#oh i also flipped sounds cos i felt bad for him

[the-ratt-king]

rendered & on a shirt :]]

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Like my father pt 2 {burb}

Sirius x Potter!Reader

An: Already writing part 3. This can also be read as a solo.

CW: Amos Diggory slander, not proof read, use of y/n, bad dates, just cheesy fluff,

Summary: Reader has a bad date and Sirius comes to the rescue

Wc: 2451

Part one Part three

“I genuinely can't believe you let her walk out that door with him.” James groaned from the love seat where Lily had found a perch in his lap.

It was just a few months after your graduation when you informed your family and co. that you were seeing someone. Someone four years older, Amos Diggory. James protested, Sirius protested, even your mother did. Didn't stop you from accepting his date invitation. Nor did it stop you from leaving to go out to eat with him either.

Lily rolled her eyes, gently nudging James with her elbow. “Oh, come off it, James. She’s not a child anymore. She can handle herself.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, every part of him was tense, despite how he played it cool. “Drop it, mate.”

James sat up straighter, glaring at Sirius with indignation. “Drop it? Are you serious? She’s going out with a guy who’s practically an adult! What if he tries something? You know how boys are at that age!”

��Yeah, he's one of them.” Remus muttered and took a sip of his tea, earning a smack from Sirius.

“Stop talking like she isn't old enough to make her own choices.” Sirius huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “She was bound to start dating eventually.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry! I mean.” James pointed at Sirius and then back at himself. “He's older than us. I don't like it.”

“Maybe he is, but she’s not going to be alone with him in a dark alley, James. They’re going to a restaurant,” Remus chimed in, giving an amused sigh. “Let her live a bit.”

“This conversation isn't happening again.” Lily groaned as she stood up, grabbing James by his hand. “We're going to bed.”

James looked up at Lily and squeezed her hand with an affectionate, hell, lovesick look. “Yes ma'am.”

“Whipped.” Sirius huffed and Remus gave him a look.

“Goodnight all.” James waved before he pointed at Sirius with a glare. “You're gonna lose her, mate. Get your shit together.”

Sirius flipped him off before he sunk back into his bed. Sighing threw his nose and sank into the couch.

“You can't ignore it forever, Sirius.” Remus muttered and Sirius gave a scoff.

“Oh, but I can. And I will. She trusts me, she likes me, she thinks I'm just the greatest. I'm okay with that.” Sirius sighed and Remus gave a huff.

“Sirius, if she likes this guy-”

“Then I'll be happy for her.” He interrupted and ran his fingers a bit more purposefully through his hair. “She'll find someone worth her time.”

“Ugh. Is this how it felt talking to me?” Remus mumbled and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“I'm nothing, Remus. I don't have a damn thing to offer her. Not even my name means more than hers.”

Remus frowned. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re a good guy, and you care about her. That counts for something. She wouldn't care about anything else.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough,” Sirius grumbled, his voice laced with frustration. “I’m just her brother’s best friend. Some couch surfer her parents pitied. I’m not what she needs. Not when she could have someone like Amos. He’s got it all; looks, charm, and a future ahead of him. What do I have? A knack for getting into trouble and a penchant for living on the edge?”

“Sirius,” Remus interjected firmly, leaning forward. “You know she doesn't think like that. You haven't even given her the choice.”

“But she so often picks the wrong one.” He groaned and Remus shook his head.

“Just think about it, mate. I'm going to bed, you coming?”

“No I uhm…” Sirius glanced at the window and bit his cheek. “Think ima stay up for her. You know, to lock up after her.”

