yourself for a moment “Its a bit silly but I always wanted to open a little bookshop cafe.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all, why don’t you?” He questions. Valid since your best friend ran a shop, who’s to say you couldn’t.

You explained to him that you had responsibilities to your family and it just never seemed like the right time to start something that time consuming, but that you still wish to one day.

He accepted that answer “Well I know you’ll do it eventually, what are you gonna call it?”

“Tormented Tales and Tempting Treats” you said confidently

He laughed at the oddness of the name, but it made perfect sense coming from you and he liked it. “Not bad”

Eventually you made it to your apartment and were a bit disappointed to be separating from him, you throughly enjoyed his company. “Well this is me” you said hesitantly, “thank you for walking me home.”

“Of course, no problem Y/N” you made your way to the doorstep of your apartment building, “see you tomorrow?” He asked.

“See you tomorrow” you confirmed sweetly making your way inside, waving one last goodbye to him.

It wasn’t until later that you noticed writing on the coffee cup from just one of your many refills. ‘Let’s do this again soon’ was written in his sloppy yet beautiful hand writing. You blushed and couldn’t bare throw away the cup anymore. ‘That sneaky magician’ you thought to yourself.

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

Ever since that day the two of you had a shared friendship that everyone else assumed to be a relationship. You couldn’t really say they were wrong, the two of you did have pet names for each other, shamelessly flirt, and overall acted liked a couple. But then again the two of you also never really confirmed anything.

You found that you no longer had to go up to the counter to order drinks anymore. Every time you went into the shop there he would be, at your usual table waiting for you. Reading a book in one hand and the other next to his own drink on the table, yours sat across from him prepped and ready for you, just as you like it. He’d time it so his breaks were when you came in, so he could sit down and spend time with you, even if it was busy.

Everything was going exceptionally well. You were happy, he was happy.

Until that one unfortunate evening.

Maybe fight is too harsh of a term, but you were frustrated with him. The two of you were supposed to meet at the local book store after he got off work but he never showed up. It was well pass dark now and the shop had closed, you were pissed to say the least. He had been hiding a lot of things from you, things about his family that he claimed were dangerous and that he didn’t want to get you involved in.

You were mad, and since he was supposed to come from work you were holding out hope that maybe he had to stay and work later. With a little bit of hope you began making your way across town to the coffee shop where you hoped he’d be waiting. But unfortunately you never made it to the shop. With everything else occupying your mind you had forgotten about all the scary things happening around town recently, and with your guard down it was too late before you felt a sharp and sudden pain on your head, then everything went black, then you woke up in an unfamiliar red hellish place in an unfamiliar body. You were dead. You were in hell.

It was well into the next day before he had found out what happened to you. He went to your shared apartment with Lily holding flowers, hoping he could make up for standing you up. His family kept him from you that night and he had no way of contacting you. As soon as he arrived outside your building he knew something was wrong. Police cars were swarmed all throughout the street and police officers around your building. He cursed to himself and ran up to your apartment looking for you, only to find Lily, crying, speaking to the police. With the sudden noise of his arrival Lily looked up and recognized the panic on his face and shook her head continuing to sob.

The flowers from his hands fell. He knew what had happen. You were gone.

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

(Flash forward to Husk living at the Hotel in Hell)

Husk lost track of how long it had been since he wound up down in hell. And he lost hope of finding you even longer before that. There’s no way that a sweet thing like you would’ve ended up down here with him.

Well, that was what he’d thought until he overheard a conversation between Charlie and Vaggie one day. “Oh Vaggie you just need to see this bookstore! It so cute! I really think you’d love it, it was called Tormented Treats? No, that not right Tormented something and something treats…” Charlie ranted but Husk was already alarmed.

“Tormented Tales and Tempted Treats?!” He asked suddenly and loudly, interrupting their previous private conversation.

“Yes! Oh that’s it! Have you been there before Husk? Wasn’t it-“ before Charlie could finish her sentence Husk ran out from behind the bar and out the door.

“IM TAKING MY BREAK GOTTA GO BYE”

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

By the time Husk had fully processed his actions he realized he didn’t really have a plan….is it just a coincidence that there’s a shop down in hell with the exact name you envisioned? What if you weren’t really there? What if you were there? He was far too old for you by now. What would you think of his new appearance? How would you even recognize him?

This and many other insecurities started racing through Husk’s mind. But it didn’t matter now because he was standing in the shop, infront of the check out counter, being greeted by a beautiful demon who he hoped to satan was you.

“Hello? Earth to kitty. What can I get for you”

“Um,” Husk hesitated “Is Y/N here?” He asked softly, afraid of being told no.

“That depends who’s asking?” The woman in front of him stood up straighter and was visabilly on guard now.

“Charles,” Husk breathed “Charles Husker”

Her eyes widened “No fucking way. Charles?!” She made her way out from behind the counter to get a better look at him before bringing him in for a tight embrace. “It’s really you?” She asked nuzzled deep in the fur on his neck.

“Yeah doll its me” he said softly, reciprocating the hug, bringing you close to him even tighter than before “I’m sorry it took me so long, I didn’t think you’d be down here”

You laughed at him before pulling away a little, “Its okay Its not like I did a great job of finding you either.”

“To be fair I do go by Husk now…” he trailed off sheepishly.

