#kind of untrue when you hear that

[theoretical-tactician]

They’ve done it. They’ve made a sequel that I like less than the original all by adding a cool new mechanic.

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[pepperyduck]

porcelain. toji f.

a/n: nsfw, angst?????? idk what this is really, just me yapping, very unhealthy boyfriend behaviors from toji, toji pushes ur buttons & makes you snap, DACRYPHILIA!!!!!, p in v. 18+ mdni.

toji's always treated you as what he calls you; a doll.

no, he's never been the type to treat anyone delicately, but then there was you.

to him, you were but a fragile flower, asking to be crushed. toji's hurt a lot of people in his life. he would never hurt you. he never reciprocates the kindness of others, usually, but he couldn't help but treat you with the same love and respect you showed him.

he knows the real you.

toji knows that even among the most precious, delicate dolls, their porcelain skin will begin to crack if you play with them too much. he understands that under your angel-like persona, there's something much darker.

he sees the abyss of emotions inside of you, when you begin to crack.

he's too rough with you on purpose. because he wants that monster inside of you to come out. to be shown to him, what you really are. and it's all for his own pleasure. just for him to break you.

he wants you to snap at him so he can treat you accordingly. and he's so happy when your tired of your buttons being pushed, in his own twisted way.

"fuck off, toji!" with a hard push to his chest was all it took to make him happy. it gave him an excuse to not treat you like a doll anymore, toss you around a little bit. make you cry.

as crazy and sick as he was, you enjoyed it even more.

not even thirty minutes after your action of defiance, he had you laid out under him, eyes glossy with tears while he slowly stuffed you with his cock. toji's lips twitched in a sadistic grin as you allowed the tears to flow, all while staring dangerously into his eyes.

"y'er gonna break my heart, doll," toji groans. "cryin' like a baby all 'cus you feel bad, aww." he's cooing and it's doing nothing but pissing you off; but the drag of his length against the soft walls of your cunt melt the anger away.

"shut up, toji," you grumble, blinking your eyes to clear them so you can get a good look of the condescending man above you.

yet as he hears your snappy words, toji rams his hips into you one good time, bouncing your soft body against the sheets of his bed. you're sure that singular stroke bruised your cervix. the sudden jolt of pleasure that courses through your body brings you to reality quickly.

please.

toji's change in demeanor towards you is slow at first. he's always been so careful. so gentle. all to not hurt you. right now, though, he needs it.

please, baby.

another particularly harsh thrust makes your eyes widen and you panic. you look into toji's eyes, but it's almost as if he isn't even there. his eyes are low, dark and filled with hunger. and anger and sadness, and pain. that same mess of emotions hidden under your sensitive shell is staring you right in the eyes. empty, like a doll.

"toji?" you squeak, earning another stab of toji's cock into your gushing cunt, "toji!"

"i'm 'ere, doll," toji says, though it seems a bit untrue, and his pace quickens too fast, right before your eyes. he's losing himself in his mind and in the feeling of how tightly you squeeze around him when you panic.

break for me. please.

he's begging.

toji can feel how badly you want it, how much you want him to lose control over you. his porcelain doll.

he knows that underneath your glass skin, you're just like him.

he knows it.

[blujayonthewing]

IN MY FEELINGS. ABOUT AUBREE.

[please-destroy]

Someone Familiar

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

.

Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.

Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.

Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.

You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.

In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 

Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.

.

You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 

Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 

There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.

‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 

Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 

.

When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 

You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.

Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.

At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 

Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 

For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.

It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.

.

You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 

In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.

Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 

Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.

Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.

Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.

You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.

Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 

Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.

Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.

Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 

‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.

.

Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 

Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 

Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.

.

You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 

One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.

‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 

Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.

You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.

Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 

Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.

Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 

Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.

.

Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 

You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.

Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.

You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.

The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 

Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 

Nothing worked. 

You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.

Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.

.

At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 

You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  

You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.

You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.

‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 

Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.

‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’

You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.

‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.

‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 

Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.

.

Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.

Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.

‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 

‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.

Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.

‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’

You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.

You hated the people who had taken her childhood.

‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.

‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’

Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.

Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.

‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 

You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.

‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.

She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.

Her lips lingered by your ear.

‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.

.

Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 

The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 

You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 

Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.

You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 

Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.

As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 

You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.

Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.

The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 

‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.

Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.

‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.

Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 

‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.

‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.

The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 

You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.

Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 

Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.

‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 

Natasha made your heart beat. 

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.

When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.

Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 

The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.

You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.

‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.

‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 

You didn’t have the right words. 

Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.

You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.

You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.

Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.

‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’

‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 

‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 

You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.

‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.

You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 

You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.

You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.

You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.

You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 

Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 

‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.

Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.

‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 

You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.

‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.

With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.

You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 

Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.

‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.

‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.

‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.

‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.

You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.

‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 

‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.

‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.

‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 

‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’

You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 

‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 

You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.

Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.

‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.

Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 

You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.

.

‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 

Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.

‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 

The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.

She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.

When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.

Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.

‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.

.

You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 

Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.

You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 

Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.

Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 

Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 

Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.

By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 

You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.

You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.

‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.

Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 

You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 

‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’

Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.

Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.

‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 

When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.

‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 

Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.

‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 

You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.

‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.

Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.

‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’

‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 

‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 

‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 

You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.

‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.

.

You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.

You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.

‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.

“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.

Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’

‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.

You tilted your head questioningly.

“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 

‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.

‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 

‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 

‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’

There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.

After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.

Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.

‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.

‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’

You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.

‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’

The tears began to catch up with your words.

‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 

Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 

When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.

‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.

“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.

.

You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 

More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.

You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 

When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.

You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.

‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’

You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 

You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.

Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.

Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.

At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.

‘Becoming Mom.’

Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 

You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 

Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 

Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.

Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.

‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha’s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 

Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.

Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.

‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.

‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.

‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 

‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.

.

Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.

The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.

When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.

The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.

The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.

‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’

‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 

Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.

When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.

‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’

Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.

You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.

‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.

You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.

‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.

The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.

‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’

When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 

‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.

‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’

Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.

“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.

The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.

Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 

Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.

Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 

The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.

A wave of understanding rushed over you.

‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’

Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.

‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 

Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.

[moonstruckme]

Oh! Oh! I’m not the anon who asked about Jily x reader but your response made something spark in my brain. So picture a super cosy, soft scene where one of them comes home from a long and draining day of work to one of their loves in the kitchen baking, and then the third comes home with dinner and it’s all just soft and domestic. My heart! I think I can see the Jily x reader appeal

Thank you for requesting lovely! I feel like I'm still getting my sea legs under me with them but so far I'm really enjoying writing for them :)

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The front door opens, and you say “Hi,” with a question in your voice, unsure who’s made it home first. 

The answer comes in the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out. Only one of your partners is given to actually sitting down to take their shoes off, rather than toeing them off and being shocked when the backs get scuffed. “Hi, love,” Lily replies. 

“Hi,” you say again, warmer now. “Hey, could you help me with something when you’re done?” 

“Yeah, with what?” 

“My hair won’t stop getting in my face.” You blow a strand away from your eye. It comes right back. “And my hands have dough on them.”

“Just a second.” You hear the chair being pushed back under your table, the quiet padding of socked feet as your girlfriend comes up behind you. As usual, she’s come prepared, a hair tie already on her wrist. Gentle fingers sweep strands away from your face and draw it all back into a loose ponytail. Lily presses a kiss to your nape once she’s done. 

“Thank you,” you say, and she hums, settling her arms around your waist. “How was your day?” 

Lily sighs and rests her chin on your shoulder. “Long.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, lovely. Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Just one thing after another, you know.” She toys with the loose knit of your sweater, sticking her finger through a hole. “I’m happy to be home.” 

The fondness that bleeds through you feels warm and sticky. “I’m happy you’re home, too,” you say with a smile.

You feel her lips curve in kind as she kisses your shoulder. “What’re you making?” 

“Cinnamon roll cookies. They’re more complicated than I thought, but I figure even if I mess them up they’ll at least smell nice when they’re baking.” 

“Good thinking. You won’t mess them up, though.” 

You both hear a key being fitted into the lock outside, and Lily calls out, “It’s open!”

“What?” The voice is muffled through the door. The key retracts, the handle twists. “Why is it open?” James asks as he comes inside. “I could be a murderer.” 

“Because I knew you’d be right on my tail,” says Lily, at the same time as you say, “What makes you think someone would want to murder us?” 

“Well, I’d rather you not find out,” James replies. He toes off his shoes and sets a large paper bag on the table. “Especially when I’m not home.” 

“Oh, because surely we need a man to protect us? We could do just as well in a fight whether you were here or not.” 

Looking at your tall, muscled boyfriend, you have to admit privately that this may be factually untrue. By the look Lily gives you as she goes to give him a kiss, she also disagrees with your argument even if she respects it. 

“Let’s just keep the door locked and that way none of us ever have to fight,” James says as she steps into his arms. He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Lily pecks him on the lips. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Dinner. I know I was meant to cook tonight, but I decided on the way home to pick up instead.” 

“Oh no,” you say mournfully. “Did you have a bad day, too?” 

“No.” James looks at you, confused. “Who had a bad day?” 

“Lily did.” 

“It wasn’t bad, it was just draining,” your girlfriend qualifies, though this doesn’t stop James from cooing and folding her into a hug. “I’m really fine.” Her voice is muffled against his chest. 

“I must’ve had a sixth sense, then.” James kisses her hair. “I got your favorite.” 

“No, did you really?” You can hear Lily perk up. She doesn’t completely remove herself from his embrace but frees one arm and cranes her neck to look inside the bag. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t thank me, thank my telepathy,” he says, letting her go so she can start grabbing forks and napkins for you all to eat with. 

James makes his way over to you, leaning against the counter so he can see your face while you work. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair fluffy like he’s been running his fingers through it or he rolled down the window on the drive home.

“And how was your day?” he asks you. 

“My day was good.” You grin at him. He returns it with twice the enthusiasm. “I finished my book, and I found this recipe for cinnamon roll cookies.” 

James’ gaze doesn’t dip to where you’re folding the cinnamon mixture into your dough. He nods as he keeps looking at your face, eyes warm. He’s still smiling. 

“What?” 

“Did you know you have a little bit of flour on your cheek?” 

“Oh, why’d you ruin it?” Lily asks, bustling through the kitchen to get you water for dinner. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” 

“What?” You look over your shoulder in betrayal. “Is it a lot? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Lily turns off the tap, giving you a sheepish smile and a lift of her shoulders as she passes by you again. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s very cute,” James agrees. “Want me to get it for you?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. “Please.” 

James uses his thumb to brush off your cheek, holding your face in his hand while he does. His smile is still firmly in place, soft around the edges with a sweet fondness. He keeps rubbing until you’re sure the flour has to be long gone, until warmth kisses your cheeks and it’s just touching.

“Love you,” you say softly. 

James’ cheeks dimple. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Will you turn the tap on for me?” 

He does, and you wash your hands in the sink, leaving the rest of the baking for after dinner. 

“Oh, good.” Lily comes back into the kitchen. “Are you ready to eat? I’m worried it’s going to get cold.” 

“We’re ready,” James answers for you. “Just washing up.” 

“Jamie.” Lily smiles at you as you step away from the sink to let him have his turn. “You didn’t get it all.” 

“I got distracted,” says James. “Anyway, I thought you liked it there.” 

She beckons you closer. “I do, but if you’re going to get it, you may as well finish the job.” She brushes a fingertip over your cheek, pretty eyes crinkling. “There. Perfect.” 

“She’s always perfect.” James dries his hands on a towel. He kisses you when you smile bashfully. 

“The food’s getting cold,” you remind them. 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

[libraford]

Misty Copeland, my beloved.

I can't even say that 'appreciation' is the word, at least in the case of bellydance. It's just what happens when a culture touches another. Because 'bellydance' itself is a very broad term that encompasses a variety of dance styles that may have no verifiable country of origin.

Correct me of I'm wrong, of course!

Under a cut because apparently I'm infodumping on dance history.

The best we have as an origin people are the Ghawazee, and today's style looks very little like their practice (which is still taught by it's sole remaining member). But the people traveled before settling in Egypt, so a clear origin is difficult to pinpoint. And you do hear claims that bellydance is Egyptian, and while it's not untrue, it's not the entire story- Ghawazee spent some time in Egypt and the style stuck around to have a stylistic exchange. And a lot of the old Hollywood depictions of bellydance are something between this cultural fusion and awalim. All of these styles, and so many more of that region, informed each other and inspired each other as trade routes between countries became more common, and the Ottoman Empire brought it northward as far as modern day Austria.

And the dance style has been criticized pretty much everywhere it goes. Like our earliest footage of the dance was as a Victorian sideshow that was considered by the primarily white male audience to be vulgar. But as Egyptian film made this style more easily accessed, fondness for it grew, and we enter Golden Age of Bellydance- which was not always not the most culturally sensitive depiction, but it gave a lot of dancers a chance to show their skills to a wider audience- and now women want to learn it too! Teachers pop up everywhere, even though it's still considered a little risque in many cultures.

Bellydance was being seen all over the world because of cinema, even if inaccurate so. And there was a fascination with Egypt that made it the center of attention for a lot of film. There were tons of middle eastern dance clubs, though they were, again, kind of a fantasy version of it.

And then it got hairy.

Iranian Revolution in 1979 put a lot of restrictions on dance. If you were a dance teacher affected by this, your choices were either stop dancing or immigrate to a country where you'd be allowed to teach. So you see a huge boom in the 80s of Egyptian Cabaret styles taking root in the US because the interest in Egyptian culture made it easy to set up shop.

So most of what you're seeing today in modern stage styles is either second or third generation of Egyptian Cabaret style through several layers of translation, which in itself is deep in layers of translation, applied to the melting pot of America and then to the exposure of film, TV, music video, YouTube, Instagram, and then finally TikTok.

And that's fucking fascinating! The cultural exchange that had to happen for us to get that half-beat Turkish drop is high key cool af, just to think about all of the steps we had to go through to get here. It is an ever-evolving discipline of dance, and the fact that Shining Protector is still teaching the old ways of her people to keep traditions alive is AMAZING!

We should want this. And I don't know how to explain to people that sometimes the watered-down white people spicy version is the gateway drug to taking an active interest in a different culture.

When one culture comes in contact with another and the peoples share the things that enrich their lives, that is cultural exchange. But I think it's hard for some people to see any interaction with a white culture as neutral-positive. And it's somewhat difficult to explain the difference.

[goodnightmemes]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price.