Remus slowly smiled and nodded, dismissing himself.

~~~

Sirius was shocked awake by the sound of the house phone ringing. He hissed and rubbed his eyes, having fallen asleep on the couch.

He groaned, the muffled ringing echoing through the house as he squinted at the clock on the wall. It was well past nine, when you should have been home. Who in their right mind was calling this late? He internally nagged himself for not being awake to welcome you home.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself up from the couch, his body stiff from the awkward position he had been in. As he shuffled toward the kitchen, he could hear the phone ringing again, the sound almost piercing his ears. He reached the phone just as it stopped, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, it started ringing again.

“Ugh, bloody hell.” He muttered, picking up the receiver a bit more aggressively then needed. “Potter residence, what-”

“Sirius? Is that you?”

At the sound of your voice he almost toppled over. “Bambi? The hell? What are you still doing out?”

“Uhm.. dinner ran a bit later than I thought.” You whispered and you began to ring your fingers through the cord. “Would it.. would it be too much to ask you to come pick me up?”

Sirius thought about what you were asking for a moment, you didn't exactly sound thrilled to be there.

Not that he had to think about his answer for too long.

“Of course, bambi. Just stay put, yeah?”

“Okay, I’ll be here.” You sounded relieved, and Sirius could picture you visibly relaxing on the other end of the line.

He hung up the phone and quickly grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, his mind racing with questions.

Sirius slipped on his shoes and headed for the door, he paused and quickly grabbed a pair of your sneakers before hurrying out.

It wasn't long before he got to the restaurant. Walking at night wasn't Sirius’s idea of fun, but the idea of you sounding so nervous and scared, he didn't even realize how fast he was moving. Some fancy place he was sure you'd never be found dead in. Even with your family’s status, you'd more often than not be found in diners.

He walked in, standing awkwardly at the waiting area. He peeked over the hostess stand, looking around the restraint curiously, only able to spot Amos sitting at a table alone. He furrowed his brow, before he felt a tug at his sleeve.

Turning around to see you, smiling up at him. The same smile you shot him when you headed out earlier tonight.

“Hey, little bug, what's going on?” His entire demeanor turned soft, and your smile faltered just a moment.

“I just wanna go home.” You whispered softly and Sirius took a glance back at the table, able to see Diggory looking around curiously.

He nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist, escorting you out of the restaurant to the grand stairs that lead to the sidewalk. He pointed down to the last few steps. “Sit.”

You huffed but did as you were told. Watching as he kneeled in front of you and took off your heels, replacing them with your sneakers.

You hugged yourself, the noodle strap dress doing very little to cut the cold. “Thank you, Siri…”

He sighed a bit at the nickname, standing up and taking your hand to help you up. “Did you call me all the way out here to ditch some boy?”

“Merlin, Siri, he's such a git.” You hissed and looped your arm around his. Clinging to what little warmth he gave off, as he began to lead you home.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a mix of concern and curiosity flooding his thoughts. “What do you mean? What happened?”

You leaned into him a bit more, seeking comfort from the chill in the air and the whirlwind of emotions from the evening. Not used to the more casual treatment from men. Usually, being James Potter’s sister was a reminder enough for men to go above and beyond for your attention.

Given your brother was the boy who would dedicate his Quidditch Cup wins to his girlfriend or declare his love with obnoxious displays. Of course, {Y/N} Potter wouldn't entertain anything less. Seems Amos figured a pretty face was enough. “It started off fine, but then he just… I don’t know, he got too flirty and it felt really off. I thought I could handle it, but he just kept pushing. I felt uncomfortable, and I didn't want to make a scene.”

“Flirty how?” Sirius asked, keeping his voice low and steady, trying to gauge how serious the situation was. Debating on if it was worth running back in.

“He kept talking about how pretty I looked and how lucky he was to be with me.” You explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “At first, it was nice. I mean, you know I like being flattered.”

“What? No. I would have never guessed.” Sirius mocked and you hit his side with a huff.

“Shut up!” You laughed lightly, but the tension in your voice betrayed your discomfort. “But then he started getting too personal, asking if I was a good kisser and if I wanted to go back to his place after dinner. It just felt… wrong.”

Sirius felt a surge of anger course through him, and he tightened his grip on your arm as you walked together. “Did you tell him to back off?”

You nodded, looking down at your feet. “I did, but he just brushed it off and laughed. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I just made up an excuse about needing to call you. It was the only way I could get out of there.”

“Good thinking.” He praised, his voice softening. “You did the right thing. You don’t have to put up with that kind of behavior from anyone, no matter how charming they might seem.”

You looked up at him, slowly your bottom lip began to quiver and he gave a surprised and panicked look. Before his expression slowly turned soft. “Oh, bambi.”

“I didn't like it.” You whispered, quickly lifting your free hand to dry your gathering tears. “It was my first date and I hated it.”

“Hey, hey.” He whispered and stopped walking. Lifting his hand to shoo away your own, using his thumb to dry your tears. “Hey, none of that, it wasn't your fault.”

“He was so gross.” You whined out and he tutted, pulling away as you took a shaky breath. “And his cologne smells awful.”

Sirius gave a startled chuckle and you slowly smiled up at him. “Smelt like a mix of cheap aftershave and desperation.” You added, a hint of laughter breaking through your earlier distress. He gave a louder laugh as he began to lead you back down the street.

“How cruel of you.” He chuckled and you shook your head, giving a small sniff. “How cruel of me? How cruel of him! I had to smell it all night, I'm the victim here.”

Sirius couldn’t help but smile at your determination to find humor in the situation despite how upset you had been moments earlier. “You’re absolutely right.”

You giggled, the sound warming Sirius’s heart. It was nice to see you lightening up, even if just a little. “I mean, really, if you’re going to wear something that strong, at least make sure it doesn’t smell like it came from the bargain bin. My dad has better smelling cologne and he actually gets it from the bargain bin.”

He shook his head. “Do you even know cologne? Is that even on your radar?”

“Well, no but.. I like my dads. And yours.” You hummed and leaned in closer, taking a small whiff of him before you scrunched up your nose. “Not this one. The green bottle.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “The one I wore at Hogwarts?”

You laughed, your tension easing. “Definitely. It smells way better than what that git was wearing. You’d have all the ladies swooning.”

“Ah, but I’m not trying to swoon anyone tonight.” He hummed, his tone suddenly more serious as he looked down at you. “I’m just focused on getting you home safe.”

You met his gaze, a mix of gratitude and warmth filling your chest. “I appreciate that, Sirius. It means a lot to me.”

“Course. Next time you need a date, you just let me know, and I’ll screen them first,” Sirius offered, half-joking but also completely serious. “I’ll make sure they meet the ‘Sirius Standard.’”

You laughed. “The Sirius Standard? Oh please, I know how you treat your girls.”

“Not my girls. They aren't my girls.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“You don't have girls anymore? You've changed, Black.”

“Who needs girls when I got you to look after? Too much work if you ask me.” He huffed and you slowly smiled, fiddling with the threads of his warn jacket.

You guys eased into a calm silence. It wasn't long until you were home, and he was lifting up his keys and kneeling down to take off your shoe. You gave a sleepy yawn, looking down as he stood infront of you.

He did a double take, noticing how you chewed your lip.

“What's on your mind, bambi?”

“Just.. boys. Is it weird, Siri? That I haven't dated yet?”

“What? Doll, is that why you went out with him?”

“... maybe. Just.. James got to me the other day. I haven't dated anyone, that can't be normal.”

He cooed and walked over to you, “It's not, but it's special. You know what you want. That's a good thing.”

You looked up at him, your expression thoughtful. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” He affirmed confidently. “You’re not going to settle for just anyone. You’ll wait for someone who makes you feel safe and happy. That’s way more important than just dating for the sake of it.”

You smiled softly. “Thanks, Sirius. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“That's my job, isn't it?” He grinned back at you, before lifting up his arms. “Come ‘er.”

You giggled and hurried over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Don't go rushing into things, bams. You've got a lot of years to find someone.” He whispered against your hair and you absolutely melted into him. Not noticing as the stairs from the second floor creaked and James peaked down to look at Sirius. Giving him a smile and hurrying back upstairs.

“Siri?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we watch a movie tonight?”

“Is it Grease?”

“... maybe.”

[ladyvesuvia]

Captain Maybank

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Crushing on a classmate and confessing to him three years later.

WORDS: 2.0k

WARNING(S): usage of she/her pronouns, cursing, kissing, fluff, messy writing kinda, NOT PROOFREAD

A/N: for @pogueslandia cos i take long to rep i’m so sorry hajeiehdksjw anyway voila ALSO YAY GUESS WHO’S BACK i honestly intended for this to be an angst but couldn’t find ways to make it sad so have fluff :’)

Moving into a strange town of which you knew little to nothing about is terrifying because it should be. But honestly? You felt anything but.

It was liberating to walk the streets of an unfamiliar place however lost it made you feel, however parasitic. You parted with your friends from the city with emotional goodbyes but somehow you just knew you would eventually get over it.

“Sign’s a bit creaky now, isn’t it?” you said while you got your stuff together in an attempt to make friendly small talk, looking up at the aged sign of a fish you had also seen on the printed shirt of the man you could only assume owned the store.

He was wiping sweat away from his forehead. The man chuckled. “Mhm, been telling my son ‘bout that. For the record, it’s been half a year.”

“Sounds like a drag, sir.”

“Sounds like a drag indeed.” He nodded politely with a wave to excuse himself, soon jogging over to the other men carrying crates and crates of stock.

You swung your bag on your bag, finally ripping off the pack of a popsicle you’d bought from the nearest convenience store on your way here.

Outer Banks isn’t so bad, but you have yet to see for yourself when you go to school after the weekend.

——

Starting eighth grade in a school you knew nothing about should also be frightening, but it isn’t. The cute guy who almost never turns up makes it a little better. Okay, a lot better. You had even made a game out of it: if he comes to school, you’ll buy yourself something good and it always turns out great; you see him, you get yourself a new trinket, and you enjoy your day! The only problem is that he’s frequently absent.

Heck, you only know his name – JJ. And that’s only thanks to that one girl with curly hair who’d asked if he was free later that night.

“JJ,” she had half-whispered and half-hissed to him, poking him with her pen. “JJ!”

“What up?”

“You free tonight?”

Kinda bummed you out that he’d said yes.

Welp, you thought to yourself that day, scouting for someone new to like. Guess he’s taken.

And Typical You would’ve gone about your day, scouting the hallways for someone bearable. But you didn’t. See, you’d never been the type to critique each and every person you come across but, Lord, they made it so easy.

It didn’t help when a couple of girls invited you to sit with them and you learned more about their cliques.

“Pogues and Kooks?” you laughed. They didn’t seem so amused. “Oh, so it’s legit? Like, rich bitches are Kooks and. . .”

“I mean, we wouldn’t put it that way,” said one of them, seemingly defensive of your impression of them.

Goodness me, you thought to yourself. Do they think I’m a Kook? ‘Cause I’m from the city?

You made up your mind by then that, well, maybe an in-between clique would be nice. But you decided to prioritize scouting for a new person to like. A while after the information of the Pogues and Kooks came into your head, it was hard to unsee who these people were.

Guy by the lockers? Cocky.

Guy who offered to carry your bags? Gentleman, but smells like flip flops, the bad ones.

New guy who ran into you and held out his hand? Nope, because who the fuck wants to shake hands nowadays?

The one who sat just across from you in most of your classes? He’s alright, he’s great. Fantastic, even. He likes to sit with his legs a little bit too open in his seat, his leg prone to getting at least one student and or teacher to trip. The only problem? He’s JJ.

You barely even knew the guy! You laughed to yourself, taking in the amount of stupidity you were bringing upon yourself.

“Yes, Miss [Y/L/N]?” your teacher had asked from the front, bringing all eyes to burn you deeply. Unfortunately or fortunately, JJ was present, and you didn’t know if it made the situation better or worse, for however ashamed you were to be seen in that scenario, it sure felt good to be seen.

“Nothing, sir.” You feigned a cough. “Er — carry on.”

Maybe it was your situational disposition, but you could’ve sworn he had stared a little longer than everyone else.

Or maybe, just hopefully, he really was.

——

You weren’t a liar, but one summer night forced you to be one, what with an empty bottle on the surface of the one and only familiar boat.

“Okay, yeah, sure, maybe I did have a thing for John B three years ago but that was so long ago!” False. You’d been lying about who you liked in this friend group for a long while now, and the only one who knew was John B himself.

“Why’re you talking like he’s not here?” JJ snorted, patting John B at the back. “Also, I am not letting this go, I am totally gonna hold this against you.”

You shot John B an apologetic look, desperate to get out of the situation. You had only said you liked John B to, well, eliminate the possibilities of ever making it awkward with JJ.

“Mhm,” Kie nodded, her eyes narrowed. “If there’s nothing there, then kiss John B on the cheek.”

Fuck. “What are we, twelve? I’m not kissing anybody.”

“Fine,” said Kie, trying not to laugh. “Shake hands, then.”

“Fine,” you say.

Brows furrowed, you held out your hand to John B, who was conveniently just sitting across from you.

“So?”

“No, Kiara, still no.” Okay, I handled that pretty well. The worst is over.

“Alright, if you say so.”

“In fact,” you say, already tasting the next stupid thing you were about to say out loud. “I like . . . Pope.”

“Pope? You like Pope?” John B started, as if challenging you to keep on going. You don’t look at JJ; you would look anywhere but JJ’s way. “Too bad he’s not here, huh?”

“Some news,” JJ commented, laughing. The least you could do was, well, laugh along. What the hell were you supposed to do? What else should you have said?

That you like JJ? That you’ve been so head over heels for him the moment you met? That you thought those feelings would go away when you got to know him but it only got worse?

——

Kie had to leave because of her curfew. John B had to make you suffer, leaving you alone with JJ himself to clean up.

“Captain,” you greeted, offering a pretend salute to him.

“Madam,” he responds, bowing. “Ahoy.”

The two of you laugh, the running gag a big thing to the two of you. It’s fun, that’s it. And it’s so easy to be with him. Who’s to say what you have right now wouldn’t be ruined by the truth you hide in your heart?

On school days, you’d have pushed to get home already but it wouldn’t be so bad now, seeing that you’re already there. You sit at the stern, still holding the can of soda you had yet to finish; it had gone warm.

To your surprise, JJ sits next to you.

“Pope, huh?”

Nope, I’m just stupid. Please know I like you. Or don’t. Yep, better that you don’t.

“It’s just a crush,” you tell him, brushing it off. Please talk about something else instead.

“Those can hurt too, you know.” JJ sits down next to you, dipping his feet into the water, playing with the ripples that followed wherever he brought it. You did the same thing.

You snort. “Like you’d know anything about that, Captain Maybank.”

JJ shrugged. “Eh, what do you know, the ladies wanna cruise with me.”

“Aw, you have your way with words, you know that?”

Silence. A good one? You decide it is anyway.

You raise your feet off the water, waiting until your side stilled before tapping at the surface with your toe. A good webbed ripple danced along the water. Ripple by ripple, it’s beautiful. It brings the same kind of satisfaction you get when dominoes fall on each other and the sound of it all going down is consistent.

All was well until the urge to confess came.

“You’d like anybody but me, wouldn’t you?” JJ said, causing you to almost tip over. Thankfully, you caught yourself before the worst could attack.

“What?”

“Kidding,” he said, but the breeziness in it was gone. “Captains make jokes.”

Silence once more. Probably not the best kind.

“I lied,” you find yourself saying. Fuck. No turning back. You can’t take back a ripple or rearrange dominoes once one has already been tipped over. “I’ve been lying and I am so, so, sorry and this is probably a bad idea because I have no escape because we’re in the middle of night waters and I can’t drive the damn boat in case you freeze and–”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” JJ said, laughing. You do, but only because you would die if you don’t. “Okay, go on.”

“And – and – uh, where was I? Right! I guess what I’m just trying to say is this is stupid but I like you and I only said I liked John B and Pope is because I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because I know you see me as a friend, and, well, I mean, don’t you?”

“Oh,” JJ said.

“Fuck, I am so, so, sorry. Just — just forget I ever said anything and pretend I’m hammered and just bring us back to the docks—”

“Can I kiss you?”

You froze, evidently not because of the cold, but probably partly that as well. “What?

“Well, I can’t not ask for permission first, you know,” he said, laughing. He watched you for a while, but you said nothing, for probably a solid forever. “So, uh, can I?”

“Is it a pity kiss?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” And he inched closer, and the closer he went, the more your heart did the stupid thing it always does at the sight of anything remotely close to affection.

But what came next could’ve killed you in the best way possible – his lips were on yours for the first time, and your hands were awkwardly placed on your lap, unsure if it was still mobile. Was it?

——

It was more than just a pity kiss. The following weeks were enough to answer that; you’d never been so happy. So much more time spent on the boat, most of which were spent with just the two of you taking advantage of each other’s company.

Surprisingly, he attended school more. It’s fun, it’s great, it’s everything you could ever ask for and more. He knew you so well, and you him.

A routine of Captains and Madams just made you warm all over, and you hated the warm. It’s hard to explain, really. You’d never had anything like it. It’s something you can’t just write, something words couldn’t account for, and it’s well known that words do a lot of work.

It’s, as general and as direct as you can explain it, brilliant.

“Why do you even like me?” you ask him on a Friday night when he’d excused the two of you from your friends, hanging out in the same place you two had let out the truths out of you.

JJ looked at you with that same smile you had always longed to see. “Why don’t I?”

“That’s such a cowardly answer!” you teased. “I’m kidding, it’s a good answer. I just want you to elaborate.”

Was it weird that as of this moment, you are holding the hand of someone you never thought you’d be more than friends with? Totally. In a good weird, though.

He began to count with his free hand, listing off things he likes about you. “You’re funny, you’re pretty, you’re smart, you’re . . . you. You’re [Y/N]. And I like that I don’t have to pretend to be someone else with you. I like that I like me with you.”

“Hm, is it just me or is JJ Maybank getting all moochy with me?”

“That he is, and rightfully so.”

The two of you played with the ripples more that night, watching the moonlight distort along its surface, and with it your faces.

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[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.

[mystic-sky]

A/N: here’s Part 2/4💘 I told y’all I’m gonna finish this and I will. this short series is NSFW. Enjoy 😭❤️

✨part 1 here✨ | ✨parts 3 & 4 on ao3 only✨

Some would say this was entirely unnecessary, perhaps even a little too casual for work. But you know when you have one of those really good friends you’d do anything for? The kind you’d spend money on without a second thought? That’s how you felt about Suguru. You could call him whenever you wanted and he’d come fix up your car for you, help you lift things, or just lend you his ear. He was an extremely good listener, and he was always there for you. It was hard to believe such a sweet guy could be friends with Satoru. It was also hard to believe how you could ever favor Satoru more.

You were incredibly excited to give Suguru all the things you had gotten him over the weekend. Then, like a raining brick shower, did you remember that he came to your work place, with Satoru, and you anonymously gave him a lap dance. And now, you have to talk to both of them like you weren’t shaking your ass in their faces the night before. Tough.

You questioned all your life decisions as you anxiously dialed Shoko. You told her it was urgent and that you needed help with the gift bags, as well as time for girl talk and morning coffee before work. 

When she arrived you graciously hugged her, whining and crying her name as you reached over the arm rest. 

“You didn’t tell anyone where I worked at, right?” You say, tear stricken and panicked as you peer at her through wet eyes. She shot you an almost betrayed look. When did you start thinking she could be that menacing? 

“No- are you crying? Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She pushed you away, staring worriedly with baggy under eyes.