“Husk, you mean like the ex overlord Husk?!” You asked surprised

He smirked a bit at this before confirming.

“Oh my satan how did I not fucking put that together. WAIT AN OVERLORD?!”

“Ex-Overlord” he clarified.

“Yeah yeah whatever, get the fuck over here so we can catch up,” you pulled him into the back room of your shop, where your office was “I missed you so much”

“I missed you more doll, we have so much to make up for”

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

Penelope and Ulysses

AN: marley lives au. marley gets discharged from the hospital and returns home. there's growing pains.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment had never looked better.

Ellen had been awake until five in the morning cleaning. She’d scrubbed at the floor, and stripped all the beds, and dusted until her eyes had blurred. She’d only slept for two hours and then she’d awoken again, returning to bleach the toilets and shower by seven. By the time nine rolled around, the place seemed to glitter.

Ellen still saw flaws. There was a streak on the window. She should have alphabetized the new DVDs. She’d have to buy a new rug for the foyer. She’d done so much, and it still wasn’t good enough. But she didn’t have time to fix it now. She was expected at the hospital for ten.

She’d even cleaned out the car. It shone with a next to new gleam as she drove towards the hospital, a jaunty little air freshener hanging on the mirror. Ellen didn’t usually drive. The car they’d had was rarely used. The wheel felt unfamiliar under her hands but she got to the hospital without even a splash on the hood.

The nurse on Marley’s ward smiled at her as she approached. “Ms. Scrooge! Today’s the day.”

“Yes.” Ellen said. “It, er, is.”

All things considered Marley had made a remarkable recovery. Considering he’d almost died on Christmas Eve, a release home in mid-January was a wonder. He’d dreaded the idea of going to a rehab, and Ellen had dreaded not getting him home. But he’d been approved, provided he attend physical therapy regularly and kept up with all his treatment. Ellen had been making charts and schedules for the past week. He would be fine. He had to be.

“Mr. Marley had a good night,” The nurse said. “He’s very excited to return home.”

“We’re very excited to get him home,” Ellen had no idea who the ‘we’ was. They had no friends besides each other. But it seemed like the right thing to say. “Do you know what time he’ll be released?”

“Noon, if Dr. Dickens has anything to say about it. Just get him all situated and we’ll get him out as soon as possible.”

At this point, Ellen could navigate the stroke ward with her eyes closed. Marley was in a private room at the very end of the hall, just next to a water fountain. He was asleep when she entered which wasn’t a surprise. Post-stroke fatigue was among the most common symptoms. Lately he’d spent much of his days sleeping.

His face was pale and drawn, as it had been ever since the stroke. His cheekbones, always sharp, jutted against his skin. He still looked so terribly unwell, and it still took Ellen by surprise when she saw it. But the stitches in his head had begun to heal, ripped flesh giving away to scar. He was healing. Slowly, but surely, he was healing. And she would make sure he’d continue to heal.

He’d get better, if it took every cent they had. He’d get better.

He had too.

He slept for the next twenty minutes. Ellen got to cleaning while she waited. He’d only picked at his breakfast, so she set the tray aside. She put the pull out bed right, and stripped the sheets to make things easier. She gathered Marley’s few things, packing clothes into a suitcase she’d brought. He only began to stir when she was putting the bag by the door.

His eyes fluttered open. He looked so pretty, even when waking up. Everything Marley did was pretty. Damn the man. His gray eyes flickered around the room before falling on her. And then he smiled.

It still gave her a thrill.

“‘Lo.” He said.

“Hello.” Ellen said. She moved to his side. She took his bad hand in her own. It was now dotted with scars from IV ports, and he couldn’t feel her touch. But she still held his hand.

“How long did you sleep?” She asked.

“They brought breakfast at nine, and it turned my stomach.” He stammered terribly, but she could still understand it. “I wasn’t about to eat that.”

“It’s good for you.”

“That’s why I won’t eat it,” Marley wrinkled his nose. “I want bacon and sausage and eggs.”

“You’ll get a fruit salad and like it.” Ellen said. “I’ve stocked the fridge with every kind of healthy food imaginable. We’ve never had more food in the house. Fruits, and vegetables, and lean proteins.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay here…” Marley mused.

“Absolutely not,” Ellen said. “You’re coming back whether you like it or not.”

Marley leaned a little closer, but his nose wrinkled. “Do you smell bleach?”

Ah. In getting things ready, Ellen had forgotten to shower. “I was cleaning.” She moved away. “I’m sorry. Does that hurt your head? I’ve bought a whole range of scentless shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, as well as lotion, scrubs, cleanser-.”

Marley held up his other hand. He suddenly looked overwhelmed. “Slow down. Slow down.” He said. “I can’t- follow.”

Ellen immediately stopped. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- fine.” He said. “Just- not used to it. You’ve talked more these past few weeks than you have in seventeen years.”

Ellen blushed. She’d been doing that more recently too.

Marley tilted his head to the side, as if trying to shake out the fog. Ellen was reminded, not for the first time, that as much as he had stayed the same Marley had changed. He was slower to follow things than he had been. It was harder for him to listen along. Her partner was still in there, she was sure of it, but it would take time. She had to keep things simple.

“I went to the fancy soap store and everything,” Ellen said, lowering her voice and slowing down. She had to make sure not to ramble- her regular ‘flat’ voice was apparently easier to parse. “The one we used to make fun of. Turns out the people are quite nice.”

