#however it shall not happen I Know It | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chuluoyi · 2 months

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months

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Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.

But he still had questions.

Unanswered questions.

Like who the hell were you?

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.

In the kitchens.

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.

And somehow

It was relaxing to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.”

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.

And he did.

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.

Then he jerked up.

With a grunt, he looked around him.

He was in his room.

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.

The Professor’s office.

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.

More so, when he saw your shoulder.

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked.

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

Fast asleep.

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.

Hell, even he needed sleep.

But you were just constantly forever going.

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.

You were fast asleep.

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.

A heavy blanket.

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.

He turned around but you were still.

Then you whimpered again.

“No,” you whispered.

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.

Except you reached out for his hand.

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching.

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?”

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.

And glowed.

They were still your eyes just…brighter.

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went silent.

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face.

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands.

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.

Because Logan already knew.

And so did you.

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.

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brailsthesmolgurl · 6 months

Text

"Where's Mummy?"

A oneshot fluff, entirely headcanon based, featuring all 3 of the LNDS men being a father. Requested by a lovely follower of mine. Hope this is an enjoyable read for you all. The names of the kids are based on my take, but if you want to include names of kids you had thought of with your husbandos, you may slot that in on your own will!

Want some angst? Go with this series of mine, tears guaranteed: Damnation

Warnings: Fluff as per usual however, there shall be suggestive themes for this, soooo let you imagination run free :)

RAFAYEL - FATHER TO A GIRL

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying would you?" Rafayel groaned with a smile. "Our daughter will be alright." He walked beside you, accompanying you towards the front door. "I am more worried about you with your work instead. So take care of yourself, please? For our sake?"

His concern made you rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "I will be home by evening, I promise." Your eyes stared into those mauve purple eyes of your husband's, only to have him yank you back into his arms and pressing his lips to yours again. Provocating you into a minor makeout session. Breaths becoming heavier by every passing minute.

You bit your lip the moment he pulled away, reminiscing the feeling of his soft and tender lips against yours. "Don't want you to be late, unless you want to call in sick for the day, hmm?" He winked, a hint dropped for you to decipher. "You know I can't Rafayel." Your answer made the man pout, arms crossed, but eventually surrendering to the reality of your situation. He press a small kiss against your cheek and sent you off on your way. He stood at the entryway, watching you get onto your bike and rode it out of the front yard and onto the empty streets.

Heading back in, he sat at his usual thinking corner, eyeing the piece of artwork he had yet to finish. Thomas was expecting this piece to be done by two days ago. But an artist's work should not be rushed, Rafayel being an advocate for quality over quantity. He sighed, walking over to pick up his palette stained with an array of colours, before sitting himself in front of the artwork and continued working on his piece.

Hours had passed since then, the strokes of the painter finally stopped when his artwork is finished. He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and called Thomas. "Rafayel, where the hell is the piece of---"

"It's done, you can come and collect it tonight once it is all dried up." Rafayel spoke, then Thomas started to inform him about the upcoming interviews that he has to attend, one for the local magazine, one for an exhibition taking place abroad... Pitters and patters of feet across the marble floor made Rafayel lost his focus. He turned around to find his daughter, Mariela awake. "Daddy duty calls."

The phone call ended abruptly, with Thomas ending his note on 'There was also an artwork you have to---' Call ended. Ever since Rafayel had taken on his duties as a father, he made sure his works are delayed long enough just so he could spend time with his own family. Recently, you had been called on for many more missions as there has been a shortage of deepspace hunters.

Rafayel and you had discussed about the delegation of responsibilities while being parents to a newborn. Rafayel insisted that you should quit your job so that you could stay at home with him and Mariela. Money not being any concern to your family to begin with. But you could not, you could not abandon your duties as a deepspace hunter, especially when there are not a lot of new recruits coming in.

So you both settled on a solution that meets both ends. Rafayel would delay his paintings and take care of Mariela if you happen to not be at home, but your sacrifice would be to not work past evening times. Him not wanting you to overexert yourself and still being able to spend time with you as a family. The miniature version of you and Rafayel clumsily walked over to him. Small and chubby hands rubbing her cheeks in circles.

"Good morning my little fishie." Rafayel knelt down and gave her a hug, a usual greeting for morning and night. "How was your sleep?"

"Good." She replied, arms curled around her father's neck as he carried her up in his arms. "Where is mummy?"

"Mummy has to work so today, you will hang out with daddy, yeah?" Rafayel sat her at her baby chair by the dining table. He took a plate of ready-made mini pancakes and poured a cup of warm milk into a cup. "Mummy even made you your favourite breakfast." The idea of having his kid eating such sugary stuffs in the morning is unfavoured. But since y/n had woken up extra early today to prepare the breakfast for her daughter, Rafayel will let it slide for this once. but we all know he too soft of a father to reject that if it ever happens again

Watching his child dig into the pancakes, Rafayel started allowing his mind to wander. Mariela's name came about while his wife was pregnant, and you had both agreed on wanting your child to have names related to the sea to remind the child's origins of being half-Lemurian. Rafayel was thrilled to have their names being related to the waters he used to live in and so the naming process is entirely within his control. Both of you settled on Mariela eventually, the name a direct representation of the star of the sea.

...

When y/n rode past the main gates and towards the yard, you found you husband, with your daughter standing next to him, waiting for you at the front of the door. Mariela the size of a toadstool next to her 6' tall father. But her big, doe-like eyes took the shade of Rafayel's, a mirror of his lilac-blue mixture. "Hey there!" You greeted excitedly, quickly pushing yourself off of your motorbike and rushed over to hug your daughter tightly in your arms.

"Mummy!" The brunette toddler giggled, arms wrapped around her mother and head tucked into your neck. The hug between the two was interrupted with Rafayel hugging both of them. Three of them within a circle of a hug. "Hi, mummy. I missed you."

"I missed you too, so so much." A big kiss was given to the toddler's cheek and they all walked further into the house. "What did you do with daddy today?"

"Daddy taught me how to draw fish and he taught me Wewuma." She spoke, a wide grin evident on her cherubic cheeks. This made y/n confused and you turned to look for Rafayel for an explanation but sees him being on the phone. Assuming it is Thomas on the other end of the line.

"That's good darling." You held her close to you, legs directing towards her bedroom. "But I think it is nap time for you okay? Mummy and daddy will make dinner and then later we are going to have pasta!" Mariela's eyes lit up at the word 'pasta', for she is a huge lover of carbs just like you. No doubt you two are of the same bloodline.

Once you had laid your daughter to nap, you started prepping the ingredients in the huge kitchen. Rafayel came by your side and hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent deeply. "I missed you wifey." He mumbled into the crooks of your neck and drew circles on the side of your hips.

"What is wewuma?" You turned over slightly, the question directed towards your husband. But his expression matches yours, confusion written all over his face. "Our daughter said you taught her wewuma today."

That sentence made Rafayel laughed, releasing you from his embrace and with him smacking his hand against the marble counter a couple of times. "Wewuma!" He continued his laugh, but mellowed down when he noticed that you became more confused than ever. "I taught her how to speak Lemurian." He said, the wide, cheeky grin not leaving his face anytime soon.

"Oh." Realisation hits you about his lesson for the day and you shake your head, chuckling at how your daughter had the word pronounced earlier. You can't blame her, as she is not a preschooler yet. Rafayel attached himself to your back again, his lips pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you blushed. Despite being married for quite some time, his intimate actions never failed to make you feel like a giddy teen girl.

"Lemurian is already a dying language. So, wifey..." He nibbled your ears lightly, whispering his question quietly. "How about we make one more little us?" His arms tightened around your hips and you felt something pressed against your bum, making you gasped in teasing pleasure. He turned you around forcefully and pushed you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, spreading your legs. "Right here. Tonight."

˚ · • . ° .

ZAYNE - FATHER TO A PAIR OF TWINS

"Thanks a lot, my love." You leaned forward to hug your husband, after knowing that he had planned an itinerary for you to get yourself pampered for a whole day. That includes making the necessary bookings and paying for all of the expenses. Not to mention the extra money he had given you so you may use it to buy anything you please from the mall you would be visiting later in your itinerary. "You deserve it. Given how much you had cared for the kids the past few days as I was busy with work." He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a loving gesture. "In return, I shall take care of the kids today."

Zayne fetched you to the middle of Linkon city, where all of the activities planned out in the itinerary are located before he headed back. Not wanting to go home to his toddlers being awake from their sleep. When he arrived home, he heard the creak of a door as he was placing his shoes on the shoe rack. Lumi and Iver, hand in hand, facing their father.

"Daddy?" The both of them spoke in sync, given their connection as twins. Fraternal twins, a rare occurrence for any mothers in life. They are considered a miracle given the statistics whereas out of 100 births that happen, only 2 mothers would end up with fraternal twins. And the percentage of getting fraternal twins are way lesser as compared to conceiving twins of the same gender.

Short way to put it, y/n and Zayne have a very special family, in fact they may be one of the few families within Linkon city to have a pair of fraternal twins. Hence, they are very lucky indeed. Both of the twins were named after snow or winter season, with Zayne's evol being the main inspiration. Zayne's daughter Lumi, carries the meaning of snow and light, while Iver's name means winter in French.

Contrary to their names, none of them have any features that are pale as the cold weather, except for their milky white skin. There had always been a debate on which child inherited the looks of which parent, in this case, Lumi looks like her mother and Iver takes on his father's looks. And it could easily be differentiated from their hair and eye colour.

"Both of you just woke up?" Zayne's voice was gentle, going over to both of his kids and bending down to their eye level. They are both 3 years old, so you can imagine how tough it was for him to lower his height just to meet their eyes. "What do you want to eat?"

"Daddy, can we watch you make eggs?" Iver asked, his hazel green orbs twinkled under the sun rays shining in through their sky light. "The ones that are flat?" He even used his hand to draw a line in the air, to demonstrate the word 'flat' to his father.

Zayne smiled, nodding his head and walked towards the kitchen with the two toddlers bobbing behind him. Their standard breakfast had consisted of nothing but nutritious food which are vital for their growths. For their father is a doctor afterall. Zayne sat them both into their respective baby chairs and put on an apron, not wanting to dirty his outfit, and he started to cook, with the twins watching his every move. A few 'wah' and 'daddy, daddy, do it again!' slipping from their mouths every once in a while when Zayne does something out of the blue.

Half of the day passed, Lumi and Iver sat in the living room after Zayne had given them a bath and a change of clothings. They will be heading out soon for dinner. Zayne has never been a huge fan of cooking, but only does it out of necessity. The same rule applies even now, breakfasts can be done at home but for dinners, if time allows for both of the parents, Zayne would much rather eat out with his family.