❛ War is coming, to the whole of the realm.❜

❛ I am indebted to you. ❜

❛ I'm afraid. ❜

❛ We should've just killed her when we had the chance. ❜

❛ When the king speaks, Your Grace, all hear it. ❜

❛ I find myself wondering...do we pursue the same end? ❜

❛ You must accept that the path to victory now is one of violence. ❜

❛ Did you think I would wither in your absence? ❜

❛ You only blame me because your true enemies are out of reach. ❜

❛ She holds love for our enemy. That makes her a fool. ❜

❛ I promise you, you will have all the vengeance that you seek, but you must keep a grip on your impulses. ❜

❛ Do anything but what I ask, and I'll bleed the whole lot of ya. ❜

❛ The gods punish us. They punish me. ❜

❛ This is not the time for blind accusations. We'll know who did this soon enough. ❜

❛ I will not be seen as weak. ❜

❛ Sometimes, we have to pretend. ❜

❛ I cannot trust you. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. ❜

❛ You think me some kind of monster. ❜

❛ You're pathetic. ❜

❛ We can afford no further mistakes. ❜

❛ You are mad. Mad! You cannot think that I did this! ❜

❛ You would send me to my death. ❜

❛ I would remind you only that when princes lose their temper, it is often others who suffer. ❜

❛ I see all your great adventures have done nothing for your looks. ❜

❛ For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. ❜

❛ I wish to spill blood, not ink! ❜

❛ Instead of judgment, you display impetuousness, and diminish us in the eyes of our enemy! ❜

❛ Fuck dignity! I want revenge. ❜

❛ They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the petty satisfaction of vengeance. ❜

❛ Soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place. ❜

❛ There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❜

❛ I'm as fearsome as any of them. ❜

❛ You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised. ❜

❛ I cannot promise to make you happy. But I ask you: make this sacrifice willingly, for all of us. ❜

❛ If you've not yet surmised, you are welcome here. ❜

❛ Sin begets sin begets sin. ❜

❛ If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. ❜

❛ Do not coddle me. Grant me at least that dignity. ❜

❛ Sadness is a condition of motherhood. ❜

❛ You have as much claim to grief as anyone. ❜

❛ Tales take on a life of their own, like weeds. Unless they are tended. ❜

❛ Always coming and going, aren't you? And I have to clean up afterwards. ❜

❛ You will die in this place. ❜

❛ I have been, at times, unkind, but never untrue. ❜

❛ You must go before you are discovered. ❜

❛ Your mother must've been very beautiful. ❜

❛ You should've burned them when you had the chance. ❜

❛ Is there no honor left in this world? ❜

❛ This is a better death than a traitor deserves. You should thank me for it. ❜

❛ I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies. ❜

❛ I believe it is a sin to deny your appetites. They are what make us fully alive as mortal men. ❜

❛ If I may be so bold, you have not seemed yourself of late. ❜

❛ I've barely had the hours to grieve one tragedy before suffering the next. ❜

❛ I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. ❜

❛ Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? ❜

❛ You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne. ❜

❛ What would you have me do? ❜

❛ Do simply what is needed of you: nothing. ❜

❛ Where have you been, these last days? You vanished without so much as a word.❜

❛ There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. ❜

❛ If you die, all is lost. ❜

❛ The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone. ❜

❛ Do you take issue with me? ❜

❛ I can sit still no longer. I must act. ❜

❛ I did not think they would be so eager to die. ❜

❛ I need them alive. I came here to raise swords, not corpses. ❜

❛ Will you goad me? When your bread and shelter now depend on my pleasure? ❜

❛ I mislike feeling powerless. ❜

❛ I do not know my part. The path I walk has never been trod. ❜

❛ What you cannot do, let others do for you. ❜

❛ There is more than one way to fight a war. ❜

❛ I do not wish to stand alone. ❜

❛ Has your loyalty faded? Or does it flourish only at night and flee the sunrise like a moth? ❜

❛ What we must do now is... terrible. ❜

❛ This is not war. These are crimes against the innocent, that any upright man would repudiate. ❜

❛ And once again, in the name of power, it's the weak and the women who must endure. ❜

❛ Was it worth the price? ❜

❛ I caution you, boldness is one thing, but overconfidence… ❜

❛ You have the impetuousness of youth, and its arrogance, neither of which is to be desired in a king. ❜

❛ Have the indignities of your childhood not yet sufficiently been avenged? ❜

❛ To claim a dragon, you must also be prepared to die. ❜

❛ You can't possibly still be angry about this. ❜

❛ You weren't going to bid me farewell? ❜

❛ It is your way, is it not? When something does not please you, you run. ❜

❛ There are older things in this world than you or I, or living memory. ❜

❛ You are not the player, but a piece on the board. As am I, for that matter. ❜

❛ It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me. ❜

❛ It was worth the risk, no matter the outcome. ❜

❛ The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. ❜

❛ Do you take me for a fool? ❜

❛ Oh, you make an art of provoking me. ❜

❛ Stop wasting your life waiting for something that'll never come. ❜

❛ I'm sure you did your best. ❜

❛ They will underestimate you, and this will be your advantage. ❜

❛ If the gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them? ❜

❛ Nothing is clean here. ❜

❛ The order of things has changed. Why not embrace it? ❜

❛ It does seem to me that you've made rather a mess here. ❜

❛ I don't need their love. I need their swords. ❜

❛ Mind your tongue. ❜

❛ I mislike all of this. ❜

❛ It seems you need us more than we need you. ❜

❛ So, what was the fucking point in all this then? ❜

❛ It's best to live, I think. However you do it. ❜

❛ You are not alone. ❜

❛ Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy? ❜

❛ If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness, I will see you hanged, and your body fed to the dogs in the street. ❜

❛ You've arrived just in time to see my new army. What do you think of it? ❜

❛ This place will have you barking at the moon. ❜

❛ We must all make our sacrifices. ❜

❛ 'Tis no longer our rule that is threatened, our very lives. ❜

❛ Perhaps all men are corrupt and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning. ❜

❛ The dragons dance, and men are like dust under their feet. ❜

❛ We march now toward our annihilation. ❜

❛ There will be time enough to see which one of us is a coward. ❜

❛ There are omens here for those who seek them. ❜

❛ It's all a story and you are but one part in it. You know your part. ❜

❛ I am meant to serve you, and all of these with me, until death or the end of our story. ❜

❛ Be strong. You know you are just. ❜

❛ History will paint you a villain. ❜

❛ I am at last myself, with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed and be free. ❜

❛ You speak as if from a distant dream. ❜

❛ Come with me. ❜

❛ My part is here, whether I will or no. It was decided for me long ago. ❜

[bokuroar]

12:17 — few years later | 🛬❤️‍🩹🎇 iwaizumi h.

“you’ll be there, right? right? right?!”

if it’s anotamically possible to cut your ear off without passing out because of oikawa’s incessant nagging, you would’ve done it the first few seconds he begged you to accept kuroo’s reunion dinner invite before the all-star game. you were seijoh’s babysitter manager after all so, according to kuroo, it’s just right you’re there, in which you only replied with a i’ll think about it.

“haji’s gonna be there.” oikawa says in his annoying singsong voice and you swear you could hear his smirk right through your phone.

you bite your lip as if oikawa could see you blushing and smiling through the call. after years of graduating from high school, you wouldn’t have thought just hearing his name will elicit the same effect on you.

“and?” you reply nonchalantly because you would rather crawl under the earth and bury yourself alive than let oikawa confirm your cutesy, little high school crush on iwaizumi never really went away.

oikawa being your best friend saw through your reply and snorted, “pft, if i know you’ve been looking at his instagram every night before you sleep just because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to hit him up. don’t act as if you don’t zoom in on his shirtless pi—“

“oh my god, fine! i’ll go to this freaking dinner so please for the love god shut the hell up! ” you exasperatedly sigh wanting to tolerate oikawa’s teasing no longer not because it’s untrue but because you felt like you were caught committing a crime. it’s a curse and a gift you have a best friend that knows everything about you.

you hear oikawa shriek through your phone in celebration and about being there at 6, so you mutter a good bye before he lays out a plan that involves dragging you wherever into the night.

as if on cue, your phone lights up with a notification from your old group chat when the call ended,

✉️ t. oikawa: see you all on saturday!!!! no backsies!!!!!! :p

you roll your eyes knowing he’s talking about you. you were about to hit send on a message something about being him still being an annoying ass when another bubble popped in your screen that made you rewrite everything you were about to say.

✉️ h. iwaizumi: im back too 🇯🇵 see you guys :)

✉️ you: i’ll be there ☺️

come saturday, you’re standing in front of the restaurant which every nook and cranny you’re familiar with as this was a popular go-to after-school-dinner-place during your younger years with the team. you try your best not to look frantic while you check your phone at least every 10 seconds to tell oikawa “wru >:(”

you were about to hit the call button when you hear somebody clear their throat. as a reaction, you step away from where you were standing thinking you were probably blocking the entryway.

“sorry i was just w— oh. haji?” you take these few seconds to take him in—the way his shirt hugged his biceps, the watch that also somehow added to his attractiveness, his skin that’s more tanned, his freshly cut hair, and his smile. god, that smile. so many things have changed about him since he last visited home but his kind, subtly giddy smile still reached his eyes.

“been awhile, hasn’t it?” iwaizumi sheepishly say and you hold back a gasp when he scratches the back of his head that flexed his arm.

“it’s been.. yeah? yeah, it has. i mean. yes..” you nervously laugh, mentally kicking yourself for tripping over your words.

you feel your cheeks redden, not from the cold air of the darkening day but because of the manly, handsome laugh that bubbles from iwa’s chest. “watcha doin’ out here, though? waiting for a someone or..” he drags his sentence hoping you don’t hear his silent prayer that you are romantically available.

you snort before you could even think about it, “no, c’mon it’s not like that.” you laugh and went on to tell the tale of oikawa begging you to come, “i’m waiting for that idiot tooru who went several measures to make sure i’m here.”

“you two were thick as thieves, weren’t ya? i’m glad you stayed in touch even if that shithead went abroad.” iwaizumi smiles and you can’t resist staring at how he threw his head back when he laughed at oikawa’s typical antics.

“wish we did too, y’know. i missed ya.” iwaizumi suddenly confesses, “i just found myself wanting to talk to you when i was out there.”

to say your heart felt like it dropped on your feet was an understatement. it’s like everything froze—the leaves halted midair, the world went silent and the only sound you could hear was the loud thump of your heart. all what you manage to let out is, “o-oh? you did? really?”

iwaizumi looks at you like you just asked the most ridiculous question, “‘course i did. we talked every day then! remember how i used to walk you home after our trainings then stop by that dang old ramen place that was there since forever? missed hanging ‘round with you and the team ‘tis all.”

you smile as you look at the ground, shyly but fondly recollecting all the simple but sweetest moments with iwaizumi you cherish so much. with his sudden reminiscing, you recall the sort-of debate you had with him because he kept on insisting he should always walk you home.

“r-right. the team. yeah, i missed them too.” you say as you shake your head along with the thought of having a chance of romance with your longtime friend.

“we should go inside. fuck that tardy tooru i think a lot’s of them here.” you casually laugh and walk towards the door until you felt a hand on your wrist.

iwaizumi shoots you a grin, “what do you say the two of us go grab that ramen? for old time’s sake?”

a/n: so .. uh … im back ! hope everyone’s still here 😅🫣 anw this was supposed to be just a drabble but i got a lil carried away & im alr thinking of writing a pt 2 .. wdyt hehe

[aniqua]

error: v1r2ous | yandere!qimir x reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, y/n not used, everything that comes with yandere tendencies, a prequel to [f13nd] that can stand on its own

✧anon says: "im super curious to perhaps see flashbacks of reader and qimirs relationship before their death but whatever u choose to do w the plot im sure itll be great!!!💓"

✧note: anonie, my self-control is laughable. this originally was a couple of bullet points until it wasn't. I even foreshadowed it when I said, "I keep pretty much be convinced of a lot of things if it's in the form feedback."

✧word count: 1.4K

✧series masterlist

Qimir and you originally met when you entered his shop to buy something for an illness you were experiencing.

From his perspective, a pretty customer--wide-eyed, slightly frazzled, but sincere--comes in walking in like a blown-in dandelion, and his brain halts at a blank. All of his senses were taking you in except for sound. He was picking up on your scent, taking in your appearance, trying to taste your fragrance like a madman, all the while he couldn’t hear a thing coming out of your rosy lips.

There are no quippy jokes, clever back and forths, or sarcastic upselling. He just saw someone with shining eyes and an unintentional constant pout to their lips as they explained their problem and he was just staring.

Through what he heard when he finally checked back in, you chose to entrust him with your health because of what you heard through grapevines and gossip which led him to take on a deep sense of responsibility to get what he was making down to the right gram.

From your perspective, you didn’t expect the apothecary to be so breathtaking. You expected to meet the face of an age-old man who you’d have to convince to take your symptoms seriously. So when you had materialized at the first jingle of the door and you saw Qimir look up, you’d almost waited for his master to come walking out of a room. Even as you spoke, you sort of hoped it would still happen since his sharp features but kind eyes were too overwhelming for your sensitive self to stomach. If he was to be your saving grace, you feared that your timidness to his aura would have you killed before a progression in your condition did.

Through nervous small talk from you and shaking hands that only Qimir could feel, he works on something as you watch with a look that could only have him describe you as a rabbit. In the end, he fervently insists that you return for weekly refills since swore he could only make so much with the supplies that he had. This was untrue. But you were so dazzled by the way parts of his warm hand ghosted yours when he passed the medication that you didn’t even think twice about it.

By a few months, you both had established an unspoken comfort that resided between each of your meetings. 

You were expected to call ahead so that Qimir could ensure it was just him and you in the shop. Your appreciation for the gesture made you believe that he was entirely selfless but let Qimir tell it and it would be the most selfish thing he did once a week. The days would meander as he spent time forgetting faces until he’d get a call in which in that moment, the time ran like a jackrabbit. 

There was a night when you called so late that the sun had already set and he was already in bed. He picked it up without a second thought and felt his spine turn into water when he heard you on the other end profusely apologizing. The name of the game was reassurance and patience as he tried to keep you talking. He so effortlessly did it that you would almost believe him when he said he didn’t mind the call if you didn’t feel immense guilt.

Qimir spent the time listening to you ramble about the series of unfortunate events that had led you to break your medicine vials and lose your travel ticket. The way your weak voice spoke and the shaking in your cadence made it clear to anyone who cared--so Qimir--that you had just been crying. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you heard from the other end. He waited for you to come down from your panic while twistedly picturing how beautiful you must have looked when you cried. Red eyes, clinging lashes, and swollen lips flashed across his mind just for him to say “I know a guy who can get you a much sooner ticket and when you come here tomorrow I’ll make you more. Free of charge. How does that sound?”