“Oh yeah?” Marley asked, disorientation fading. He liked her voice, he said. It was ‘grounding’.

“I asked what would be best, and they made me up a basket. I even used the face cleanser.”

“You? You have a skin care routine?” Marley asked. “I have been gone a while.”

“I’ve got everything set up. It’s like a new place. We have new snacks, and some new furniture, and I got all those streaming services that people like. We’ll have fun.”

Marley laughed tiredly. “That would be a first.”

It would be, and it was a depressing thought. But Ellen couldn’t let any of those in. So she just gave his hand a squeeze.

They sat in the quiet after that. Marley valiantly tried not to fall back asleep and Ellen mentally cataloged everything she’d have to do. Once she got him home, she’d have to set up his pills. That was crucial. Then she’d have to settle him in wherever he wanted to be. The trip would likely be exhausting, so it would be best if he rested. But she also had things he could do if he didn’t want to. She’d tested each and every new streaming service the previous night, so he could watch something. She had blankets, and snacks if he was hungry, and books to read and games to play and everything he could ever possibly want. It was just a matter of getting them for him.

Oh. And she should probably shower. That would probably be best.

Dr. Dickens came in right on time. He shook both of their hands and reminded them of all their upcoming appointments. After a brief discussion of everything, he told Marley to behave himself and that they’d see each other in a few days. Marley forced himself to give the doctor a firm handshake.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He said. His voice was shockingly small.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Marley.” He said. “Take care of yourself.”

They got a wheelchair to push him out. Marley could walk a little with the help of a cane, but he quickly became exhausted. There was no way he could walk out on his own. Ellen pushed him down the hallways, pausing occasionally so Marley could shake the hand of a nurse or doctor who had seen him. He stopped a lot to thank the nurses. It was funny, in a way. Marley would never have stopped to talk to a ‘minor’ member of staff before all this. But he stopped every nurse he recognized and said a kind word. Imagine that. Jacob Marley saying a kind word.

Ellen left him inside the lobby while she walked to get the car. She swore as soon as she stepped outside. It had started to rain. It wasn’t supposed to rain today. Everything was supposed to be perfect.

Luckily she was prepared.

“I’ll just wrap this around your shoulders,” Ellen said, walking into the lobby with a blanket in hand. “I shoved it in the back to be safe.”

But Marley weakly pushed her hands aside. “It’s only a minute trip between the car and here.”

“I don’t want you to get cold-.”

“I don’t want to be treated like an old man, woman!”

“You are an old man.” Ellen said. And she immediately knew that was the wrong thing to say. Marley’s eyes widened before they narrowed, and he turned to look ahead, avoiding her gaze.

“Jacob-.”

“Let’s go.”

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

Everything was all quiet as they entered the apartment. Ellen had made sure the lights would be dimmed when they returned, just to be as soothing as possible. Things were cleaner than they’d ever been, and new furniture was placed here and there, but the apartment was mostly how Marley had left it. As he glanced around, arm in arm with Ellen, he had that same distant look he got when trying to place something in his memory.

“You’ve changed things.” He said finally. “It looks nice.”

‘Nice’ wasn’t exactly what Ellen was aiming for, but she’d take what she could get. Ellen helped him to sit down and then she bent to take off his shoes. Marley stared off, mind working overtime to adapt to change. He’d had that far-off look often, lately.

Finally he looked back down. “…My shoes?” He said, looking at his feet. He looked legitimately confused and that made Ellen’s heart twist.

“I took them off.” She reminded him.

“Oh.” He said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.” She said, standing.

“Where did they go?” He asked. They were sitting right beside him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll put them back.” She soothed. “What would you like to do now?”

“Now?” Marley asked.

“You’re a free man. You can do what you’d like.”

Marley’s brow knit together. It was the same expression he wore when deep in thought. It shouldn’t be used for something so simple as doing something in his own home. The doctor had warned this would happen. His recovering mind had gotten used to the hospital. There might be a relapse in confusion when he returned home. He’ll adapt. They’d said. But it didn’t make it any easier.

Finally he spoke. “I…think I’d like to lay down now.”

Ellen didn't know why that stung. Marley needed rest. He needed sleep. He needed to heal, and recover. But a part of her, the terribly selfish part who wanted him back, hurt all the same.

"Are you sure?" Ellen asked. "I can set you up in the living room. We can watch a show."

Marley shook his head. "No. I'd like to lay down now."

“Are you sure?” Ellen repeated. She couldn’t tell why, but it felt as if everything was unraveling. It was irrational, and idiotic, she knew. But he was home, wasn’t he? It was stupid to think about anything else. He was home. That was all that mattered. “Alright. Yes, of course.”

She helped him into the bedroom and out of his clothes. There was nothing titillating or shameful about the action - this was helping her partner. She found a pair of silk pajamas Marley had stolen from an AirJapan flight and helped him into them. Ellen tried to ignore how they now hung on his frame. Marley had been slight before he’d entered the hospital, and the lack of appetite and motion had only slimmed him down further. She buttoned the buttons on the shirt while his head lolled back, eyes screwed shut.

“Are you in pain?” She asked.

“No,” He said. “No. Not really. Just tired.” He opened his eyes. “So tired.”