"Daddy, time! Time!" Lumi shouted from the living room when they heard the cuckoo's chime, hailing from the handmade wooden clock that you bought a while ago. Although the toddlers had yet to enter pre-school, they are both surprisingly fast-learners. 9 months in, both of them had already started learning alphabets, and by now, their vocabulary has expanded beyond the age of usual three year olds. You strongly believe Zayne's genes are the cause behind this.

Zayne appeared from the room, a long-sleeved black turtleneck clad to his well-built physique, his iconic black slacks makes yet another appearance, and his hand held a dark grey coat. The weather was getting chilly and he decided to bring along a coat for you, the colour identical to his.

"Lumi, Iver, get your coats and I will help you to wear them." Zayne instructed, picking his car key off of the key holder on the wall. He had decided to go with the Maserati Levante i am not sponsored by them but the cars does scream his taste today, a comfortable SUV for his family of four.

"It's okay daddy. Iver will help me." Lumi responded, arms held up horizontally as Iver put on one of the sleeves for her light grey coat, then running over to the other side to help her to put on the remaining sleeves. "My turn." Lumi did the same for her sibling. When they are both done, they walked over to Zayne and held their arms up in sync again, urging their father silently to help them to tie their coats.

Zayne did just that, hair as dark as the night cascading in front his face when he bent down to help his kids tied a knot to secure their coats. Satisfied at the way their knots turned out, he gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks. "Are you both excited to see mummy?"

"YES!" Both of the kids shouted, arms raising, a sign of elatedness. Zayne held onto both of their hands, one on each side and slowly walked them to the car.

...

Zayne had chosen a western restaurant for dinner, reservation timing marked at 6pm. Now, here he sat, with both of his kids secured tightly behind in baby car seats. He was parked temporarily at the valet parking, patiently waiting for his wife. Soft piano music was played in the car to ease the silence as the kids were sound asleep in the back.

Seeing a familiar figure closing in, Zayne got out of the car and walked towards the passenger side, greeting you with a warm hug. "I could not have asked for a better day to pamper myself." You sighed contently, face flat against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. A scent he would only use whenever he is out with you, a soft mix of pine wood and oakwood as the top notes, vanilla as the middle notes and cinnamon as end notes. A scent you are all too familiar with.

"Then I shall plan more of this for you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You must be hungry, I had already booked us a table at one of the nearby restaurants." He opened the car door and you got into the car. Getting into the car, he added. "The kids are sound asleep behind, I will wake them up once we arrived at the restaurant."

"Hello my babies." You greeted once the car door to the back was opened, watching your twins stirred in their sleep, before eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Iver..." Zayne cooed to his son, standing on the other side of the door, unbuckling the baby seats for the twins. "We had arrived at the restaurant. Let me give you a lift, alright?" You had never imagine Zayne with kids, given how cold he is of a person. Not mean and ignorant, but just, monotonous, quiet and calm. Having kids with him was unexpected, but him asking for kids was even more shocking.

The young man lifted his son into his arms, smoothing the back of his son's coat to make sure he is fully covered from the brazen cold wind and he headed in after locking the car. With you, holding onto your half-awake daughter behind in, walking swiftly into the restaurant.

The dinner was enjoyable, with the twins munching on to their kids meals and with you sat next to Zayne, having a delectable meal based on the waiter's recommendation. "The food here is good." You commented and your twins looked up, Lumi smiled and nodded, while Iver, with his face stuffed, nodded as well. "So what have you kids been doing today?"

"We watched cartoons." Lumi said, eyes mimicking your eye colours radiating her giddiness. You assumed the cartoons would be more educational rather than entertaining as Zayne does prefer the twins having to gain some form of knowledge from the cartoons. For him, the method is practically killing two birds with one stone. "Daddy also read some storybooks for us." Iver added in, still chewing onto his food, which made Zayne leaned forward to wipe the boy's lips clean with the napkin. "And we took a nap on daddy's chest."

"Be careful of choking, Iver." Zayne warned, his tone soft, giving him son's cheek a soft pinch. Zayne's lips tugged upwards, there is no way he could be mad at his own twins. That is how much he loves them.

"That is good to hear. Sounds like an eventful day for today. And I think daddy did a great job." You happily stated, resuming your meal. A hand on your thigh made you jerked slightly and you looked over, your husband's smile had exchanged for a smirk.

"It is my responsibility to take good care of the kids." He eyed the twins, and facing back to you, his orbs turning a shade darker. "But, it is also my responsibility to make my wife feel good. Mentally..." He trailed off, hands smoothing up your thighs till his thumb glided slowly over your intimate area. The table cloth a good disguise as Zayne's fingers worked his way to pull your panties to the side, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

You shot daggers towards your husband as this is a public area but he paid no mind to you. The tip of his middle finger, the one adorning the wedding ring, slowly pushed its' way inside of you, pumping an agonizing pace into you. "And physically, of course." pls do this to me too Zayne, i want more babies too

˚ · • . ° .

XAVIER - FATHER TO A SON

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" Lucian came bursting in through the door leading to his parent's room, causing Xavier to stir in his sleep. Eyebrows furrowed at the loud sounds of his son's voice at the early start of the weekend. The copy of Xavier jumped onto the bed and grabbed ahold of his father. "Wake up daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah I am awake now." Xavier yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other coming up to secure his son on him so he don't fall off. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy said you can take me to go get ice-cream today." His light blue eyes just a tone lighter than his father's when he propped himself up on his father's chest, patiently awaiting for a response. "Daddy please?"

"Okay okay." Xavier chuckled, hugging his son tight in his arms and the young boy laughed. With that, Xavier got out of the bed, with Lucian in his embrace. The hallways outside of the room wafted the smell of noodles and he knew immediately that you are still within the house.

But he was wrong, when he saw you being all dressed up, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting at the front of your door when you are tying the shoelaces to your sneakers. "Where are you going?" Xavier asked.

You turned at the sound of his voice and watched as Lucian was placed onto the floor by his father and the little boy came running to hug you. "I am heading to the mall with Tara for a little while. She needed me to help her pick out a dress." Standing up, you checked your outfit in the standing mirror for one last time. "At the meantime, you okay with bringing Lucian out for ice-cream?"

Xavier smiled and nodded obediently, taking long strides to press a loving kiss to his wife's lips and he sees her off. Lucian waving his small hands to say bye-bye to his own mother. "Have you eaten yet kiddo?" Xavier asked his son, only for the toddler to shake his head. "Alright, come on, let's have breakfast together. Then we will go for ice-cream later."

Xavier placed Lucian into the baby seat at the dining table and he took off the lid of the pot that was on the stove and he noticed that you had made tomato soup noodles. A dish that you had recently learned from social media. Your first try at making this dish however, was a failure. With Xavier finishing the tasteless noodles and struggling with diarrhea for the next few days. This time, he had his fingers crossed, hoping that the soup would be edible and not cause any unwanted effects.

Before giving the bowl to his son, Xavier tasted the soup base first, to taste if it would be too hot for his son to ingest. To his surprise, the soup was sweet and tangy, which marks a win for your cooking this time. He hungrily filled up his own bowl, before scooping a few spoonfuls of soup and noodles into Lucian's bowl. He also made sure to cut the noodles short enough so it would not cause Lucian to choke on his own food.

"Did mummy made this?" The 3 year old asked, eyes wide, moving in between his father's lips, and to his bear-shaped plastic bowl. Lucian have had a fair share of his father's cooking. The experience of watching his father cook was just as traumatic as eating the food his father had made. There was even this one time, Xavier nearly set the kitchen on fire because he added in some cooking wine into a very hot pan filled with oil and that made Lucian cried for the whole night.

"Yes, your mum made this." Xavier ate his noodles, slurping onto it like a champ. "If she asks me to make breakfast for you, we can just skip breakfast and go for ice-cream instead." Xavier acknowledges his incompetence when it comes to cooking, and it is the only one thing he would not dare to compete with you. he just cant cook anything that deals with fire or electric, just admit it with me boys and girls

...

"Daddy, what do you want?" Lucian asked his father, looking at the flavours that was on display. "Do you want the blue one? Or the green one? Or the red one?" He swung his short legs back and forth, all the while sitting on Xavier's shoulders. The little one did not feel like walking earlier on and that was why Xavier gave him a lift on his shoulders.

"Which one would you like kiddo?" Xavier smiled politely at the waitress behind the counter and the waitress returned the smile, a blush coming onto her face. Who would not blush at the sight of a good looking young man with a son that looks just exactly like him? "How about the blue and red one?"

"Okay!" The young boy excitedly agreed, watching the process of the ice-creamed getting scooped out of the canister and placed onto a cone. Xavier slowly lowered his son down and held onto the hand of the young boy before making the payment at the counter. "Thank you!" Lucian spoke to the cashier when the ice-cream was handed to him and they both took a seat by the window in the store, facing the streets.

Xavier had always wanted a boy, the sole purpose being he could train the son well enough so you can be protected. You were not buying into his idea to begin with but the moment you found out that you were pregnant with a boy, Xavier could not be more than glad. He was so happy to the point he said. "We should name him Lucian, as he shall be the light in our lives." Xavier's words touched your heart and since then, Lucian has been the light in both of your hearts. just like you are the light in OUR HEARTS hello?

The young boy took a lick out of the blue ice-cream, then switched to the red ice-cream and took another lick. Seeing his tongue turning purple, Xavier pointed at his son. "Your tongue is turning purple because of the ice-cream, kiddo." Taking his phone out, he took a picture of Lucian with his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. He then sent the picture to you, with the caption 'Brain Freeze'.

"Daddy, here." Lucian stretched his arm out, the ice cream in hand and held it in front of his father's face. Xavier took it as an invitation and he took a big bite out of the ice-cream. His action made the young boy flabbergasted, mouth forming an 'O' when he realised that his father just bit off a whole chunk and now he is left with a few more lick of ice cream.

The son's intense gaze at the ice-cream made Xavier felt guilty that he took such a huge bite. His son was not much a naggy child, but he still would not want to upset his little boy. "I'm sorry kiddo, I can---" He wanted to offer to buy the boy another ice-cream but Lucian only laughed, his tone amused.

"That is so funny daddy, when you go AHHH---" Lucian mimicked the way Xavier bit the ice-cream, mouth widely opened and face all crinkled up to show just how big of a bite Xavier had conducted. His son's reaction made Xavier laughed as well, Never knowing his son has such a sense of humour.

The door opened, chiming of the bells at the door could be heard and Xavier looked up, seeing you walking in with a bag in your hands. "Hey boys!" You called out and Lucian turned in his seat and called out to you, arms opened and waiting for you to hug him. Xavier took the ice-cream out of his son's hand so he would not dirty your shirt and he stood up, taking his place to stand next to you.