Another good amount of back and forth was spent with you refusing his generosity until his persistent rejection of your rejection caved you. Sure, you felt unworthy of the offer but you also were terrible at resisting the way he sounded over the phone. 

It was in that moment that Qimir determined to make you his permanent problem. From his perspective, he couldn’t stay just your good friend, but he wanted you to see him as the lighthouse that you were a permanent resident of. He was transfixed on the image of you and him together.

Did Qimir actually know a guy? No, but he wasn’t going to find a guy since he knew how to be both hell and high water.

On another one of your later visits, you made some remarks about your uncomfortable trip to his store as his hair curtain his face while he worked. 

Qimir saw this as a rare window of opportunity to take advantage of the trust between the both of you.

“You know, long trips are taxing on the body,” he said as he was dicing a specific plant.

“How else do you expect me to get here?” you teased as you layed your head on the counter and watched him so focused. It was when you liked watching him most. 

This was now routine for the both of you. You would pretend like you weren’t watching the way his biceps flexed and his brows knitted together when he was focused. All the while, Qimir was trying to use every bit of his self-control not to drown in your fresh scent and the warmth that came from your close body. If he didn’t use every bit of the discipline he was taught, he would have devoured once for every time he looked up to find you desperately trying to look anywhere else out of shyness.

“You’d walk here if you just lived in the city,” he told you while peeking through his lashes.

You sighed as you waited for another lecture from him that he practically had memorized but it never came which surprised you. He was playing offensive this time.

“The city is expensive,” you said.

“Hm” he quirked a brow in acknowledgment as he kept dicing. Although he was calculating, he loved the way your voice sounded when you were passionate.

“And who knows if I’ll find somewhere to live on such short notice.”

“So stay here.” he dropped so casually as he went to grab something off of a high shelf.

“Huh?” That was new.

Qimir didn’t say anything until he came back. He made his way back to the counter and leaned over it. You felt so scattered as you watched his striking features get closer as you swallowed. He was intentionally playing dirty.

“Stay here and you can work in the shop in exchange.” When he shrug so nonchalantly, strands of his hair framed his face so well.

“Qi-Qimir,” you manage to get out. “You don’t want me here,” you joked trying to get out of his intense soul-eating eyes. However, he took your hands as you tried to lean back into the chair you were sitting in.

“What makes you say that?” You almost lost your breath at the way he lifted his brow.

“You really want to become roommates with a customer?” you said only half teasing.

The way his expression shifted like a cloud had gone over him. You wondered if you had said something wrong. With his thumb, he made circles in your hands as he straightened out the fabric of your shirt. He was still silent as you held your breath until he said, “Did you really think I’d empty out a store on a weekly basis for just some customer?” His voice was steady as he practically loomed over you from across the table.

You had no response to his words but you were getting hot in the face.

“I don’t even answer Osha’s calls in the middle night,” he laughed. The way that he went back to his light demeanor and the smile that eclipsed his eyes gave you enough whiplash to say stupidly vomit “alright” without any clue as to what you were signing up for.

leave a comment, send an ask, or reblog. i might write a whole fic because of it or maybe send a meme, but I always respond.

[nickssidewitch]

✨❤️ How the Sturniolo Triplets Flirt With a Crush 😻✨ (a Tarot Reading)

Chris 🧡

Very invested, will make sure to keep up with his crush almost every single day 😭

But he also overthinks A LOT during this stage, so he’ll ease back if he thinks he’s doing too much.

He’ll post little things on his socials so the person he’s flirting with can see them. It’ll be little subliminal messages and things of that nature.

But he’ll also overthink that as well, and will probably even make little clarifications to try not to make it seem like it’s directed at someone (even though it most definitely was).

My Gosh, this man worries so much when he flirts because he hopes the girl can pick up on it and if he’s not being super cringy or he’s not making her turned off.

If he can see that the girl is enjoying his flirting, he won’t worry as much, but she has to be super direct about it, otherwise he will literally die of overthinking 😭😭

He flirts the most via social media posts, but he also texts and does FaceTime calls a lot with the person he’s into. He’ll wanna text/call them late at night just so they can both catch up on each other’s days and just vent.

He will literally stay up for hours, laying on his stomach, feet dangling in the air like a giddy schoolgirl, staring down at his phone just to see if his girl will ever call him or text him. I’m exaggerating… but also I’m not.

He’s a great listener, so he doesn’t mind a rant or a trauma dump or two 😭

He will buy his girl things that remind him of her. Little trinkets like charms and stuffed animals. He’ll buy clothes and jewelry if he sees something he knows the girl will like.

He will pay for everything.

He definitely puts on a certain voice that he doesn’t even realize. (I can hear it in my head and it’s sexy as fuck. A bit raspy and low, a bit of a whisper). He even has a look on his face and will stare at you with that look 😭 He has no clue he does it though.

Lots of music. Lotsss.

If he feels that the flirting is not working though, he will be devastated.

Nick 💜

He actually prefers being flirted with. He likes being the center of someone’s affection. *debby ryan meme*

He will do obvious things to flirt with someone. And if the guy don’t pick up on it, that’s on him ✌🏾

He’s a gift giver and acts of service kind of guy when flirting. If the man doesn’t appreciate what he’s doing by actually acknowledging it, then he’ll be devastated and won’t give you the time of day anymore.

I think he knows what he wants, who he wants, when he wants it, and sometimes why. 😭

That can be a bit intimidating for some guys because they have this expectation of him being someone who will change themselves just to get their attention. But in reality, Nick is very confident in who he is and would never change himself for a man’s attention (unless it’s literally just him working out or drinking more water, etc.)

He’s asking his brothers about what guys do in certain situations (because usually it’s a bi or more masc guy he’s into). He’ll literally go to Chris or Matt with his phone, show a text and be like “oh my gosh what does this mean??”

He’ll definitely be touchy-feely with you, and that’s a big deal because he hates touching people and people touching him. So if he’s got his arm around you, then you’re the one for him!

Matt 💙

Super invested like his brothers.

People keep saying he’ll be dry which is very untrue. That man will always find a way to keep the person he’s flirting with entertained.

He wants them to laugh and actually find him funny, otherwise it won’t work and he knows it.

Humor is a way for him to figure out whether you’re actually listening to him and understand him and the way he thinks. So if you can’t pick up on his humor or don’t laugh at certain jokes he makes, you’re out.

He likes flowers and chocolates, but doesn’t mind jewelry and expensive things to bring his girl as well. And if she’s like “Oh, Matt, you shouldn’t have”, he’ll be like “Um, yes, I definitely should have, and I did!”

He’ll send risky texts or say risky things just to see the girl’s reaction to them. Nothing too crazy or frisky. Just something that can spark a reaction that can be a telltale sign of whether she’s into it or not.

These are the basics of it! Lmk if you guys liked this post!! 🥰

[munsonsmixtapes]

hurt/comfort with benedict maybe? maybe reader sees benedict dancing with another girl and notices how happy he looked (him of course just being polite) and she ends up walking away overthinking their entire courtship.

Absolutely! I'm currently reading Benedict's book in the Bridgerton series and am feeling my hyperfixation over him making a comeback lol

cw: hurt/comfort, jealousy

The Danbury household was filled with people who were dancing, laughing, and just generally having a good time. You found yourself with Benedict over by one of the windows and the two of you were giggling about something.

You had been courting since the beginning of the season and had been nothing but happy throughout it, your parents and Lady Bridgerton were thrilled when you made the announcement. In fact, both of your families had been elated when the news broke.

It wasn't surprising considering that the two of you had been inseparable since your meeting all those years ago and everyone had been waiting to see if you would actually get together.

You sipped on your lemonade and watched Benedict stare down at your with that grin that was reserved for you. With him, you felt like the luckiest woman since you had managed to snag the most sought after man in Mayfair and he was just as into you aas you were into you.

Your entire life, you had developed feelings for many boys, but they all seemed to pay you no mind. But the second you crossed paths with Benedict, you knew that it would be different. You were the one who fell first, but he definitely fell harder.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?" He asked, resisting the urge to bring his hand up to your cheek. He didn't care if people saw but what he care about what them whispering about you. Rumors had spread about him, but he'd be damned if anyone said anything untrue about you. So he settled for linking his pinky with yours where no one could see.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am to have you," you told him with a smile.

"I'm the lucky one, darling, you know that," he smiled back.

"Why can't we both be lucky?" You asked and he nodded in agreement.

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, loving to see the bright smile on your face widen. He was so in love with you that he didn't know what to do with himself.

"I'm going to get some lemonade, would you like some?"

"I'd love some, but let me get it my love." That was the gentlemanly thing to do and he didn't want you to have to do it when he was perfectly capable.

"You always do it, let me this time." Before Benedict could protest, though, you were already heading towards the table. And he watched you, admiring how politely you spoke to the others that were standing around the table. You were so sweet and it always warmed his heart watching you interact with other people.

You spoke with Lady Danbury who was also by the table and she always seemed to have a lot to say and you didn't want to be rude so you just nodded and listened, only giving input when it was necessary. You wanted to get back to Benedict, not wanting to keep him waiting, but you simply couldn't just leave Lady Danbury in the middle of a conversation. That wasn't the kind of person you were.

"So how is it going with the Bridgerton boy?" She asked and that got your attention. You found any excuse to talk about him, just waiting for him to be brought up so you could gush about how lovely he was.

"He's good. We're happy." She couldn't help but notice the bright smile on your face, so happy that the two of you had finally gotten together.

"Oh, that is lovely to hear," her face lit up. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, but Ms. l/n, is that not Mr, Bridgerton dancing with Miss Ashbrook?"

You turned your head, and sure enough, Benedict was dancing with another woman. And she was beautiful and he was smiling. You couldn't watch for long because the whole thing made your stomach churn, a true stab to the back. Especially because they were engaging in your favorite dance.

"My, you are looking green," Lady Danbury pointed out. "Are you alright?"

You ignored her question and turned back to the dance floor, watching the man who you were courting dancing with another woman, twirling her around the room as if you had ceased to exist. You had to get out of there and fast.

"I'm fine, thank you, Lady Danbury," you curtsied before rushing towards the door, out into the garden.

Benedict continued to dance with Miss Ashbrook, completely unaware that you had fled at all. As far as he was concerned, you had still been talking to Lady Danbury. But when he turned in that direction, the woman had been alone. He frantically searched the entire room for you, not seeing your bright blue dress as all. Where could you have possibly gone?

"Tell me more about your lady," Miss Ashbrook spoke with a bright smile. "She sounds lovely."

The only reason why Benedict had been dancing with her was to be polite. And he had been gushing about you the whole time because he didn't want her to think that he was unattached. And she seemed to already know that, only asking him to dance because he was the closest and she didn't want a certain man to ask. It was just a favor and nothing else.

"My apologies, but I must go, Miss Ashbrook, but it was lovely to meet you and I'm sure that there's a suitor out there for you. Don't settle for less than what you deserve." He bowed as soon as the song was over and didn't even stay to hear her response because he was rushing over to Lady Danbury.

He slid across the floor, almost crashing into the refreshment table, but that was the least of his worries. He really needed to find you before you had gotten to far. He needed to know why you had left.

"Mr, Bridgerton, do be careful," Lady Danbury scolded and he was quick to bow before her, certainly not wanting to upset the host of the evening, especially not by breaking her table nor dishes.

"My apologies, Lady Danbury, but do you know where I could find Miss l/n?"

"She went to the garden," she responded then waved her hand, signaling that he should come closer so he bent down so that the two of them were eye level. "That is one of the most lovely women I have ever met and you should know better than anyone that she is beloved by everyone here so I suggest you not screw it up by dancing with women who you are not courting. Are we understood?"

"We are," Benedict nodded then raced towards the garden, searching every nook and cranny for you. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized that you were truly gone, that awful pit in his stomach forming.

But then he heard a loud scream that pit growing even larger as he hurried to where the sound had come from, another blood curdling scream tearing throughout the garden. Benedict ran as fast as he legs could carry him, feeling his chest tighten and his throat burn as his breathing picked up.

He got to where the noise had been coming from and felt a hoarse gasp leave his throat as he saw you on the grass, clutching your ankle with tears streaming down your cheeks. He rushed to you, crouching to sit on his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands, but you pulled them out of his grasp, looking at him as you hadn't wanted him to be there.

"What happened? Why did you leave?" There was hurt in his tone, but he was mostly just worried about you. And he hated seeing you in pain, both physically and emotionally.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Benedict," you snapped. "Perhaps you should just go back to Miss Ashbrook."

"Miss-darling, what on earth are you talk about?"

"I saw you dancing with her, Benedict. And you were smiling. It was almost like you forgot that were courting."

"Oh," he let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a fully belly laugh. How could you have possibly thought that he had been interested in anyone besides you? You had his whole entire heart and he wasn't going to give that to just anyone. It only beat for you so he supposed that you were the only one worthy of having it.

"I'm glad you think my pain is so funny," you reached up and swatted at his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles.

"My love, I was only dancing with her because she didn't want to dance with man who was going to ask her. And I was smiling because I was telling her about you." Your eyes widened and now you just felt like an idiot. Of course he would do something like that, because he was always trying his best to be polite. You couldn't believe you had let your insecurity get the best of you and almost ruined the best (only) romantic relationship you ever had.

"Benedict, I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid, I-"

"No," Benedict cut you off, his tone nothing but gentle as his hands cupped your cheeks, wiping your tears from your cheeks. "You're not stupid and have every right to be angry with me. I'm so sorry that I upset you and I hope you forgive me."

"Of course I do," you nodded, tears continuing to stream down your face that Benedict just wiped away.

"Good, because I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box, a gasp falling from your lips as he opened, a beautiful, glittering ring nestled inside. "Marry me?" He asked and you leapt into his arms, tackling him to the ground, your injured ankle completely forgotten.

Benedict was flat on the grass as you fell on top of him, your lips crashing to his, multiple yeses coming out of your both between each kiss. You pulled away long enough for him to put the ring on your finger and then you were back at it, lips slotted together as you both lied there in the garden, soaking up your alone time together before you went inside to make the announcement to everyone.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | june 1 pride | words: 896

“Have you heard that Amelia ran into Regulus Black and Dorcas Meadows on the Astronomy Tower last night?”

“What? Is he cheating on Pandora then?”

“He’s with Pandora? I swear I saw him snogging Lily Evans in the library the other day.”