“It’s been a big day,” She said, now fully pro-rest. Yes, yes that would make him well. “You need to rest.”

She pushed aside the blankets and helped him lift his legs onto the bed. She tried to ignore how he sighed with relief the second he was laying down. “I’m just going to shower,” She said as she pulled the blankets around him. “I’ll be a few minutes at most. Scream if you need me.”

Marley just nodded. It seemed difficult for him to speak.

Ellen quickly moved into the shower. She’d filled the space with tons of things Marley would like, but hadn’t gotten anything for herself. She had to shake the shampoo bottle to get some out. By now Ellen was a master of efficient care, and she’d finished her shower in under ten minutes. She changed into a set of sweats she’d specifically bought for when he was back. It was made of a soft material and was a gentle peach color. Soothing on the eyes. Perfect for him. Even her clothes had been chosen for efficiency in making him well.

He was laying so terribly still when Ellen came back into the room. Instinctually she checked for the motion of his lungs moving up and down. Before all this she never thought she could be spellbound by the act of breathing, but it was one of her new favorite things about him. She thought he’d fallen back asleep before his eyes fluttered open again.

His mouth opened but no words came out. A look of frustration crossed over his face.

“What is it?” She said, moving to his side. She sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. “What is it?”

His mouth opened again. He was staring intently at her, focused on something in particular. He lifted a shaking hand up into the air.

“Do you want your glasses?” She asked. He shook his head. “Water?” Again, no. “I can get you something to-.”

“Shh!” He finally managed to say.

Ellen fell quiet.

His hand reached up into her hair. “No, don’t do that,” She said, trying to move away. “It’s still wet. I don’t want you to get cold.”

But he persisted. He pushed aside her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Inexplicably his fingers lingered there.

His mouth worked again and again. Finally, he could speak.

“Forgot.” He said.

“Forgot what?” Ellen asked.

“Ears.” He said simply.

“Ears?” Ellen asked.

“You have…” He paused. “Beautiful ears.”

It was such a strange thing to say. It was such a nothing thought to think. Ellen didn’t have beautiful ears. They were just ears. They looked like every other human’s ears. But he was staring at them like he was seeing them again for the first time. And he was awestruck.

This man was awestruck by the mere sight of her ears.

And it made Ellen cry.

Ellen Scrooge did not cry. She was stern, and she was cold, and she was so emotionally repressed that she’d long since stopped crying. She had become teary when Marley was so ill, and had forced herself to get it together. She had forced herself to focus on making things better. On putting him right.

But here he was. At home. And things weren’t better. She’d done all this stupid shit, and things weren’t better. Because Marley was broken, and none of her careful plans, none of her research, none of her changes or gifts or special outfits would change that. Only time would put him right, if they were given that mercy, and even then he may never recover.

And this broken, shattered man with a mind trying to repair itself had looked at her and been struck by the beauty of her stupid fucking ears.

And it made her cry.

Ellen’s head bent forward and the tears she’d not allowed to fall slid down her face.

“You’re so stupid,” She whispered. “I do not have nice ears.”

He smiled. It was that same crooked smile he always had. The stroke hadn’t taken that from him. It had taken so much, but it hadn’t taken his smile. It hadn’t taken him.

Ellen crawled across his legs onto the other side of the bed. She moved his arm to the side just long enough for her to lay next to him. She placed her head on his chest as his arm moved around her shoulders. He couldn’t feel her underneath his hand. He had no sensation in his hands. But he rubbed her shoulder anyway.

Ellen could hear his heart beating in his chest. It thud-thud-thud’ed away, as regular and even as a clock. Ellen had done all sorts of horrid, scandalous things with Marley that would shock their peers. She knew his body and his soul as well as she knew her own, but she’d never stopped to just lay her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It was such a simple action. Who knew that the sound of a heartbeat could be so-.

“Beautiful.” Ellen murmured.

“What?” Marley asked, already half-asleep.

“You have a beautiful heartbeat.”

There was a pause. And then he began to laugh. Jacob Marley, her partner in everything, began to laugh.

She’d forgotten the last time he’d done that.

“You’re so stupid,” He said. “I do not have a nice heartbeat.”

“You started it,” Ellen said. “You opened the dam with these strange compliments. I expect we’ll never put the genie back in that bottle.”

“If you compliment the beauty of my jawbone, I want to be taken back to the hospital.” He said, but he held her a little tighter. He had no intention of going back there.

And Ellen had no intention of letting him go back there either.

She’d only just gotten him back.

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @panbuckley @prince-buck-diaz 💖

Alright girlies (gn), it's been a day and I haven't added to my WIPs in a few. So have this thing I started during mid-season hiatus and may or may not finish. Who knows? Certainly not me.

Oh no I’m falling in love again

The news comes near midnight on Tuesday, in the middle of a twenty-four. Buck lays in the bunk room - not sleeping, but not not sleeping either - when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He distantly thinks he should ignore it, because blue light and sleep interference or whatever, but the Santa Anas are still strong and he’s not drifting off any time soon anyway. 

The message from his group text with Connor and Kameron simply reads thank you!!!!! with a picture of a positive pregnancy test. The crisp lettering on the digital readout leaves no room for misinterpretation. 

Buck reads it once or twice or ten times before the impact fully hits. It worked. I’m gonna be a– Not a father. Not a dad. A donor. He’s the biological contributor to one half of a new life. He doesn’t let that technicality bring his mood down. The donation was successful. The point is he’s not defective. 