"How was the outing with Tara?" Xavier took the bag from you and pulled a chair over from the other table as you set your son back down onto his chair. The ice-cream that your husband was holding previously was returned to its rightful owner.

"It was eventful. We only managed to find the dress she wanted at the highest floor." You fanned yourself, sweat beading at your forehead. Your husband took a piece of tissue out of the tissue holder and he dabbed it across your forehead, not wanting to ruin your makeup since you are still on an outing with him. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Xavier purposely avoided your gaze, hiding his smile. "The tomato-based noodle soup you made this morning is very good by the way. I enjoyed every bite of it." He complimented, looking over to his son and noticing the young boy, staring out of the window, in the direction of two kids playing by the park, chasing one another.

"Daddy, mummy." Your son's voice beckoned the both of you to turn your heads to face him. His stubby little fingers pressed against the window, pointing towards the two kids at the park. "Can I have a brother?" The way he phrased the questions sounded like siblings could be bought off of a shelf. Your jaw dropped.

But Xavier was expecting this, expecting the fact he would not just settle for one child. He loves you so much, not only as his lover, but he also loves the way you look, with your stomach bulging during the days you are pregnant, carrying a miniature version of him inside. And not to mention, he enjoys the process of giving you a baby. Just the thought of seeing you pregnant again, his cerulean eyes catch yours, similar to a gaze of a predator awaiting to jump onto its prey. He reached his hand out to take yours on the table, giving it a small squeeze of comfort.

"Of course you can." Xavier's gaze darkened, hungry for intimacy. He dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, and stopping right at the back of your hand to draw mindless circles on it. Doing all that without getting his eyes off of you. "Daddy will not stop until you get a brother."

Sorry this took wayyy longer than expected, the toughest part was to find the pictures that would match the faces of the kids and also having to do research for their names and figuring our scenarios that would make the fathers take care of their kids. Other than Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier are going to be out most of the time due to their work!

But I had fun creating this piece, hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #fluffy #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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uniquexusposts · 14 days

Text

Little surprise - C. Leclerc

Summary: Y/n is pregnant and meets her husband Charles at the track as a surprise.

Y/n turned off the tv and got up from the sofa. She was satisfied with the results from her husband, Charles Leclerc. Monaco was one of his favourite circuits, mainly because it was his home Grand Prix, but faith didn't agree with those previous years. It's sad to say he had never finished the Monaco Grand Prix before. However, this weekend seemed to be good.

"Are we going to see daddy?" Y/d/n asked and looked hopeful at her mum. The three-year-old had been waiting to walk down the streets to see her dad. It was a weird situation for Y/d/n; her dad was never home at a race weekend, but this weekend he was.

Y/n smiled and nodded. "Shall we go then?" Y/d/n heavily nodded. "Go put on your shoes, love."

Y/d/n crawled off the sofa and ran to the hallway to grab her shoes. It made Y/n happy to see her daughter excited. You would say: 'you live in Monaco, there's a race, why not visit it?' Well, it sounded easier than it looked. Y/n was pregnant with her second child, which was the best thing that ever happened to her - and to Charles, but she struggled a lot with sicknesses. It made it challenging to show up at races; it was uncomfortable.

"Mummy, can I bring Raf and Peter?" Y/d/n walked back to the living area with her two favourite stuffed animals; she held the giraffe and rabbit up in the air.

"Are you sure you want to bring them both?" Y/n asked and packed her bag. "Are you sure you won't lose them again?"

"No."

It happened one time before Y/d/n lost Raf and Peter. They were relaxing at the Ferrari facility, but the trouble and drama it caused... Y/n and Charles preferred not to be in that situation again.

"Sure, but they are your responsibility now." Y/n softly smirked; she knew Y/d/n would leave them somewhere around anyway. "Are you ready?"

The little girl started to jump and happily giggled. Y/d/n was a daddy's girl, so there was nothing more exciting than going to see your dad. She had been watching the third free practice all morning - well, the parts with Charles. Obviously, Y/d/n was too young to understand what Formula 1 was, but seeing her dad and his friends was all she needed to enjoy herself.

"Raf and Peter are happy to see daddy too," Y/d/n said and looked at her teddies when she stepped in the lift. "Can I press the button?" She looked up, and her arm reached for the button. Y/d/n grew a few centimetres by standing on her tiptoes.

"You are getting tall, sweetheart," Y/n proudly smiled. "I think daddy is happy to see Raf and Peter too.” She stroked her daughter’s hair.

She quickly looked in the mirror; it was the first time in days Y/n dressed up. She was wearing a maxi dress. It covered up her 20-weeks bump, but it showed she was carrying a tiny human. As shoes, she picked Birkenstocks, just for the comfiness. Her hair was curly, and her makeup was minimal. At first, she doubted what to wear. As a wife of a driver, people expect you to look stunning and stylish all the time. Over the years, it became less for Y/n, but it was still bothering her in some ways.

"Give me your hand," Y/n instructed Y/d/n. As soon as they left the apartment building, they stepped into the busy world of racing. Every spot in Monaco was busy and chaotic due to the race weekend.

Y/d/n grabbed her mum's hand, but quickly let it go. "Can Raf sleep in your bag?"

A soft smirk rolled over Y/n's lips; there you had it. "Of course, love." Y/n opened her bag and lowered it for her daughter. "Sweet dreams, Raf."

Y/d/n gave Raf a kiss. "Sleepy sleepy, Raf," and carefully put Raf in the bag. "Are we going to see uncle Pierre too?" She grabbed her mum's hand again, and they started to walk towards the entrance of the track.

"I don't know, love. Maybe we will see him, or uncle Carlos. We will look for them, yeh? But first, we need to find daddy."

"Yes, we need to find daddy first."

Once Y/n and Y/d/n arrived at the track, they scanned their passes. Y/d/n excitedly imitated the check-in sound of the gates and walked on the stairs. Y/n followed the small girl, also trying to find out where Charles possibly could be. They crossed the track and entered the paddock/pit lane area.

"I see daddy!" Y/d/n cheered and started to run away.

Before Y/n could stop Y/d/n from running, it was already too late. Y/n looked up and noticed Charles was still in an interview in front of his garage. She pressed her lips into a tin line and followed her daughter to her husband; this escalated...

"Daddy!"

Charles recognised the high voice, but he assumed this couldn't be his daughter since she wouldn't be here today. He continued talking to the reporter, but squeezed his eyebrows together when he heard the voice again. Charles looked behind the reporter and cameraman, and a small girl was running towards him. It was Y/d/n.

"Daddy," Y/d/n breathed and raised her arms up in the air.

"Bonjour, mon amour," he greeted and lifted her up from the ground. "What are you doing here?"

Y/d/n smiled. "I wanted to see you," she giggled. "Mummy is here too!" She pointed at a woman who was walking towards them as well.

Charles' face softened; he really didn't expect to see his wife at this Grand Prix due to the heavy sickness. It was a real surprise. "That is a surprise," he chuckled and looked back at Y/d/n before looking back at the reporter. "I'm sorry," he mentioned and politely smiled. "Thank you," he ended the interview and gave the reporter a nod. Charles stepped away and walked towards Y/n. "Hey," he said, surprised. "You here as well?" A teasing smile grew on his face.

"What a coincidence," Y/n cheekily said.

"I really didn't expect you to be here," Charles honestly said. At first, he was disappointed when he and Y/n decided she would attend the race, but safety and health first.

Y/n smiled. "That is kinda the point of a surprise," she said. "I'm feeling good, and Y/d/n wanted to see you. So if you don't mind, we are gonna watch the qualification here?"

Charles couldn't be happier; this really made his weekend better. "Of course." He looked at Y/d/n, who was hugging him like she hadn't seen him in a while - they saw each other this morning before Charles left to prep for the day. "I'm really surprised. It's good to see you, babe," he said and gave her a kiss. "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

"Thanks..." She shyly smiled. "You had a great morning. It's too early to say it, and I hope I won't jinx anything, but it seems like a good weekend."

"Please, don't cheer too soon," he replied and looked painfully at his wife. "We have said this for years, and it just... escalates every time."

"Maybe it won't this time."

They started to walk towards the Ferrari hospitality. "My weekend is already amazing because you all are here. How is the baby?"

Y/d/n laid her head on Charles' shoulder and looked around her. It wasn't all new to her, but it surely was overwhelming. Her eyes fell on someone who was waving at her; it was Pierre Gasly. Y/d/n looked up and happily waved back at Pierre.

"Good, she's calm now, and the sickness is gone." That was something huge; this was the first time in the pregnancy this happened.

Charles proudly smiled. "That's good. If you don't feel good or need anything, you will let me know, okay?"

"I will, don't worry, Charles."

It was the second time Y/n showed up at a Grand Prix during her second pregnancy. People adored the young family; they were happy to see the family together. And to see the baby bump.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u

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suiana · 4 months

Text

(yandere! ghost husband x gn! reader)

In many asian cultures,

it is taught to people to not touch any offerings or money that is left on the ground.

For if you do so,

you shall be married to a dead person.

however, you chose not to heed these warnings and picked up a heavy wad of cash that was left on the sidewalk of a forest.

you picked it up, happily thinking it was just some rich guy who dropped his money while on a nature walk, that you got lucky enough to stumble upon his secret stash.

so you brought it home with you, thinking of all the wonderful things you'd buy with this newfound money you got.

unfortunately, that was just the start of many unexplainable things that begun to happen to you.

"dude can you not close my door?! I'm trying to go on a date!"

you yell at the air, staring at your door which suddenly slammed shut. it had been a few weeks since these events had started occuring. and events as in, random paranormal events. yes, paranormal.

it all started when you found that thick wad of cash on the sidewalk of some asian country and brought it back home with you. you thought you were lucky to have stumbled upon such treasure. like, holy shit that's a few hundred thousand of dollars!

yet the second you stepped foot inside your house, chills ran down your spine and you couldn't help but feel absolutely scared to enter your home.

but you simply shrugged it off, thinking you were just overthinking and worrying over nothing. must be the scary asian ghost stories you heard.

you should've went to the exorcist the second you felt that gut instinct though.

because as the days went by, your lights started turning in and off by itself, your house would be cleaned meticulously even when it looked like a fucking dumpsite a few hours before, and more importantly, you'd start hearing voices of a man who claimed to be 'your husband'.

at first you wondered if you were schizophrenic. holy shit, were you hallucinating right now? why the hell was there this attractive voice that kept on talking to you from time to time?

but it wasn't you being schizophrenic, unfortunately.

for what you were experiencing was very much real. there was now a ghost in your house, or rather around you, that would not leave no matter how hard you tried.

and you came to live with it, until today.

why? because you were about to go on a date with this super sexy guy but then this... this ghost husband wouldn't let you!

freaking slammed the door when you tried leaving! like who even does that?!