“Bullshit, she’s muggleborn; his parents would kill him if they found out!”

“Yeah, but he’s still Sirius’ brother, so he’s probably just as rebellious as him.”

Such conversations were everything Regulus could hear lately, as if his dating life were any of other people's business. He knew it was all made up, and he ignored them, even if they became louder and louder every day.

It wouldn’t bother him that much if he was a casanova who craved such rumours about himself. But he was not a casanova; he didn’t even care about women in that way; he much rather preferred men.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? If he said it to anyone besides his friends, he would be eaten alive—first by his classmates, then by his family. Even if the wizarding world didn’t care about who was sleeping with whom, Regulus was still one of the heirs to The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black—of course, his coming out as gay would become the biggest scandal of the century.

All of this to say, he kept his mouth shut and let people talk shit about his love life so his everyday life was safe.

“You know,” James said one night, when they laid on Regulus’ bed cuddling. “If they’re bothering you, we could start some nasty rumour, like that you have chlamydia.” The younger boy chuckled at that.

“I think I’ll pass; I prefer them talking about me like I’m some kind of slag,” he replied softly, brushing hair from James’ forehead.

Regulus felt good and safe while with James. He wished he could feel like that all the time, but only the thought of holding his boyfriend’s hand in the corridor full of people made his guts turn.

So, he made peace with people talking about him. It might’ve been irritating, stupid, and untrue, but he preferred it over whatever would come after those people found out about his actual relationship.

It went on for most of his fifth year—in the daylight he would be presumed fuck boy who had every girl at Hogwarts in his bed; at night he became a little twink in love with the Gryffindor’s Golden Boy.

One day in June, during dinner, some older Slytherin girl waved at him to come to her.

“Go on, Reggie! I wonder what she would want from you,” Barty snickered, pushing Regulus in the girl’s direction. The funniest thing was that Barty knew about Regulus and James' relationship, but he still liked to put the younger boy in situations like this that only fueled the rumours.

He strode off, stopping when he reached her.

“Hello,” he said coldly, “can I help you with anything?”

“Hi, yes, actually,” she answered excitedly. “So, we were wondering which of Meadows, Rosier, and Evans you’re dating. Would you be a darling and clarify it for us?” She finished her question, obnoxiously batting her eyelashes. He didn’t even know her; why would he even want to clarify anything to her?

His eyes went to the other side of the room, spotting that lovely smile of his boyfriend’s. He wished he could point at James and say, ‘That one, I’m dating that one’. Oh, how he wished he could just—

A quiet voice in his head whispered, ‘The only one stopping you is yourself; just go’. He considered it for a second.

Ah, fuck it.

Regulus cleared his throat and looked at the girl with a mean smile. “Yes, actually, I could clarify it for you,” and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away in the direction of the Gryffindor’s tabel.

He could hear his heart pounding, feel his hand shaking a little, and his face turning red more and more with every step, but he wasn’t a coward; he wasn’t backing down now. When James turned his head in Regulus’ direction, his face went pale, like he was seeing a ghost. But Regulus still wasn’t backing down.

In no time, he reached the older boy and, without thinking, pulled him by the neck to kiss him thoroughly. And when their lips collided, it was like nothing else mattered. Even when James needed a second to register what was happening and relax, it was the best thing Regulus had ever felt. And when his boyfriend’s hand touched his cheek and the other one grabbed his thigh, the world around them collapsed, and there were only the two of them.

After another minute (or hour, who knows), they pulled away to get some air, and that’s when Regulus noticed it—James eyes were sparkling with so much love and pride that Regulus could only giggle like a lovesick eleven-year-old. In return, James chuckled softly, caressing the other’s cheek gently.

And then it got to Regulus what he just did. At first, he felt like he might be sick, but a second later, that quiet voice from earlier said, ‘Fuck it, you’re free now’.

And on that note, he looked up at the girl on the other side of the room and shouted, “Is it clear enough now?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

DECODE

A/N: okay wow, it's actually here, but let me say a ew things first: i am no it proessional so there are some made up stuff so don't come after me if there are untrue things in the story lmao. also, the ending... im not entirely in peace with it, but i've been sitting on this story for way too long so i just bit my tongue and finised it. don't come after me if you don't like it... but anyway! hope it didn't turn out as bad and you'll enjoy the story!

WORD COUNT: 13.7k

SUMMARY: You're up for the promotion you've always dreamt about, but right when you need to prove everything goes downhill. Lucky for you the cute, quiet IT guy, Harry, is there to help you out.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that feeling when you wake all by yourself, a moment of peace takes over you for not starting the day off with your one true enemy, the alarm, but then panic instantly stabs you in the chest when you realize it��s a weekday and there’s absolutely no way you just woke up before your alarm, feeling this rested. 

Your eyes pop open and you sit up in a frenzy looking around in the room, figuring out what happened and what should be done now. First you check the time on your phone and when you see that it reads 8:32 you almost start crying, but there’s no time for that, so you jump out of bed and sprint into the bathroom, stopping on the way when you spot Eric in the hallway, fully dressed, ready to leave.

“Eric?! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” you snap at him. He turns to you with innocence all over his face.

“I thought you were off today,” he simply says.

“Off?! We have the board meeting today, how could I be off!” you practically scream as you rush into the bathroom to get ready in less than two minutes hopefully.

“I’m sorry!” he calls out from outside. “I’ll see you in the office!”

And the next thing you hear is the front door opening and closing.

“Motherfu…” you mumble as you start washing your face like a crazy woman.

You leave in ten minutes, but you’re fifteen minutes late already, no matter how magically fast you got ready. You don’t have time to get a bagel for breakfast and you’re already halfway into the office when you realize you left your lunch at home too. You somehow shorten the route and win a few minutes on your way in, but you still arrive ten minutes late, looking like a hot mess, completely out of control as you make your way to the twentieth floor to your desk, pretending you haven’t just had the absolute worst morning of your life. 

The elevator almost closes right in front of you, but before you could smash against the sliding doors a hand sticks out and stops it, letting you slip in last minute.

“Ah, thank you,” you breathe out, your purse sliding off your shoulder and your folder almost falls from your hands.

“N-No problem,” a sweet and smooth voice answers, but your hair is such a mess, it covers your vision and you don’t see the kind man that saved you a few minutes with his move. The moment the elevator arrives to your floor you jump out and rush towards your desk.

“You alright, boss?” Zaya, your intern asks, who is more like a personal assistant at this point. She eyes you curiously from her desk as you gasp for air and try to soothe out the wrinkles on your blouse, though there’s absolutely no use in it. 

“Everything is perfectly fine,” you force a smile on your face as you start your computer, emails flowing in like crazy the moment you open your inbox. “Just had a rough morning.”

With Zaya’s help you go through everything at light speed, it’s one of your biggest strengths, being fast and productive, so in just about twenty minutes you reduce the thirty-seven unread emails to just two. 

You’ve cleared your schedule beforehand so you can have a practice run for your big presentation. Today’s board meeting is gonna be an important one. There’s a promotion at risk, one you’ve been working your ass off to get and now it’s so close, you can almost feel it between your fingertips. This presentation and what stands behind it all is what you’ve worked for night and day for the past month and you have never been more confident in yourself, though you can’t shake the general nervousness off.

You make your test run to Zaya who says her mind is blown and there’s no chance you won’t get the promotion. 

“You got it, boss,” she fist bumps you, something you’ve grown to like, it’s her form of appreciation. 

“I hope so,” you sigh. “Alright, I’ll grab a coffee quickly before the meeting.”

You head a few levels down to the main kitchen area that has the best coffee machine in the building. It’s already past the morning rush, so you’re delighted to see that there are just a few people lingering around. Including Eric.

“Hey!” you huff out a smile as you stand next to him at the coffee machine. He peeks at you, just a tiny smile on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual.

“Hey.”

“If you’re curious, I was only just a bit late this morning,” you chuckle to yourself, grabbing a cup while Eric waits for his own coffee to get ready. 

“Mm, great. Sorry about… the morning.”

“It’s okay, are you nervous? About the presentation?”

Funny enough you’re running for the promotion against Eric, the guy you’ve been hooking up for the past few months. It’s nothing serious, no strings attached, mostly just sex, though you believe that if you spend at least three nights together every week and spend time outside of bed as well, that has to mean more than just a regular hook up.

Right?

“Not really,” he shrugs, but it doesn’t sound genuine.

“It’s okay, you’ll do good,” you smile at him warmly as you place your hand on his arm and give it a squeeze, but you’re surprised when he moves out of your touch, shooting you a look.

“Not… in the office, Y/N,” he grits through his teeth, looking around to check if anyone saw the tiny gesture while you’re just blinking at him dumbly.

Yes, you usually keep your… whatever it is out of the office, but he hasn’t been this distant to you before. Before you could ask his phone starts ringing and he mumbles an apology before running off.

You write it off as nerves, you know Eric to be highly competitive, it must be a new field for him as well, running against someone he is involved with. 

Your heart is racing when you enter the boardroom, welcoming the people that will decide your future at the company, the CEO, the CFO, the head of marketing and a few others you’re not that familiar with, but you know they have power.

For the promotion you had to come up with a plan to boost the numbers on the website that hasn’t been doing much lately. You worked up a plan for a marketing strategy that would reach the target audience in a better way, it’s pretty awesome, you’re quite proud of it and you’re convinced you’ll kick ass with your presentation.

There are a few more minutes left until the meeting, you pour yourself some water and go ahead to open your slides on your computer so you have it all ready when it’s your turn.

“What… Oh no,” you whisper, when your computer starts lagging and the cursor freezes. “No, no, no!”

“Everything alright, Miss?” the CFO notices your panic.

“Yes!” you force a smile on your face. “Everything is… perfect.”

He nods and turns back to his previous conversation while your panic intensifies. You keep pushing buttons and trying to move the cursor, but it looks pretty dead, so you decide to shut it down and try to restart it, hopefully it will come back from the dead. 

Eric strides into the room, but as he takes his seat he doesn’t even look at you, just sets out his own laptop and paper notes and stares ahead of him. No matter how you try to catch his attention, he ignores you fully and it’s just another punch in your stomach.

What the hell is happening?

“Alright, everyone ready?” Daniel, the CEO claps his hands together. “Eric, you’re up first,” he gestures at him and while you’re still desperately trying to revive your computer. 

Eric sets up and when his presentation appears behind him your stomach drops instantly. 

The title, the topic, the colors… everything. You know all of it, because… because you made it. It’s yours.

You forget about your computer as Eric starts talking and he presents your idea, everything you came up with and worked hard on, he hasn’t changed a bit about it and now he is making it look like it’s his own. If you were panicking before now you’re about to set on fire.

That would be probably nice, because you wouldn’t have to go up there and most likely embarrass yourself. 

How did he get your presentation? Why did he steal it? You can’t blame him just out of the blue, you need proof and right now the only device that could have it is dead in front of you. 

You are so screwed. 

“ Holy fucking shit, oh my God!” you keep mumbling under your breath as you approach your desk, holding your dead computer to your chest, eyes wide from what you just went through.

“Boss? You alright?” Zaya’s eyes widen when she sees you all shocked and traumatized.

“No! I’m anything but alright!”

Luckily, the small meeting room near your desk is vacant so you’re quick to take it, Zaya following you right after, shutting the door closed so you can unleash fully.

“Oh my God I can’t fucking believe him! The asshole! How did he fucking do it?!” you snap, throwing everything to the table so you can anxiously start pacing the floor with your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe this, what the hell!”

“Y/N, what happened? You’re starting to scare me,” Zaya eyes you and she actually looks scared which is a new thing, the girl is fearless.

“Eric! He stole my… my whole fucking presentation!” you whisper-yell, throwing your hands up into the air. “Every slide! Every detail! It was all mine! And he sold it as his own!”

“W-what? But… how? And what did you present then?”

“I have no idea! He was up first, as we all knew ahead of time, he went up there, opened his presentation and it was mine! I thought I was about to fall off my seat, fucking hell,” you groan, rubbing your face with your hands. Thanks to your rushed morning you’re not wearing any makeup today so at least you can’t turn yourself into a panda bear. “My laptop died right before the meeting started so I could use it as an excuse and… fuck, I made up a whole other plan on the spot!” You’re about to start hyperventilating, maybe even crying which you’ve never ever done at work before.

“But… that’s good, right? That you came up with something new?” Zaya tries to see the bright side of it, but you shake your head violently.

“You know what I came up with? I said I’m planning to rebuild the whole fucking website! All of it!”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes! I basically set myself up for failure!”

Everyone knows a full makeover could easily be a death sentence, especially with such a short notice. You have no structure to it, no plan and most importantly no IT support to do the actual work. Because you can dream up any idea, but you cannot actually write the code for it. 

Zaya tries to cheer you up but you both know you’re not only knee high, but probably neck high in deep shit. She promises to take up extra hours to help you figure out what to do and though it’s nice, the situation still feels pretty much lost.

You’re on the verge of tears when you make your way to the IT department to have your computer checked out, which is still pretty much dead. You’re already dreading the interaction, Steven, the head of the IT department is a real pain in the ass, he never wants to actually help with anything so it’s always a fight to get things done with him. 

When you walk into their office he is the first one you see and you almost groan out loud, but manage to keep quiet as you approach him.

“Hi Steven, do you happen to have a moment?” you ask, as politely and nicely as you can in the light of what just happened, but apparently it’s not enough for him, because the look he gives you makes you want to turn around and run away.

“What’s the matter?” he grimaces, fixing his glasses as he leans back in his seat.

“My laptop just died,” you hold up the device. 

He stares at you, then at your laptop and then his eyes flicker back to you and he stays silent for what feels like forever before he speaks up.

“I have no time for this now,” he says, returning to his own computer and your shoulders fall forward in defeat, but then he speaks up again. “Go to the back and ask for Styles.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out and are already on your way away from his desk.

Maneuvering between the desks you’re trying to find out who’s Styles or who to even ask to tell you where to find him and you’re just about to stop at one of the desks when you see a big screen, a sticker on the back of it that says H. Styles, so you make your way over there.

As you’re approaching the desk a head full of chocolate curls appear and soon you spot the guy sitting behind the screen, peering up at you with curious, green eyes from behind his glasses.

“Are you… Styles?” you ask, feeling weird that you only know his family name. He stares at you for a second with wide eyes and you start to think you’ve got the wrong guy, but then he nods, the curls bouncing along with the movement.

“Y-yeah. I’m Harry Styles.”