“Suguru and Satoru showed up to my other job last night.” You shrieked, leaning against the wheel of your car and burrowing your head in your arms. 

“I did have a blindfold on but I don’t know if they knew it was me.” You say, muffling your embarrassment. 

Shoko could’ve laughed a bit, picking up her iced coffee. 

“You always did talk about giving Satoru the dance of his life to put his pitiful attitude in check.” She said, unpackaging the straw and stabbing the lid.

“Shoko!” 

“What? Your words not mine.” She said smugly. 

“I mean that’s how I felt but then he actually showed up! And then he gave my co worker his number to give to me! He definitely knows it’s me!”

“Why would he give it to you again on a piece of paper if he knew it was you?” Shoko quizzed. 

“To fuck with me, obviously.” You mutter, sinking into the drivers seat. “That’s Satoru shit.”

She swished her coffee around, further mixing her creamer. “That does sound like Satoru behavior.”

“Shoko!” You whined again. “How the heck am I supposed to face him? Not to mention, I got Suguru all this stuff and I was so excited to give it to him. You think he knows too? And what if he didn’t know but Satoru told him? Ugh- my head hurts.” You say, taking up your coffee and plunging the lid with your own straw. 

“How good was your blindfold?” She raises a brow at you.

“I looked like Harley Quinn’s knock off stripper sister.” Shoko let a laugh, earning a grunt from you.

“Okay okay, so they probably don’t know. But I would just suck it up and act like you don’t know anything either. Like an ‘I know that you know that I know’ kinda situation? But you’re not gonna do anything about it- kinda thing.”

“And you could always switch jobs if you’re that mortified. Poor Suguru, and his gifts though. It seems like Satoru ruins everything for him.” She sighed. 

Shoko had a way of pretending like things weren’t as bad as they were, and though sometimes it bothered you, talking to her helped you relax.

“I forgot to mention I gave Suguru a dance.” You sink more into your chair, covering your face.

“Oh then they definitely know.” She teased.

“Shoko!!!” You whined again.

“I’m kidding! There’s no guarantee that they know or don’t know.” Shoko said, placing her coffee down. “I would fake it until you can’t.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole. Couldn’t you just live a peaceful life?

“I have to move away and change my name, it’s the only way.” You cried. 

“Let me help you get the bags,” Shoko said, stepping out the car and ignoring you entirely.

“I was only messing with you, they don’t know a thing. I overheard the two of them inside talking about how nice the place was. They didn’t mention anything in particular while I was clocking in.”

You panicked anyway. Why would they?

“Now up and out, you can’t hide in your car forever.”

You sluggishly climbed out the vehicle and opened your trunk. 

“If it makes you feel better I’ll ask them about it for you.” Shoko helped you gather Suguru’s gifts and you went inside.

Just relax, (Name). Be cool, be cool. 

You were dazed, deep in thought as you and Shoko walked through the halls. You never regretted giving anyone a lap dance during your entire dancing career. You honestly don’t know what came over you. All you wanted was to make Satoru’s mouth water. It’s not like you didn’t already have his attention with his constant flirting at work but still, why did you have to be so gutsy?

You set the gifts down on your desk, before slumping into your office chair. 

“Good morning!” You heard the white haired devil chirp through the door way, knocking ever so lightly on the already opened door. Suguru trailed in quietly behind him, greeting you and Shoko.

“Morning!” Suguru hummed, taking a delicate sip from his coffee. 

You shyly waved, before Shoko spoke. “How was your night out?” 

Breaking the ice for us all Shoko, I thank the heavens and earth for your existence.

“It was great! Wish you guys could’ve been there. Fanciest club I’ve ever been to, like ever.” Satoru spoke, shoving his hands in his pocket. 

“It was cool. I still would’ve rather went to dinner with everyone.” Suguru shrugged, setting his coffee on his desk. You watched Satoru approach your table, quickly changing the subject of conversation. 

“What’s all this?” He quizzed, looking down at your sheepish body in your chair. Did they really not know? Or were they possibly pretending not to?

“T-These are gifts, for Suguru,” you stand, feeling a bit more confident. The dark haired male perked up at you, before walking towards your desk.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he sighed. You could see the soft smile edging on his lips as he looked down at you. “And then you spoil me like this? People are gonna think we’re dating, you know?” 

You swore you heard Satoru scoff.

“Hush, I told you it’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re always helping me out without asking. You deserve to be spoiled!” You say firmly, hands on your hips. He blushed a bit, realizing he wouldn’t be able to argue with you if he tried.

“You never spoil me this much on my birthday,” Satoru pouted, quickly inserting himself between the two of you, both verbally and physically.

“You’ve got to make your mark on people Satoru,” Shoko said, taking a seat behind her desk.

“I spoil all my friends as needed.” You say, crossing your arms proudly. “If you were a little nicer, maybe I wouldn’t think twice about buying you a bunch of nice things. Besides, your mistresses spoil you plenty.” 

“Mistresses? What mistresses? (Name) it hurts my feelings when you talk like that.” Satoru put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“You have feelings?” Everyone but Satoru said this in unison, resulting the room to fill with heavy laughter. 

“Oooo so funny.” He said sarcastically, keeping the straightest face.

“If you’re good to me for the rest of the year I’ll get you something nice.” You say, soothing the wound you all gave him.

“But it’s not your birthday right now, is it?” You say, flipping your hair and shifting behind Suguru. You gave him a little push.

“Go head, open them!” You say excitedly. Suguru lets out a soft laugh, before digging into his bounty.

After watching him open his gifts while Satoru graciously recorded the entire moment for his Instagram, the white haired fiend sparked up an idea.

“So, since Suguru kept saying he wanted to do something with everyone I thought we could take a getaway trip this weekend to my folk’s place in the country side.”

“Just us 4?” Shoko asked. “And are you sure we won’t be bothering your parents?” 

“Oh no, this is their vacation house. They only go on the holidays. Also, Nanami is definitely coming!” Satoru cooed.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Shoko swooned.

“I haven’t seen Nanami in so long. This should be exciting.” You clasp your hands together delightedly.

“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t actually ask Nanami if he wanted to come yet...” Geto squinted at Satoru, who smiled childishly.

“Nanami loves me. He is coming by default.” He says proudly. “Speaking of, I have to go meet with him tomorrow to take care of some business. So unfortunately, I won’t be able to train with Megumi. (Name) do you think you could pick him up from school for me tomorrow?”

“The middle schooler you’ve been teaching? Why do I have to do it?” You ask, swaying your hips as you look at him.

“Because~” he sung.

“Because...?”

“He’s been talking about meeting you!” He gleamed.

“Has he really? Are you talking about me behind my back or something? How does the kid even know who I am?” 

“Of course! I’ve told him plenty stories about the all powerful (Name)! The mightiest jujutsu sorceress to date.” He was clearly just trying to flatter you.

“Fine, I’ll pick up the kid.” You roll your eyes.

“Yay~” He says, casually hugging you. He always did that, not that you actually minded. And you knew he knew it got to you every time, hearing him smirk as you push him off. You force back a blush as Suguru speaks.

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he smirks with him a bit.

“I just wanted him to stop talking.” You say, grabbing your purse. You could hear Shoko attempting to stifle a laugh behind you. 

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. I have a class to teach.”  You waved goodbye, on your way to cater to the class of second years you were currently responsible for.

You were finally able to relax, feeling like your dancer identity was safe. Now, all you have to do is forget the lap dance and pray to whatever God there is that neither of them would come back. You proceeded to take out your phone and text your club manager, asking for the weekend off. You were lucky she was so lenient. 

The work day lasted longer than you’d liked to, and you hadn’t stayed behind to chat with anyone. Shoko knew you were always keen on going home to shower and relax a bit before your shift at the club.

You were in the club locker room, just barely after 10pm. You wanted to ask Tasty for juicy details on Suguru. You were eager to know if he had texted her or had talked of coming back. Fortunately for you at the same time, she was off today. To you, this decreased the likelihood of seeing the dark haired male and his devilish best friend. That is, if he truly liked her enough to come back.

You were wearing a more revealing set this evening- a suede, pink two piece. You made sure your heel straps were tight enough around your ankles before walking out onto the floor to do your first 10 minute set of the evening. You spun on the pole, climbing gracefully. The higher you went, the more dollars being thrown. You slid down the pole, connecting your body to the floor with a split. You crawled lionlike towards the edge the stage, greeting some of your regulars who sat towards the front. Flipping your body, you get up smoothly ending the routine and collecting your bounty.

As you walked down the stage and made your way towards the bar, you could see the silhouette of a tall, white haired male, speaking to the bartender. His body was turned away from you, and he was ordering a drink as if he just got there. 

You knew it was him. You could recognize his cocky stance just about anywhere. You dropped to the floor, crawling away and earning stares from plenty of your coworkers and customers alike. Oh I’m definitely quitting, you thought.

You managed to crawl back towards the locker room. 

“This cannot become a routine,” you clutched your chest. It felt like you were having another mini heart attack like the night before. Did he just decide this was his new favorite spot? You could’ve sworn you were in the clear. And two days in a row?

He knows, he has to. Should you confront him? Twice was too many times. You almost can picture his smug face out there right now. You’re a bit angry that he had the nerve to come back again, but a portion of you, the little devil inside you- wanted him to watch you dance again.

Then you remembered Shoko’s words. Fake it until you can’t anymore. 

If he wanted to play, then you’d give him exactly what he wanted. You opened your locker, fiddling around through your costumes and head coverings. You took hold of the a pink masquerade mask you had left over from a theme night at the club a few weeks ago. 

“This should do.” You say, sliding on the seductive looking mask and fixing your hair in the the mirror.  You struck a pose, before flipping your hair in satisfaction and strutting out of the room. You walked past a few regulars, and made yourself comfortable by the bar area. You decided you’d dance around everyone but him. 

Satoru took note of your scent first, realizing your feminine force was behind him. He sipped his drink before spinning in his barstool to look at you dancing amongst the other customers. He adjusted his sunglasses, taking in the sight of you.

The set you wore was more revealing than the one from yesterday. He felt like he truly missed out the night before as he watched you drag your hand down the chest of a stranger, feeling a bit envious. His length felt tight in his jeans yet again. But he was a smooth guy, he knew exactly how to make you come to him. 

You noticed him get up from the bar, walking away from where you danced. You couldn’t help but get distracted and anxious. You didn’t want Satoru anywhere you couldn’t see him. You almost jumped when your club’s bouncer, Ravi, approached you in the middle of your mini lap dance. 

“Candy, the tall guy,” he tried not to point, “the white haired one with dark glasses wants a private dance.” Satoru approached the bouncer earlier when he first came in, pre-requesting a dance from you and tipping him a hefty amount for it. Though he’d explained he’d be fine if you declined it, he truly just wanted to see just how far he could get.

You stared at the thick wad of cash that stuck out of the pocket of Ravi’s dress shirt. You knew Satoru had the guts to ask you directly, but it was more so that he was that much of an asshole, who simply wanted you to approach him on your own.

Ravi then pointed loosely with his chin at Satoru, who had been sitting on the sofa on the other side of the club now.

You nodded, assuring Ravi you weren’t going to keep him waiting. You walked slowly towards him, he barely made eye contact with you. 

Fake it until you can’t.

“Hey handsome,” you lean over the railing, displaying your breasts right beside him. He perked up a bit, though he briefly watched you walk towards him beforehand. He sparks a grin, and you can see blue orbs peering ever so slightly over the edges of his glasses. 

“Hey,” he confidently sits back, not even shy about looking at your breasts.

“Have you been here before?” A classic conversation starter, but were you were  attempting to poke fun at the awkward situation. 

“Ahh, yes! Ms. Number One, from the private dancer line up. I was here yesterday with my friend.” He took a sip from his glass. “But I don’t expect you to remember. You’re a very busy, and talented woman.” 

You bite back a blush, “Thank you.” 

“A little birdie told me you wanted a private dance,” you maneuvered around the railing but still leaned against it. 

“Oh yeah,” he preferred not to waste time. He pulled a thick and wrapped stack of cash from his shirt and placed it on the table in front of you. You tried your best to keep your eyes from widening. The currency strap read $5000. 

“A private dance in the private booth costs a hundred.” You felt inclined to remind him as the both the stack and him stared back at you. “And if you wanted the highest package it’s $500 with champagne and refreshments included for the hour, typically for a group.”

“It says that on your website,” he nods, clearly already knowing the information. You almost squint at him before he speaks again.

“Also, I figured I’d pay you enough to go home for the night if you felt like it.” He shrugged. The Gojo family clearly had it well for him to just toss five thousand dollars at a stranger. You shivered when you remembered counting your earnings from the night before, two thirds of the pile being from Satoru. 

A part of you felt like ripping your mask off and asking him to go home. Your awkward silence made him stifle a laugh.

“Candy, baby girl, is somethin’ wrong?”

You knew he knew you were blushing, even with your mask. But you promised yourself one thing after leaving the locker room- you would bring him to his knees. And if  he wanted to play, you’d be sure to win.

“Alright hot stuff, come with me.” You used a finger to slide the stack towards you before picking it up. 

He grinned at you before you brought him to one of the private rooms. Everything was preset up considering Ravi saw you warming him up prior.

Satoru made himself comfortable in the soft velvet cushions and red lighting. You sat beside him, taking hold of one of the champagne bottles from the ice bucket. You popped it open, causing some of the foam to splatter onto your breasts and stomach.

“Whoops,” you said playfully. You always liked to tease with the exclusive dances. He bites his lip while he watches you fill both of your glasses, taking up one soon after.

“Do you guys have candy here?”

“Only mints by the bar. Did you want something sweet?” That’s so like him, you thought.

“Nah, mints don’t count.” He shook his head. “Chocolate anything?”

“We have chocolate-covered strawberries,” you suggest.

“That’ll do,” he clutches one of the heart shaped pillows, flashing smile.

You rung the bell on the wall, speaking into the microphone beside it to make the request before plopping beside him.

“You’ve got me for the hour,” you leant towards him, crossing your legs. “So let’s make it count.”

“I was hoping we could talk for a bit first,” he said, swishing the liquid in his glass. You almost panicked, but quickly spoke up.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You lean your arm on edge of the couch. It wasn’t uncommon for guys to request dances from you just for you to listen to their qualms for the hour. Although, you never pictured Satoru as the type to do so. Actually scratch that— you settled into the sofa, preparing to hear him ramble on about himself. You made sure to keep eye contact with him, making it known you were indeed listening.

“I got a thing for this girl— she’s amazing. She hates me though. Granted, I’ve been an asshole since high school. I think she’s into my best friend, although he promises me it’s nothing like that.”

“Have you tried flirting with her?” Satoru was infamous for being a casual, serial dater. You wondered who she could be. Just because you were in his inner circle didn’t necessarily mean this girl was you or anyone you might’ve known. But you couldn’t help but put yourself into perspective anyway. 

“Yeah, but she’s pretty mean though.” He grinned, “To me.”

“And that makes you happy?” You questioned.

“I mean, obviously it doesn’t.” He clarified, realizing just how crazy he looked in that moment. “Oddly enough, I’d like to think she likes me back a bit.”

“Sounds kiddish right?” He chuckles. “Like is she a middle schooler or something? She’s been playing hard to get for a while now.” 

You twitch your eye a bit, was he really that full of himself? 

“She probably doesn’t like you. You shouldn’t try to read between the lines. Have you ever asked her directly if she does?” You reason, trying to humble him a bit.

“Nah, I guess I’m just afraid to ask her the right way.” He cocked his head back, earning a confused look from you. You never knew Satoru could be afraid of anything. He was seemingly a fearless person and he was the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer to date.

“Could you elaborate?” You poked.

“She’s the only woman whose ever rejected me. Can you believe that?”

You’re partially amused, these truly were the thoughts in his head— you were sure of it.

“What I mean mostly is that I think she’s an idiot,” he chuckled. You almost broke into laughter.

“For rejecting you?” 

“No, no, no— well, maybe. I think she’s incredibly dense. I’ve known her for like 10 years. That or she just tunes out my advances.” He scoffs. 

“Everyone else knows it’s obvious I still like her. I think the reason why I’m never direct with my feelings, or the reason I boil it down to casual flirting is because I’m scared of her rejecting me again.” 

“The first time was when we were both seniors in high school. She told me to try again after I learned some ‘compassion’. It feels like she’s somewhat interested in me. And I hardly think I need to learn anything— but it’s been years since she said that.” He adds.

He hadn’t looked at you the entire time, sort of ogling at his drink before setting it down. 

He was unraveling in front of you, as a complete stranger.

“You get this a lot— the sappy talks, right?”

You nodded, “It’s no big deal.”

“I promise I’m not like this all the time.”

A clearer look inside Satoru’s mind was interesting, to say the least. You don’t think he acted this way on purpose. Perhaps, nothing has pushed him into such a corner for him to begin actively taking people’s feelings into account the way the average person might.

He huffed. “What would you do?”

You pondered for a bit, what would you do? You weren’t sure who the mystery woman he described was but you felt a little jealous, trying to wrap your head around the idea of him being this smitten over someone. He had given you a taste of himself, something he dared not to show you when you weren’t wearing the mask.

“Be direct next time you approach her. Stop playing around so much and tell her how you really feel. Nothing too grand, and try your best to understand her if she rejects you again. You’re a handsome guy, so it won’t be the end of the world if she does.” You explain.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive by saying that last part either.” You added. Though his head was cocked back, his gaze shifted towards you. He hardly looked worried or sad at all. He shot you a toothy smirk, making you squirm in your seat a bit.

“I know that,” he finally says. There he was again, being his typical arrogant self. “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll see me back here again.”

Dear God, Satoru becoming one of your regulars? You didn’t know if you could handle that. You could just work in a different club. Lord, let this mystery woman scoop him up, and make your life easier. 

The thought of him coming regularly just to see you made you happy sort of, but you found yourself getting jealous for the days you wouldn’t work. Suddenly, you didn’t want anyone else dancing for him. It had to be you.

“Woah, you okay?” He tilted his head towards you. You held your cheeks in your hand. If you were a kettle, you’d physically be steaming.

“You’ve got a cute side, Ms. Candy. That’s precious.” He leant forward, glasses sliding down his nose a bit. No matter how long you’ve known him, he would still give you butterflies just like when you were younger.

The server entered the room, placing the strawberries that he ordered onto the table. You watched him take off his shades and hang them on his shirt.

“Fuck yes,” he grinned, picking up one of the chocolate covered fruits. You watched him take a bite, tugging on your own bottom lip. He slid his tongue between two fingers, blue orbs just barely glinting at you. He hummed in delight as you awed at him. Really, everything about him was perfect aside from his flawed personality. You would’ve been dating him already if you felt he’d be a good boyfriend. He was obviously and unfairly attractive. You were positive the sex would be good too, considering you heard more than satisfactory things. He was tall, and wealthy, and strong and talented. He was just a shitty person sometimes. 

Somehow you liked him all this time, he’s been the only man whose kept your interest. That’s partially because he was persistent, in the most attractive and appealing way. But you’re adults now, maybe you should stop playing around so much. 

Did you even have time to change your mind with this mystery girl in the way?

“I think I’m ready for my dance now,” he said smugly, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course baby. Just sit back and relax.” You had to remind yourself, you’re Candy right now, and not (Name). 