"ugh, you're being unreasonable!"

you yell at the air, glaring angrily as you place your hands on your hips. you didn't know where this ghost husband of yours was, but you did know he was near you. i mean, the temperature drop was a clear sign that he was.

"me? unreasonable?"

ah, there he was.

you turn around to face the aur, glaring angrily as you feel your skin prickling. his voice came from behind you and he was whispering into your ear. he always likes to do that, you noticed. speaking from behind.

"yeah, you! dude i just want to get laid!"

you reply in irritation, hands on your hips as you shake your head. you wait for his reply, pursuing your lips angrily before shrieking as you feel him blow cold air against your nape.

"but you have me, don't you?"

"well I don't want you! I didn't know you'd come together with the money! and I can't even use the money..."

you mumble off, shivering slightly as you continue to glare at the air. god damn it, so much talk about being your husband and you don't even know how he looks like! heck, you can't even see him!

"I don't even know how you look like! how could you prevent me from going on a date with this sexy guy-"

in the middle of your complaint, you suddenly yelp as an attractive male, albeit a translucent one, stares right at you, an unamused face as he looks you down.

"well you can see me now."

he mumbles, arms folded across his chest as he glares back at you.

your mouth is dry, cheeks slightly pink as you stare at the man. holy moly! you have a hot husband?!

"holy cow! you're hot?"

"what's that supposed to mean?"

you stare at the male, jaw dropping before you slap your face and look him up and down. he was clad in a traditional outfit, looking expensive and absolutely drop dead gorgeous- well he's dead but... gorgeous!

"damn okay, I won't go on that date..."

you drool slightly, moving away from your door as you continue staring at your ghost husband dumbly, giggling as you walk past him onto the couch.

"of course you won't. you're already married to me."

your husband follows after you, a cold aura following him wherever he went, chilling the area. thankfully the heat in your body helped to warm you up.

"why didn't you show me your face earlier? you're so sexy..."

"well you never asked."

he shrugs before floating over to you and resting his head in your lap. his eyes look into yours, a lovesick expression in his eyes as he traces his translucent hand into your skin, making the area tingle slightly.

you stare down at him, pursing your lips before giggling stupidly and blushing. damn, you really did have a hot husband. even though he's dead, he's still your husband! you only wish he was alive... then maybe you two could get dirty and-

"you know i can still pleasure you right?"

the ghost suddenly deadpans, looking right at you as though he had read your thoughts. you blink at him, not registering his words before you suddenly choke on air and look away.

"oh, are you choking? don't die yet... i like your body heat."

your husband suddenly moves away from your lap, getting up to pat your back in a pitiful attempt to relieve you from your choking fit. all you felt while you coughed was the tingling sensation of cold hands.

"damn you can't just say stuff like that-"

"but you were thinking about it, no? i can hear your thoughts, you know."

you proceed to choke on air again, having yet another coughing fit as your ghost husband continues to pat your back with his cold ghostly hands.

"oh my god just kill me now... this is so embarrassing-"

"no, i already said i like your body heat and you can't die yet."

you immediately shut up, staring at the ghostly male with dead eyes.

before you know it, you're walking to your kitchen to grab a knife to kill youself just to spite him. but of course, you were stopped by your husband who immediately wrestles the knife away from you, smacking your head painfully hard before dragging you back to the couch where he begins to suck your warmth away like a leech.

damn him, maybe you should get an exorcist.

"you know i can hear your thoughts right? you're not getting rid of me."

damn him, you really are going to get an exorcist.

"what? darling i just said no!"

you're getting an exorcist.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere ghost husband #yandere ghost husband x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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ozzgin · 6 months

Note

Can I have yandere Aka Manto x Reader? I see you write Japanese myths, cuz why not?

Yandere! Urban Legend x Reader [Aka Manto]

You never know when you're going to meet your soulmate. It could be on a beach at sunset, on the last bus home, in the elevator of an office building...Or in a public bathroom after you just finished your business. Nevertheless, this urban legend monster has its eyes on you now.

Content: gender neutral reader, urban legend, part horror part comedy, gore!, monster romance

"Are you deaf? It's occupied!" you shout one final time, giving the door a swift kick to emphasize your presence. That's what you get for using a public restroom. Your coworkers had convinced you to try out another bar after the company dinner, and you might've had one too many cocktails. Thankfully most of the drinks were watered down, although it is exactly because of this detail that you're now hovering above a toilet seat with a full bladder. On a Friday night, in the partying neighborhood of the city, so it could explain the persistent stranger - possibly even drunker than you - who keeps rattling the lock of your stall.

To your horror, the handle begins to turn, and you hear a click. You scramble to get up and secure the door, but it's too late. With your pants halfway down, you gawk at the bizarre individual squeezing his way in: a tall figure wearing a red cloak and a mask. "What the Hell?" is all you can mumble to yourself, awkwardly gathering your garments in order to preserve your remaining ounce of dignity. Out of all the things to happen tonight...Alright, calm down. It's most likely a crackhead. You cast your eyes down and focus on the floor tiles, with patterns strategically chosen to hide as much grime as possible.

Pretty. Almost too pretty to kill. He might just take his time with you and savor the moment. Of course, you'll have to answer his question first. With bureaucratic efficiency, he pulls out two rolls of toilet paper and extends them to you. "The red one, or the blue one?" he asks with theatric gravity. What in the Avon samples Hell is this, you think, fidgeting nervously and avoiding any eye contact still. If you ignore him, he should lose interest.

A minute passes in heavy silence. His ghastly arms begin to tire, so he lowers them with a disappointed creak of the joints. "Y-you have to pick one", he insists. Damn it! Perhaps you've been told what to do if approached by mischievous spirits like him? Ignorance means you keep your head, though he was hoping for a gory night of entertainment. You can almost feel the intense stare coming from behind the eerie mask. The tension becomes unbearable, so you finally decide to push your luck. You will not spend the night stuck with a deranged pervert looming over you in a public bathroom.

Without further delay, you shove him aside and open the door. He lets out a surprised hum, observing your daring gesture and almost expecting you to run for your life. To his even greater shock, however, you stop to wash your hands with a relaxed whistle, completely unbothered by his presence. What happened to the fear, the terror, the dread? You peek at his reflection in the mirror, and your lips curl in a mocking grin. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your nervous system, but all you see right now is a pathetic charlatan who tried to intimidate you with literal toilet paper. A good-for-nothing scoundrel interrupting the innocent from their much-needed bathroom break.

In fact, the more you consider your situation, the more your chest puffs with outrage and bravery. You pay your taxes, you help the needy, and this is how your civic deeds are rewarded? By having your stream cut midway? Unbelievable. Unacceptable. No other soul shall suffer your fate tonight. "Wretch!" you cry out, turning towards the aggressor and continuing your demands: "Evacuate the premises at once!"

You might not understand it yet, but your act of defiance has sealed your fate. The hooded monster smiles, relishing the words that have closed the gap between your fragile body and his blasphemous claws. You have spoken to him; thus, he can do with you as he desires. And yet, his murderous fingers hesitate. Your entrails should be splattered across the rarely polished porcelain by now. What's holding him back? He tilts his head in contemplation, but any intention to ponder his feelings is quickly discarded once a loud shriek pierces his ears.

As it turns out, someone else had been using the neighboring stall and was alerted by your little argument. Their finger is pointed at the cloaked creature, features twisted in disgust and fear. "Can't you tell we're busy?" The mysterious man inquires sarcastically. On second thought, this should be enough to satisfy his cravings.

With a snap of the fingers, the frightened bystander is torn apart by invisible hands right before your very eyes. Their limbs detach with surreal ease, and blood splatters everywhere in hot, sticky bursts. In your petrified daze, you are reminded of nature documentaries: blurry snippets of sharks trashing their victim around, fleshy chunks coming undone from the violent handling. Within seconds, the bathroom is quiet again. The walls and ceiling are drenched in fresh blood, and occasionally, fat droplets collapse into a puddle with resounding echo.

It all falls into place. The hooded creature claps its hands, startling you back into awareness. "That's what it was!", he says with enthusiasm. He approaches you with quiet steps, cushioned by the meaty remains coating the floor. He places one hand over the mask, removes it, and gives it a shake as if to clean off the crimson fluid. You involuntarily gaze at his face, taken aback by the handsome traits. Is this the appearance of a ruthless ghoul who butchers mortals for amusement? You wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for the hot trickle of foreign blood trailing your skin.

"I think I've fallen in love with you", he confesses with a wide, saw-toothed smile. You feel a clawed finger tracing your cheek affectionately. "Well? What're you so silent for? You were quite cheeky a moment ago!" he continues tauntingly, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up. "Or have you seen what happens when you misbehave? No, no, darling, I'd never! There are other ways in which I can ruin you."

You're suddenly very cold. With dry lips, you eventually open your mouth to speak: "I'm not leaving here, am I?"

"You could, but that would make me very upset."

#forgive me anon I tried to be serious but the temptation of the piss stalker was too great #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere monster #aka manto #aka manto x reader #japanese urban legend #yandere headcanons #monster x reader #yandere monster x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #horror #horror x reader #monster x human

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finelinefae · 5 months

Text

match one [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's struggling with harry's coaching before the first tournament and harry's feelings control him more than he controls them

word count: 10.2k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, fluff, harry being a boy and not being able control himself around y/n

this is part 2 of the game, read part 1 here

. . .

“Again,”

Y/N gritted her teeth and bounced the tennis ball on the ground before throwing it into the air with a straight arm and hitting it with the racket, watching as it pierced through the air to the opposite end of the court.

She heard a sigh come from the bench on the side of the court, “Again,”

She inhaled sharply through her nose to try and contain her temper as she repeated the same serve.

“Again,”

Y/N spun around on the heel of her New Balance trainers, her pleated, white skort twirling as she did. She crossed her arms and glared at the boy lying on his back in his school uniform which was now crinkled and unkempt after the school day. “You’re not even watching,” She replied for the first time after having done the same serve more than ten times already.

“I don’t need to, I know you’re not doing it correctly,” He replied, monotonously.

She clenched her jaw, “Well as my coach, aren’t you supposed to show me how I’m meant to do it correctly?”

“I can show you but it won’t change anything,” He said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs and sits up, “You already know how to do a flat serve, I’ve seen you do it. You’re just not hitting it hard enough. I can hear it in the way the ball lands on the other end of the court.”

“You could have just told me to hit it harder,” She retorts.

“Am I meant to play the game for you as well?” He quips which makes her blood boil.