“Great! Steven said you might be able to have a look at my computer, it’s completely dead.”

“Sure,” he clears his throat as he pushes back from the desk while you round it to give the laptop to him. “W-what happened?” he asks as he opens it up and tries to turn it on, but the screen remains black.

“Um, basically it froze right before the most important presentation of my life and then it died and hasn't turned on since then,” you summarize with a sad smile as you watch him grab some kind of cable to connect your laptop with his computer.

Harry hums as he opens some kind of program that has a long, complicated looking code running in front of him and he clicks and searches in it so easily as if he was reading a children’s book. 

“Is it fully dead?” you ask after a couple of minutes. 

“No, but you got a virus, it might take some time to restore everything and some files might not make it, I’m sorry.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling like crying again, but you manage to swallow them back as you lean against the edge of Harry’s desk. He looks up at you like a frightened kid.

“I-I can try to get everything back, I promise, it’s just that–”

“No, I know it’s not up to you. Thank you though. I’m just on the verge of… would it be weird if I started screaming right now?” you ask rhetorically as you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

“I can set up another one for you to use with all the access cloned from yours, but you won’t have the files in the meantime.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Is there any file in particular you want me to try to recover?”

“There’s this folder that would be nice if I had it, here, this is the name,” you say as you grab a post-it and a pen and scribble the name down with all the files in it. 

“Okay, I will try to restore it. Give me a few minutes to set your replacement computer up.”

Nodding sadly you wait by Harry’s desk, watching him work on his computer like it’s an instrument and he is pretty much a professional. You know nothing about programming, but Harry seems like a wizard, you have no idea why Steven makes him deal with all the tiny things when he could pretty much redeem the world. 

“Here, this is the password, everything is set up,” he hands you the new computer.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll give you an email when I have something about your old one.”

“Okay, my address is–”

“I know, I just… I literally just logged you into your account,” he reminds me with a shy smile and you realize he’s right.

“Oh. I forgot. Well, thank you so much, Harry. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it now.”

“It’s fine, I’m the newest on the team, this is how it goes. Rookies get to deal with all the device issues,” he chuckles shortly.

You nod with a sympathetic smile and pay one last look to your savior. He looks young, around your age, but he’s sporting a slight stubble that adds some harshness to his otherwise boyish face. He’s got kind eyes behind his glasses, the prettiest pink lips you’ve ever seen on a man and his curls are screaming to be touched, though you’re not sure HR would take it well if you were just walking around the office, touching people’s hair. Oddly, it wouldn’t be the first time they would have to deal with a situation like this. Bobby DeMarco was a weird dude who worked in sales and he had an even weirder obsession with playing with women’s hair randomly. He didn’t last too long at the company, luckily.

When you return to your desk it takes everything in you to focus on working and A, not find Eric to claw his eyes out and B, not anxiously wait to hear anything from the board about today’s meeting. They are supposed to give feedback today and approve if you can continue working on your project and they can easily just kick you out of the whole thing as well. If that happened Eric would still have to prove himself to be a good fit for the role, but you’d have no chance to ever step up at the company.

You’re a mess, to say the least. You’re panicking over having to do a full website makeover in just a month, you have no idea where you stand with Eric and honestly, you’re torn between never wanting to talk to him and also screaming at him until your lungs give up.

God, your sister will be so mad, she was right! Jeanie warned you. She said it right at the beginning when you started hooking up with Eric that it’s not gonna end well, but you thought she was talking about being dumped eventually, not getting your promotion stolen from you!

When Zaya comes up to you with a question later in the day you’re still so shaken up you can barely make out an answer for her.

“I think you should report it,” she suggests, holding her notebook to her chest.

“And what do I have as proof? My computer is totally dead with all the evidence I made the presentation,” you groan, leaning back in your seat.

“Let’s hope the hot IT guy can restore everything.”

“Hot?” you chuckle. “How do you know he’s hot?”

“You said it’s Harry doing it, right? Curly hair, glasses?” You nod. “I know him, he is definitely hot,” she shrugs smirking, shifting her weight to one leg. “You know what would be nice? Hooking up with him to get revenge on Eric!”

“H-Hooking up? Why would Eric care about who I hook up with?” you clear your throat, pretending like you haven’t had a thing going on with Eric these past months. Zaya gives you a look that clearly says you shouldn’t think she’s stupid and blind.

“Please, Y/N.”

Sighing you roll your eyes as you give up the act.

“Judging from the betrayal Eric gives absolutely no shit about me.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugs just when your computer pings, signaling two new emails in your inbox.

One from the board and one from Harry.

“Oh shit,” you gasp as you lean forward so fast you almost fall off your seat and Zaya runs behind your desk to see what’s happening as you open the email from the board.

Your eyes skim over the lines several times before you finally process what was written in it.

They approved your plan. You’re still up for the promotion.

“Congrats! You made it!” Zaya cheers.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath.

“What’s wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.”

“The chance and the promotion? Yes. But now I have to do a full website makeover in a month which is practically impossible.”

You’re still moping and silently panicking when you’re approaching Harry’s desk for the second time today. When he sees you he jumps to his feet and you almost break a smile because he looks like a puppy for a second, but then you see that he has taken his sweatshirt off, wearing only a simple black t-shirt that puts his tattoo littered arms on display.

Fuck, Zaya was right. He really is kinda hot.

“Hey,” he waves at you when you finally reach his desk.

“Hi, how did it go?” you ask with a deep breath.

“Actually kinda good, I could save most of your stuff,” he says as he sits back and you walk behind his desk, seeing your laptop still wired to his computer. “I saved the files onto a harddrive, but I don’t recommend you to keep using the laptop, it’s… it’s pretty fried,” he chuckles, pushing the glasses further up on the bridge of his nose and for a moment you just stare at his side profile instead of focusing on what he’s showing you on his screen.

“Uh, that’s okay, I’ll be fine with the files,” you clear your throat.

“So um… I don’t know if it matters or not, but I-I thought you might want to know that you didn’t just get the virus because you clicked on something, it was… well, someone put it on your computer and it started attacking the firmware.”

You blink a few times as you process his words and then it all starts to make sense.

“What do you mean someone put it on my computer?”

“Well, there was a malware hidden on your computer that basically attacked the firmware which made it impossible for you to use the laptop and it also attacked the files saved, I found an implanted code that was giving access to–”

“Harry, I don’t really understand what you’re saying,” you remind him, his words sounding absolutely foreign to you.

“Sorry,” he breathes out with a nod. “So basically, the virus stopped your computer from working and it also gave access to a third party to reach your files.”

“So someone could use my files?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

You feel like fainting again, because now it all makes sense. And you’re starting to see red.

“Can you see what files they messed with?”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked,” he smiles proudly. “I was able to find everything they duplicated and there’s a folder they tried to get rid of, but I restored it.”

“Is it by any chance the folder I gave the name to you?”

“It is,” he nods, his fingers starting to type on his keyboard at lightspeed. “Here. See these lines?” he asks, pointing at a code you understand nothing of, but you nod. “It’s basically something they should have paid attention to if they wanted to leave no trace, but I found it so now we know what they were trying to put their hands on. I even have time stamps too. The virus was on your computer for a while and then it was activated to attack the firmware today.”

This is all like a movie, it feels like you’re in Mission Impossible or James Bond, except it’s not a great villain who is working against you but the guy you trusted to let into your bed. The guy you considered your friend and even something more than just that lately.

You made a mistake, you see it now and you want to dwell on it but you know you have no time for that, you have to keep moving forward.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Unfortunately, no. I could only get proof if I had access to the other person’s computer who was hacking yours. I’m sorry.”

Harry seems genuinely sad, as if he failed, but he did so much for you already.

“It’s okay. Thank you so much, can you… like, make a record of all these? So we have all this as proof at least.”

“Already done,” he nods. “Do you want me to file a report?”

“No. No need for that,” you shake your head. “But… I want to ask a favor from you. I know we barely know each other and you probably have a lot of work, so feel free to say no.”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to help me redesign our whole website?”

You’re anxiously chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for the Skype call to be answered, your sister’s name flashing on the screen until her pixelated face replaces it.

And she looks mad, just as you expected.

“Y/N, I told you so! I literally told you so!” she starts off, the voice cracks a bit as the call stabilizes.

“Can we skip the part where you tell me off like a child for hooking up with a coworker who ended up fucking me over?” you flash a smile, but she rolls her eyes at you, leaning back on her couch, her right side getting more illuminated by the lamp beside her couch. It’s past seven in the evening in Tokyo while it’s just six am for you. For the past six months this has been your usual, trying to call each other at a time that’s reasonable for the both of you with the insane thirteen hours of time difference. It’s definitely a hard task and sometimes you have to plan a call days, even weeks ahead.

“No, because I’m so mad!” she groans. “Mostly at the fucker, but you as well!”

“I really don’t need to hear how much I fucked up,” you mumble, looking down at your lap.

“Sorry,” she sighs, realizing she is making you feel even guiltier. “I’m just… you worked so hard for this and now he is ruining it.”

“I’m still up for the promotion,” you shrug.

“Yeah, but you said it’s almost impossible to do what you presented.”

“Well, things are looking a bit better now.”

She listens intently as you tell her about what Harry found on your computer and how you ended up asking him to help you out. You truly didn’t think he would say yes, but he didn’t even think about it before agreeing. So now you have the IT part covered by him, you just have to come up with all the rest.

“This Harry guy…” Sammy starts and you hold up your hand.

“Don’t give me the speech again, I learned my lesson.”

“No, actually I wanted to say that I like him.”

“For real?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. 

“I mean, he is willing to work an immense amount of extra time on your project and he basically has no benefit from it. I hope you do realize how big of a sacrifice he is making for your promotion.”

You knew how big of a deal it has been from Harry to help you out but now that Sammy said it out loud, realization hits. It’s not right he gets nothing out of it, so you note to yourself to go over it with him when you meet him in the morning for your first planning session.

“I’ll talk to him about it. Now let’s talk about something else.”

Harry was afraid he wouldn’t be able to wake up so early in the morning and make it into the office for the meeting with you, but it turns out his excitement to be working with you is kicking him out of bed even before his alarm goes off. 

He does his usual morning routine, shower, get dressed, breakfast and checking he has everything he needs in his backpack for the day and then he’s on his way. When he walks into the café that’s two blocks away from his apartment the bell gently chimes above his head, catching the attention of the owner, Frida. 

“Harry! You’re up early today!” she greets him with a beaming smile, her grey hair is in her signature low bun, her blue eyes twinkling at the sight of him.

“I have an early meeting,” he mumbles with a shy smile, the tip of his ears turning red and she doesn’t miss it, but she knows how closed off he is so she doesn’t even try to tease her about it. 

“The usual?”

“Um, yeah, but can you make it two?”

“Of course,” she nods with a knowing smile, her suspicion is getting proven that this early meeting is with someone special. 

The two chat lightly while Friday makes the coffees to go, handing the paper cups to Harry once they’re done.

“Have a lovely day, Harry,” she waves after him and he nods back, pushing the door open with his hips, a cup in each of his hands.

He can’t deny there’s a pep in his step as he enters the building that’s eerily empty so early in the morning. He did not expect his day to take such an unexpected turn yesterday. He’s seen you around the office a few times before but he knew nothing about you, just that your laughter is ridiculously contagious. Then you jumped into the elevator with him in the morning, looking a bit messy but very pretty nevertheless. He could only blink as the elevator sped up and moments later you were out of sight.

But then you strolled into the IT department with your ruined computer and he finally learned your name. While he wanted to help with your laptop as much and fast as possible, he was also dreading the moment you’d pick the harddrive up with all your files and then never talk to him again. He felt silly, crushing on a woman he only officially met just a few hours before, but he couldn’t help it. Even when you were visibly stressed and worried he thought you were enchanting. 

He was not expecting you to ask for his help, but luckily his brain clicked instantly and agreed without hesitation. For one, he’s been dealing with boring projects as the rookie on the team and this seems like a great challenge for him. 

On the other hand, he would have said yes to anything you asked him, literally. 

So now as he walks into the meeting room where you’re supposed to meet his excitement is mixed with some anxiety, because as much as he is curious about this project he is nervous to spend so much time with you all of a sudden. He can only hope he won’t seem like a freak to you.

Thanks to the early Skype session with Sammy you’re on time too, arriving to the office building just minutes after Harry. He’s setting his laptop up when you arrive, his head snapping up when you approach the desk and take the seat next to him.

“Morning,” you smile at him warmly.

“Good morning,” he smiles back, fixing his glasses to sit straight before reaching for the extra cup of coffee. “Um, I brought you this. Actually, I realized too late that I don’t know how you like your coffee, so y-you don’t have to drink it…”

“Oh! That’s very kind, thank you! I drink coffee however I can,” you chuckle. “I just need the caffeine.”

You see a small smile flash across his face before he returns to his computer while you settle next to him. 

“Before we start, I wanted to go over something with you.” Harry turns to you curiously as you try to figure out what to even say. “This is a huge thing and I know it needs a lot of time and work. I don’t feel comfortable letting you do it without getting anything for the work you do.”

“Oh, I-I don’t need anything, I’m glad to help.”

“That’s very kind, but it still doesn’t feel fair. If there is anything I can do for you, literally anything, just feel free to ask. I would feel better if I knew you’re getting your reward for your work.”

Harry thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

“Do I have to come up with something now?”

“No,” you chuckle. “Just promise me you’ll think of some way I can pay you back.”

“Okay.”

In the next hour you learn two things. One, working with Harry is incredibly easy. He is efficient, communicates well and simply a great at teamwork, it’s like a breath of fresh air after some of the people you’ve previously worked with.

The other thing you learn is that he is incredibly smart and it makes him very… sexy.

God, you shouldn’t be having these thoughts after what happened with Eric, but you’re not immune to a good-looking man with so much knowledge, especially when it’s in IT. You know nothing about coding and when he pulls up his miles long codes, types quietly for a few minutes and then shows you what he did, explaining to you the science behind it… it’s making you feel things you shouldn’t be. It’s so attractive when someone knows so much about something and they’re passionate and devoted to the field. It’s clear that Harry’s field is programming and he is ridiculously good at it. 

You were afraid the task would turn out to be impossible and every time he spends just a little more time silently staring at his code you’re expecting him to give up and tell you he can’t do it.

But he comes up with something every time and by the time the meeting ends you feel oddly enthusiastic and optimistic about the whole makeover that was scaring you to death just yesterday.

“Harry, you are… truly a life saver,” you sigh contently as you lean back in your seat, a long list of tasks on your screen, but you can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel now. 