He sunk back into the sofa, spreading his legs as you got up and positioned yourself in front of him. He spreads his long arms on the head of the sofa, slight smile leaking at the corners of his lips. 

You swayed your body, giving him a show. It was finally happening. You were giving him the very thing you fantasized about since you started dancing. You climbed onto his lap, grinding against him as the music played in tandem with your hips. He seemed elated, and not even remotely ashamed of the growing bulge in his jeans. You were feeling antsy, watching him with his arms sprawled out like that.

“I don’t normally let people touch me during my dances, but you can if you want.” You weren’t supposed to sound so shy when you said it. 

“You’re being extremely generous, I’ll tip you again, for sure baby.”

You felt his large, hot hands connect with your back, running down the smooth skin. You smiled smugly, looking down at him. You grinded against him some more, feeling his bulge confidently poke against your sex.

All you ever wanted was for him to touch you like this. You were mad at yourself for holding out this long— why did his hands feel so good against your bare skin?

Possibly just because you liked him, and that amplified the experience. 

Lost in the moment, you felt your hands run through the smooth fade of his undercut while you humped his lap. The amount of stimulation this gave the both of you was astounding. You heard a soft groan leave his lips, rising color out of your cheeks. 

You brought a finger to the string of your outfits top, pulling it undone and gracing him with the sight of your breasts as you tossed the fabric on the sofa. He was sort of surprised, but his facial expression was nothing short of cocky. It wasn’t the first time a stranger stripped top-less for him, and coincidentally, making panties drop was his hobby.

“Oh~?” 

His voice was terrifically deep, you never knew he could drop an octave this low. You’d usually be talking up a storm, doting on your customers with compliments and saying appropriately reassuring things. The entire experience was weird, having your childhood crush grope you and nuzzle his face into your breasts hadn’t been on your to do list for the evening.

He hummed against the skin in the center of your chest, sending vibrations up your spine.

“I know I’m pushing it, considering this is nothing but a service agreement, but I’d be happy to make you feel good— if you want me to, that is.” 

You looked down at him, knowing the mask you wore couldn’t save you from him noticing the blushing look on your face. 

“Just what do you take me for?” You’re being playful about it, wrapping your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not offended. 

“A hard working woman. I envy the man who gets to spoil you.” 

You couldn’t think of a response, and you assumed he caught on due to the way your lips parted and no sound emerged. 

“Ohh-hoh??? There isn’t one, is there?”

He stole the show from you, and now you’re sitting in his lap like some sort of blushing sheep. 

“That makes me feel sort of special,” he purred, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a dainty moan, grinding harder against him. You were no longer grinding along with the music, just finding a rhythm that would satisfy the both of you. He grunted at your sudden change in pace, his searing hot breath against your skin.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, nipple between his teeth.

“What about the girl you like?” You found yourself regretting even saying that, considering you were supposed to be a neutral party.

“You jealous?” 

You suck in your bottom lip, barely forming a pout. He truly was an asshole to everyone. It didn’t even matter if someone was on top of him. Before you’re able to say anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t be.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the center of your chest, heightening the crimson hues on your cheeks. His soft lips unfortunately tore from your body when his phone rang. He slipped the thing from his jacket pocket, answering the call. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30.” He said finally after following subsequent huffs. He ended the call, looking back up at you with apologetic eyes.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” he was pained to say it. He was having too much fun. 

“That’s alright.” You say, sliding your leg off him and finding your top.

He stood, straightening his clothes whilst muttering what you barely made out as ‘fuckin’ Nanami’ through his teeth. You almost laughed, as you tied your top back on.

“Candy, baby, I’m sorry. Guess I’ll have to come back again.” He looked too happy to say it.

“Before your confession?” You say smugly. “Or after?”

“No no, I’m a man of my word. I’ll come back only under those conditions I mentioned.” He says.

“I wish you the best of luck.” You say, crossing your legs.

“You’re rooting for me? You really don’t wanna see me again.” He chuckled as he towered over you, his blue gaze now covered by his glasses again.

“I’m always rooting for my customers.” You smile slyly.

His grin softened, and you wish you knew why he was looking at you like that.

“See you around, Ms. Candy.”

He waved goodbye as he exited the room, finally allowing you a some relief. Hopefully this chick doesn’t reject him, you thought.

Even though he probably wouldn’t come back, you thought about quitting and working elsewhere anyway. You tore off your mask, pushing your hair back out of your face.

You really didn’t want to have to wear one of these again.

[sugako]

cold, cold, cold

pairing: timeskip!tsukki x gn!reader summary: there’s a little too much tension between you and your annoying co-worker at the museum after hours  warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, semi-public (no one sees), light degradation (very soft imo), quickie a/n: psa do not fuck in a museum.. as someone who has worked in multiple museums i feel need to say this,, also yes, ‘sherd’ is a word

Tsukishima was always around. Not that it was difficult working at a relatively small place. Something about him bothered you, but you couldn’t really figure it out. Maybe it was how he always seemed to sneer at you, or how he commented on your taste in music any time he stuck his head in your office, or how he never seemed to be in a truly pleasant mood. 

At first, you had even thought he was kind of cute albeit a bit awkward. Then you realized he was just selective and a bit haughty. You couldn’t help but think it had to be a front. He was never outright mean to you, although he certainly didn’t stop himself from criticizing you. Much to your dismay, his criticism were generally valid. 

You tried to ignore your own mixed emotions and confusion as you sat in the back of the frigid storage room gently dry brushing a sherd of Hagi ware from some long forgotten collection that had been neglected. 

“Oh, you’re still here.” His deadpan voice struck some fiery chord in your heart, but you simply glanced up. “Everyone else left.” 

“Yeah, I got caught up cleaning these.” You groan as you stretch back in your seat, bones creaking from having been hunched over for so long. “Why are you still here?” 

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted the stack of papers and bag in his hands and sauntered toward you. 

“An interesting song choice. You shouldn’t listen to music while you work, you know.”

You groaned quietly at his condescending attitude as you began shuffling the small piece back into its bag with its museum tag and a little info-note you had written for reference. He set his bag and papers on the table with a small thud.

“I’m allowed to listen to music. Besides, you do it all the time.” 

“You’re allowed, but you shouldn’t listen to such bad music.” He chuckled, snatching your phone of the edge of the work table before you could react. As fast as you could, you jogged over to the sink to give your dust stained hands a quick rinse. With an overly contented sigh, he pressed the pause button. “Isn’t that better?” 

You expectantly held out your hand. “Tsukishima.” You said sharply. 

He cocked an eyebrow, but your angry expression only seemed to egg him on. With a wicked grin he held the phone up beside his head. 

“What?” He asked innocently. 

“Tsukishima,” you urged, “we’re not playing this game.” This was embarrassing, but you couldn’t figure out for you or him. “We’re not ten, just give me it back.” 

“If you agree to listen to better music.” 

You wanted so badly to wipe the stupid smirk off his face, but deep inside you felt there was something a little alluring about it. Even if this situation was laughable at best. Sighing dramatically, you reached up for your phone. “Depends on what you think is ‘better’ music.” Standing up and straining your arm, you didn’t even notice how close you had gotten or how close your foot was too a loose power cord on the ground. 

He hadn’t been entirely steady in his stance, so when you came crashing into him, he went down hard into the cool concrete floor taking you with him. His hand that wasn’t clutching your sleeve was still miraculously clutching your phone. You wrapped your legs under his to trap him and clawed for your phone. 

“Stop, this is ridiculous!” You whined, tugging against his iron grip. 

“You pushed me over. You never look where you’re going.” He quipped back. 

“I only ran into you that one time because you’re so freakishly tall!” 

“You ran into me twice! Apparently you can’t count either.” 

“Who cares?!” 

“The curator should. If you can’t count to two, how can you count artifacts?” 

“What are you even... just shut up, you’re always so-!” 

The grip his fingers had slipped up a little and your ass flew back into his hips. Hard. When you shifted a little in an attempt to free your limbs from him, you felt it. His long cocking pressing sharply into your thigh. 

You gasp and flinch just enough that he notices. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open as he goes to apologize, desperately trying to get out from under you. 

“This is what does it for you?” Your whisper is half full of wonder and half full of disgust. And he loves it. 

“N-no, you were just moving around so much. That doesn’t mean...” A deep blush lit up his cheeks as he attempted to sputter out some coherent set of words. 

You held back a chuckle as you sat back and stood. When you stuck out a hand for him to lift himself, he graciously took it, not meeting your eyes. 

“I’m just messing with you.” He doesn’t trust the smile on your face though. “But if you wanted to fuck me you should’ve just asked instead of acting like an insolent child.” 

Your hand tightened around his, keeping him locked close to you. 

“I was not acting like an insolent child.” He mumbled, though he made no attempt to move back from you. The look splayed across your face was far from joking. 

You didn’t know what you were doing. The phone thing had been annoying and embarrassing, but when you felt him harden up under you just from a little struggling and mean words it was like a switch flipped. You finally realized why you were so frustrated with him.

“That sounds like something an insolent child would say.” You breathe, maneuvering your fingers around so they were intertwined with his. His soft, shocked expression morphed as he made up his own mind about the situation. 

“You want to fuck me so bad.” He chuckled, an overpowering look gracing his features. 

You set your phone on the counter behind you and rolled your eyes. 

“You can’t stand to not be in charge, can you?” You took his other, very pliant, hand into your own. 

“I don’t care about being in charge when I know I’m right.” He said lowly, leaning into you. 

“Mhmm,” you humored him, leaning in as well. 

Before you could blink, a sloppy clacking of teeth and tongues knocked you back. Tsukishima grabbed your cheeks roughly. You clutched around his slender waist and pulled him into you. His hard cock strained against your front.

Normally so put together, his actions were so hurriedly messy now that he had you in his arms. Despite the fact that you didn't seem to get his humor or appreciate his critiques, he had found himself drawn to you from the day he saw you.

You brushed your fingers up his figure and into his light curls. The rugged tugs on his scalp make him moan into your mouth. His vibrations filled you with a sweet warmth, making you press even closer to him.

Finally, you tore him away by the back of his head. Panting unevenly, you struggled to get the words out. "Want you to fuck me." You breathed hotly into his ear.

"Here?" His condescending tone was marred by his shaking breath. "What a slutty thing to beg for."

"I-I'm not begging for anything." You growled, palming him roughly through his pants.

"So you don't want my cock, then?" His hands grabbed your ass and pushed you back just a few centimeters. "Is that why you look so desperate?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone who got hard over a little tug-of-war." You didn't move your eyes away from his as you unhooked his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

"I wish you would talk less." He groaned and tore himself away from you.

"Excuse me?" You were slumped against the empty counter behind you, incredulous as he rooted through his bag.

"Shut up," his eye roll was almost audible when he stood back and up and turned to you again. He held a little foil package in one hand, smirking. "Turn around and bend over."

The small urge you had to argue was strong, but the sight of his long cock weeping through his powder blue briefs was enough to make you easily comply. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat you clutched onto the edge of the freezing counter.

"Good." He hummed as he came up behind you. His fingers worked around your front to unbutton and rip your pants down. You craned your neck over your shoulder as he carefully opened the condom package and eased it over his long cock.

Shuddering, you relaxed toward the counter. His foot kicked between yours, spreading your legs wider. He watched with pure bliss as your hungry little hole clenched around nothing.

"Just fuck me already." You whined. Not being able to see him or what he was doing was creating a delightful mix of nervousness and excitement in the pit of your stomach.

"Well, I can't say no when you beg like that." He cooed into your ear. As you jumped back in surprise, he quickly slipped his thick cock head just past your entrance. You yelped at the sudden intrusion and tried your best to relax. "Sure you can take me?" He said lowly as he massaged your sides.

You scoffed. "Don't be so full of yourself."

"Alright then..."

In one smooth movement he bottomed out inside of you. As you screamed in both pleasure and dull pain, he clamped a hand over your mouth.

"You take me pretty well and I haven't even really touched you."

You muttered some agreement into his palm. Moving his hand away, he soothingly kneaded his fingers into your lower back, urging you to relax around him.

"Tell me when you can really take me."

"Please," you whined quietly, "move, please..."

He wanted to tell you to speak up, fluster you more than you already were, tease you until you couldn't form a sentence. But here and now wasn't the time or place. So instead, he started moving just as you had pleaded.

You cried out, desperately trying to quiet yourself although there was no one else there except the two of you, as he plunged in and out of your pulsing hole. Even though his strokes were fast and hard you could feel every inch, every vein and ridge. His little moans and gasps drew you closer and closer to the edge, but it wasn't enough.

With your hands trapped between your chest and the counter, you couldn't even move them to relieve yourself. Lost in your own pleasure, you barely noticed how your hips pushed back to meet his as he pounded into you.

"You're so good, please, fuck..." You babbled on.

Your little praises sent him over the edge. With your sweet encouraging, he sloppily thrusted into you, fingers digging deep bruises into your hips as he finally emptied himself into you. The syrupy pitched moan that left his throat made you shiver under him.

He slumped over you for a minute, holding you close. Finally, he pulled away, carefully pulling the condom off and neatly tying it up before tossing it into a nearby trash bin. With unsteady legs you pulled yourself and your pants up. By the time you turned around he already looked completely put back together as if he hadn't been mercilessly pounding into you a minute ago.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you didn't quite meet his eyes. "I didn't-"

"Come home with me."

"What?"

"I know you didn't cum, so if you want to you can come home with me and we can finish."

You couldn't help but smile at the blush that graced his cheeks. Trying your best to walk confidently on unsteady feet, you strode up to him and gave him a small kiss on the side of his lips.

"Let's go then."

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 4 Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: Ransom shows you a softer side, but when the table flips he leaves you with no doubt that he’s still just as dangerous as he has always been…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 4 to our submission for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. My writing partner @southerngracela​ is currently on an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr, and I’ve sadly no idea when she will be back. However, this chapter was pretty much finished before she took her break and the rest of the series is also planned out to finish, so as per her blessing before she took time out, I’m intending on finishing what we started.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 3

True to his word, Ransom had let you spend the day with him after Blanc's visit. It was a day interestingly enough your mind wandered back to, if not for the change in scenery, but for the change in his demeanour. A couple of weeks had since passed from then, but the memory was burned in your brain. And since, you'd spent far more than just a day above the confines of your room. Almost every morning since he’d ‘allowed’ you to make breakfast and most mornings, unless he was heading out to wherever he went, he then let you stay upstairs with him whilst he plugged away at the book he was writing. That in and of itself had come as a shock to you, to learn he was an aspiring author for sure, but you had simply nodded and encouraged him when he had told you. And you had quickly realised that when he was busy writing, you could get busy reading one of the many books or writing in your journal while sat in the large study and he left you pretty much alone.

Which is where you were currently sat now, curled up on the leather sofa as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his laptop, your journal open in your lap and a leather bound copy of ‘Great Expectations’ lay next to you, the page marked waiting for you to pick up from where you had left off the previous evening. As you thumbed the pages of your journal to find the next blank page, you had to smile at the little doodle of a Christmas tree that caught your eye in the top right hand corner of a page you’d written a few days back, the day you’d convinced Ransom that he should at least get one Christmas Tree. He’d obliged, had one; only the one, delivered and permitted you to decorate it how you’d wanted to and even managed a little smile when you stepped back and proudly showed the finished product to him. Then, of course, quid-pro-quo, he had had expected something in return which you’d given, because let’s face it, he’d have taken it anyway.

You’d seen a softer side to him that day, and not for the first time either. Granted, non-asshole Ransom wasn’t an everyday feature by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d seen it twice now. You paused, and then thumbed back a few pages to the day you were now remembering, the day you’d first been confronted with a very different Ransom to the one you were used to dealing with. One that came out of nowhere.

It was a wet day, an early winter storm passing through New England. You were sure it could have snowed but instead, it was just wet and cold. He'd come down with breakfast, instead of inviting you up. He'd brought you warm oatmeal with cream and cinnamon, a small bowl of blueberries on the side and a pinch dish of raisins, having forgotten how you took your oatmeal. A cup of coffee, steaming on the tray. He'd set up your breakfast on the table and sat across from you, not eating. He hadn't even brought coffee for himself. 

You'd assessed his mood as morose, distant even. You didn't press, but rather waited for him to out himself and his particular mood. You'd come to recognize when he was thinking and this morning, he was all thought and no presence. 

"I'll be gone most of the day," he finally came clean, just as you'd finished your oatmeal. 

"Okay," you replied. He hadn't ever really announced his plans to you before. He'd just come and go at all times as he'd liked, never leaving you home alone without the doors locked. This willingness to let you in on his plans for the day fielded a small red flag in your mind and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like this was a test. He said nothing else, just picked up your breakfast dishes and left. 

In the time he was gone, you'd managed to shower, nap, write and read. You were growing hungry for dinner, having had to skip lunch in his absence. Then you heard it, the tell-tale signs of his return. The clicks of doors and sounds of boots on the floor above you. The jingle of keys, and a few failed attempts at unlocking your door. A 'fuck' and a 'God damn it' before the door opened and there he stood. Soaked to the bone, dressed in all black from his coat to his toes. Was that ice on the tips of his hair? Was he drunk or just having a moment? Fingers frozen from the cold. 

'Jesus Christ, you're soaked.'  You said as you took him in. His lips looked a little discolored, his skin more alabaster than ivory. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed your throw from the chair as you passed it by. 'Get that coat off,' you pulled at its thick woolen collar. The heavy fabric peeled away from his broad shoulders and you let it fall to the floor. You heaved the throw over him and pulled it closed around his thick chest. 'You're not getting sick and leaving me here to rot.'

You moved to give him some space and guide himself further into the room, but ice cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes moved upwards from where his hand swallowed you're wrist, along the wet fabric of his black sweater, water droplet covered neck, to eyes that were lost and distant, just as they were that morning, but much worse. 

You were nearly as frozen as his fingers were, not sure what to say or do. Worried about consequence. So you just stared back. 

'Thank you', it was barely audible as the words poured from his lips. 

'Of course.' You weren't sure what he was thankful for but you replied anyway. Cautiously, you continued, 'Will you come sit down? Do you want something warm to drink?' You wanted to ask where he'd been but that was a slippery slope. 

'Not here,' he replied. 