This was their third training session, and Y/N had reached her limit. With her first proper tournament just three weeks away, she had hoped that seeking help from the best tennis player at Crestwood would elevate her gameplay.

However, Y/N was getting frustrated with each session being a monotonous repetition of drills she had already learnt herself. It grated on her nerves and she felt as though she was back to square one.

She was beginning to regret having enlisted Harry for his mentoring in the first place. Whenever they’d try to talk mutually to each other, it would just end up in an argument of some kind where they’d end up needing ten minutes to cool off.

Y/N had already qualified for the Academy Slam before she even asked Harry to coach her. There had originally been sixteen academies from the surrounding counties competing in the games and now there were only half and Y/N was one of them. She’d passed the qualifiers all by herself and maybe she could pass the games that way too.

“Again,” He said that one word Y/N was beginning to hate.

Who knew what she was capable of if she had to hear that word one more time.

Feeling a surge of anger, Y/N tossed the ball into the air and hit it with all the strength she could possibly summon. She watched as the ball made a fast and straight trajectory towards her target area which just so happened to be right beside Harry’s place on the bench.

He jumped up, a look of surprise on his face. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, eyes following the ball as it hit the fence.

Y/N's smirk wavered as he approached her, her surprise matching his when he spoke again. "Let's move on, shall we?"

By the end of the session, every inch of Y/N's body throbbed with exhaustion. She drained an entire water bottle in one go, her fitted polo shirt clinging to her damp skin. She had thought she'd engaged every muscle in her body, but the way her calves screamed at her with every step told a different story.

“Same time tomorrow?” Harry asked, standing above her and blocking the sunlight.

“I want to start training properly,” Y/N stated.

“We are training properly,” He argued.

“You realize you haven’t shown me a single tactic since you started coaching me right?”

“And?”

“How am I meant to win the first tournament if all I know how to do is basic drills?”

“Do you know how many times my coach made me practice flat serves before we could move on?” He asks but she doesn’t answer, “A month. I went home with blisters on my hands because I was doing them non-stop six hours a day.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise, “You think tennis is just about being tactical then you’re not playing it properly. The only way you’ll ever be a good tennis player is if you master the techniques.” He explains, “I’ve seen you play Y/N. For someone who has never had professional coaching, you are one of the best players I’ve seen but you lack confidence in your technique. That flat serve you just aimed at me? One of the best flat serves I’ve seen in a while. If you can do that in every game, you’ll have no problem winning but if you want tactics? I can draw you a diagram and it’ll save two hours of my day no problem.”

Y/N tries not to show her surprise at his words. Instead, she takes them all in, “Shouldn’t we at least be analysing my opponent?”

She was playing against Vanya Maddison in her next game. She was tall which was a major advantage in the game but her spatial awareness wasn’t exactly on par.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N had no idea whether to take it as a compliment or not. She’d never heard Harry say anything good about her so was taken off guard by his words. “So are we still on for tomorrow because I have to meet Mitch in thirty minutes and if the answer is no at least I can actually plan on getting wasted tonight.”

Y/N took a moment to think. She had never expected him to say something positive about her, especially about her anger. It was a side of herself she often struggled to control, but hearing Harry acknowledge it as a strength left her feeling conflicted.

As much as she considered training on her own which would give her some peace and quiet, she wanted to see where her training with Harry would go. If he was right, maybe she’d actually have more of a chance of winning than she did on her own.

She stood up and put her gym bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow,” She walked past him, wanting to avoid the satisfied grin on his face.

“Y/N!” Harry called, she could hear him jogging towards her before she stepped out of the courts, “I wanted to give this to you.”

He placed in her hands a cassette tape with white masking tape on it with the words ‘Y/N’s theme songs’ scribbled onto it in black ink. “What is this?” She asked, looking up at him.

“When I was in Australia, I used music to help me get in the zone before a match. My coach told me to use a cassette tape because phones were too distracting,” He explained.

“You made this for me?” She frowned.

“What? You’ve never been given a gift before?” He chuckles.

Y/N looks down at the plastic in her hands. It’s not that she’d never been given a gift by anyone before- she and Sarah always exchanged gifts over Christmas and for each other’s birthdays- but it was rare for her to ever receive anything from anyone else. Her parents would often give her practical things at Christmas or transfer money into her bank account on birthdays.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at her lack of reply but she cleared her throat, “I don’t have a cassette player,” She said but Harry quickly removed his backpack and pulled out a walkman.

“You can borrow mine,” He handed it over to her, “I won’t be needing it anytime soon since I’m not playing,” She noticed the downcast look in his eyes as he mentioned the fact he wasn’t currently able to play with his injury.

“Um, t-thanks?” She said, unsure of how to respond to his sudden kindness. It felt unusual.

“I picked a few songs that reminded me of you,” He smirks, “Don’t worry, they’re not all about a girl with an attitude problem.” With that he turned back around and walked towards the other exit to head to the car park.

She felt ease on her chest as the usual teasing remarks returned, “Asshole,” She called out to him to which he just put his middle finger up in reply.

. . .

After taking a long shower in the girl’s shower rooms in her dorm block, Y/N headed back to her dorm after changing into a white shirt and sweatpants. She could feel the strain in her arms and legs as she flopped down onto her bed.

Luckily Sarah wasn’t back from spending time with Mitch, so she took in the peace and quiet which came rare to her these days as all her mind had been on recently was the Academy Slam.

Her mind wandered off to Harry and his words from earlier. Y/N knew she was a good tennis player but it was the first time she had heard someone else tell her that. She wasn’t expecting it, especially not from her tennis rival of the past ten years.

Her eyes glanced at the cassette tape and the walkman she had placed on her desk before she headed off to the shower. Sitting up, she grabbed it and stared down at it for a moment before putting the cassette into the player and putting the headphones on.

She laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling of her room. Her fingers hit the play button and the first song began to flood her ears. The first few beats of Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ began to play and she immediately rolled her eyes. Then afterwards, ‘Fergalicious’ by Fergie.

She wondered how many songs Harry had managed to put on the cassette and how many were female anthems of empowerment.

The next song seemed to catch her attention even further when Gorillaz ‘She’s my collar’ began to play. The beat now permanently injected into her bloodstream along with the rest of the album from the number of times she had listened to it.

She wondered if Harry had known he had included a song by one of her favourite bands and whether he knew the meaning behind the song too. Maybe it had been a coincidence which was a thought Y/N had decided to settle on as she listened to the rest of the song.

‘Nothing to be justified yet

She the first I'm running with

She the one that get my collar

She the one I'm running with (she's my collar)’

. . .

The next day at school, Y/N sat in the library during her study period to study for her biology exam at the end of the week. Even though she was set on the scholarship, she still needed something to fall back on if she lost out in the next few games so she made sure she was still getting the best grades she could. It had also been ingrained in her to be the best in every class and she didn’t think that trait of hers would ever leave her.

“Y/N!” Sarah called, her voice echoing within the silence of the library.

Ignoring the irritated glances she received, she paced towards Y/N and sat in the empty seat beside her. Y/N smiled at her friend’s excitement. They were foils to each other and that’s what made them get on so well. Whilst Y/N had a black cat personality, Sarah was sunshine in a person which was probably why she was so perfect for Mitch who was equally as bright. “What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something and you’re probably going to hate me but Harry’s already said yes and-”

“Sarah,” Y/N placed her hands on her shoulders, “Breathe.”

Sarah did exactly that before continuing, “Would you do a feature with Harry for the school newspaper?”

Y/N frowned, “What?”

“The school newspaper? You know the club I’ve been part of for the past two years? They want to do a feature on your training for the sports section and I told them I would ask you.” Sarah explained.

“Oh I don’t know about that-”

“Pleeeassseee,” Sarah gripped her arm that was resting on the desk and batted her eyelashes.

“You know I’d do anything for you Sarah but I don’t know if I have the time and my focus is on my next game,” Y/N replied.

“Harry’s already said yes to it,” Sarah interjected.

“You asked him before me?”

“Well actually,” Sarah hesitated, “Luke, the boy who’s writing the article, asked him this morning,”

“Why didn’t he ask me?”

Sarah gave her a pointed look, “You’re not exactly the most approachable,” Y/N’s frown deepened at her words, “So will you do it?”

Y/N sighed, considering it before giving Sarah an answer. The last thing she wanted was for someone to be asking unnecessary questions in time that could be used to train for the first round of the competition but Sarah was her best friend and she knew how much the school newspaper meant to her and her university applications too.

“Alright,” She relented, “I’ll do it.”

Sarah squealed, receiving another round of vicious glares from other students in the library. Her arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, “Thank you,” She pulled away, “They’ll come by tomorrow afternoon during practice, is that okay?” Y/N nodded a response.

. . .

It was raining outside.

Y/N’s eyes stared out the window as she bounced a tennis ball on the hard floor of the gymnasium and wondered if the weather foreshadowed the next hour.

“Will you sit down?” Harry muttered, “You’re giving me a headache,”

“He’s late,” Y/N says, “We could have been practising,”

“Do you ever just do anything else?” Y/N shot him a glare at his sarcasm, “I get this is important to you but don’t you just want to, I don’t know, have fun?”

Y/N walked over to her seat right next to his and straightened herself for the interview the school newspaper had organised for them. Sarah had told both her and Harry to dress smartly for the occasion which, according to Harry meant a designer sweatshirt and trousers whilst Y/N had gone for a dress and pumps. It wasn’t overly smart for either of them but enough to make it seem like they had made an effort.

“The fact that you’re even suggesting that tells me you have no idea how important this is to me,” Y/N responds, monotonously.

She hears a scoff from beside her, “What?”

He turns to face her, his face rather too close, she notices three moles on his right cheek that she hadn’t ever seen before, “I think I know better than anyone how important this is to you but I also know from experience how important being in high school is with people your own age.” She forgets sometimes that even though he was whisked away to fulfil his place in the Australian Open, that his time of being a kid was cut short, “I don’t go out of my way to coach just anybody,”

“What do you mean?” She frowns but before Harry could reply, the doors to the gym open and in scrambles a sixth year with a messenger bag and a tripod with a camera dangling from his neck.

“It means,” he leans forward, murmuring, “if you had half the belief in yourself as I have in you then you wouldn’t need me at all.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Luke’s voice echoes as he steps towards them and places all three legs of the tripod on the ground and scrambles to screw his camera to it.

“What’s with the camera?” Y/N asked.

“O-oh, we’re recording the interview so I can write everything up later and we’re going to need your pictures together afterwards,” Luke explained.

“You want us to take a photo together?” Y/N frowned.

“Did Sarah not tell you?” Luke replied.

“Calm down, love. It’s just a photo,” Harry murmured and she tried not to react to the nickname he had used for her.