“I’m happy to help,” he smiles shyly, nodding to himself. 

“Do not forget about the payment, I really want to pay it all back to you.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he chuckles softly.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms before packing up his stuff and leaving.

You stay in your seat for a little longer, just having a break before starting your actual work day. Opening up your calendar you check what meetings you have today and that’s when you face what you’ve been religiously ignoring since yesterday’s ordeal.

The weekly marketing sync where most of the time it’s just you and Eric, because Dominik, the third person who should be present likes to cancel last minute. 

It’s ridiculous that you still haven’t gotten into contact with him. Part of you was expecting him to come to you, to give you any kind of explanation though there is nothing he could have said that would have explained why he did all of that.

It’s been radio silence on his part and now you have to face him and talk to him.

You’d rather throw up in the middle of the office than do it, but you have to suck it up and deal with him.

He is there in the meeting room when you walk in, typing away on his computer like nothing happened, like he didn’t just try to ruin your career.

“Eric?” you call out, your voice sounds a lot more confident than you were expecting luckily.

He looks up, his face remains completely blank and it just angers you even more.

“Hey,” he nods without batting an eye.

“Hey?” you chuckle, as you close the door behind you, shutting you away from the rest of the people outside. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Y/N, do you really want to do this?” he sighs, as if it was tiring to even think about the situation.

“Eric, you stole my whole presentation and sold it as yours!”

“Are you sure about that?”

You’re seeing red. And you’ve never been this close to actually punching someone in the face. 

“Of course I’m sure about it! That was my presentation! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Eric stands from his seat, taking his sweet time as he walks closer, trying to intimidate you with the height difference, which used to work, you even found it hot when he towered over you, but now it’s like his existence is giving you the ick.

“You have no proof, Y/N. And you didn’t say a word at the meeting. That ship has sailed, now it’s time to move on.”

“It was all just a joke to you?”

“I told you at the beginning I didn’t want anything serious, that wasn’t a lie.”

“But did you do it just to fuck my presentation up? We literally started hooking up when the open position was announced.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does!” you laugh in disbelief, tears stinging your eyes, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry because of him.

“Okay,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted to get to know you and see what you’d come up with for the presentation, but then one thing followed the other and… I went with it.” He shrugs and then goes back to his computer like you just discussed the weather and not how he used you and then threw you away.

You can’t hold yourself together any longer, so you turn around and get as far from him as possible as you try not to start sobbing in the middle of the office. Fuck, this shouldn’t hurt this much, but you really trusted him, you thought you could have something serious, you were hoping Sammy wouldn’t be right about him, but she was. Unfortunately.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you approach your desk Zaya is not in today, so it’s pretty calm around your desk, but then you spot someone lingering there.

“Y/N?” Harry sees how shaken you look as you finally reach him at your desk. “A-Are you alright?”

“Hi Harry,” you force a smile out, but you can’t fool anyone with it. “Did we… Do we have a meeting or something?”

“No, I just wanted to show something… Y/N, are you about to cry?””

“N-No,” you shake your head, but your lips are already wobbling and you fail to prove your words right.

“Uh, come on, let’s have a break. Want to come up to the roof?” He gently circles an arm around your shoulders and you let him lead you back to the elevators.

“Roof? We can go out to the roof?” you ask, wiping your tears away.

He doesn’t reply, just makes sure to shield you from the curious eyes as you make your way up to the top of the building. You genuinely didn’t know the roof could be used and when you see Harry push the heavy door open that leads outside you’re guessing it’s not exactly a public spot, but you don’t question it.

It looks just like how a rooftop should look, it’s definitely not open for public use but when Harry leads you over the corner and you see a little bench there, facing the panoramic view, you know you have just found a secret spot.

“Is this where you hide from Steven?” you attempt to joke as you sit down with him. 

“Sometimes, yes,” he chuckles. “Not my spot though, I think the janitor comes up here to smoke, but I haven’t run into him yet.”

You sit in silence, Harry gives you time and space to pull yourself together, not rushing you to talk at all and you’re grateful for his patience. Staring ahead at the view you take a few deep breaths, telling yourself not to let Eric’s bullshit get to your head. 

“I’m sorry you had to… deal with my tantrum,” you chuckle sadly at last. 

“That wasn’t a tantrum,” he smiles softly. “And don’t be sorry, everyone could have a bad day. Want to talk about what happened?”

“I trusted the wrong person,” you purse your lips. “Um, the virus you found on my computer. Someone from the company put it there to fuck up my chances for a promotion I’ve been dreaming of for a long time.”

“What? Are you… are you serious?”

“Yeah and the worst part is that… god, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been kind of… hooking up with him and he said it was all just to get closer to me.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then ends up closing it, processing what you just told him. You don’t blame him for being lost and confused, it’s a shitshow, to say the least. 

“That’s… That’s awful, I’m sorry,” he clears his throat, gently shaking his head. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” you chuckle. “I trusted the wrong person. Learned my lesson,” you shrug, and you wish you could actually end it all in your head with that, but you know it will bother you for a while at least. 

“Can I ask who this person is?”

“Eric Sonders.”

“I think… I know him. Didn’t think he could be this… vile.”

“Me neither!” you laugh. 

“So… he stole your idea and presentation, so now you have to do something else? And that’s the makeover?”

Nodding you briefly tell him what happened at the meeting, he listens intently and then shakes his head in disapproval, probably just as upset and lost about Eric’s behavior as you are. 

“You should report him, this is incredibly unethical and unacceptable.”

“I have no proof. We can’t prove that he did it all to my computer, you said it yourself.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

While Harry is deep in his thoughts you just stare ahead of yourself, doing a short assessment of your current situation. This should have been an exciting, professionally challenging time in your life, working on something that would earn you your promotion, but now, you feel like it’s more out of your reach than ever.

“We’ll make it work,” Harry speaks up, as if he could read your mind. “We can do it.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a tight stretch, but… It’s not impossible.”

“You are truly a life saver for agreeing to do it, Harry. I have no idea what I would do without you.”

He turns to you with a sheepish smile and you notice the slight pink shade on his cheeks as he nods.

“I’m happy to help.”

Part of you knew this would be deadly, but even after expecting the worst, it hits you like a train.

In the next two weeks you feel like you spend every waking moment working on the project with Harry. Sometimes you do it together, sharing ideas, discussing them, sometimes you’re together but work in silence and sometimes you do it apart. Whichever it is, you eat, drink and dream with the new website.

While Harry is taking care of the coding, you do everything else, that means content writing, planning, organizing and also designing. It’s been ages since the last time you designed anything, once upon a time you thought you’d end up in that field, but then somehow marketing came into the picture and now you have to combine your two passions. 

It’s destroying you absolutely, but slowly it’s starting to add up and you can see the progress. 

On a Friday evening you’re still in the office after seven, practically everyone has left by now, but you’re deep in work with Harry beside you. It's one of those quiet sessions, when you’re working together, but only speak when there’s an issue. Neither of you said anything for about an hour when the silence is interrupted by Harry’s ringing phone.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles, jumping in his seat at the sudden noise as he reaches for the phone, checking the caller ID before his eyes go wide. “Oh shit,” he mumbles and you look up at him as he answers the call. “Hey Mitch!”

You hear a voice from the phone, but it’s too muffled for you to make out what they are saying.

“Um, I’m kind of still at the office… No, I didn’t forget!” he protests, but the look on his face clearly tells you he did forget something. “I-I don’t know… Yeah, I’ve been just working with Y/N… No, I won’t– Mitch… No!... Uh, okay…”

He holds the phone away from his ear, covering the mic with a hand as he looks at you with anxious eyes, he looks like a reindeer caught in headlights. 

“Um, I forgot I was supposed to meet two of my friends for a few drinks. Is it okay if I leave now?”

“Oh God, of course! Harry, it’s so late, I shouldn’t have kept you here so long.”

“You didn’t keep me,” he chuckles, before the worried look returns to his face. “Actually, would you… I mean only if you want to–So do you maybe… want to come?”

It’s adorable how he stumbles over his own words and you see the familiar pink shade tinting his face again, it’s a color you’ve seen a lot lately and you’ve grown to quite like it. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends.”

“You wouldn’t intrude, I mean, I’m asking because I want you to join, obviously.”

“I-I’ll just go home and work some more, it’s fine–”

“Y/N, we’ve been working all day,” he chuckles. “You deserve some free time as well.”

You think of his words, these two weeks has been so busy you didn’t even do anything else than working and sleeping practically. Some off time would be actually amazing for your fried brain.

“Only if you truly don’t mind,” you say at last.

“Let’s pack then,” he beams with a smile as he shuts his computer down.

Twenty minutes later you’re walking into a bar you’ve never been to, joining Harry’s friends for drinks and though you can’t put your finger on it, but for some reason you feel a bit anxious. 

“Hey guys,” Harry waves at a couple sitting in a dimly lit booth. The woman is the first one to look at you with a beaming, bright smile as she slides out and holds her hand out for you.

“Hi! You must be Y/N! I’m Sarah and this is my husband, Mitch,”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you breathe out as you shake hands with Mitch as well.

You’re instantly bombarded with questions from Sarah as you slip into the booth and don’t even notice that Harry leaves and then returns with two drinks.

“Oh, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits beside you.

“So how is the project going?” Mitch speaks up, lazily draping an arm to the back of the seat behind Sarah.

“It’s going good,” Harry hums with a small nod, very humble about how much he has gotten done in just the first week.

“Mostly because of Harry’s hard work,” you add, praising him the way he deserves and it brings back that pink shade to his cheeks.

Sarah and Mitch are very easy to talk to, they seem curious about the projects the two of you are working on and just you in general. You’re having a great time hanging out with them and you feel like you’ve known them for a long time even though you literally just met.

You don’t even notice how time flies by, only when Sarah checks the time and lets Mitch know that they need to be heading home so the babysitter can leave.

“It was really nice meeting you, Y/N. I hope we can do this some other time,” Sarah hugs you.

“If Harry doesn’t mind me interrupting his time with his friends, then I’m in,” you chuckle, looking at the man in question who just shakes his head with a shy smile, letting you know he definitely does not mind.

“Alright, then it’s settled!”

They say their goodbye to Harry as well and suddenly it’s just the two of you in the booth and Harry is noticeably more nervous than before.

“Um, w-we don’t have to stay, if you want to go home, you co–”

“I’m happy to stay, Harry,” you smile at him without hesitation. He seems surprised, but excited at your answer.

You order another round of drinks and with the previous ones already consumed, it seems like Harry is slowly opening up, leaving his shyness behind and you get to have a peek behind his walls. The more you find out about him the more sure you get that he is truly an amazing, brilliant person and you wish you had met him earlier.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen for Eric’s bullshit. Maybe then you would have fallen for him.

The drinks you’ve had don’t actually let it register, but you’re already developing a crush on him. How could you not? He is sweet, caring, smart, very thoughtful, basically the polar opposite of Eric. It’s making you question what you even saw in that asshole, you really put the bar too low.

“Oh shit, it’s already three in the morning,” you chuckle, when you finally check the time. “I should head home, I can’t sleep all day tomorrow,” you sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, realizing just how tired you feel. 

“I’ll call an Uber, is it okay if we share one?”

“It’s more than okay,” you smile at him lazily.

Minutes later you’re out in front of the bar, waiting for the ride to arrive. It has gotten significantly chillier, you did not dress for a night out so you’re holding your blazer jacket tight on yourself. When Harry notices he shrugs off his jean jacket without a word and drapes it over your shoulders.

“No, you’ll be cold!” you try to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I have a hoodie in my backpack,” he shrugs and pulls out a black hoodie, putting it on right when a car pulls up in front of you.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight,” you quietly speak up on the backseat of the Uber, staring at Harry’s dimly lit handsome face. His glasses slid down on the bridge of his nose and you had enough drinks to have the courage to reach out and push them back gently. The gesture seemingly surprised him, but he doesn’t protest, just keeps his eyes focused on you.

“It was nice hanging out with you outside of the office.”

“Now we know we have things to talk about outside of the project,” you chuckle, making him grin as well. “We’re a great duo, Harry.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure about it at first, I have never had to work this closely together with an IT guy and I was afraid I might be too intense for you. But it all turned out so good, I like spending time with you.”

“Really?”

“Is it that surprising?” you chuckle, letting your head fall back and rest on the back of the seat. “You’re a cool guy, Harry Styles. And very handsome.”

The last comment rolls off your tongue before you could bite it back and though it’s too dark to see it, you just know he is all blushed. Before any of you could speak up, the car comes to a stop, you’ve arrived at your building. Harry gets out of the car with you and walks you up to the door. 

“See you on monday?” he shyly kicks the dust, hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah. Thanks for tonight,” you repeat yourself and there’s a heartbeat of silence where you feel that moment.

You probably should not be feeling this way, not after getting yourself burnt so bad, but you can’t help it. You want to kiss Harry and for a split second you believe he wants to do the same. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you move just a tiny bit closer to him, time stands still and just when you think he’ll do it, he clears his throat and steps back.

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbles nodding before he walks back to the car. 

You stand there, feeling stupid as you blink after him before snapping out of your trance, forcing yourself to walk inside. As you take a quick shower and get ready to bed you get into a spiral. 

First of all you’re such a needy idiot for jumping from one man to the other. You should not be looking at men at all after Eric and yet here you are, crushing on yet another coworker of yours, what is wrong with you?! 

And second, why were you expecting him to kiss you? You’ve barely known each other for a few weeks and Harry is a reasonable man, he is probably not at all like you, he probably doesn’t want to get involved with a coworker especially not you. Some signs were giving you a feeling that he might have liked you more than just a friend, but you must have totally misread him. 

You have to control yourself and not scare him away, especially since he is doing you a huge favor, the last thing you want to do is to make him uncomfortable.

Harry hasn’t stopped thinking about you all weekend. Specifically about that moment in front of your apartment building where he would have sworn he felt you were expecting him to kiss you, but he couldn’t do it. Not when you were clearly intoxicated.

He didn’t want you to think he would ever take advantage of you like that.

The next week starts oddly. He gets some extra tasks and you get involved in another project as well, so you can’t work together like last week. Monday and then Tuesday rushes by without the two of you meeting. By Wednesday Harry is craving to see you again and it seems like it’s finally happening, because you don’t cancel your morning meeting. He arrives in a good mood with coffee for you and him, excited to show you everything he finished in the past days.

But then he can feel the change in you when you walk in.