'Upstairs then, in the lounge,' you suggested. He nodded and turned on his heel, a glance over his shoulder to see if you were coming. You followed, pulling your cardigan around you tightly as the chill from the basement filtered through you, or was it coming away from him, you weren't sure. 

You'd thought the lounge was where you were headed but instead, he'd headed for the kitchen, taking a seat at the table there. When he didn't provide instruction or conversation, you inhaled deeply and thought of something to warm you both from the inside-out. You felt his eyes on you as you gathered the ingredients you needed, cocoa, chocolate chips, milk. The cinnamon sticks from the cupboard. You were careful not to make too much of a clatter as you pulled the sauce pan from under the counter. 

In minutes, fresh hot chocolate was in two steaming mugs with whipped cream and freshly grated cinnamon. You handed him a mug and then sat across from him, your mug between your fingers. You watched as he sipped from his mug, blowing a little on the liquid before his lips touched it. His eyes closed as if he was stuck in a memory, his expression softening. 

His eyes opened and he sighed, 'I can't remember the last time I had something like this. I was just a kid, my nana was still alive. It amazes me how they turned out from the two of them.'

'Money changes people,' you commented. You assumed 'they' meant his family, or at least more specifically, his mother and her two brothers, one of which had been gone for years. 

He scoffed, 'fuck my family.'

Throwing caution to the wind, you asked, 'is that where you were?' You couldn't have guessed, given he was usually extremely angry and frustrated when he'd spent time with anyone in the Thrombey-Drysdale family tree. 

He frowned and nodded. 

'What happened?' You couldn't resist.

'Harlan's memorial.'

'Oh' . You said unable to think of anything else to respond with, because really what else could you say. He’d attended a memorial for the grandfather that would still be alive had it not been for him. 

'Oh, indeed,' he mused, long fingers flexing around the mug. 'Surely, you’ve figured out I wasn’t particularly welcome.' 

You couldn't say more, he wasn't wrong. You bit the inside of your lip and swallowed hard. He needed comfort. But would you give it to him? Was he deserving of that? Hell no, but your heart ached for him a little. It couldn't have been easy. But maybe this was his punishment for avoiding the ultimate consequence.

'Go on, say it.'

'Say what?' 

'That I deserve it.' He looked at you, 'I know that’s what you’re thinking.' He leaned back, 'maybe you’re right.' 

Well, that threw you. 'I don't know what I'm thinking, to be honest.' You leaned forward, intending to slip the mug from his hands and take them in yours, but you caught yourself and stopped. That was a step that you weren’t quite ready for, or willing as might be more accurate, to take. 'But, I can tell you're hurting and despite what happened, how it happened, you deserve to say goodbye without the rage and selfishness that got you here.'

'Well,' he leaned back and took another sip from his mug, 'that’s certainly not what they thought. Meg assured me I'm still the stuck up prick without my trust fund.'

A small smirk played over your lips, barely noticeable, 'fuck your family.' 

'Careful, Sweetheart,' he smirked, but there was no threat in his words, not this time. He was genuinely amused.

You managed a slight shrug, 'If there’s one thing I learned from writing about you and your ridiculously entitled family tree, it's that each and every one of you is all about everyone for themselves.' You took a deep breath, waiting for the repercussions to fall. 'What happened, happened. Now, this is what you have, so own it.' 

You flinched a little as his hand reached to scrub at his clean shaven chin, finger tracing his bottom lip as he studied you for a second before he took a deep breath and reached back for his mug. 'I think you need to make this for me more often.' He stated simply, and just like that, the deep foray into his emotions and psyche was over, and the barriers were closed once more.  

'Sure.' You nodded. 'Whatever you want.' 

At that he gave a little scoff. 'Sure, whatever I want.' 

Silence filled the room again, your mind not sure what to make of that last comment, and his was clearly working overtime, you could tell by the way his eyes were still glazed as he simply stared down at the mug in his hand. The rest of the time you sat by the table was quiet, and you were surprised to find yourself a little disappointed. This was the first real meaningful conversation you’d had with him since arriving here. Sure you’d talked, but never once had you got any insight into what exactly made him tick. You’d learned more in the last ten minutes or so than you had in the entire six weeks you’d been his captive.

His captive. 

The words echoed in your mind and you swallowed as you remembered exactly what it was you were doing here. This wasn’t by choice, this man wasn’t your friend or your lover, he was your captor, keeping you for his own entertainment, which he was no doubt going to be seeking from you again tonight.

'I think I need a shower,' he leaned forward, disturbing your thoughts.

'Okay,' You replied. 'I'll, uh, well you know where to find me when you're ready for me. Anything in particular you'd like me to wear tonight?' 

'No, not tonight,' he answered with assurance, his voice carrying a low yet soft tone. 'You can go read or whatever it is you do when I'm gone.' You blinked, temporarily dumfounded and he looked at you, snorting a little. 'What? You want me to come and have my way with you?' 

'Is that a trick question?' You blurted out before you could stop yourself, before you swallowed and waited for the admonishing, but it never came. Instead he chuckled and shook his head.  

'Didn’t think so.' With that he rose from his chair, reaching for your empty mug as he passed. His fingers lightly brushed yours and you were jolted by the sudden sparks that flew up your arm and you took a little breath as he passed, depositing your mugs in the sink. Without another word he breezed from the kitchen for the first time, leaving you alone in the room.

It left you perplexed. Completely and utterly perplexed. He never left you alone, even the weeks on your cycle he’d found other ways for you to satisfy him, with your mouth or your hand for instance, but tonight…

Taking a deep breath, you headed back to your room. You didn’t even look at the main door to the house, there was no point. It was always locked and you knew what the consequences would be if you left. Besides, you wouldn’t get far. Not to mention you had no idea where you actually where and the thought of being outside alone in the dark, frankly scared you to death. No, you were better here. At least you knew it was warm, and familiar.

You headed down the stairs and got ready for bed. You settled in with your book, and after a while your ears pricked up as you heard footsteps outside your room. You swallowed, clearly he had changed his mind. But, as you set your book aside, it wasn’t the sound of the door opening followed by his feet padding down the stairs that you heard, it was the lock clicking as he shut you in for the night.

The sound of the doorbell jerked you away from your memory. Ransom frowned and looked up from the screen of his laptop before his eyes caught yours and he gave a little smirk.

“Expecting someone?”

You rolled your eyes at his asshole joke and he chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone. As he saw who it was at the door his good humour slipped from his face and without another word he rose from his chair. He paused in the doorway and turned to you. “No funny business, remember…” 

 “Yes, I know.” You replied quietly. “You know where my family are.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and left the room to answer the door. 

The study wasn't far from the lounge merely the next room down, and the lounge was closest to the door so you tuned your focus to the voice speaking with Ransom. You recognized it and suddenly found yourself adjusting your tee and duster, making sure the cuffs on your jeans were even. You could hear the distress in his tone, the guest was unwanted and you hadn't realized you were now in the hall beside him. You noticed he took a step back towards you, as if he knew you were there. 

Linda Thrombey's eyes raked over you, in shock and disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?” 

As she glared, you shifted uncomfortably, your hands pulling on the sleeves of the duster sweater you wore as you swallowed.

“She’s with me.” Ransom replied, his tone even.

“With you as in 'with you'?” Linda turned her eyes back to him, distaste evident on her face.

“Is that a problem, Mother, because you know where the door is.”

It was a problem, you could see it in her face as she once more looked at you, but instead of sniping back she simply took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"No, I just wasn't aware you'd have company." Her eyes flicked back to Ransom who simply shrugged.

"Since when did you know anything about what I do on a daily basis, Mother?"

"Don't start, Ransom. I'm not in the mood and I didn't come here for a fight."

 "Then pray do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you stop being such a sarcastic little shit for once in your life?" she snapped.

You stilled a little, your eyes flicking to Ransom and you were surprised to find that instead of the usual anger you expected, his face remained passive on the whole, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that, well had it been anyone else you'd have sworn was concern. But Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn't concerned about anyone but himself...

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice still gruff but there was a softer note to his voice. Linda took a deep breath and she shook her head.

"I felt a call to tell you wasn't appropriate and this needed to be handled in person." She fixed him with a look. “It’s your Greatnanna Wanetta. She died last night, Ransom.”

You froze, hearing the news leave his mother's mouth and you suddenly felt sorry for him. Ransom, stood there stoic, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“Was it peaceful?” he eventually asked, his voice measured.

“In her sleep.” Linda replied, her tone soft.

Ransom stayed silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep breaths. His expression was unreadable as he simply looked at his Mother, before he raised his eyebrows inhaling slowly.

“Was there anything else?” He exhaled, and Linda simply shook her head at him, a huff of annoyed laughter escaping her.

“That’s all you have to say?” She asked, incredulously, as Ransom shrugged with a petulantly nonchalant air, and you saw Linda’s face redden as she exploded "Oh for God's sakes, Ransom, you really are such a selfish little bastard, aren't you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his tone measured. “You said it was peaceful and she didn’t suffer.”

“No, I said she went in her sleep.” Linda corrected him. “I imagine she did suffer, how could she not after everything that happened, huh? Hell, she probably died of a broken heart”.

At that you saw Ransom’ nostril’s flare as his eyes burned into Linda’s face, a flush of red rising up his neck.

"Get out," he deadpanned. When Linda made no attempt to move, Ransom stepped forward yanked open the front door of the house, gesturing with his arm. “I’m not gonna ask again. Go.”

"Ransom..." Linda tried to strong arm her way to stay.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?" Ransom replied, his voice didn't even raise in volume but something about it made you shiver. He was positively frightening when he was in this frame of mind.

You watched as Linda gave him a final glare and stepped outside without so much as a glance back, the slam of the door behind her making you jump.

Ransom saw his mother out but didn't return to the study, in fact he ignored Y/N's presence in the hall entirely. Instead, he sulkingly moved towards the wet bar in the lounge. He didn't even bother with the glass, he picked up the first bottle he could wrap his fingers around and white knuckled the neck, spinning the cap off, it clinking to the floor. He downed a long pull, the amber liquid burning sinfully as it coated his throat, his eyes stinging but not from the booze. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s soft voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hand over his face, and turned to look at her, his jaw clenching.

“Did I say you could leave the study? Did I say you could join the conversation with Linda?” His voice was steely, flat, but he knew full well that she understood that to mean he was pissed and she visibly recoiled in the doorway, her eyes widening. When she didn’t answer immediately he slammed the bottle he was holding down on the bar top, and when he spoke again his voice was louder as he demanded an answer. “Did I?”

“No.” She answered with a quiver, “But I…”

“But I…” he mocked, sneering before he scoffed. “You know considering how smart you’re supposed to be, at times you’re really fucking stupid.”

Y/N blinked a little, and opened her mouth to talk but she fumbled over her words as she frantically began to apologise, which simply served to irritate him even more. With a frustrated growl he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at his.

"You do as I say, when I say it. That rule has NEVER changed," his voice was filled with venom. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not...” she whimpered slightly, and the grip he had on her face tightened causing her to cry out. “Hugh, please!”

And there it was, that fucking name.

You immediately realised your mistake as his face burned red and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…you were hurting me and…”

“You think I give a shit?” He spat, and the hand suddenly released your face only to wrap painfully in your hair. Without so much as another word he began pulling you from the room, ignoring your shouts of pain and protest as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists, desperately trying to get him to release you. But it was no good, the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Before you knew what had happened he’d dragged you to the door that led to your room and down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly, causing you to stumble, harshly banging your knee on the bottom few steps where he finally released you, shoving you harshly. Your balance already gone, you stumbled and collided harshly with the side of the vanity table, the pain in your cheekbone causing you to yell out once more as the stars exploded in front of your eyes.

It took you a moment to shake off the daze, and when you finally did you looked up to see his retreating back heading up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. With a gasp you slumped down, your back against the wood of the dressing unit, your hand reaching up to your tender face. From somewhere upstairs in the house you heard another door slam, then a moment or so later there was a roar of an engine, which was followed by nothing but eerie silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest you let out a sob as the tears streaming as uncontrollably down your face.

***** All he could see was rage. Red, hot, firey rage. He slammed the basement door and didn't miss the bar cart on his way out, a full bottle of top shelf scotch in his hand, coat and keys in the other. He drove for miles, no destination in his conscious mind but a rather interesting one in his subconscious.

Headstones came into view until his SUV stopped at the end of the grassy knoll where the mausoleum stood surrounded by trees. He climbed out of the car, bottle clutched in his hand and shut the door behind him, simply leaning against the dark metal of his vehicle. For a long while, he didn't move, he simply stared at the entry, gulping large pulls of the scotch as he stared. His thoughts raced and raced, almost making him dizzy. It was that or the fast burn of the booze.

It felt like a flash of his life replaying in his mind. His great-nana, his grandparents, his parents, a life of entitlement growing up, parties, recreational drugs, booze, women, his fight with Harlan, his sudden plot to commit murder and then the crime, his arrest, and then the visions came to a halt with a mind bending pain and at the end of that pain was Y/N.

Her face, her scent, her voice. The way she felt beneath him, around him…those breathy, little moans, sighs. They’d connected recently, Ransom was sure of it, ever since he’d invited her upstairs and let her do something as mundane as cook. They talked more, engaged more, he no longer fucked her and left, instead he’d dress and hang around for a while, and he liked it. But then, today, after his Mother’s visit, those eyes which had mesmerised him from the moment he’d met her had once more reflected fear and confusion.

And Ransom didn’t like it.

Where that fear had, at one point, given him a buzz, now it simply served to remind him exactly how things had been when he had first taken her, and he didn’t like that one bit. He’d grown to crave the other things, like the way she would touch his arm or squeeze his hand. The way she smiled and spoke. The way she made him feel human, not some ghastly, beastly monster capable of killing someone. But he hurt her, more times than he wanted to admit. He hurt her and did things to her, he was vile and despicable. He WAS those things everyone said. 

He was a fucking monster.

He felt the upheaval of emotions begin to collapse around him and he fell to his knees. The sting started and he couldn't stop it. An outpouring of emotions, years, decades even of built up anger, resentment, unhappiness, disgust, fear, pain all erupted in a strangled cry as his chest heaved and his heart raced. Salty steaks of tears wet his cheeks.

And all Ransom Drysdale felt in that moment in time was utter defeat.

His Greatnanna, the only other member of his family who truly ever cared about him, that remained on his side or remotely understood him other than Harlan was now gone and the realization of loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks. His body shook, his chest ached, his mind grew numb and all he could do was cry. 

What the fuck had he become, WHO had he become? What did he do? Why did he do it? This was all his fault, Harlan didn't deserve to be cold in the ground. He did this, all of this. Again, but why?

He had absolutely no answer other than because he could. 

It grew cold, dark, and late. The scotch was gone, his eyes burned and he couldn't breathe through his nose. At this point he didn't care if he made it back in one piece. He was a piece of shit and deserved everything that came to him by way of a tragedy. He climbed into his SUV and tried to collect enough sobriety to drive towards home. Towards her.

******

You had no idea how long you sat on the floor, but by the time you finished crying and had mustered enough about you to move; you were cold, stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Your face hurt from the blow you’d taken against the dresser, your knee hurt from where you’d banged it but all that paled into insignificance to the pain that was going on inside your chest.

You didn’t understand why Ransom had flipped like he had. For a few weeks now, things had been okay between you, good even. He’d been reasonably amenable to most of your requests and dare you say it, almost happier in himself. But all this served to remind you what lay underneath that façade. A dangerous narcissist with the ability to swap his face and mood at the click of a finger.

Or, in this case, a visit from his mother.

You wiped at your face, hissing as your fingers brushed your tender cheekbone and with a slight whimper of pain you pushed yourself up off the floor and stumbled over to your bed where you lay down and curled up, hugging your pillow to your chest.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you recall it was dark and you were still cold. Whilst the basement was equipped with heaters, you couldn’t shake the chill from your bones so you decided that your best option to warm up, and ease your aches and pains was a nice, hot bath. Stretching out slightly, you gave yourself a moment before you pushed yourself up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand before you got up and headed into the bathroom, flicking on the light. 

You paused at the basin unit, glancing at your reflection and you swallowed at the sight of the bruise that was already forming around your right eye and cheek socket. Swallowing the emotion you felt at seeing your face marked once more in such a way, you turned your attention to the bath and the suddenly remembered that the other night Ransom had presented you with a bag from a Boutique you liked that sold home-made soaps and bath bombs, clearly having been in one of his good moods that day. You had yet to unpack it all and put it in the bathroom, so, deciding that you were going to use one tonight, you turned to head back and grab the bag, but as you emerged into the main part of your room, you were stopped short as a thick chest, covered in a ribbed white tee, a hint of a cardigan peeking out as broad shoulders kept warm by a camel coloured coat blocked your path.

You gasped and felt your belly drop out. Your body immediately began quaking in fear as he stood so close to you. You cowered away, taking a half step back but it wasn't enough to put space between you as his hand gently grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into his chest, a shriek emitting from your voice. 

"Don't," his voice cracked. "Don't scream, I'm not gonna..." his words trailed off and he just shook his head. 

He held you against him. You were sure he could feel you trembling as his large hands pressed against your back. You inhaled a deep, shaky breath through your nose and was met with his scent. He smelled so good, like an expensive aftershave with hints of amber and sandalwood, cedar and vanilla but there was an underlying, distinct aroma of alcohol, scotch you suspected, unless you were mistaken.  

You felt his face press into your hair as he took a large, shaky deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent, which he exhaled before he pulled away, his hands cupping your face. He tilted your face slightly so he could examine your left cheek and you saw him swallow as he took in your bruising. Something stirred behind his eyes, a sad melancholy that you’d seen only once before crossed his arrogantly handsome features, and his head dropped slowly to yours. He held your jaw in his big hands, his lips on yours. You didn’t fight, fighting was futile, but as the kiss continued it soon became clear that this wasn’t like any of the times he had kissed you in the past. No, this one was soft, like a need to just feel you pressed against him. His plump lips pulling yours in and holding you there and you realised, from the lingering taste of something sweet yet ever so slightly tinged with sour, that your suspicions were correct.