That’s amazing! Congratulations! He texts back, then taps on the photo, grinning so wide his cheeks are beginning to hurt already. 

Instinctively, Buck turns to the next bunk to show Eddie only to remember that no one else could sleep either. They gave up trying long ago to read or play cards or whatever they thought might soothe them.

Buck exits the bunks in search of his partner, eventually finding Eddie at one of the open bay doors. Despite the weather, he’s not even wearing his uniform shirt, just a short-sleeved LAFD tee. There isn’t so much as a single goosebump or raised hair on his bare skin while he drinks coffee, watching stray leaves and discarded items kick up around the swaying trees. Buck envies his ability to do that. As it is he’s wrapped in a warm hoodie that just manages to keep the chill out. 

“Hey,” Eddie greets him before Buck can say anything, looking at him in that soft, content way he always does in quieter moments. His body relaxes further where he’s leaning his shoulder against the wall, one ankle crossed behind the other. Like he was waiting for Buck to join him. 

“Hi,” Buck returns, immediately soothed by Eddie’s presence, like something clicks back into place and settles in his bones. He nearly forgets why he came out until Eddie asks if the winds got him, too. 

“No. I, uh, here.” He proudly holds his phone out so Eddie can see, holding his breath until he knows for sure that his best friend will be excited for him. 

Eddie stares, scrunching his eyebrows for a moment, then glances up at Buck with a look he can’t quite decipher. He’s not upset, but doesn’t exactly look pleased either. “That’s- that’s great, Buck. Good for them. I’m glad you were able to help.”

No pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @stereopticons @elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @eowon @spotsandsocks @911onabc @buddierights @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @chaosandwolves @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @jesuisici33 @heartshapedvows @heartbeatdiaz @barbiediaz @eddiediaztho @spaceprincessem @monsterrae1 and anyone else who wants to share (as usual if I usually tag you and forgot, no i didn't. tag you're it!) 😘

[hs122]

Fictober 2024: "That was good work"

TW: hanging, death, mutilation of a corpse, poor writing

Original characters in unoriginal world: Vampire: the Masquerade.

I'm serious about the poor writing. You've been warned.

“So I just place this candle…”

“In between the fingers of the hand, that’s correct,” Helen said curtly. Helen wasn’t a mean person, but she was rather angry at the moment. She was angry at me, for the record, not the fledgling. Helen’s colorful pastel sundress made her pale skin seem even more pale, but it was the fact that she wore colors that was likely more the statement. It’s hard to get blood out of colors.

Helen was showing the fledgling how to use the Hand of Glory, a grisly mummified hand that was wrapped in cloth. Helen’s pale fingers placed the candle in between the fingers, and she made the motion of lighting it. The candle itself was an off-white color, and smelled horrible. 

It was made from human fat though, so, you know, you get what you get. Fortunately, none of us actually needed to breath.

“Once you light it,” Helen continued, “it will cause all who are touched by its light to fall into a deep sleep. With the exception of the one who lights it.”

The Fledgling in question, Tamika, was a younger Black woman. Embraced in what seemed to be her mid-twenties, she had a very professional air about her, which was par for the course for a Ventrue. The vampiric ‘Clan of Kings’ always carried itself rather confidently, and she was no exception. The Ventrue were also cursed with a very refined palate. The dietary restrictions never made sense to me; one Ventrue could only feed from Frat Bros, one could only feed from gay men, and on and on it goes.

 In Tamika’s case, it was a state of being: Sleeping people. I wasn’t sure what it was about sleeping people, but that was the restriction. She’d been getting away with it through the use of drugs and a healthy dose of breaking and entering.

But recently, it was clear that it was something of a hindrance, and the ability to just knock people out without pharmaceuticals that would also affect her was established as being very important. The clan was looking for narcoleptics, but they must have had some difficulties.

Which was when they turned to me. Eventually. As a middle man.

“I think I understand,” Tamika said calmly, in a controlled and professional manner. I could see a slight curving of her mouth, a slight increase in speed in her movements. She was probably excited. With Ventrue, it can be a little difficult to read the emotional states.

“Excellent,” I cut in. I was in something of a hurry, I still had shit to do and moonlight was burning. “You’re doing a test run later correct?”

Tamika nodded, “we are. A few of Cross’s mortal associates will participate.”

“Great, and once it’s shown that it works, we’ll be expecting payment. Be sure to remind Cross.” I said with a wide grin. I was really playing up the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe. It fit my reputation, and when Kindred knew what they were getting, business went smoother.

“He will,” Tamika said, her eyes guarded, but she couldn’t hide that slight eagerness. Cross’s childe must be very new for her to be showing this much emotion.

After she left, Helen and I sat in my ‘office’. It was an empty apartment, little decor outside a desk and chairs. It was ad hoc, which was important as I moved it often. I kept most of my stuff at storage facilities, but I never did real business there. Keep your business separate from your personal life. Boundaries are important for mental health.

“You didn’t tell her how we got it,” Helen observed.

“She didn’t ask,” I replied, “and no one wants to know how the sausage is made.”

“She’s Ventrue. I doubt she’d care too much,” Helen continued, “and it’s not exactly a secret Isaiah. It’s a known folkloric object. That it requires vampiric blood to be created is the secret.”