Once everything was set up, Luke sat across from them with his laptop on his thighs, questions already typed out, “So, you two have known each other for a while now?” Luke asked as he sat across from them.

As Y/N was about to tell him how they didn’t exactly know each other on a personal level but knew each other through tennis, Harry spoke up, “Since we were both in third year. I was eight and Y/N was seven but we’ve been in the same class since we were infants.”

Luke nodded, “That must help a lot in your partnership,”

Harry chuckled lowly, “Something like that,”

Luke types a few things down in his computer before turning his attention to Y/N, “Um, Y/N what made you turn to Harry for his coaching other than the fact he won the Australian Open?”

Y/N frowned, what more reason did she need to give? “Well, the fact he won is a big reason as to why I approached him,”

“But isn’t he injured?” Harry stiffened beside her. The way he asked made it sound like he was defective, unusable.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes but I’ve seen Harry play games with a dislocated shoulder. He’d just pop it right back in and start playing again. His current injury doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s one of the best tennis players I’ve seen at Crestwood.” Y/N ignored the looks from the two boys. She knew she’d have to compliment Harry at some point during this interview, especially if they needed to show a united front for the games.

“And do think the same about Y/N?” Luke asked Harry who now seemed irritated by him.

“I think,” Y/N was prepared for a backhanded compliment but what she got was something entirely different, “Y/N has all the potential in the world to go for what she dreams of and I hope to watch her do it all even if that means I’m watching from the sidelines.” This time it was Y/N’s turn to glance at Harry, taken aback by his words.

Luke spoke again, “You know some people are calling you the underdog in this tournament?” Y/N froze, it was the first time she had heard of it, “all the other women competing have had professional coaching and the school invests heavily in their tennis players.”

Y/N cleared her throat, “I didn’t know that but I have every intention of proving them wrong,” Harry bumped his knee with hers but she ignored it.

“And What do your parents think about you doing this before leaving exams?” Luke asked.

Y/N ignored the sting she felt at the thought of telling her parents what she was doing and the looks of disappointment she envisioned, which had been gnawing at the back of her head since she qualified. She answered confidently, "They're happy for me and excited to see me in the final."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as Luke leaned in, his expression curious. "You think you'll get to the final?"

Harry scoffed, “Are you insinuating she won’t?”

Luke backpedalled slightly, sensing he’d struck a nerve. "I didn't mean to suggest that at all. It's just that some people doubt the capabilities of those who haven't had professional coaching."

"Hey Luke, do me a favour and invite those people to the first game in three weeks' time. Let them witness firsthand what it's like watching a player as skilled as Y/N, without any professional coaching," Harry's frustration was palpable, catching Y/N off guard with his assertiveness. Typically, she would be the first to break in such situations but it seemed Harry already had.

Luke’s face warmed as he realised he overstepped, “R-right, let’s move on.” He scanned through his list of questions to find something more light-hearted to break up the mood, whilst Y/N straightened her shoulders, thankful they’d gotten to the final round of questions. “What do you both like to do outside of training?”

“Together?” Y/N cringed, trying to picture spending time with Harry in a normal setting.

“Not necessarily,” Luke shrugged.

“My best friend is dating her best friend so we’ve been spending a lot more time together recently. Normally, I play guitar or recite poetry whenever I’m not coaching Y/N to volley properly,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the lies that left his mouth.

“I study,” Y/N stated.

“That’s it?” Luke’s eyebrows creased.

Her cheeks turned slightly pink, “I’m top of the class in all of my classes, that doesn’t just happen without hard work.”

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her and for the first time, she turned her head to catch his eyes. She noticed the frown on his lips and something in his eye that looked a lot more like concern or sympathy than the desire to tease her about her lack of social life.

“Well, I think that will be enough,” Luke stood up and grabbed his camera, “Do you mind if we take a few photos now?”

Y/N and Harry stood from their seats, side by side and looked into the lens of the camera. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from forcing a smile as Harry did the same, “You’re standing too close to me,” Y/N spoke through her teeth as the camera flashed.

"Look who's talking with their giant foot squashing my shoe," Harry retorts, a playful glint in his eyes. Y/N inhales sharply, her gaze dropping to her foot to see what he's referring to. But before she can react, Harry smoothly slides his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side with practised ease. Their eyes meet, and just as the camera flashes, capturing the moment, Y/N side steps out of his grip with an annoyed huff.

“Okay, that will be all,” Luke smiled.

As Luke packed his things away, Y/N and Harry stood awkwardly side by side without saying a word. Y/N glanced out the window and saw the sky had cleared up and the sun was setting. She needed to get back to her dorm to study for her French exam tomorrow as well as binge-watch tennis matches on YouTube which she’d been doing a lot recently.

“Did you really mean that?” Harry asked, catching her attention, “All you do is study outside of school?”

Y/N looked at him, “I hang out with Sarah some days but yeah, I mostly study. I don’t really have a lot of choice and I’m not naturally smart.” Harry’s head tilted to the side like he was secretly questioning her in his head, “What? Aren’t you meant to crack a joke about me being stupid or something?”

Harry's eyes softened, his voice gentle. "I could never think you're stupid, love," he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. She found herself speechless, unable to figure out what had gotten into him recently.

He pulled out his car keys from his back pocket and motioned his head towards the gymnasium exit, “C’mon,” He urged, “I wanna try something out and before you ask, it’s nothing to do with tennis or studying.”

Y/N’s feet stayed glued to the ground as he walked away and expected her to follow. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms, wanting to refuse his invitation so she could get back to her dorm. But curiosity got the better of her and she followed a few paces behind him as he led her to the empty car park.

Harry pressed the button on the car keys and the lights flashed on a black Audi hiding in the corner, “What are we doing?” She asked.

“Have you ever driven a car before?” He wondered, looking at her with a hint of mischief.

“Never,” She replied and was bewildered to see him open the door to the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, love,” He smirked.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “N-no! Harry, I'm not driving your stupidly expensive car.”

“C’mon,” Harry chuckled, “Don’t be chicken.”

She scoffed, “I’m not being chicken, I’m being sensible. If I crash that car, I don’t even think my parents will have enough money to fix it.”

“My parent’s will,” He grinned, cockily, “Get in,”

“No, I’m not driving that car.” She insisted.

Five minutes later, Y/N sat in the driver’s seat of Harry’s Audi with her fingers over her eyes as he instructed her on how to start. “Are you crazy?” She whimpers as he switches the engine on.

“Stop worrying, I’ve got my hand on the break.” She looks down to see his hand already wrapped around the hand break, “Just stay calm and do what I told you to do. Clutch down, first gear and then ease your foot gently off the clutch.”

“You’re supposed to be teaching me tennis, not driving laps around the school parking lot,” Y/N argued.

“Think of this as a team bonding exercise,” He shrugged, “Okay now foot down on the clutch,”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” She strangled out, placing her shaky hands on the wheel.

“Relax,” Harry chuckled, “You’re being dramatic.”

“It won’t be so dramatic when we end up in a tree,” Y/N retorted as she carefully felt the pedals and pressed down slowly on the clutch. Feeling the car rise, Y/N gasped and removed her foot.

“Calm down, it’s just because you put your foot on the clutch,” Harry was trying his best not to laugh at her, “Okay, now do it again.”

Y/N squeezed her hands on the wheel and repeated her actions, moving the gear stick “Okay, now carefully raise the clutch,�� Harry instructed and as she did, he lowered the handbrake and the car slowly began to move forward.

“Holy shit,” Y/N wailed, “We’re moving,”

This time, Harry did laugh unable to stop himself after seeing her reaction, “Make sure you turn the wheel or we really will end up in a tree,”

Y/N did as she was told and turned the wheel slowly, “Okay, I’ll move into second,”

“Harry no!” She gasped but put the clutch down so he could move gears.

“Atta girl,” He beamed.

Y/N’s worried expression soon turned into shock and then excitement as she moved slowly around the car park, “I’m driving Harry!” Y/N grinned and Harry swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“You are,” He praised, “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

After switching between first and second gear and Y/N complaining that her feet were aching from how tense she was using the pedals, Harry offered to swap places and show her what it was really like to go out on an evening drive.

“Harry!” Y/N choked on a laugh as he went all the way up to sixth gear down the empty streets in the middle of nowhere, “Slow down,” She squealed.

Harry glanced at her, grinning when he saw how wide the smile was on her face. He pressed his finger on the button to wind down all the windows, “Oh shit I love this song,” He turned the volume up on the stereo as Beyonce’s ‘Love on Top’ started playing, blaring loudly through the speakers of his car.

“Baby it’s you! You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” Harry screamed the lyrics of the song and Y/N’s laughter sounded through the entire car as her hair blew behind her. “Sing it, baby!” He cheered, neither of them realising what he had called her.

“I’m not gonna sing it,” She shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as the engine revved.

“It’s the only way I’m gonna slow down,” He teased as the build-up to the chorus played.

Y/N giggled as Harry began to sing solo to the chorus again, giving her a look that had her rolling her eyes before she screamed out the lyrics alongside him, “When I need you, make everything stop! Finally, you put my love on top!”

Their laughter merged together as the song played out. Harry slowed down the closer they got back to town and cast a sideways glance at Y/N who was brushing her wind-swept hair with her fingers. “You okay?” He asked, seeing the glow on her face.

“Yeah,” She bit her lip, “I’m okay. I just don’t get to do stuff like this… ever really.”

He nodded in understanding. Harry had met Y/N’s parents a few times before. His parents were frequent visitors to their country club so he knew what they were like but he had no idea of the extent of the pressures they had put on Y/N to do well. It reminded him of his own parents and the last thing he wanted to do was allow someone to feel the same way he did whenever his parents were too hard on him.

“Wanna pull in somewhere to get something to eat?” Harry asked. It was getting late and they both had school tomorrow but he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let her go- not when she was having so much fun.

“Okay,” Y/N nodded.

He pulled into a dessert shop that was still open. Y/N followed him inside and to a booth in the corner. Harry ordered both of them bowls of soft-serve ice cream and Y/N even asked if she could have a strawberry milkshake to go with it. “I shouldn’t really be eating,” She told him.

“Hmm I heard drinking strawberry milkshakes improves your footwork. They served them all the time in Australia,” Y/N shot him a look that told him she knew he was bullshitting her but it made him smile.

“Are you nervous about the game coming up?” They’d been training non-stop every evening and Y/N was quickly improving everything she had already learnt on her own. After considering Harry’s words a few days ago, she knew Harry was right. He had been good for her technique and she felt even more sure of herself than she did at the beginning.

“No,” She said coolly, “I don’t have time to be nervous.”

Harry scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

The waitress came over and placed their desserts in front of them, along with a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “Mitch says he’s going to throw a party at my place if you make it through to the semi-finals.”