Despite your earlier fear, you willed yourself to relax into the relative comfort. It was like he was back to how he had been before his mother had visited and whilst he was in that frame of mine, you knew you were safe, so keeping him there was in your best interests. Your fingers moved from your sides to his chest, the ribbed tee rough against your skin. You continued your movements as his mouth pulled you in just a little more until he traced his tongue over your bottom lip. Your fingers moved out to and up the lapels of his coat, the soft texture like a cottony suede under your fingertips, before settling on the back of his neck, his smooth skin and hairline a definitive juxtaposition to feel. He didn't balk or pull away as he had done previously when you’d tried to show him affection, and you continued to respond to his kiss, your touch seeming to be a comfort for him and in the back of your mind you wondered what had changed to make him act this way. He broke away and rubbed his nose along yours, almost as if he were touching a butterfly, soft and unsure. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He continued to whisper, over and over. A soft, barely there kiss to your bruises and broken skin and more words, "Let me take care of you."

You were scared to admit that this felt good, the way he was being gentle, apologetic even. Pain radiated from his body once again, like it had just a few weeks ago, his eyes telling you everything he was feeling. The outpouring of emotions there were hard to ignore. You weren't sure if forgiveness was in your repertoire, but compartmentalization was. You looked back at him, and with a slow blink, almost hypnotized, you nod in reply to his request. 

Long fingers reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind your ear, the other hand simply cradling your jaw. You swallowed hard as he bent down and placed his lips on your neck. Your body shivered at the feel of his mouth warm against your skin. His breath hot on your ear, “do you trust me?”

"I don't know," your voice was breathy as you replied. 

“Let me fix this," his voice wavered. It was a question, not a demand. He nipped at your skin and you shivered again from a combination of desire and disgust at the way this asshole could make you feel, how traitorous your damned body was. 

Ransom felt her breath hitch against his touch. She wasn't fighting him, she wasn't combative, she was...receptive. The thought nearly made him crow for, in that moment, he could feel her trust in him coming in, even if she couldn't verbalize it. He was debating on his lips devouring hers but he was... oh God, he was actually afraid of losing her in the moment. Of her closing herself off. No, he thought, it's best to wait. Ignoring the throw blanket on the floor and the mugs of cocoa on the table, Ransom held her face in her hands. "Do you trust me?" He asked again. She swallowed hard and blinked again, slowly. It was as fair if a reply as he'd get. He could see the war in her eyes, her mind battling with her feelings, her heart. "Stay here."

He left her standing there while he started the hot water. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. He felt different, better even, from the moment he sought her attention when he'd come home. He started the tub faucet and as he brushed past her again, he shucked his coat, tossing it on her bed. He took a small bag he'd brought her earlier in the week and carried it with him. He emptied the contents of a small vile like bottle and watched a moment as bubbles began to firm in the hot but tolerable water. With the bath filling, he sighed to himself and turned to face her.

He peeled his own dusty blue cardigan over his shoulders and let it set over the basin unit. He pushed the sleeves of his white thermal up his forearms and held his hand out to her. She hesitated but slowly slipped her hand in his. He pulled her close and his hands gathered the lapels of her cardigan and peeled it away from her. Underneath her cardigan, Y/N sported a firm fitting white tee and jeans that looked well fitted for her hips and ass, toned legs, bare feet curling into the tiled floor. Ransom salivated as her nipples hardened through the material. He realized she had no bra on under her tee and his hand gently slipped under her rib cage, his thumb padding over her pert nipple. He lifted the thin white tee away from her body and tossed it to the floor. He was half hard just at the thought of her naked under her clothes and now he was solid. Discomfort growing by the second. 

A hooked knuckle traced down her sternum, between her breasts and along the center of her taught stomach. He watched as goose flesh covered her exposed skin. As his knuckle reached the waistline of her jeans, he took to his knees, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her belly, just above her flies. With just his fingers, he undid the button, unzipped the zipper and the peeled the material away from her legs, all the while deep blue eyes peered up at her. He wasn't disappointed to find she'd still worn panties under the rough material, in fact he was delighted. His eyes roved down to her black, lace panties and he reached out, fingers gently tracing long the detailed waistband. Those came down next and as she stepped out of the material, Ransom's hands traced patterns up her leg, faint kisses to her thigh, her hip, her belly. He stood and admired Y/N, completely bare, with less than a foot of space between them.

Ransom hummed, his right hand reaching out, pads of his fingers again trailing a path down the valley of her heaving breasts to her navel. He paused as her breathing hitched and with a smirk his hand dropped lower still, over the faint tuft of hair he insisted she kept groomed, his fingers slipping into her folds. She gave a soft gasp, eyes widening as he continued to tease her, her hands reaching to up to grasp at his biceps as he played with her. She was wet, so wet from just this little bit of play and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers inside of her. 

He leaned forward, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “Just say the words and I’ll make you feel so damned good, Sweetheart, like you’ve never felt before.” Ransom pulled away, removing his fingers from where they’d been, his hand curling on her hip, sticky with her essence. He backed her toward the tub's edge, his forehead pressed into hers. All motion stopped the second the back of her legs touched the tub. "Get in," he whispered. 

You sunk down into the water, the aromatic smell of calming lavender swallowing your senses. Bubbles covered your body, to the point they tickled your collar bone. You eyed him kneeling as he reached over you, grabbing the natural sea sponge loofah and dipping it into the water before he squeezed it over your skin, gently scrubbing. Your face once more met his and you carefully watched him as he exhibited a patience you had never seen from him before. Those blue orbs bore into you, but still he made no move to take you.

And it was unnerving.

But then, as you stared into those deep, icy blue pools something suddenly clicked in your mind. He wanted you to want him. That was what this was about. He’d spent his entire life with people who regarded him as unworthy of love or any kindness and he was seeking validation. Whilst you could see he was genuinely hurting, you also still knew this man was violent, angry, had taken you without your permission, taken what he wanted from you and when. You knew he would take what he wanted tonight too, regardless of what your answer was, the moment for you to back out had been and gone.

But something felt so good about his touch that you were shivering in anticipation of more rather than in fear and the feeling of enjoyment on your mind started to overpower the feeling of disgust in your belly as your core tightened with each breath you felt against your skin. You blinked, your head a whirl, as you were shamefully turned on despite the depraved nature of this entire situation. You broke from your thoughtful trance as a hand cupped your face, a thumb pad tilting you chin upward just a pinch to look at him,

"What?" You whispered. 

"Let me in?" He asked, his tone a bit contrite and hopeful. 

When she nodded in a slow reply, Ransom felt his stomach drop out from under him. Butterflies grew to take flight like an albatross deep in his gut. He dropped the sponge in the water and stood tall, towering over the tub. He reached behind his neck, between his shoulder blades and pulled the thermal over his head, his hair catching slightly on the fabric. He ran a hand through it to straighten it back up and tossed the garment to the floor. He watched as her eyes grew noticeably wide as they roamed over his taught, well-formed abs, his bare chest. He flexed a little, his muscles twitching as he focused on the buckle and flies of his pants. He'd kicked his boots off as he'd undone his belt, the clank an ignored sound as all he could do was watch her and she him. Ransom allowed the material to fall between them, his pants hitting his ankles and he was quick to slip out of his pants and socks. He palmed his hard cock through his boxer briefs as she watched him touch himself.

He could see the change in her, the look of desire and lust in her eyes. The way she was admiring him now, rather than cowering at him. She was appreciating what was before her. His pale skin, his sculpted body, his naked form. He’s seen her, stripped her bare. But normally he's pulled his dick out and just fucked her. This was uncharted territory, this was new. And he liked it. He liked the way she was looking at him, feeding his ego and willingly participating. This, yes, this was something fun for him. And oh yeah, she wanted this, he could see it all over her.

One foot, then the other, Ransom stepped into the tub and sat opposite of her, careful to avoid the faucet. The water felt inviting, the company even more so. Her one leg nestled between his legs while the other just to the outside of them. She slid her left foot up close to his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. At this new comfortable position, his fingers started drawing intricate circles along her shin and calf. He watched her inhale deeply and tilt her head towards her shoulder, observing him. 

As you watched him, carefully, you saw him swallow, the hollow of this throat constricting a little before he took a deep breath, his touch on your leg still feather light. You wanted to lose yourself, give into the desire that you were feeling whether it be wrong or right, at that point in time you were past caring. You were in this position, nothing was going to change that, so was it really wrong to want to feel something more than fear? It was like there was a game of chess being played between your mind and heart, your gut and will.

And then, Checkmate, the idea came to you. You had a chance here to keep Ransom satisfied but on your terms. You had the power. And as long as you kept it that way you could control his temper and his actions, and get what you now shamefully admitted to yourself that you wanted.  And the realisation that you had the winning move here was almost liberating.

Ransom shifted a little, the water sloshing around him as he sat up, his chest poking a little further out of the water as he studied your face, and you waited to see what he would do. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, he was clearly going through a mental battle himself and eventually he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your breasts which were just under the water line and he swallowed once more before his hand on your leg stilled and he squeezed your calf muscle gently before he moved, leaning forward, his large hand once more resting against your cheek as he drew you in for another deep, gentle kiss.

You leaned into him, letting his lips works softly against yours as your hand dropped under the water and grasped his solid cock, giving him a gentle stroke. The kiss stuttered immediately, and he let out a choked groan as his eyes flew open, locking onto yours.

“Sit back.” You encouraged, and he did just that, his back once more resting against the top as you followed him, your hand remaining soft but firm enough to keep drawing those noises of satisfaction from his throat. His head tipped back as he let you take control, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes closing as no words left his lips, no dirty talk, no hissed little demands about what depraved position he wanted you to adopt, nothing. You held the power, and that turned you on in a way it really shouldn’t.

He gave a strangled hiss as you gripped him tighter and then you shifted, letting go to allow yourself to move your right knee to his left side, following with your other, his eyes flying open, a look of surprise on his face as you lined yourself up and his hands reached up, surprisingly gentle as they rest against your hips. There wasn’t much room, but it was doable, and you sank down onto him, his eyes flying to your hips as you both gave a little whimper as he filled you completely.

His fingers flexed against your skin, blunt nails biting ever so slightly, as you remained still, your hands sliding up his chest, curling over his shoulders. He was tense, coiled like a spring, clearly fighting back the urge to slam up into you and you began to work at a little of that tension, fingers rubbing up and down his neck, the index on your right trailing that vein that was bulging along his throat. His eyes never left yours until you softly began to knead at the strained muscles along his shoulders and neck, massaging deeply as you worked at the knots, his hands still resting on your hips, contracting every so often as you found a particularly knotty spot.

Every so often, he would make the slightest of movements, simply because he was relaxed and you could feel your walls fluttering sporadically, just from being full and stretched to your fill. But, still he made no move to take over, until at one point you hit a particularly knotty area at the point his neck met his collar bone and he gave a little jolt which caused you to groan and he opened his eyes, searching almost for permission. When he found no objection, his hands gently started rocking you.

The pressure and friction on your clit was boiling. It was slow and burned in a way that was so delightful it was almost painful. And, before you could stop yourself you were rolling into him as he kept that same delectably slow rhythm, rocking you back and forth slowly, deeply, before one hand left your hips and grasped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

Ransom pulled away from her, breathless, his forehead against hers. The words were barely heard, but he knew he said, "I want you..."

"You have me," she replied in a soft whisper. 

"Not here," he shook his head, their foreheads rubbing. He glided his nose against hers. 

He missed the way she felt around him the second she managed to stand and slip out of the tub. Ransom was quickly behind her, following, bubbles and water dripping to the floor from them both be damned. He followed her to the bed where she stood at its edge, her eyes inviting him. He took a seat, bare ass and thighs soaking the comforter, knees bent over the edge. His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in. His own deep appreciation for her firm an awakening in his soul.

Slowly, just like she had in the tub, one knee slipped passed a hip, the other following. His lips were on her breasts, inhaling the scent of the oils and bubbles clinging to her skin as his tongue traced a hardened nipple and then the other. As he did so, she sunk back down his shaft again, a guttural groan escaping them both. She was ready, the thick vein of his cock giving a seductive friction against her wall.

Ransom ran his hands up and down her back, long index finger tracing up and down her spine as hot open mouth, needy kisses covered as much skin as he could. His hands splayed over her shoulder blades as his hips met her grind, catching her as Y/N arched into his movements. Her head tipped back, sheer wanton pleasure radiated from her with a heat he could almost feel. His mouth moved to the spot he knew drove her wild on her neck under her ear and the little whimper she made was nothing short of delectable. 

As he began to lean back towards the mattress, he rolled her body against his, bringing her down with him. He planted his heels against the comforter and scooted them both to the center of the bed, still buried deep inside her. With a hand back to her hip, a gentle grip keeping his own pace with her rhythm, the other tangled in her messy hair as his tongue dove deep into her mouth, savoring each pass her own tongue made against his. He could feel her body flutter against him, sweet kisses her walls made against his solid cock. Her hands braced herself against his broad chest as she sat up, riding him with fluid, long rolls of her hips and he shivered, despite the searing fire between them. He was no longer fighting that desire to take control, he was more than happy to let her take the lead and respond accordingly, dare he say he was enjoying it. The slowness and sheer intimacy was something he never knew he’d craved until now and as she gave a particularly desperate roll of her hips he groaned, "Fuck yeah, Baby, just...like...that..."

A gasp and a shudder ran through you, your walls clenching down on him as a rush of power surged through your entire body. You rolled your hips deeper against him, the friction against your clit nearly too much. You brought your eyes down and looked down at his face, strong jaw, piercing eyes, his thick bottom lip sucked between his teeth. You had full control over him, beneath you he was as powerless as you had been made to feel. "Oh, God," you’re ready to sing a song of pure ecstasy as your body coils and tightens under your own volition. The signs of orgasm were just...right...there.

As you felt a deep thrust from his hips, hitting your sensitive and perfect spot within, your head lulled back and you felt his name roll off of your tongue, "Ransom...."

At the sound of his name spilling from her mouth Ransom gave a groan. It wasn’t Hugh, or Drysdale, it was Ransom. The one thing she had refused to say from day one and she had finally let herself go enough to give in to what he knew she wanted. His chest swelled, a warm feeling flooding from his toes right to his head and he surged up, his lips on hers, the kiss sloppy as with an easy movement he flipped them both so she was underneath him, all semblance of self-control now lost as her voice echoed round his mind, the soft, sultry way in which she’d cried his name repeating like a prayer. 

"Gimme one more, baby, just one more..." his hips were thrusting hard, but not painfully so."Say it again, please," his voice was laced with fire and emotion, a whimper or sob nearly on his lips.

"Ransom...." she replied coming again and his fingers gripped into her skin, holding her in place as his seed shot deep into her, filling her, his entire body shaking, no nearly convusling as he came.

Breathlessly, they laid there, his body gently caging her in, her fingers curling around his neck and into the nape of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you blinked, not quite sure you’d heard him right.

“What for?” You asked, your breath still punctuated by your gasps as you came down from your high.”

“For trusting me.” His nose nudged yours and you looked into his eyes, “for forgiving me.”

“I’m not sure I have.” You replied honestly, and a frown furrowed his brown before he sighed and closed his eyes, his head hanging a little.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He looked back at you before he moved, pulling out of you and immediately you missed his presence, the heat of his body gone as he rolled to his side. You waited for him to rise and dress as he usually did but he made no effort to move. Instead he lay still, looking up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, his fingers gently trailing down your bruised cheek as it brushed the soft pillow when you turned to look at him.

“Can I stay?” He asked.

It was a pointless question. Because, let’s face it, you didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t want to go he wasn’t going to, and it wasn’t like you could leave. But, nevertheless, the fact he had bothered to ask you in the first place was another first. And you found yourself suddenly believing that if you did say no, he would leave.

Instead you nodded, and he gave you a small smile, not a sneer or a smirk, a genuine smile that lit up his handsome face as he leaned over and pressed his lips tenderly to yours.

Together you managed to get yourself under the duvet before you reached up for the lamp and clicked it off before settling on your side, facing away from him.

“My err, my cheek hurts.” You said quietly, offering him an explanation as to why you’d turned your back on him. He gave a small sigh and one of his arms snaked under your neck, the other curled round your bare body, resting just underneath your breasts. He gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, another unspoken apology before you felt him tug you back into him, your back pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

He was the first to fall asleep, his body spent as was yours but you laid there still feeling the electricity roll through your muscles, tiredness settling into your bones. You had given him what he wanted but kept your ground and done it on your terms. It's what he'd needed this entire time, to hear his name from your lips, to be wanted to be cared about, to be "loved". You internally scoffed. To be loved... you doubted he had any idea what that actually meant, to be loved unconditionally. But as you’d questioned the other day over hot chocolate, was that really his fault?

This situation was fucked up. What you were doing was fucked up, but, if giving him what he wanted and what he needed kept you in the driving seat, so to speak, you could work with it.

**** Part 5

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- Gone (Obsessed Part 2)

TW: Stalking

A/N- As I said in my last post, I wrote Obsessed almost two years ago. I always wanted to finish the story, but I never got around to it and fell off from posting for a long time. I decided to split this next part into two, because it was getting pretty long. Part 3 should be out soon. Part 1 is linked here. 

“Where is everyone?”

Your quiet whisper caused your brother and Stiles to glance over at you. They seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Lydia’s birthday party was the event of the year. Actually, all of her parties were popular enough that she usually had to turn someone away. Now, as you stared out at her deserted back patio, the opposite seemed to be true. No one had even shown up, save for a couple people who had disappeared into the house a few minutes ago. 

The deck surrounding Lydia’s pool had been artfully decorated with string lights. Several tables nearby were stacked with snacks and drinks, and she had even ordered a silver fountain that contained some kind of bright pink punch.

It was a shame that the only people out there to appreciate the hard work were you, Stiles, and Scott. You knew Allison was coming because you had gotten ready at her house with Lydia, but you had left separately and she had yet to show up.