Helen was right, of course. She was rarely wrong. The ‘Murdering Hand of a Hanged Man’ is pretty easy to deduce. Find murderer, hang murderer, cut off hands. That you have to turn the rest of the corpse into candles is a fun addition.

“Well if she asks, we just tell her the truth,” I replied, “we hanged a Murderer and cut off his hands. Easy peasy. And I wouldn't count on her being so.... understanding. She's new, after all. I think she's been Kindred for what? A year? Maybe less?”

Helen narrowed her eyes at me. For all her clan’s fierce reputation as Blood Sorcerers, this Tremere vampire had a remarkably kind heart. Or at least less bloody minded and/or ruthless.

“I’ll tell her you got the materials,” Helen said after a minute. “Do you have your end of the bargain? I don’t work for free either.”

“You know,” I started slowly, “you could just move to Tampa. You wouldn’t have to deal with the Camarilla laws.” I pointed out.

Helen just stared at me. I knew she preferred the more neo-feudal order of the Camarilla St. Petersburg over the, uh, ‘lively’ state of affairs in Tampa.

“You can take my ‘Right of Childer’,” I said, giving a wave. I’d been given the right some time ago as payment. I wasn’t interested in training any new vampires though. Too much work to distract me from my work. “Go find your apprentice or whatever. Make your own fledgling.”

Helen gave me a disdainful expression, and I was briefly reminded that she could boil my blood with a glare. Not that she would, that is. Just that she could.

She strode out of the apartment quick enough though.

The inevitable call came the following night.

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone rang. I hadn’t even gotten out of the bathroom.

“Speak,” I said simply.

“It’s Cross,” a deep voice said over the phone. I always forgot how hot he sounded when he spoke.

I looked myself in the mirror, trying to decided if I wanted to keep the scruff that regrew every single night or shave it off. I was never tan, so the pale nature of my skin wasn’t too dramatic of a change, but when I died I’d not shaved for several days. As a result, I have a ‘more than scruff, but less than a beard’ follicular situation on my face.

 My dark brown hair was always short, since it wouldn’t ever grow anymore. Just to finish off your mental image of me, I frequently went to the gym when I lived. It wasn’t a huge part of my life or anything, I wasn’t a bodybuilder, but I was glad I kept myself in shape before I died.

“What’s up Cross?” I replied, fingering the wedding ring on my left hand.

“Where did you get the hands?” he asked bluntly. He wasn’t even bothering with coding his language. Must be secure. Or he must be genuinely concerned about something.

I smiled as I leaned against the bathroom counter.

“I don’t think I need to answer that,” I replied, “did it work or not?”

“It did,” Cross replied, “but that doesn’t answer the question. And you will answer the question Isaiah.”

You know, I don’t think I was ever this attracted to men when I was alive. I know there’s a stereotype of vampires being gay, but sometimes I wonder if that really does come with the fangs. 

“From a murderer, obviously.” I replied with a slightly mocking tone to it. That wouldn’t irritate him, but it was still fun. “What, do you think I stole a corpse or something?”

“Hanging isn’t legal in Florida,” Cross growled, “they replaced it with the Electric chair in the 20’s. I pushed for that. So you didn’t steal the corpse. So. Where. Did. You. Get. The. Hands.”

He wasn’t going to let this go. Cross was probably hyperfocused on getting an answer. That’s one thing about Ventrue people don’t realize: they need to be obeyed. Clan of Kings? Yeah, because they obsess over getting people to just listen to them.

“I knew a murderer,” I replied, “a Ghoul and I used a chain and a truck to hang him. You know how mortals are with me, they always spill their deepest sins.” Being a Minister in life helped with that, I still find it funny that the Clan I was embraced into was called ‘The Ministry’. “He told me he killed his boss. Strangulation, conveniently enough.”

“I see,” Cross said, “and the entire body was used correct?”

Cross was head of a group that enforced the Masquerade, the lie that vampires are fiction. He was always wary of people killing the Kine, the mortals. If it was just a corpse or two, it didn’t usually matter, but if he heard about a killing, finding out what happened to the evidence was something he was always concerned with.

“Of course,” I said, “The fat was used to make the candles, the rest of the flesh was used to feed Anya’s garden. The bones I’m holding on to. I’ll drop the skull off in a few months so they can match dental records and close a missing person’s case. I’m thinking alligators.”

“Fine,” Cross said after a pause. There was another pause before he spoke again. “The system works very well. Tamika’s feeding will likely be far more consistent now.”

“Of course it works well,” I said. “Have I ever let you down? ”

There was a pause for a few seconds before he spoke again. He was actually thinking on the question.

“Well, you let Melissa down,” Cross replied with a bit of an edge before the line went dead.

He had to bring the fucking wife into this didn’t he?

You’re probably wondering about the murderer aren’t you? Why was I so evasive? Why not just tell him? Surely dealing with a death didn’t bother vampires to much.

Well, you’d be right. But Cross was likely concerned that I had a stable of serial killers on hand. Or he was worried that I did something stupid like break into a jail or something.

I’m not going to lie, that was the original plan.

But… well it turns out that breaking someone out of jail is a pain in the ass. We were thinking of bribing a warden into giving us the corpse after an execution, but Cross was right, Hanging was banned in the 20’s.