“A party at your place?” Y/N quirked a brow.

Harry sighs, “He came up with the idea of throwing a party and then just kind of decided it would be at mine.” He explained.

Y/N nodded and took a sip of her milkshake. It had been so long since she had had something so sugary and sweet. She hummed before realizing she was being watched by the boy opposite her, “Just so you know, even though you bought these desserts and taught me how to drive, doesn’t mean I like you.”

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling and dimples carving into his cheeks. Y/N’s heart stuttered but she pushed the feeling down, “Okay, tomorrow you can go back to hating me again and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen.”

“And you can do the same,” She says.

Harry gives her a look, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t put a label on, “I don’t hate you Y/N.”

She frowns, “You’ve always hated me,”

“No,” He shook his head, “Never.”

“But you’re always making fun of me,” And she always did the same.

“Because it’s the only way I get to speak to you.” He admits.

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had always assumed Harry had hated her since their rivalry had gone on for so long. She didn’t know what to say, confused by the sudden revelation.

“Ew,” It came out before she even had time to think, “Don’t be nice to me, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Harry seemed to deflate but quickly placed a smile on his face, “You make me uncomfortable and you’re singing, by the way, is awful.”

Y/N scoffed, "At least I don't sound like a dying goat." Despite the return of their familiar banter, her heart seemed to continue to flutter under Harry's earnest gaze, stirring a mix of emotions within her that she’d never felt before.

She didn’t know what was going on with her but the last thing she needed to think about was her emotions when her biggest goal to date was right before her.

. . .

Three weeks had gone by far too quickly for Y/N’s liking.

“Again,” Harry drawled.

Y/N gritted her teeth and repeated the backswing technique Harry had shown her but the angle was all wrong and the ball ended up going completely off court.

“Fuck,” Y/N spat, throwing her tennis racket on the floor and squatting, balling her hands into fists on her head.

Harry sighed, walking over. “You’re nervous about tomorrow,” He stated like he didn’t need her to confirm despite the fact she had constantly told everyone she wasn’t nervous about anything.

“I just need to win,” She mumbled.

“Get up,” Harry ordered.

Y/N did as she was told and stood up. He grabbed the racket from the floor that she’d thrown across the court like a toddler throwing their toys out a pushchair and flipped the racket between both of his hands. He handed it back to her and grabbed his own.

“I want you to mirror my actions,” He says and stands a few steps away from her.

He steps forward, tossing the tennis ball into the air before swinging his racket with both hands, expertly landing it in the left corner of the opposing court. Y/N tracks his every move, mimicking his actions as if she were his shadow.

Y/N’s ball lands slightly off target and Harry bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at the scowl on her face. He walks towards her and comes up behind her. Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels his fingertips press gently on her arm.

“You need to straighten this arm more,” He advises, his fingertips sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps as he straightens her arm out. “Calm down,” he murmurs, his mouth near her ear, “I can feel your heart beating.”

Y/N seems to lose every ounce of oxygen when he places his hand flat against her back where he can feel her heart beating, “Breathe,” He says, “You will win tomorrow, I will make sure of it.”

The warmth that flooded Y/N’s body quickly left as Harry took a step back, “Try it again,” He nodded towards her racket.

Y/N sighed, tensing her muscles again after Harry had practically managed to turn them into liquid. She tried to ignore the flutter in all of the pulse points in her body that were screaming to make contact with that new presence and swung her racket, landing the ball exactly where she wanted.

“There y’ go,” He murmurs, almost as if he was saying it to himself. “I think we should call that it for today,”

“What?” Y/N frowned, “The game is tomorrow, I need to practice.”

“Y/N, we’ve been practising for half the day already. You’re going to wear yourself out if you carry on,” Harry tells her.

“Fine,” She huffed but Harry gave her a knowing look.

“Come to my place,” He offers.

“Why would I do that?” She goes to grab her sweatshirt on the bench and pulls it over her head. It was getting colder now that the sun was going down.

“Because I know you’re just going to come back here once I leave and trust me, you don’t want to do that.” She opened her mouth to refuse but he continued, “We can watch Wimbledon on TV and order pizza.”

She wondered how he knew that Wimbledon was one of her favourite movies and pizza was her favourite food. “Is it the DVD exclusive?” Y/N asked.

Harry’s lips tilted upwards, “Of course,” Y/N nodded, following him to his car so he could drive them to his apartment.

Y/N remembered the last time she was in Harry's car three weeks ago. It was the first time Y/N truly enjoyed being in his company and the first time she had allowed herself to have fun and relax.

The day after, they resumed their usual arguing as if the previous night hadn't occurred. However, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by a surge of unfamiliar emotions swirling within her.

Despite the bickering, she kept noticing things about Harry—like the way he smiled and talked. It made her feel weird like there was something more between them that she hadn't noticed before.

The air was silent between them as the radio played lowly in the background. Harry turned into a block of apartments that looked far too expensive for a student to afford all by themself. “This is where you live?” Y/N asked, her eyes widening as he pulled into a spot.

“For now,” He says.

Y/N trailed behind Harry as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made their way to his apartment. When he swung open the door, flooding the space with light, Y/N couldn't help but notice the spaciousness of the apartment, as well as its emptiness.

“I haven’t had time to unpack,” Harry said, walking to the kitchen after kicking his shoes off, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’ll just take a glass of water,” Y/N’s eyes darted to all of the boxes that covered the floor.

She walked to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter, “Are those your trophies?” She asked, seeing the metal cups in an open box.

Harry smiled, “Yeah, I’ve kept all of mine even the ones that didn’t count.”

“They all count,” Y/N grins, walking over and pulling one out, “The battle of the sexes trophy.”

Harry smirked, walking round to stand beside her, “I still remember the look on your face when they handed me that trophy. If looks could kill, love, I don’t think I would be here.”

“It was a big deal to me okay?” Y/N replies, “I seemed to blame you for all my losses when I was a kid.”

Harry’s expression softens and his head turns to look at her, “Will you blame me if you don’t win tomorrow?”

Y/N’s smile falters, “No, I’d blame myself. I think if I lost this, I don’t know who I would be anymore. Tennis is my life.”

Harry’s eyes glint underneath the soft lighting of the kitchen, “God,” He whispers, “You drive me crazy y’ know that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think you could love anything more?” He asks, ignoring her question.

“I can’t think of anything, if I did I’d have to love it an awful lot.”

“Okay,” He nods like he’s accepting a challenge.

Y/N narrows her eyes, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” He shrugs, “But I want you to know-”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, the door swings open and the shrill sound of his mother’s voice fills the air. Y/N stands straight and she notices Harry tense up, taking a step in front of her, he pushes her behind him.

“Harry,” His mother sighs, “How are you darling?”

“Mum,” He replies, curtly, “What are you doing here?”

“Your father’s running late home so I thought I would come by to see how you were,” She says and then looks behind him.

Y/N doesn’t need Harry to introduce her as she steps forward and holds out a hand, “Hi Mrs Styles, it’s nice to see you again.”

"Y/N?" Anne gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "You've grown so much, you're beautiful." She reached out, taking both of Y/N's hands in hers and giving her an appraising look.

Y/N's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Styles," she stammered, feeling a mixture of nerves and warmth.

Anne smiled warmly. "Oh, call me Anne," she insisted before turning her attention to Harry. "I didn't know you two were such good friends."

Y/N and Harry exchanged a quick glance, both unsure of how to respond.

"I'm her coach," they both blurted out simultaneously, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Anne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed, her gaze flitting between them. "You're coaching?"

Harry nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he confirmed quietly.

"But Harry, your injury," Anne interjected, concern evident in her voice as she glanced down at his leg. "You're not meant to be—"

"I'm fine, Mum," Harry interrupted sharply, his tone making no room for argument.

"Harry, you know you can’t be playing-"

"I said I'm fine," Harry's voice rose, his frustration evident as he cut her off, causing Y/N to jump at the sudden outburst.

Anne's concern softened into a resigned sigh, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and understanding. "Alright, Harry," she relented, her tone gentler now. "Just promise me you're taking care of yourself."

Harry's features softened, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "I promise, Mum," he said, his voice softer now, more subdued.

Anne nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. That's all I ask."

As the atmosphere relaxed, Anne turned her attention back to Y/N, her smile warm and welcoming. "Well, it's lovely to see you again, Y/N," she said kindly. “Tell your parents we’ll be stopping by in the spring.”

Y/N returned the smile, her earlier nervousness dissipating in the warmth of Anne's acceptance. "It was nice to see you too, " she replied sincerely.

Harry glanced at Y/N, a softness in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. After seeing his mother out following her very brief visit, Y/N finally mustered the courage to ask, "What was she talking about?"

Harry's expression turned grave, his features shadowed by a sense of burden. "It was nothing," he replied.

"Why can't you play?" Y/N pushed, her concern evident in her voice.

"Y/N, I'm telling you to leave it alone," Harry warned, his tone firm.

But Y/N couldn't let it go. "If it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" she insisted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Because it's none of your business, that's why," Harry snapped, his words cutting like a knife.

"Nothing I do or say has anything to do with you, so go back to hating me because it's a hell of a lot easier than what I have to deal with."

Y/N's heart sank at his harsh words. With a deep breath, she crossed her arms, her resolve hardening. "You know, now I remember why we never got along in the first place," she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. With a sharp turn on her heel, she made her way to the front door. "You're such an asshole, Harry."

"Y/N," Harry called out, his voice tinged with regret as she stormed out of his apartment towards the elevator. "Y/N, come on, don't be like that."

"Go suck a dick," she shot back, stepping into the elevator before Harry could stop her.

As the doors closed, Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Let me drive you back, at least," he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the closing doors.

"Fine," Y/N huffed, her tone clipped with annoyance.

The car ride back to her dorm was tense and silent. When Harry pulled into the front of her dormitory, Y/N moved to open the door finding the silence far too uncomfortable. Then, out of nowhere, Harry's voice broke the silence. "I can't play tennis anymore," he confessed, his words heavy.

Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat. "What do you mean you can't play anymore? That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, her disbelief evident in her voice.

Harry's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I mean I can't ever play tennis again," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling with shock.

"I tore my ACL during practice for the French Open. I—" Harry's voice trailed off, unable to continue, “It was so bad Y/N and I was in so much fucking pain and no one would listen to me. I went through multiple surgeries and rehab but the doctors sat me down and said I couldn’t play unless I wanted to fuck up my leg for the rest of my life.”

“Harry…” Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears.

Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of Harry's words sank in. She glanced over at him, seeing the pain etched in his features, and felt a surge of empathy wash over her. It was a devastating blow for someone who had dedicated their life to the sport they loved.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with genuine sadness for the boy beside her.