You seem off, but at first he can’t tell why. You’re not your bubbly self, you seem very closed off and oddly professional compared to the times the two of you met earlier. Harry tries to tell himself it’s nothing serious, but the more time you spend together the more obvious it’s getting and he can’t take it anymore.

“Y/N?” he quietly asks at the end of the meeting. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, but it’s like as if you didn’t even believe it yourself.

“Did… Did I do something that upset you?”

“Nope, I just…” You sigh, giving up the facade you’ve been trying hard to keep up. “Listen, about Friday, I’m very sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“I feel like I overstepped a line and made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry about that. If I made you uncomfortable. I want us to work well together and my unfiltered mouth was not at all professional that night, so I’m really sorry about that.”

Harry is blinking at you, confused and lost about what you truly meant by all that. He did not see this coming and now he has no idea how to react other than just looking at you with a startled expression.

“Can we just go back to where we were before that?”

“Where… I don’t-I mean, um…”

“Let’s just forget about when we parted ways, please?”

“So… Uh, yeah,” he at last nods, trying his best to mask his disappointment. He thought there might be something more between the two of you, but this conversation is proof that you just had too many drinks and you didn’t mean any of it. 

“Thank you so much,” you breathe out in relief. “I wouldn’t want to ruin our work together.”

Harry nods silently and doesn’t ask more about it. 

He is trying hard to hide his disappointment and part of home wants to know if you felt even the slightest spark on Friday or it was all just the alcohol, but he is not one to dig into things that might end him up in an awkward situation. He just swallows it all down and pulls his walls up again.

You can feel a bitter taste in your mouth as well after your talk with Harry. Something felt off, but you can’t put your finger on it and soon you have something else to worry about. 

You’re surprised to see Eric chatting with Zaya when you return to your desk. Your intern, bless her heart, is trying to keep a straight and professional face but you can tell she wants to scream at the man who definitely thinks he is charming the young girl with his small talk. 

“Eric? What are you doing here?” you ask, biting your tongue so you don’t tell him to leave and fuck himself.

“Hey, can we talk? Privately?” 

You look at Zaya and her eyes tell you what she thinks: it’s the literal worst idea ever. And you want to say no to him, but judging from his antics lately he would somehow use it against you so you don’t have much of a choice.

“Sure,” you mumble and the two of you take an empty meeting room. “So?” 

“Look, I want to apologize.”

What? Is he for real? That was unexpected.

“My behavior was uncalled for and very unprofessional.”

“Do you mean the way you stole my idea and presentation or the way you talked to me when I confronted you about it?”

“Can you not attack me, please?” he gives you a look that would have put you in place before, but now it just annoys you. He is trying to make you be the one in the wrong and you want to snap at him for still being such an ass, but you want to be the bigger person and stay professional. No matter how much you hate him, you’re still colleagues. 

“Go on,” you sigh, folding your arms over your chest.

“I know I can’t change the past but I think it's best if we deal with it in a decent way.”

How noble of him, pulling the rug from underneath you and then acting like he is this decent, peaceful man who just wants to work together. You want to throw up, but you swallow it back and force a smile onto your face.

“Sure, of course,” you tell him.

Seemingly Eric is satisfied with the work he did, but he is so tone deaf it hurts. He smiles nodding and heads out of the room with you behind him.

“Great talk!” he enthuses before walking away.

Zaya turns to you with wide eyes and you just shake your head.

“He wanted to apologize, though he didn’t really succeed, but I feel like it doesn’t matter to him,” you shrug as you sit behind your desk.

“You’re not forgiving him, right?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “But we’re still colleagues, I can’t keep up the beef, it’s too tiring. I’ll just ignore his existence.”

You don’t think much of Eric’s ridiculous attempt to make peace, you keep your focus on your own project. 

There’s a bit of awkwardness between you and Harry after your little talk, but you feel like with time it eases and you write it off as just him not fond of situations like the one you put him into on Friday. 

Thursday afternoon the two of you are having another session together, working on some details he’s been trying to figure out himself, but he needs your input to finish them as well. It turns into brainstorming which results in a bunch of new things you want to include, but it will also add more work to your plate.

“I’m really sorry I always just keep adding new stuff to your load,” you sigh, truly feeling like you’re constantly overstepping boundaries, but Harry just shakes his head.

“I’m excited about these all. These are great functions and I’m looking forward to writing the code.”

“That sounded so nerdy,” you chuckle, but notice that Harry’s smile has disappeared.

“Sorry.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s great, I love it when someone is so passionate about something. I love it when you get deep into the tech talk. I think it’s amazing how much you know about these stuff.”

“But you can always just tell me to shut up, I know a lot of people don’t like it when I talk like that,” he mumbles, noticeably avoiding looking you in the eyes.

“Has… someone told you not to talk about programming?”

“Um…” He shifts uncomfortably and you’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to answer, but then he speaks up. “My ex girlfriend hated it when I talked about IT stuff,” he shrugs, but you can tell it’s something he struggled with. 

You can’t imagine ever telling him to stop talking about something that brings him this much joy. It’s clear this is his element and any woman that would try to restrain it is an idiot and can’t appreciate how wonderful this man is. 

You watch him quietly finish up on his computer before he starts to shut it down and you know you have to say something.

“She did not deserve you.”

He blinks at you surprised so you continue.

“Anyone who wants you to stop talking about something that makes you happy is not a person you want in your life, Harry, I hope you know that.”

“Uh… thank you,” he mumbles, that lovely pink shade taking over his face once again.

“You can always talk tech with me. I like listening to it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It amazes me, because I know nothing about it.” And it’s really hot, you want to add, but then bite your tongue. 

There’s a tiny smile on his pink lips and you can tell this moment matters to him more than you could imagine and you’re glad you could make him happy like that.

“D-Do you want to grab something to eat?” he suggests as the two of you head out of the meeting room.

“That sounds great! I’m starving!” you groan. “Let me just grab my bag from my desk.

Harry nods and follows you, he already has his backpack with him. You’re musing about what you should have and Harry is telling you about this amazing bagel place he loves when you spot the familiar figure near your desk. 

“Eric, what are you doing here?” you ask, but you’re tempted to phrase your words differently, because it’s quite obvious he was snooping around your desk, not expecting you to show up after office hours.

“Y/N, hi! I was just… I thought I left some papers here the other day,” he clears his throat, stepping away from your desk. 

“You had no papers with you,” you simply say, knowing well something is off with him.

“Maybe I remembered wrong,” he chuckles. “Alright, see you later,” he waves and then leaves quickly before you could ask any more questions. 

“What was that about?” Harry asks as you launch at your desk, checking what might have changed.

“He was looking for something. He is trying to play me again,” you hiss through your teeth, frantically examining what he could have put his hands on, but you see nothing out of place. But then you realize that he must have thought you left your laptop, that’s what he was looking for. “Oh my God,” you gasp, quickly starting your laptop to see if there is anything wrong with it. 

“What? What’s going on?”

“Harry, can you, uhh—Can you check if there is anything wrong with my laptop?” you plead as he rounds your desk and sits nodding, though he is a tad bit lost about what’s happening.

“Like, check if there’s another virus, or something?”

“Yes. I think he was trying to tamper with it again, I can’t know for sure if he hasn’t touched it earlier.”

You knew his half-assed apology was tactic, but you didn’t think he would do it all over again. Eric really isn’t the person you thought him to be.

You watch Harry type away on your computer, anxiously waiting for him to say anything and in the meanwhile you’re planning how you’ll get rid of Eric the moment you finally get your well-deserved promotion. There’s no way you’re letting a snake like him work at the company. 

“I don’t see anything,” Harry finally leans back and you exhale in relief.

“I can’t let it out of my sight from now on,” you grumble, shaking your head. 

In this moment you feel like you’re running out of energy, all because you trusted the wrong person. Feeling defeated you collapse into Zaya’s chair, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Harry softly says, as if he could read your mind.

“I’m in this situation because I made all the worst choices. I can’t blame anyone else but myself.”

“You couldn’t have known this is how it would turn out to be.”

“I know, but…”

“No but. Just… You know what? I’ll install an extra security program on your laptop so only you can access it, alright?”

“Really?” you sit up straight.

“Yeah, just give me a few moments.”

He gets down to work, works his magic and a minute later he is explaining to you what he got set up on your laptop to secure it.

“Harry, I owe you so much at this point,” you sigh in relief when it sinks in that Eric will not get his hands on your things again. “I have no idea how I will be able to pay you back.”

You notice a slight shift in him as he clears his throat, looking at you nervously.

“About that… I-I think I know h-how–I mean I thought about what… you could…”

“You know what you want in return?” you perk up, happy to do something for Harry after everything he did for you. 

“Y-you can say no, it’s okay, I just–Um…”

“Harry, whatever it is, my answer is gonna be yes,” you chuckle, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He looks at your hand and then up to your eyes before finally speaking up.

“Go on a date… with me?”

Harry has been working up the courage to ask you all day, but he didn’t think he would have the balls to say it out loud. Sarah and Mitch urged him to shoot his shot, even after the kind of awkward conversation you had earlier. His friends were convinced you were into him regardless, but he’s been struggling to believe it himself.

It was kind of random he blurted it out, but now it’s been said and he is about to faint, waiting for your response. You’re staring back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parted, but no words have left your mouth since his question.

“Y-You don’t have to, I-I understand–I mean, it’s–”

“Harry,” you cut him off. “I would love to go on a date with you,” you finally tell him and it feels like a stone has been lifted off his shoulders, his heart is about to jump out of his chest any moment.

“But I won’t take it as your payment,” you add and now it’s his turn to be surprised. 

“What?” he breathes out, not sure what to make of your words.

“I would never take it as a payment, because I would go on a date with you regardless, Harry. Think of something else and we will have the date as well.”

“Really?” 

“Of course,” you chuckle. 

“Okay, alright, um… then… it’s a date!”

Harry is late.

He promised to be there at the meeting room on time to support you and answer any tech related questions that might come up in connection with your presentation. Eric is now presenting his (your) idea, he has added some features to it since he stole the whole thing, but it’s still mainly yours. 

“Thank you very much for your attention,” he nods as he finishes his talk and the board claps shortly before it’s your turn to stand in front of them. 

You’re plugging your laptop together with the projector when the door of the meeting room opens and Harry’s head pops inside. Relief washes over you as you watch him apologize for his late arrival and take a seat. Your gaze meets his and he smiles at you sweetly, holding his thumb up for you as you load the presentation. Now you feel braver, knowing he is here to support you.

You desperately wish you could read minds as you go on with your presentation. You’re met with mostly blank faces, but they were the same during Eric’s presentation as well, so you can’t tell what they are thinking about. It’s going smoothly, you rehearsed it a million times instead of sleeping in the past few days and when it’s time for questions you ace all of them, even the few tech ones. You’ve spent so much time with Harry that you can easily give an answer to everything at this point.

“Thank you for your attention,” you nod smiling at the end and disconnect your laptop from the projector, walking back to Harry.

“You did amazing,” he smiles at you proudly and his approval means the most to you. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I was late, I had to take care of something.”

“It’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it.” The CEO stands up and all heads turn in his direction.

“Thank you for the presentations, I would like to ask the candidates to leave the room so we can vote.”

You gather all your stuff and head out with Harry by your side. Eric ignores your existence, as if he didn’t lie and cheat his way to this moment, but you’re not stressing yourself anymore about it. 

You definitely believe in karma.

“You’ve got this,” Harry smiles at you softly and your heart melts at his expression. 

You’re planning to have your date tonight. It’s gonna be either a ‘you’ve got the promotion, now let’s celebrate with our date’ occasion or ‘you didn’t get the promotion so let’s cheer you up with a date’, you’re fine with both, truly. You know you put everything you had into this promotion and if they still decide not to choose you, that’s their loss and your sign to move on. 

You’re beyond excited about your date. There’s been an obvious change in your dynamic since Harry has asked you out, there are more glances, little touches, compliments and some very apparent sexual tension that’s still within the lines of comfort, it’s not too hard to control yourself, but you keep noticing more and more things about him that are pulling you towards him.

“I will miss our little work session,” you smile back at him shyly.

“Little? They usually lasted hours,” he chuckles, making you laugh too.

“Loved them all,” you shrug and the look on his face tells you he did too. 

The board takes some time to make their decision and when the door opens fifteen minutes later your heart skips a beat. The CEO asks you all to return to the room and you take your previous seat, Harry sitting next to you. His hand brushes against your knee shortly and you look at him, your gaze meeting his as he gives you an encouraging smile.

“Thank you all for these amazing presentations, we were very pleased with the plans and projects,” the CEO starts as he stands at the head of the table. “We had no doubt you two are the best applicants for the position and it’s been hard to decide who to choose, but at last we made a decision.”

Oh God, you’re about to throw up. Is it you? Is it Eric? You hope you won’t cry. That could happen in either case, but you really don’t want to cry in front of all these people. 

“The person we chose to fulfill the position is…” His eyes scan over the both of you as you hold your breath and then it finally lands on you. “Y/N Y/L/N. Congratulations.”

And just like that, your lungs fill with air again and it feels like a rock has been lifted off your shoulders. 

“I told you,” you hear Harry beside you and when you look at him you see pride all over his face and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you, it wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumble as you squeeze him tight before letting go of him, going up to the board to shake hands. 

At first you don’t even process it, but then Eric’s voice hits your ear and you realize he is turning red across the table, complaining nonstop about the outcome.

“...The whole thing was so fucking out of the blue! Redesigning the whole website? That’s like suicide!...”

You don’t even have the chance to react to his comments, the CEO speaks up for everyone.

“Y/N’s idea is daring, innovative and brave, just what we need. We don’t want to play it safe and your idea was definitely in the safe zone.”

“His idea,” you scoff under your breath.

“Actually, there is something I would like to show you, if you have a few more minutes,” Harry speaks up as he starts his laptop and moves over to where the board is. You’re watching him completely puzzled.

“There’s been an unfortunate incident about the presentations. Y/N’s original idea was stolen, a virus has been planted on her computer to cover up the deed, but I could not recover enough information about the perpetrator to make accusations, that was until a few days ago.”

What?!

You see Eric’s red face turn completely white as Harry types away on his computer and then shows something to the board. They curiously eye the alleged proof as Harry continues.

“Proof could be only found on the perpetrator’s device and a few days ago I had access to Eric’s computer when he brought it in for a check up, since it’s been working too slow. As expected and told, I make a full check on every device in these cases and found unquestionable proof that Eric stole Y/N’s presentation through the virus.”

Oh lord. 