It turns out, when you want to make a Hand of Glory, store bought murderer isn’t an option. You have to make your own.

“Please! Please don’t!” the man shouted. I honestly forgot his name at that point. It was so easy to convince him murder would solve his problems.

I mean, he’d been wanting to murder his boss for months now. Ever since he found out the guy was sleeping with his wife. It didn’t take much to convince him that the killing was justified, and that God rewards those who mete out justice.

We were out in the middle of a swamp. It was pretty deep in, so no one to hear him. Judging by the far too intelligent looking wolf that kept watch over us, I didn’t think we had anything to worry about from humans.

Our murderer was a rather rotund individual, mid-forties, balding. He was in some kind of middle-management position. Once I thought he’d go far, that he had the will to advance, to liberate himself from the chains society had placed on him.

But no. He held onto those chains for dear life. The only time he cut them was when it benefitted him. He resisted true liberation.

“Please! No! You said it would all be okay!” the man shouted some more. 

I was only half listening. I was tired of dealing with this job. It should have been easy. I mean, it was, but it was just annoying.

“And everything will be okay,” I said finally, “once you finally shut up. Cora, please, let’s hurry this up.”

Cora’s a ghoul. An aggressively lesbian ghoul with long blonde hair in a loose ponytail, has an affinity for plaid in a variety of color combinations, and loves Doc Martins. She was young when her Regnant, a Tzimisce named Anya, turned her into a Ghoul. Thus, at least 20 years later, she still looks like you need to see ID before you give her a drink. That’s the power of becoming a ghoul people: eternal youth and you still get sunlight, so long as you get your fix regularly.

“No! No! Please! I have a-” His voice was cut off as I made eye contact.

I knew what he was seeing: two vibrantly green eyes, with large black slits. Snake eyes. The eyes of a serpent. Just as the myths of gorgons, he froze, his body no longer moving. There would be no more words.

Cora frowned at me and started up the truck. As she drove, the chain tightened and the man rose into the air, his restrained body squirming as I lost eye contact for a second and he tried to free himself. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore.

“Finally,” I muttered, as I watched the squirming man. 

Bob! That was his name! Bob Carter. That was going to bother me all night. His wife was Cindy Carter, a few kids. Might have to check in on them in a few months.

I knew there was still more work to do on this, but at least the end was in sight. Cora would have to go and bury the body somewhere overnight, and my understanding was that she already had a hole ready. And once that was done, it would have to be exhumed the following night, and then the candles would actually have to be made. Fortunately, I wasn’t going to have to do that. That was all Helen. I knew some sorcery, but I didn’t know how to make candles. You needed both. Helen apparently made candles as a wee child back in the 30’s.

Cora got out and walked around to stand next to me. She wasn’t my ghoul, she drank Anya’s blood, not mine. It made being around her a little… awkward. It was a bit like being stuck with someone’s kid or something. I could deal with that though. Collecting favors and boons from an up-and-coming Ventrue usually proved helpful, especially when you knew she’d be a repeat customer eventually.

“So, uh,” she started. “How long do you think?”

“Eh, give it 10 minutes or so,” I said calmly. “Just remember to lower the corpse into the bed. You know the drill.”

Cora nodded, she knew how to clean up a mess. Even one that was at least twice her size.

A few nights later, I was at Cross’s corporate office. He might have been alive when slavery was still a thing, but he kept with the times. The Masquerade enforcer had a data collection and analysis firm that worked in advertising and market research. A great cover for a group that essentially did city wide surveillance.

A beacon of the modern corporate hive, the office was all glass and modernist architecture, but it still had a strange sense of oppression. A feeling that you were being controlled, that you were under the dominion of another.

Cross was the person I needed to meet with, but, well, I have to follow up on my work.

“So,” I said as I slid in the chair that sat in front of Tamika’s desk. I wasn’t sure what she did, but it must have been very important for her to both have an office and be Embraced. “How is the Hand working?”

Tamika’s flat expression was briefly broken with a smile. It probably helped that I had turned off the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe and was now aiming for something along the lines of ‘proud artisan’. 

“It works wonderfully,” Tamika said simply. “Thank you for your assistance.”

It was kind of cute, receiving an actual thank you. It even seemed genuine.

“Well I can’t take all the credit,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “Helen made the actual candles. I just collected the materials.”

Tamika’s face seemed to twitch, a bit of a suspicious eyeing. It was gone quickly.

“Still,” she said after a moment, “That was good work.”

[maelstrom007]

New Face, Who This?

Don't mind me, just playing in the sandbox that is @ghouldjams cod fae au. Mal switches things up, as they are wont to do, and trips up a certain fae in the process. Featuring ghouls oc Witch who I adore.

Mal looked at themselves in the mirror. They turned this way and that, but something just felt. . . off. Pursing their lips they sighed, changing into the fifth outfit that morning. Ugh, still not right. 

“Maybe it’s time for a change,” they murmured. When was the last time they did this? Twenty years ago? Maybe more? Yeah, it was time to switch things up. 

Stripping bare, they stared at the mirror once more. It was always easiest if they could see what they were doing. To start Mal focused on their face, studying the wide jaw and square face they had become accustomed to for the last however many years it’s been. Reaching forward toward their reflection, fingers splayed, they twisted their wrist. Mal’s reflection fractured, tesselating out in patterns and colors like a kaleidoscope, before suddenly snapping back into place. 