Suddenly the sliding glass door opened behind you, and Allison stepped out onto the patio. Her dark hair was done up in an intricate braid, similar to the one Lydia had threaded your own hair into. She smiled at you as she walked over, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jackson’s not here,” she informed the three of you.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “No one’s here.”

“Maybe it’s just early,” Scott suggested.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Or maybe nobody’s coming because Lydia’s turned into the town whackjob.”

“Well we have to do something,” Allison insisted. “Because we’ve completely ignored her for the past two weeks.”

“She’s completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years.”

“I prefer to think of it as me not being on her radar,” Stiles told Scott.

Scott sighed. “We don’t owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” you asked. “I mean, she wouldn’t be the town whackjob if it wasn’t for us.”

Scott’s face softened. “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Me and Y/n also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.”

You grinned at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and Allison stared at the two of you in confusion. “Who?”

“We met them the other night,” you explained. “Let’s just say they know how to party.”

About half an hour later, Lydia’s house was filled to the brim with people. The entire lacrosse team arrived fashionably late, along with half the school. Even the drag queens you and Stiles met at Jungle had shown up. 

As it turned out, no one cared if Lydia had run naked through the woods for several days. She still knew how to throw one hell of a party.

You were currently helping her hand out drinks near the back door as people continued to flow in. Stiles watched you longingly from across the pool. He thought you were beautiful all the time, but with your hair done up and the party lights shining down on you, he felt the undeniable urge to walk over and kiss you. 

“What are you looking at?” Scott asked, following his gaze over to you.

“Uh, n-nothing,” Stiles sputtered. “Are you going to apologize to Allison?”

Scott frowned. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because you’re the guy,” Stiles reminded him. “It’s, like, what we do.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then you should definitely apologize. See, anytime a dude thinks he hasn’t done anything wrong, it means he’s definitely done something wrong.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Is that the full moon talking, buddy?”

“Probably,” Scott grumbled. “Why do you care anyway?”

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation. “Because, Scott, something’s gotta go right here! I mean, we’re getting our asses royally kicked here, if you haven’t noticed. People are dying, I got my dad fired, you’re gonna be held back in school, I’m in love with your sister-”

Stiles suddenly let out a choking sound, realizing what he had just said. Scott stared at him with raised eyebrows, and then he let out a soft laugh. “I know, dude.”

“You...you do?”

Scott was looking at Stiles like he was stupid. “It’s pretty obvious. Plus, I heard you talking together in her room last night. You do remember I have super hearing, right?”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Oh...right. Why didn’t you call us out on it?”

Scott shrugged. “I could tell something was wrong. I’m just glad she has you to talk to about it.”

Stiles nodded. “Everything’s so crazy right now. I don’t even know how we’d make it work, but if I don’t get the chance to find out, I’m going to stab myself in the face.”

“Don’t stab yourself in the face,” Scott said suddenly. 

“Why not?”

“Because Jackson’s here,” Scott told him. 

Stiles glanced over to the door. Sure enough, Jackson was walking into the party. Lydia smiled at him and placed a glass of punch in his hand. 

“Glad you could make it,” she told him.

He simply nodded at her and walked over toward the pool, closer to Stiles and Scott. You watched as Lydia’s lips turned into an ugly frown, but she quickly plastered a smile back on her face. 

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you suggested quietly.

Lydia let out a short laugh. “Please. He’s going to come talk to me by the end of the night. I refuse to chase after him...but I know he’ll probably be chasing after me later.”

You nervously glanced over at Jackson. If he was here, the person controlling him probably was too. Lydia had no idea how right she was. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that this party was going to end in disaster. The last thing you and the boys wanted was another dead body, but that seemed inevitable at this point. 

“I’m going to bring some punch to Scott,” Lydia told you, scooping another cup off the clothed table. “I wanna figure out what’s going on with him and Allison.”

You nodded, and as she walked away, you saw the back door open once more. You put down the glass of punch you had been sipping on. It was almost finished anyway, and you had to take over giving them out now that Lydia was gone. 

That was when you realized the figure walking through the door was Matt. You froze when his eyes landed on you. He stepped closer, and you wanted to turn away, but you were rooted to the spot. 

“Can we talk?” he asked. 

He looked sheepish, and you felt a twinge of sympathy. Matt didn’t look threatening. He had his hands nervously stuffed into his pockets, and he was rocking back on his heels. 

Besides, you were in a house full of people. What could he possibly do to you?

You nodded, and walked into the house, gesturing for him to follow. “You get two minutes.”

You headed toward one of Lydia’s spare bedrooms in the packed hallway, weaving through the crowded house. When you stepped into the room, Matt reached out to close the doors. When he saw you eyeing him, he stopped. 

“Right,” he muttered, propping the door back open. “So I know I took some pictures of you that I probably should have told you about...but is it really bad that I think you’re beautiful? And that I think you should be the subject of a perfect photograph?”

“Matt...I don’t even know how you got some of those pictures.”

“ A telephoto lens,” he informed you. “I mean, come on, Y/n. Photographers call them candids.”

“Well Stiles’ dad would call it stalking.”

Matt scoffed. “Stalking? So I’m a stalker now, is that it? You think my bedroom is wallpapered with your photos? You think I’m the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

A flash of bright red hair caught your attention as you looked past Matt. Lydia was weaving through the halls, pulling Stiles behind her as he grasped one of her hands. You felt your stomach flip.

You looked back to Matt, who was still talking. “Well you know what? Get over yourself, because there’s another pretty girl walking through the room every five minutes.”

You held up your hands. “Well then all you have to do is wait another three.”

“Y/n, wait!”

You strode past him, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back to face him. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you met Matt’s eyes. They were cold and angry, and they didn’t leave your face once. 

Suddenly, he let you go. “Hey, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You must think I’m such a freak.”

He was back to being sheepish, self-deprecating Matt, but you weren’t sticking around to fall for the act any longer. You had to find Stiles and tell him what happened. The first chance you got, you were going to take his advice and go to the police. 

You rushed out of the spare room and headed in the direction of Lydia and Stiles. They had disappeared down a deserted hall, and when you turned down it, you saw the two of them tucked into a corner. 

Lydia had her hands resting on Stiles’ chest. He was leaning down and kissing her as his hands tangled in her strawberry blonde curls. You swallowed, and started to back up, but then he looked up at you. 

His lips curled into a cruel smirk, and Lydia glanced over her shoulder at you.

“What?” he asked with a sharp laugh. “You actually thought I’d choose you instead of Lydia?”

Your throat went dry. You wanted to say something, to tell him that you thought he had cared about you the other night, but you couldn’t speak.

“Come on, Y/n,” Lydia chimed in. “You really think you could compete with me?”

“You’re Scott’s little sister,” Stiles continued. “Your little crush was never going to turn into anything.”

Stiles turned back to Lydia, and the two of them began to make out again. You stumbled back, bumping right into someone else. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” A blonde girl in a tube top snapped. 

You blinked, suddenly realizing that there were other people flowing through the hallway. When you looked back into the corner Stiles and Lydia had been in, it was empty, as if they had never been there at all. 

You shook your head, trying to shake off what you had just seen. It wasn’t real, but it definitely felt like it. You stumbled back toward the pool, wanting to find the others. You had only had one full cup of that punch, but there was definitely something wrong with it. 

You had only been drunk a few times before, but you had never hallucinated an entire conversation with two people. This had to be something else. 

You tried to make your way back toward the living room, but you only made it as far as the kitchen. Lydia’s house seemed to blur before your eyes, and you realized that the punch had hit you harder than you thought. 

You leaned back against the counter, but you ended up slowly sinking down to sit on the kitchen floor, too dizzy to stand up. You were probably only sitting there for a few minutes, but it felt like hours until you heard a familiar voice say your name. 

“Y/n?”

It was Lydia. She was kneeling in front of you, clearly concerned. You felt a twinge of jealousy as you thought back to that scene in the hallway. You wanted to tell her to leave you alone, but you knew you had no real reason to be mad at her. Lydia didn’t actually have feelings for Stiles. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Should I get Scott?” “No,” you said quickly. “He’ll be upset at me. What did you put in that punch?”

Lydia’s lips quirked up. “It’s a secret recipe. You should really be more careful, Y/n.”

“Is she okay?” you heard someone else ask. 

You glanced up, but the other figure blurred as your head began to spin. 

“I think I can handle this on my own, Jackson.”

“Do you want me to get her a bottle of water?”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

A couple minutes later, a blurry hand was holding a water bottle in your face.

“Can you stay with her for a second? I actually have something I need to take care of.”

He must have said yes, because Jackson sat down next to you and opened the bottle. “You need to drink as much of this as you can.”

You eyed him carefully, and even in your drunken state, you managed to be suspicious. 

“What?” he asked. “I can’t do something nice?”

You were silent, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have a killer hangover in the morning. See if I care.”

The more you thought about it though, the more you realized Scott would be disappointed if you couldn’t sober up. So you took the bottle from Jackson’s hand and began to drink. 

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but Lydia never came back, and Jackson eventually got up and left. Even after drinking the water, you felt terrible. In fact, you might have even felt worse. 

The room was blurring around you, and you were getting sleepier by the second. When a pair of legs came into your view and stopped, you weren’t even concerned that you didn’t recognize them. You didn’t protest as arms came around your waist to steady you and pull you to your feet.

You felt something wet soaking into your dress, and you flinched away. 

“It’s just water. I fell in the pool.”

“Stiles?” you mumbled, as you were led out of Lydia’s house. 

“It’s okay,” a voice was telling you, but you were too out of it to realize who was talking. “We’re going to the jeep.”

Your head lolled onto the figure’s wet sleeve, and you caught sight of the stars, blurring above your head in the night sky. 

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled. 

“It is,” the voice agreed.

Stiles laid you in the passenger seat. He clicked the seatbelt across your chest and shut the doors. You ran your fingers along the seat and the door, feeling the smooth leather interior. 

“This isn’t the jeep,” you realized sleepily. 

The car was too sleek. It was too nice to be Stiles’.

“It’s okay, we’re just going home.”

Steady fingers tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt sicker by the second, and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. “Where’s Stiles?”

When you heard the driver’s side door shut, you looked over to see who had rescued you. You felt your stomach drop. 

“Matt,” you choked. 

He looked over at you and smiled. You reached up, weakly fumbling with the door handle, but your fingers kept slipping. Everything was too blurry, and Matt wasn’t offering any help either. 

“No,” you whispered. “Please let me out.”

He laughed softly and hushed you, reaching out to grab your hand. He squeezed your trembling fingers and smiled. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“No,” you kept mumbling, but as Matt started the car, you began to fade. 

You watched as the streetlights passed through the window, blurring into gold and white blobs. With your eyes slowly drifting shut, you wondered where your brother was. How long would it take Scott and Stiles to realize you were gone? Would they be able to find you? And if they weren’t, what would Matt do to you?

-----

“The cops are here!”

All of Lydia’s guests scattered from around the pool. Scott grabbed Stiles by the arm and tugged him back from the panicking crowd. 

“Where’s Matt?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”

They scanned the crowd, but Matt, along with Jackson, was gone. 

“Wait, Scott, have you seen your sister?” Stiles asked. 

“Not for a while.”

Stiles went pale. “We need to find her.”

“Why?” Scott demanded, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder before he could turn away. “What do you know that I don’t?” The horrified look in his friend’s eyes sent an uneasy chill through Scott. “Stiles?”

“Matt was watching her,” Stiles admitted. “She told me last night that he was taking pictures, stalking her. She saw them when he left his camera in the car. I wanted to tell you, but there wasn’t time…”

Scott felt the air leave his lungs. If Matt was controlling the Kanima and he got his hands on you, there was nothing you could do to protect yourself. 

Together, he and Stiles searched through Lydia’s house, narrowly avoiding the cops outside. His attempts to catch a scent failed, and they had no idea where Matt would have taken you. 

Allison had left a few minutes before the cops showed up with no explanation. Scott never got the chance to ask her about it, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with her family. His texts to her had gone unanswered, so he had to assume she hadn’t seen you. 

Lydia was nowhere to be found either, but Scott was able to track her scent to the treeline at the edge of her property. It was strange, though she could have just been taking a walk to clear her head. You were his biggest priority right now, and neither he or Stiles could find any trace of you.

“We have to call the police,” Scott told him after they finished. “She’s gone.”

Stiles nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair. They were standing in Lydia’s driveway, gazing out into the dark neighborhood. The cops were long gone by now, but Stiles had a feeling they wouldn’t take your disappearance seriously. It was a party, you had been drinking, and everyone had scattered. 

Stiles had grown up with most of the police officers at the station. He knew the way they thought. He knew how plausible it was for them to assume you were just laying low for a while, trying to avoid getting busted for underage drinking. 

“No,” Stiles told Scott. “We have to call my dad.”

“Isn’t he still mad at you?”

“It doesn’t matter. If Matt’s willing to kill the people who piss him off, what do you think he’s gonna do to Y/n when she rejects him?”

Scott didn’t answer. All he could think about was the way Matt’s victims had been ripped apart by the Kanima. If he was really obsessed with you, maybe he wouldn’t hurt you, but they had no way of knowing for sure. They could only hope that you were clever enough to stay alive as they raced to find you. 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit. 

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 

“And?” 

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.” 

[txdoroki]

bookshop

hey this is kinda just a silly thing i had an idea i liked for :P hope y’all like it!! <3

warnings: anGERING BCUZ OF HOW SLOW IT GOES

words: 3k

pairing: bakugou x reader

unedited!!

gn reader

desc: you work at a quaint book shop, and one morning meet an explosive college student. once again it’s so much better than how it sounds T-T i swear it’s so good bYE

no quirks

ik this seems a lot like the overused “meet your lover at a coffee shop” trope but i swear it isn’t like that I SWEAr

A/N: this was so fun to write but it is annoyingly slow </3 also in this bakugou is rich as fuck and for wHAT. he’s loaded as crap

i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure yet considering this was rlly tiring,, would y’all like that or would it be a waste? :/

HERE IT ISSSS @babymilkawa​ 

you groaned as your alarm went off way too early, the sun that shone through your curtains getting into your eyes. you rubbed at your eyes, trying to shake off the sleep that dazed your mind.

the weekend went by too fast, and you wished you could sleep for just another five minutes. you struggled to keep your eyes open, the comfort of your bed willing you to sleep. to skip work for the day.

 you were totally exhausted, having spent the weekend helping your co-worker, eijirou, unpack boxes at his apartment, on top of working on your classes. i mean, you loved to help people, but man, was it tiring.

after a few minutes of checking things on your phone, you sleepily walked to your bathroom and ran water over your face, hoping it’d help you wake up. you loved your job, you really did, but the hours? absolute hell. who the crap goes to a book shop at 7 in the morning? no clue.

you pulled one of your friend’s old sweatshirts over your head, taking a moment to fix your bedhead as well. you slipped on some sweatpants, and shrugged at yourself in your full-length mirror. you felt like crap, your entire body heavy and your blinks slow. it’s like your body was trying to put itself to sleep, even while standing.  

once you were happy with your appearance for the day, you texted eijirou to let him know you were ready. he usually picked you up drove you both to work, since you had the same shifts.

a few minutes later he knocked on your apartment door, and when you swung it open, he had his signature wide grin on his face. he was holding two coffees, and you couldn’t help but smile as well, your bad mood from lack of sleep disappearing. 

“hey eiji,” you smiled, taking one of the coffees from his hands and holding it close to your face, taking a deep breath of the homey scent. the smell made your stomach growl, and you both laughed at the sound.  

“hungry, eh? well, i mean i have a granola bar,” kirishima shuffled around in his bag, eventually pulling out two granola bars.

“of course you do,” you smiled, happily chomping the snack. he was the definition of the mom friend, and such a sweetheart.

after you talked with him for a few minutes, you both walked to his car and drove to the shop that was a mile or two away. 

you looked out of the window while he drove, and you both were sitting pretty much silently. you appreciated how you could just chill and appreciate each other’s company without communicating a bunch.

when you got there, there was a blonde guy standing in front of the doors.

“hey, bakubro, what’re you doing here?” kirishima and you walked up to him. when he turned to face you, you were confused as to why he looked so pissed off. he looked like he didn’t know how to smile.

“tch, i was going to look for a shitty book to buy, but no one was fucking here,”

“you know that we open at 7:15 right?” you smiled, 

“and it’s 7:16 right now, dumbass,” ‘bakubro’ glared at you, “you’re late,”

“by a min-” you started saying, but were interrupted by kirishima.

“you’re right, well you can come look inside now,” he took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door with it, stepping inside of the shop with you and the blonde following.

you took your place behind the counter as kirishima tidied up the shop. he straightened the books and fixed anything that was out of place, while you just stood behind the counter and watched the blonde.

it was like he was entrancing, his spiky blonde hair and his piercing red eyes glaring at the books in front of him.

“sir, do you need help finding what you’re looking for?” you smiled at him when you noticed he was in the shop for nearly half an hour already, staring at the lines and lines of books.

“tch no, i can find it myself,” he grumbled, not even looking your way.

you rolled your eyes and turned to eijirou when you overheard him chuckle. he was standing near gardening books section, flipping through one of the books.

“what is it?” you raised an eyebrow, tapping a made-up rhythm lightly in the wooden counter you were standing behind.

“bakugou, isn’t this the kind of cactus you tried to raise,” he turned the book towards the blonde.

“shut up, shitty hair. quit bringing that up,”

eijirou just smiled and shook his head, turning back towards the shelf and sliding it back to its place. 

you yawned, boredom filling the air as bakugou looked through the books and kirishima tended to the shelves.

you wished someone would come in soon, maybe one of your regulars or someone new. you weren’t a fan of there only being one customer in the store in the first place, but him being a bitch wasn’t much of a help either.

“have you seen that really nice green haired regular recently? i feel like he hasn’t came by in a while,” you yelled to kirishima.

“uhh, haha, no, i heard he um... moved?”

“moved?”

“yup,”

“why does it matter what happened to him, deku is a nerd anyways,” bakugou growled as he flipped through one of the many books he had in his arms.

you shrugged in his direction and walked to the back, hoping there’d be something to do that was helpful for the store. you felt like you were wasting time, but didn’t know what you should do. there were no customers, no spills, nothing out of order.

you decided to fix some of the directions, and chose to start on the paintings and vines that covered the wall. the store really was homey, you loved it. you could spend all day there, either as a customer or a worker.

it felt safe and sound, unlike most of the city that surrounded you. 