You watch as everyone on the board processes what they see on Harry’s computer and you can feel the switch in them towards Eric.

“Eric, let’s have a chat in my office. Now,” the CEO says and it’s definitely an order and Eric doesn’t try to go against it, just nods and follows him out of the room.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me you were planning to do this?!” you ask as you rush up to him. The board members are leaving the meeting room, leaving the two of you alone. 

“I uh– I wanted it to be a surprise. Eric showed up at the IT department the other day and I got his case without him knowing so I could snoop around. Found the evidence right away so I thought the board should know what he did.”

“Why did you wait until they announced who got the promotion? This could have kicked him out of the contest right away.”

“I knew you’d get it,” he smiles shyly. “I had no doubt they would choose you, I wanted you to experience defeating him after what he did to you.”

To say you’re touched is an understatement. He didn’t just help you immensely to get this promotion, but also went out of his way to serve you justice. He has done more for you than anyone ever. 

You just know you can’t let the moment pass and ignoring the fact that you’re still at work, though no one is around to see, you close the distance between the two of you and press your lips against his.

This kiss has been hanging there for a while and you’d be lying if you said you have never fantasized about what it would be like to kiss Harry, but reality is a thousand times more magical. His lips are soft and warm, go so well with yours and once his first wave of shock passes he finally returns it and you melt in his arms. 

You had a feeling Harry was a great kisser, but the way he claims your lips just blows your mind. He is sweet and gentle but also demanding at the same time and if only you weren’t in the office you’d pretty much jump into his arms and let him do whatever he wants to you. 

Somewhere in the distance a phone rings and it breaks the spell, making you realize that you shouldn’t get carried away. 

“Sorry,” you smile, your lips barely just an inch away from his still. “I got… I just–Thank you. For everything you did for me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he returns your smile and pecks your lips shortly one more time. “And I will always be here to support you.”

You might look like a lunatic as you watch the guy on the other side of the glass door of your office finish up the sign on the door.

Y/N Y/L/N, Head Of Digital Marketing.

God, you still can’t have enough of the sound of it even though you got the promotion two months ago. Okay, the first month you spent in your old job, teaching the ropes for your successor before you could start your transition into your new position.

Now it’s official and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Checking the time you sit back to your computer to finish up work for the day. It’s been one hell of a week, you’ve worked overtime three times so it’s great that today is finally Friday. You answer some more emails and check your calendar for the next week, making sure everything is settled.

There’s a soft knock on the door and when you look up your heart skips a beat, seeing Harry walk in, his backpack on one shoulder.

“Hey. Are you done?”

“Just one moment,” you smile and he nods, walking over to the window, patiently waiting for you to finish everything up. 

When you turn the computer off and look up at him, you notice that he is staring at you already.

“What?” you ask, packing up.

“Nothing, just… you look so pretty.”

You still haven’t gotten used to his compliments, though they always just keep on coming and coming. You love them.

And you love him.

Walking over to him you wrap your arms around his waist as you steal a kiss. Usually you try to keep the PDA out of the office, but sometimes he is just too hard to resist. Like now.

You’ve been officially a couple for two months, your first date after your big presentation was like a dream, Harry took you to all of his favorite spots in the city and then you just spent hours stargazing on the roof of his apartment’s building, he had a whole setup with a mattress, blankets and pillows, it was the sweetest thing ever, the best way to celebrate your win. Since then, it’s been endless dates, movie nights, trips on the weekend, you’ve been kind of inseparable. Well, outside of the office, because you try your best to stay professional at work. 

“What was that for?” he chuckles softly, his cheeks have that soft pink shade on them that you just want to kiss all over. 

“I’m just happy. That’s it.” Reaching up you fix his glasses before taking a step back and heading out.

Usually you just walk side by side to the elevator, but today you feel extra upbeat, so when you step into the elevator you gently take his hand and lace it together with yours and you can’t help but smile every time you’re in here with Harry.

Because he told you this is where he saw you for the very first time that day you overslept before your disastrous presentation. He was the one who held the elevator’s door for you. You were so disoriented that you didn’t notice him then and he likes to tease you about it, saying that he knew that moment he was into you, all while you didn’t even look at him. In return, you always bring up how you were the one kissing him for the first time. 

It’s crazy to think how much has happened between those two things or even between that morning and today. He was the quiet IT genius who you dragged into your madness. He is still a genius, but you’ve gotten to know the sides of him others can’t see and you love all of them, it just took you some time to open him up. To decode him.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Bonding on the Road

“You told them you were covered in nipples?”

“I was trying to bond.”

“…sometimes you are really bad at acting human.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult of some kind?”

“I don’t know, Agatha, was it?”

“See, if you had learned from me, you’d be better at insults.”

“Do you want me to try?”

“…Sure, go for it.”

“You’re a selfish, heartless monster.”

“And which part of that is supposed to hurt my feelings?”

“…You’re terrible in bed?”

“Heh. You know that isn’t true.”

“It’s been so long, I hardly remember.”

“Also untrue. I’m unforgettable. Besides, it’s not like you’ve been with anyone else.”

“…Agatha, do you really think I’ve spent centuries doing nothing but pining over you?”

“Yes? All you do is pine, generally violently.”

“It is genuinely impressive how self-centered you are.”

“Mmhmm. But I bet if you have been with people, they’ve all been arrogant, brunette witches.”

“…”

“Ooh, a direct hit. And I bet none of them were as good as the real thing.”

“…I don’t remember.”

“No? Maybe I should remind you.”

“…maybe you should…”

“Hey, Rio?”

“…mm?”

“If you’d learned from me, you’d also be better at this sort of thing. Good try, though! Better luck next time, champ.”

“…do you want to hear a real insult?”

“Go for it. Give me your best shot.”

“Your mother was right about you.”

“…”

“…Ags, wait, I…”

“No, hold on, I’m thinking. It’s not bad! Lacks specificity, you’re still afraid to go for the throat. It does show potential, though. You’re getting there.”

“…I have really missed you.”

“See? You’re pining right now.”

“…do you know, Agatha, that despite everything, I do still love you?”

“Ew.”

“I love the way you make a face when I say things like that, how you’re never quite what I expect, your arrogance, your eyes, your smile, your hair…”

“Okay, uh, first, minimum safe distance rules, how about you get—farther away—“

“Mm. All mine.”

“…right, well, we’d better get going, we’ve got this whole mysterious Road to travel, no point in wasting time. Come on, try and keep up.”

“Right behind you, beloved, as always.”

“…I really have not missed you at all.”

“Liar. You know you love me.”

“…if I admit you’ve won this one, will you please stop?”

“For a while.”

“…”

“You can’t actually do it, can you?”

“…”

“It’s all right. I love that about you too.”

“…ugh.”

The masterpost has a totally normal number of fics

[redheadspark]

may i have Benedict x reader from bridgerton with prompt #25

A/N - So cute for Benedict! Thanks for the request, anon!

Overflowed

Summary - Benedict knows how to make you smile

Warnings - Angst and fluff rolled into one :)

If there was one thing you loved about your life being a Bridgerton, it was how it was never boring or mundane.

It all started when you met your future husband, Benedict.  You both were attending art class at one of the most prestigious schools in the area, sitting side by side during one of the night classes and going through one of the lectures.  Benedict came from a wealthy family, prestigious family, which that had a major reputation for being well-loved and compassionate in charities and amongst other families.  You heard about his family for some time, though your family was not part of that circle since you were not well off.  In fact, you were attending the art school on a full-ride scholarship, not wanting to take it for granted and keeping your nose in your books and canvas.  But that night as Benedict plopped down next to you with his laptop out and ready to try, he looked over at you as you were handwriting your notes instead of typing it out.

He smiled, leaning over and saying in a low tone, “I like your handwriting.  It’s lovely,”

It was safe to say you are smitten with him from then on out.

You both sat together for the rest of the semester, learning about each other and becoming friends.  All of those rumors and stories that you hear about his family both seemed true and untrue.  He was kind, and humble in his upbringing and just wishing to be a better artist but not afraid to talk about his family and all of their endeavors.  He showed interest in you and what you liked about art, which pieces you liked and hated.  Although you were hesitant and wanted to keep your guard up when it came to letting in someone new in your life, Benedict snuck in always. 

Your first date was actually at the local county fair, Benedict asked you out after several months of building a friendship. It was surprising that he took you to a county fair, some of your other friends were already spewing theories about him taking you to a luxury restaurant or even on a yacht since his older brother Anthony did that with his now wife Kate. But not with Benedict, he would prefer to laugh with you and eat fried fair food and look at the street vendors.  

He made you laugh while attempting to win you a stuffed animal at the games, though you tried to warn him that they were rigged.  Benedict threw one baseball a bit too hard and almost broke the tent wall behind the plate that he was attempting to smash.  You laughed, the vendor scowling at him as Benedict took your hand and you both bolted before you were caught.  Benedict loved the sound of your laugh, he mentally would remember that moment for the rest of his life.  Throughout the night, you felt your walls coming down slowly with him and how he made you smile and giggle without you realizing what he was doing. Benedict was more down to earth than anything that night, then taking you to the local art show that was placed in the back of the fair.  

“I thought you would rather see something like this than at a fancy gallery,” He explained, you grinning from ear to ear as you both were gazing at the paintings and sketches from local painters and artist that were selling their art.  To think that he had all the money he would ever need, the reputation to be put in the pockets of people with power, but he simply wanted to be with you.

You shared your first kiss that night, his lips tasting of popcorn and soda pop.

Dating Benedict was both thrilling and intimidating at the same time. You were taken into his world, filled with wealthy relatives and charities that would sell dinner seats for thousands of dollars.  You barely had 1000 dollars to your name, let alone in your savings, but Benedict never minded it.  His own family was insanely sweet and kind to you, seeing how you made the artist in the family so happy and filled with joy.  Of course, they would tease you about his aloofness and his quirky nature, but you saw the same compassion and authenticity that was in Benedict in each of his siblings and his kind mother.  

However, you were a fish out of water with those dinners and events that you attended on Benedict’s arm.  The small talk with the fellow guests seemed forced and almost dry, Most of them were grilling you with questions about your own life, if you came from a rich family, or if you had any investments.  The pressure was a bit much at times, Benedict sensing it when you sat side by side during the dinners.  But the great thing about Benedict was that he would attempt to make you laugh during those tense moments, by any means necessary.  Comments under his breath, jokes that he knew were not great dinner conversation, his sense of humor was once again winning and making you come out of your shell a bit more.

Anthony could have sworn he saw you giggling and hiding your smile behind your napkin as Benedict whispered in your ear.  Anthony knew it then, you two were meant to be together.

Not everything was happy and positive with you two when it came to your love for one another. Because of your more humbled upbringing, your family bought of Benedict as dragging you along to use you.  It was hard to hear that from them, they all thought it was some kind of ruse and not real.  No matter how many times you defended your love for Benedict and told them constantly that you both were insanely happy together.  Even your ex was spewing hate on your relationship, which hurt a bit more since you and your ex were a bit sour together.  

But in the end, Benedict always came through by comforting you and making you feel safe.  He would constantly hug you and remind you that you were strong and adored, that you’d come so far in earning your degree and working at a gallery, fighting tooth and nail with your advantages and no leg up.  He admired you for that, and to see you feel defeated by others and their words broke his heart.  Plenty of nights were shared holding each other and talking through those bitter moments, it felt better to talk to him about it and get it off your chest than to hold it in.

And every time, Benedict would end up making you laugh and bringing you joy.  

“I think I found mummy!”  You looked up from your spot on the loveseat, holding an important letter in your fingers as your husband waltzed into the room with your 3-year-old daughter on his back and squealing in joy.  You beamed, watching your husband act like a horse and neighing as he was galloping around the small living room and your daughter laughing her head off with her ringlets dancing behind her.  

“Look, mummy!  Daddy’s a horsey!” She shrieked as Benedict was going in circles around your loveseat, you placing the letter on the coffee table and standing up with your hands on your hips.

“Quite the handsome horse too!” You teased, Benedict, slowing down and laughing as he stood in front of you.  Your daughter, Emma Violet Bridgerton, poked her head over his shoulder and you saw the same shade of green that her father had in her eyes.  She reached out to you with grabby hands, to which you scooped her in your arms to hug her tight, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling her arms around you.

5 years of marriage was no easy feat, but it was rewarding.  You both got married in the spring, then found a decent apartment in the downtown area that was close to the gallery you were now running and Benedict sold some of his work to get some money in your pockets. He would rather make money not by his name but by his art, using an alias with his art and not giving out his true identity.  It worked in his favor, his work being sold globally and making his alias a household name.  Your net worth grew, though tedious at times, but it grew nonetheless.  

So the news that you were pregnant two years into your marriage was a surprise, but the best kind since Benedict was over the moon at the thought of being a father.  Sure, he never thought about being a father so soon, but he didn't despise the thought of it.   Yet you were the one who was afraid of parenthood, mostly because of your own experience with your parents and how they were with you.  They were harsh, far too realistic, and at times brutal.  Did you want to inflict that on your own child?

“You are not your mum and dad,” Benedict reminded you one night as you two were lying in bed, you telling him what was festering in your mind and what you were fearing.  He had one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand was resting on your lower stomach while he was staring at you lovingly, “We are gonna love this baby and make sure that there is nothing but happiness in this home.  Plus, I bet you we’ll make mistakes here and there.  Especially me, I bet you I’m gonna put the diaper on the wrong way,”

You smiled softly, “More than once?” You asked to ask sheepishly, Benedict’s smile got wide.

“Are you kidding, over a dozen times at least!” He explained, you laughing as he went on, “And I’ll be singing to our baby with my horrible singing voice, you’re gonna hate it!”

As soon as Emma Violet Bridgerton was born, Benedict was over the moon in love with her.

“We were looking for you in hopes you were wanting to come get ice cream with us!” Benedict explained to you as Emma perked up and looked at you with her father’s eyes she inherited.

“Can we, mum?” She asked with hope in her voice, you eyeing her and then her father.

“Before dinner?” You asked in a joking tone, Emma giggling glee as you tickled her sides, “The scandal of it all!  What will the neighbors say!  We must get ice cream then since I have been craving chocolate!”

“Hooray!” Emma said in victory, the there of you walking out of the living room together as a happy family.  You left the letter behind, another disappointing letter from your parents who were reprimanding you for shielding your daughter from her grandparents.  But you were having none of it, you may have before when things were still tender with them. Yet not now, not with this life that was overflowing with happiness.  

The overflowing will never end, not if Benedict had anything to do with it.

The End.

May Prompt Session