The face staring back at them was much softer, rounder around the cheeks with a charming mouth. Some things remained unchanged, like their fiery red hair and their bold eyebrows. For whatever reason they always stuck around. 

Moving on to the rest of their body, they wanted to move on from the sleek and slim rectangular build. In the end, they went for something a little more filled out, hints of muscle and practical strength within a sturdy frame. They’d have to workout to maintain it, they were using magic afterall, not working miracles.

With the excitement of a new canvas, finding an outfit was easy, opting for a long sundress. The lack of sleeves accentuated the new muscles in their arms nicely, while also complementing their new more feminine face. A last little splurge of magic allowed their hair to grow just long enough to place in a messy bun. 

As usual, the day was rather slow, mainly spent at their combination check out and consultation table project planning for recent clients. Creating patterns, planning dye lots, etc. etc. Their project ledger wasn’t completely full yet, so their curtains were pulled wide open, and a sign that said ‘Welcome, during business hours’ hung from the door. 

This meant that a certain handsome fae could slip in with no resistance, immediately waltzing up to the counter with a confidence that should have been annoying, if they weren’t in such a good mood. 

“Well hello, I - oh.” He started his greeting, but stumbled mid way through as Mal looked up from their ledger. 

They raised an eyebrow, “Hello to you too.”

Confusion was visible on his face, “Sorry, I was just expecting someone else.”

“And who would that be?”

“The last time I came in, maybe a little over a week ago, there was someone else here. Kind of small, very cute, with shaggy red hair almost the same color as yours.”

“Hunting for information, are we?”

A boyish glint sparkled in the others eyes as he leaned over the counter, “Now that I think of it you two look quite a bit alike. You two wouldn’t happen to be. . .siblings, would you?” 

Before Mal could even begin to think of a way to respond to that Witch glided in through the door, the wards tingling in delight and recognition of their clever creator. “Oh my gosh you will not believe the tea I have for you today, I heard that -” 

It only took Witch a second to notice the changes, and only a few more to piece together what Mal had done, “Wow!!!! You look great! I love what you’ve done with your hair, and that dress looks gorgeous on you, did you make it yourself?” 

Gossip forgotten, Witch ran up to dote on Mal, feeling the material and gushing over their new look. After a few minutes of this, the fae man coughed gently. 

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll let you finish up with your customer,” Witch said.

“Oh, I’m not a customer,” he said.

“Then what are you?”

“A nuisance,” Mal said, “a nosy one at that.”

Witch snorted, but said nothing. 

If he took offense to Mal’s comment, he didn’t show it, “All I want to know is who that fae is that I talked to a few weeks ago. About yea tall, pretty hands and shaggy red hair kind of like yours? Tell me, is red hair and attractiveness a job requirement? Or am I just incredibly lucky?” His lopsided grin would have been annoying if it didn’t look so good on his face.

Witch opened her mouth, “M-”

At the sound of their name starting in Witch’s mouth, Mal gave her a desperate look in warning. Even though ‘Mal’ wasn’t really their true name, it’s not something that they gave out left and right, let alone to loitering mystery fae. 

With barely a stumble in her speech, she corrected herself, “My friend here runs this shop by themselves. And damn well at that.”

He chuckled, “Well then, aren’t you full of surprises.” This time, Mal didn’t miss the once over he gave them. When their eyes met, his golden eyes looked molten hot. 

A blush rose to their cheeks unbidden, and Mal brought their hands together in a decisive clap, “Well! If you’re not a customer I must ask you to leave immediately as is shop policy,” a delicate line of fine print illuminated itself in recognition on the welcome sign, “Good day to you sir.”

The typically controlled and smooth wards were swift and erratic as they buffeted the mystery fae towards the door, however he resisted them as much as he could, “Tell me your name! What may I call you?” He called out frantically, attempting to brace himself against the wards unseen force. 

Mal raised their hand to aid in one final push to send him out the door, but paused as their eyes met once again. There was a desperation and sincerity in his features. Before Mal knew what they were doing they opened their mouth. 

“You may call me a fox, sir hunter, for that is all I am to you.” 

“And a lovely Fox you shall be,” he said, before he was sucked out of the door and summarily deposited on the street, curtains closing with a solid thwunk. 

The silence was thick in the shop before Witch broke it, voice strained with barely contained laughter “~You may call me a fox for that is all I am to you~”

“Shut upppp”

“Well, he’s a handsome hunter, I'll give him that.” 

Mal put their head in their hands, “He’s a nuisance and nothing more.” 

“Suuuure.”

They giggled desperately, “He is!! He comes waltzing in saying that he doesn’t want anything and then I kick him out cause he’s loitering!”

“God Mal you’re insufferable, he’s flirting with you you idiot.” 

“He is not.” 

“If you say so. But you best believe that I am going to bring this up over dinner because never in the time that I’ve known you have I seen your wards react like that.” 

Mal raised their head, eyebrows furrowed, “Dinner?”

Witch gave them a confused look, before letting out an exasperated sigh, “I forgot to say it out loud huh.”

“Yup.”

“Well, your ass, my house, I’m making dinner cause I haven’t had you over in ages. Be there or be square.” 

“I wonder if I could actually turn myself into a square.”

“Dammit Mal.”