Harry managed a small nod, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, “That’s why I had to come back here. My father can barely look at me and my mother won’t leave me alone. At least here I can be around people my own age but when I’m at home, it’s fucking suffocating Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine losing the one thing she loved above anything else in the world and have to re-construct everything she had ever known to find something else to love just as much.

“I don’t expect you to say anything but I’d appreciate it if you showed me a little mercy,” He spoke.

“Why would you offer to coach me then? Would that not make things worse?” She asked.

He looks at her, really looks at her, like there was something on the tip of his tongue he wanted to say but couldn’t, “I figured it would alleviate the pain.”

“But I saw you play, I watched you and you beat me,” She exclaimed.

“Yeah and it hurt like a bitch afterwards,” He shook his head.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wondered why Harry had been unwilling to play against her during the training sessions and now she knew why. She felt awful, her heart was hurting for him.

“I don’t want you to feel pity for me and I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m tired of being treated like a broken toy and I think it would kill me inside if you looked at me differently.”

Y/N stayed quiet, facing forward and collecting her thoughts before saying, “Thank you for telling me,” She murmured, “And it doesn’t change anything. You’re still an asshole,”

Harry laughed and then his pinky brushed the side of her hand, “You will be everything tomorrow.” He whispered.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the soft edge of his words, “You think so?”

His eyes softened, “I believe in you, more than anyone in the entire world.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and looking out the window. The tension had settled and now a newfound respect lingered between them.

She would win tomorrow, for herself and for him.

. . .

It had been a while since Harry had been to a tennis tournament. The last time he was on a court for an official match was well over six months ago, it was a challenger match he participated in during his training for the French Open before his life took a vast turn.

He sat in the stands with everyone else from Crestwood who had come to watch the first game. Although Crestwood Academy invested more in the football team than any other sport, the turnout had been pretty good and nearly every seat was occupied by a student or teacher.

On the opposite side was Eaststone Academy who seemed to have invested heavily in their merchandise for Y/N’s opponent. Everyone was either wearing a t-shirt with Vanya’s name on it or carrying a sign with supportive catchphrases written in bold marker.

Harry craned his neck in hopes of seeing Y/N preparing herself somewhere outside of the court but couldn’t find her anywhere. He’d sent her a quick message this morning and asked her if she needed anything but she insisted she wanted to be alone.

“Fuck, it’s good we got in the queue early,” Mitch came by with an anxious Sarah, holding two cokes in his hand. They were both wearing navy shirts and sweatbands around their heads, Sarah was holding a sign that had Y/N’s name on it.

“She’s gonna hate you for that,” Harry tried not to smile.

“Oh I already know,” Sarah said, “She watched me make it last night and then almost ripped in half when I asked her if I should bedazzle it.”

Harry’s expression changed into one of concern, “How was she?”

“She’s nervous but she insisted she was okay,” Sarah rolled her eyes, “You know how she is.”

He did, which was why he was willing to accept the fact she wanted to be by herself even though he was desperate to drive over there with strawberry milkshakes just so he could see that smile he had been dreaming about for the past three weeks.

Suddenly, Eaststone Academy stood from their seats and cheered as Vanya Maddison came onto the court. “I’ve never seen such long legs,” Sarah gasped, saying what both Harry and Mitch were thinking.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as the people around him stood on their feet. He glanced down to the court and his eyes fell on Y/N as she walked onto the court with a dip between her brows and her tennis bag over her shoulder.

She was wearing a white, pleated skort and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. Her hair was slicked back as tightly as possible into a braid and her white runners were tied up on her feet. He noticed she was wearing earbuds in her ears and then found the walkman he had given her clipped to her skort. He smiled at that, wondering which of the many songs he had put together she was listening to.

“There she is,” Sarah pointed and then waved to get her attention.

Y/N held a hand over her face to block the sun and looked up at the crowd. When she caught sight of Sarah, she offered a friendly wave before her eyes landed on Harry. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and then walked to her seat on the other side of the umpire.

“C’mon,” Harry murmured, feeling his palms sweating at the sight of her.

“She’s got this in the bag, H.” Mitch puts a hand on his shoulder.

Through the speakers, the umpire calls out the start of the match and everyone falls silent as both players walk to opposing sides of the court. Y/N bounces on her feet and swings her racket backwards and forwards as though warming herself up before the match starts.

When the first serve came, Y/N's reflexes kicked in. She returned the ball swiftly, keeping the rally going with her quick movements, remembering what Harry had taught her. Each exchange became more intense, but Y/N stayed determined, chasing down every ball.

When Vanya hit the ball for the other corner, Y/N ran towards it and returned the ball swiftly, earning the first point with a well-placed shot. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N gained an early lead.

“That’s my girl!” Harry clapped his heart in his throat.

But Vanya wasn't about to let up. With determination in her eyes, she fought back, winning the next two points with powerful serves and precise shots. The score was now in Vanya's favor, and the pressure was on for Y/N.

“Fuck!” Y/N released a growl and hit her racket against the floor before storming off to her seat. Harry was tempted to walk down and help her but he needed to let her see what she was capable of on her own.

Her anger was radiating from her, “I’d hate to get on her bad side,” Mitch said.

Harry couldn’t seem to reply as he leant forward with both his elbows on his knees. “C’mon, c’mon, you can do it.” He mutters, thinking of the first bit of advice he had given her.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and stood on her feet. She walked back to her line on the court and bounced the ball up and down on the ground before throwing it up in the air and hitting it with a flat serve, exactly the way Harry had taught her. Her anger radiated from her as she slammed the ball with her racket and hit it with such force it went flying to the other end of the court but not before bouncing inside the square right by Vanya’s foot.

Harry stood to his feet and pumped his fist into the air, “Holy shit!” Mitch exclaimed as Sarah cheered beside him.

They were now at match point and Y/N had to win this next round if she wanted to win the entire game.

The tension thickened in the air as people sat on the edge of their seats to see who would come out on top. This time, it was Vanya’s turn to serve as she launched the ball into the air and hit it with her racket to Y/N’s side of the court.

As Y/N unleashed powerful serves and precise shots, Harry found himself captivated by her every move. With each grunt of exertion, each flex of her muscles, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Despite the shifting heads of the spectators around him as they followed the ball back and forth, his gaze remained fixed solely on her.

Every aspect of Y/N's play had him in a trance—the way her muscles rippled as she sprinted across the court, the intensity in her expression as she anticipated Vanya’s next move, the graceful sway of her hair with each swing of her racket.

But as Harry watched, something stirred within him. A warmth spread through his veins, igniting a fire deep within him. Suddenly, he felt a tightness in his shorts, a physical reaction to the raw power and determination radiating from Y/N on the court.

"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered under his breath, his heart racing as he glanced down and saw the undeniable bulge in his shorts. Panic surged through him, his mind reeling with embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Mitch's voice cut through his thoughts, and Harry quickly lowered his drink to conceal his arousal.

“N-Nothing,” Harry forces a smile, “I need to use the bathroom.” He doesn’t wait for Mitch to respond as she pushes past everyone to get away from the crowd.

He walks quickly over to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was thirteen years old after experiencing girls for the first time again. Was it wrong to rub himself off in the middle of a tennis match when all he was looking at was the girl who played his favourite sport better than anyone he had ever seen, dominating the game with her anger and intensity like she was a complete animal?

He couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind and his cock seemed to ache the more he thought about how beautiful she was on the court, completely in her element, anger and passion emitting from her. Every grunt and groan she made as she hit the ball with so much fervor had his head spiralling.

He looked down and tried to will it away, he needed to get back out there to see her win the game. He thought of every disturbing thing he could possibly think of and even took out his phone to google the quickest way to get rid of an erection.

The excited yells of the crowd told him someone had won and he prayed he would return and see Y/N with the medal around her neck.

After about ten minutes of taking deep breaths, he finally felt composed enough to leave his car. With a flustered face, he made his way back toward the court, silently praying for some kind of cosmic intervention to erase the embarrassing moment from his memory.

As he turned the corner, he spotted Mitch and Sarah engaged in conversation with Y/N, who was proudly wearing the gold medal around her neck. She had won - he knew she would.

Y/N's eyes lit up as she noticed him, a wide smile spreading across her face as she proudly displayed her medal. Unable to resist, he grinned back in response.

Sweat glistened on her skin, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and delicate strands of hair framed her face. At that moment, she radiated beauty, and he couldn't deny the sudden surge of emotions that had slowly been weaving themselves into the fabric of his feelings ever since he had returned to Crestwood.

If the past fifteen minutes were anything to go by, Harry knew this was more than just a game of tennis.

He was in trouble.

. . .

People cheered as Y/N entered Harry’s apartment with Sarah at her side, holding beer cans in the air and patting her on the shoulder as she sifted through the crowds of people. S&M by Rhianna played over the speakers as the apartment that was previously empty was now filled up with student’s from Crestwood.

“There she is,” Mitch’s voice yelled over the music, “Crestwood’s very own Serena Williams,”

“I wouldn’t go that far Mitch,” She chuckled, unable to stop herself from smiling so hard after the excitement of her first win.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room as she went in search of the one person she wanted to see whilst everyone fell into conversation around her.

That’s when she saw him, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup in his hand. His hair was a tangled mess, and his body was adorned in a loose, white shirt, its u-neck revealing the inked pair of swallows beneath his collarbones and gold chain around his neck. On his legs, he wore a loose pair of black trousers.

Y/N held back a smile as she made her way over to him until she realised who he was talking to.

Her face fell as she saw the angelic blonde, tanned and glowing like she’d just come back from a holiday somewhere south of the equator.

Harry’s face lit up as Y/N approached until he realised what was going on.

“Hey,” He smiled, trying to distract her.

“Where were you?” Y/N snapped her gaze towards him.

“What do y’ mean? M right here,” He spoke, “You were incredible out there.”

“Who’s this?” Y/N ignored him, folding her arms and looking at the girl he was speaking to. Y/N knew exactly who she was but felt the need to act as though she had never seen her before.

Harry hesitated for a moment before introducing her. “Y/N, this is Astrid.”

Astrid flashed a dazzling smile at Y/N, her demeanour friendly yet confident. “Congratulations on the win today, Y/N. I’m looking forward to our match in the semifinals.”

Harry's reaction was immediate. “What?” he stammered, clearly taken aback.

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, surprised. “Y/N and I will be facing off in the semifinals.”

Y/N grit her teeth and forced a smile, the two girls eyeing each other up and down as Harry’s eyes darted anxiously between them.

Now that Y/N was into the semi-finals her next opponent was Astrid Anderson, one of the best junior, female tennis players in the county.

Who just so happened to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

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