“hey, dingbat, come here,” bakugou was now standing next to the register, and you glared at him, the heaviness of anger starting to gather in your chest.

dingbat? the fuck???

“be nice to y/n, they’re chill,” kirishima swatted at the air, shaking his head.

“nope, anyways, i need to check out, so fucking come here,” 

“no, sir, you can choose to be nice and then talk to me,” you smiled at him and turned back to the decorations you were working on. sure you were a worker, but you weren’t going to help out a shithead.

“it’s your fucking job, come here,”

“y/n, i’m sorry, but do you mind checking him out? he’s got class soon,” kirishima smiled at you weakly, his stare basically a plead on its own.

you huffed and walked to the register, silently glaring as you handed bakugou the receipt and the two books he bought.

“took you long enough, damn,” 

“what is your damn problem?” you scowled, “i haven’t done shit to you and you’re being an asshole,”

“y/n, don’t-” kirishima held his hand out.

“quit being in the fucking way then, see you later, kirishima,” he grabbed the stuff from your hands and walked out of the store onto the sidewalk, the door slamming behind him.

your decorations that you were putting up fell down, and you sighed. you took a step back and pouted when you realized you’d have to start over.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i know he is really stres-”

“he doesn’t need your excuses, it’s fine, eiji,” you smiled and nodded at him. 

the rest of the day was spent with both of you cracking jokes at each other and tending to the customers. every now and then you’d rate their outfits once they left, and it was sort of entertaining to say the least. it was fun to see the little additions people would add to their outfits, not meant for others to specifically notice. like a chain on their pants, or a feather on their hat. 

all other people had entire backstories, ones you would never get the pleasure of knowing. this didn’t usually bother you, and it never really has before, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity that seemed to tear at you about bakugou’s.

his couldn’t seem to leave your mind. what was his childhood like? was he always like this? what set the way for his personality? what were his parents like? was he single..?

“i wonder if he’s single,” you muttered to yourself as you swept. your actions stopped for a moment, and you wanted to throw up. did you actually just say that out loud?

“what was that, y/n?” kirishima looked up from his phone, a confused smile on his face. you hoped he didn’t hear you. although he did

“oh nothing, sorry!” you smiled back at him, and went back to sweeping. you turned away from him, hoping the heat that covered your cheeks wasn’t visible.

“alright,” 

the rest of your day went by quickly, and by the time you got home, you were exhausted. you snuggled with one of your fluffiest pillows on your couch once you’d changed into your pjs, and you smiled. the smooth fabric of your couch felt calming to your sore joints, and it only added to your comfort. 

before you knew it, you had fell asleep, but a knock on your door shook you from your slumber.

“hey, y/n, do you mind if i come in real quick?” you heard the familiar voice of your coworker from outside of your door, and you yelled a sleepy ‘go ahead’ before closing your eyes again. 

you slowly opened your eyes when you heard a second pair of footsteps enter your apartment, and you were confused to see the blonde from earlier standing in your doorway.

“are you alright? it’s only six o’clock, and you were asleep?” eijirou walked over to you and sat next to you on your couch for a moment.

“yeah, sorry, i was just... just um sleepy,” you sat up and leaned into one of the arms of your couch for support, rubbing your eyes. you turned back towards the figure in your doorway, “what’s he doing here?”

“am i not allowed to tag along with my fucking friend?” bakugou growled, but neither one of you acknowledged him. 

“sorry, was just coming to get some sugar! i ran out, and we are gonna be making cookies! see ya later, y/n!” 

you waved as they both left your apartment, and easily went back to sleep. your dreams were nothing but blackness, and none were memorable when you woke up a few hours later.

over the next few weeks, you began to see bakugou more and more. he would come by the show every morning, dropping by to say hello to kirishima before he’d walk out of the door. you weren’t exactly sure why he’d come by every. single. day., sometimes he didn’t even buy something, only caring to say hi to eijirou.

you’d love to say that he went to see you, but you really doubted that was the case. i mean, he rarely ever said hello back whenever you’d greet him back, so it was implied he only cared for seeing kiri.

no matter what he’d say to you or rather what he didn’t say, he still occupied your mind constantly. you wondered about him a lot, not in a creepy way. you just really found him interesting... okay?????

after around three weeks after your first encounter with him, he greeted you back for the first time. 

“oh, hey, y/n, right?” he turned to you with a blank face, not very common since he seemed to always be scowling at whoever he was speaking with.

“yep, what do you want?” you nodded towards where bakugou was standing near you next to the baking books, and kirishima raised an eyebrow. 

“are you any good at cooking? i need to make cupcakes but kirishima here makes shit ones,” 

kirishima chuckled, “he isn’t wrong, go ahead, y/n,”

“um, yeah i like to bake, when are you free?” you tried to hide the blush that covered your face.

“a bit obsessed with me, are ya?” he smirked as you began shouting.

���huh?? am not, you’re the one who-”

“oi shut it, dingbat, i’ll come pick you up from this shit job how’s that work?”

kirishima just stood where he had been, staring at you both with wide eyes. he’d never seen bakugou offer to pick anyone up whatsoever before. especially not to spend time with them.

once he left, it was like time chose to go by slower than ever. you checked the clock that hung above the doorway ever so often, and would quietly groan at how much longer it’d be until you got to make those damned cupcakes.

you decided to keep yourself busy with cleaning up in the back of the store, restocking the shelves and tidying up the stacked up books that sat collecting dust.

“y/n,” kirishima called for you, his voice somewhat muffled by the shut door that separated you both.

you walked to him, and smiled at the man who was standing in the doorway. 

“quit staring and c’mon, we don’t have much time, dumbass,” he frowned and beckoned for you to come over, you hurried to grab your purse. 

“aren’t we driving kirishima too.?” you cocked your head when he began to take off out of the shop. he paused and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and continuing to walk across the street once more.

the drive to his apartment was filled with you talking about whatever and him finding various ways to insult it, although his gaze wasn’t filled with the same amount of sharpness as usual.

you decided not to say anything about it, not wanting it to cease. you were honestly enjoying yourself, even though he was being sort of a dick. it wasn’t exactly unlike him to be one, though.

after around ten minutes of the conversation flowing like water, he parked in front of a bougie looking tall apartment complex. just from looking outside, you could see the wall-length windows and the impressive chandeliers that hung inside the building. you felt small, your apartment certainly not comparable to this. 

he scoffed when he saw your wowed expression, and silently took your hand. this would’ve been romantic if he wasn’t using it to drag you inside. the pace he was leading you both at left you panting by the time you got to his door, and your arm was sore from how harshly he was pulling and swerving you around the hallways. 

when you took your first step into his apartment, your entire body began to feel light. his apartment didn’t match his firey personality whatsoever, and it was absolutely stunning. astonishing countertops and a double oven added to his impressively sized kitchen. sparkling crystal animals covered one of the shelves nearby the tv. just by looking at the entry way, you loved his apartment.

his apartment was flawless, and it didn’t even seem like an apartment. it had a generous amount of space, and you wondered how he could afford this as a college student. you decided to let the curiosity drop, it’d be rude to ask about his wealth anyways..

“y/n, quit staring at my shit and hurry the fuck over here,” bakugou grumbled, stirring you from your thoughts.

you nodded and walked over to him, smiling at the ingredients that littered his kitchen island. these were gonna be some good cupcakes.

“what fla-”

“funfetti, duh,” 

you chuckled, and examined the extra sprinkles that he had bought. they looked amazing. and expensive.

you both chatted as you started the cupcakes, since he was bossy and so were you, you decided that it’d be better to do separate jobs. he was in charge of making the cupcakes while you were “doing the shitty icing, better not fuck it up” in bakugou’s words.

you worked on the icing and tried to hold back your giggles at bakugou’s cursing when he realized he forgot to add the sugar.

“god fucking damnit now i have to redo these fucking cupcakes,” he groaned, pulling the now scrapped cupcake tray out of the oven with absolutely no care, shooting you a frown when you commented on how he was gonna burn himself if he kept being that reckless.

“shoulda paid attention,” you stuck your tongue out, a wide smile brightening up your face.

“fucking shut it, dingbat,”

“WHY WON’T YOU STOP CALLING ME DINGBAT,” you shouted, although still being careful to stir the icing at the correct pace. you weren’t about to mess up an easy job, hell no!

after a few hours of you both baking in harmony, you flopped down on his leather couch, resting one of your arms over your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling. 

“i have a baking night every week with kiri, if you wanna come,” bakugou came up next to you and muttered, and you weren’t sure if he even wanted you to. i mean, you barely could hear him. 

he handed you a rag to wipe your hands on, and sat down next to you.

“can i?” you widely smiled at him, hoping he still wanted you to. 

“why the fuck would i tell you about it if not,” he scoffed, and you giggled.

you shrugged, and around half an hour later he drove you home for the night. 

you had a tupperware of cupcakes resting on the counter next to your fridge when you went to bed that night, although the memories that came with them were seated next to your mind. the small chuckles you would manage to pull from him replaying in your mind as you stared happily at your ceiling. 

you sure were looking forward to the next weekend.

taglist: @todoroki-shoto-is-life @frxggie​ 

[harryskalechips]

Illicit affairs Part two

A/N Hi here is part two!!! I’m sorry for it being so delayed I’ve been busy taking care of my new sick puppy. I hope you enjoy this one! Please show some love and send me your thoughts hahaha enjoy ❤︎

Y/N and Harry decide to end their affair and she thought it would be okay since her internship was ending. Too bad she was offered a permanent job and she took it. 

Tw: Cheating, smut

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! Here is my part two! Any new writers or readers please check out the masterlist! So many cool stories written from prompts!

here are my prompts:

“Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Do you think soulmates are real?”

“I still love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Even if you don’t love me back, and even if we both move on, there will always be a part of me that will always love you no matter what.” 

“Your hands look so cold.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 8.6k / Masterlist // Part 1

It’s been three months since Y/N accepted her job in marketing for Columbia Records. It wasn’t too bad. Matter of fact, it’s been the only thing that has been distracting her since her breakup last year. She got her own office and had a bit of privacy too. Luckily, she was no longer sorting papers on a tiny desk in the middle of the hallway nor was she on coffee runs every morning. The only thing that seemed to stick, however, was seeing Harry Styles. 

When Rose, Rob’s assistant called her three years ago about the internship Y/N was ecstatic. Not only was this an opportunity to go celebrity sightseeing every day but this company gave people like her great opportunities and a great recommendation too. There was no possible way that she could turn down Rob’s offer. She’s been dreaming of a career like this for years! 

What truly sucked about her job at the moment, however, was the pop star, her marketing team was taking care of. Over these past months, not only was he able to ignore her presence, he became a bit of an ass too! Maybe that’s not even the right word to use…. He was being petty! That’s what Y/N thinks. To be honest, during the countless meetings they had over these past months Y/N would drain him out.  As he spoke all she could do was repeat that word in her head as she mimicked his British accent. But can you blame her? They were together for a year and he constantly led her on. She fell in love with a married man who promised that he cared for her. She found herself compromising a lot of things in their relationship that she shouldn’t have needed too. Not only was she twisting her values for him, but she was also forced to take the second bits of him. 

On her birthday, he arrived late at night because he and his wife had an interview with Vogue. He bought her a necklace and made love to her a countless amount of times but the next morning... he was gone. 

there would be times, he wasn’t able to spend time with her since he was in London with his family. Yes, he video-called her and made sure to speak to her for a reasonable amount of time but he also went M.I.A for another two days. 

The last example she could think of at the top of her head was when everyone had a date at their company’s charity ball. She had to witness Harry and his wife put on a show for the cameras. He looked at his wife as if she was his star and touched her like he’s been doing it for years. The whole night, he had his arm wrapped around her, constantly keeping her close. The only problem is in reality he’s been acting like that with Y/N -not her. 

So yeah although she broke up with him -she was angry. Yes, she said they shouldn’t keep in touch but she thought she was leaving the company! Now, he’s acting as if he never spent a night at her place, fucking her. He’s been acting as if he never had a meal with her nor snuggled her on the couch. He’s cold and she hates him for that. Not only was this hurting her, but she also loved him! And for that...he’s cruel. She can’t even remember how many times she had to run to the washroom during work so she could cry in one of the stalls. Sometimes, she felt like he was purposely picking on her. Calling her out for her mistakes or for her lack of attention. She was new to everything and she was still learning. She just never thought the man she shared her bed and her secrets with would be so indifferent. That’s why she calls him petty.

“Y/N? I’m heading out. Want me to get you some food?” Marissa asks her as they sit in the boardroom with Harry. Their meeting ended a while ago but they decided to work through lunch since Mr. Celebrity wanted to fix a few things with them.

 “No, I’m alright.” She looks up from her paper as she replies. She notices Harry in front of her leaning on the table as he hunches over flipping through a few papers.

“Are you sure?” Her co-worker frowns as she leans across the doorway. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“Marissa, buy her some food.” Harry interrupts Y/N before she can speak up. He stands a bit straighter as he reaches down to grab his wallet. He pulls out a black card and gives it to the girl. 

“Oh.” Marissa’s eyes widen as she stares at the card in her hand. “Would you like anything?”

“No, buy for yourself too. This one’s on me.” He nonchalantly replies as he goes back in his old position to read through the contracts.

 Marissa was confused if she was being honest. She worked for Harry’s marketing team ever since he started going solo. She loved working for him because he was outgoing and respectful but for the past few months, he seemed to be too serious and a bit pissier. Maybe it had to be because of his wife? Little did she know it was because of the girl who was sitting a few feet from him. 

When she left, Y/N choked. It wasn’t noticeable but she could feel her throat tightening. She has never been left in a room with him since their unbearable breakup. Funny enough, although the company celebrated her new job, Harry mindlessly ignored the event. He came to the party but he never congratulated her. So from that, Y/N knew he was far more than upset about their breakup. He was being salty.

“Y/N,” Harry speaks up as he walks towards her with the contracts in his hand. Y/N didn’t even want to look up. Was he speaking to her for the first time...again?

“Yeah?” She replies, trying not to make her wobbly voice sound apparent. 

“What do you mean about this part of the contract?” Harry coldly asks as he puts the paper in front of her face.

“I’m not sure. Marissa wrote the contract. I worked with Yvonne on your merch shop.” Y/N replies in a monotone manner. 

“How are you not sure? You didn’t even look at the paper.” She can almost hear a sigh under his breath. Y/N finally looks up and glares at him. She takes the sheet out of his hand and reads the new highlight from his pink pen. 

“I don’t know, Harry.” She gives it back to him and continues to work on her list without saying another word. She didn’t want to look up again because she could already feel his eyes staring at her. He somehow always loved to do it. “Stop looking at me.” She blurts out. She and Harry weren’t expecting her to say that. He awkwardly coughs as he runs his hand through his hair. He walks back to his usual spot in the room and pretends as if nothing happened. In reality, however, his heart was racing. Although he was so pissed at her, she looked pretty today.

~

“Have you ever been on a date before?” Marissa asks Y/N as they walk out of her office together. Y/N wasn’t going to lie. She’s pretty lucky that she became close friends with Marissa. Now, they have a routine of picking each other up from their offices. It made her feel a bit less lonely since she sees her ex every day and he gives her nothing but a cold treatment. It’s a bit ironic how a few months back, her heart would flutter when he visited the building. Now, she sees him a bit too often for their liking.

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders and gives a funny look to her co-worker. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know you never talk about your love life. I always talk about my husband but I never heard anything coming from you. I know you like to have privacy but I was wondering.”

“It’s complicated.” She lets out a laugh. “I broke up with him two months ago.” 

“Who was he?” Marissa smiles as her mouth opens in shock.

“A liar.”

“What did he do?”

“All men are the sam-”

“Have a good night, ladies.” A voice interrupts them. The women stop walking as they catch sight of Rob and Harry looking at the contracts they were previously working on earlier in the day. They sat on one of the many couches with many papers sprawled out onto the coffee table.

“Gosh Rob, you gave us a fright!” Marissa laughs. “Sill looking at those papers? Call me tomorrow if anything needs changing.” Marissa rolls her eyes as she smiles at them.

“Don’t worry.” Rob laughs. “Mr. Styles here is just going through the contracts with me one more time. You girls go home.” 

“Alright, hope you and Harry have a good night too.” Y/N says nothing but waves as she follows Marissa to the elevator.

“Wait!” The familiar voice calls for them. Y/N and her co-worker turn around to see Harry still sitting on the couch looking at them. “Y/N, just because he lied to you. It doesn’t mean he wanted to lose you.”

 ~

You would think that Y/N repaired herself and became more comfortable working with her ex after that last encounter with him…. But no, wrong. In fact, she was dreading going into work today. How does this man ignore her for two months and then suddenly, he’s acknowledging her presence?

“You know what I find funny?” Marissa blurts out. Their marketing team had a conference room for themselves apart from the other room they were in yesterday. Yvonne and Jasmine look at her, waiting for her to reply while Y/N slouched in her chair out of distress. “Harry’s been a total ass to you ever since you got a job here.” She wasn’t lying, the whole office knew Harry was extra hard on her. “It got me thinking… why did he say that to you yesterday?”

“What did he say?” Yvonne gives a confused look to Y/N. Y/N just closes her eyes and turns her chair away from her colleagues and instead, to the wall.

“He said something like oh just because your ex-boyfriend lied to you, it doesn’t mean he wanted to lose you.” Marissa mimics his deep British voice. “Who on earth says that! And you guys barely speak to each other? How could he possibly know about him?”

“Wait a minute. Is he like siding with Y/N’s ex?” Jasmine’s eyes widen at the thought. “If her boyfriend lied then it is his fault!”“

Right I-” Before Marissa can continue. Y/N turns her chair towards them again and interrupts their juicy gossip. 

“Guys!” Y/N calls them out. “It’s not a big problem. H-he has probably been in a relationship where he was in that position and he said that.” She tries to reason with her hands. “J-just let it go.”

 “Oh shit, I forgot. Your breakup is still fresh.” Marissa covers her mouth in pity. And this is a reason why Y/N will never talk about her love life again.

“Excuse me, girls.” Rob knocks on the door and lets himself in. “I need one of you to go with Harry tomorrow back to London for his interview.”

“Rob, why’d you let us know so late?” Yvonne complains. “I would go but my sister’s wedding is tomorrow!”

“I’m sorry hun, I thought he would just need someone from publicity but it seems like he also has a pop-up shop there opening soon.”

“I can’t.” Jasmine shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t even bother saying why. Y/N knew she had to say it before Marissa. She can’t imagine being on a whole ass trip with her ex. Yet somehow the girl beat her to it.

“I can’t go either. Sorry.” Marissa speaks up. She was planning something. It was obvious from the way her eyes connected with Y/N’s.

“Alright, Y/N please be ready by 4 A.M. Harry will have a driver sent to your place.” Rob looks at her and smiles. “This is going to be a great experience for you.” 

~

Coffee wasn’t going to cut it. Y/N barely got any sleep since she had to pack as soon as she got home. Apparently, they were staying for 5 days so this meant more torture for her. At 4 A.M on the dot, a black car picked her up in front of her building and drove her straight to the airport. There she saw Harry and Emily already sitting in the VIP lounge, laughing about something. 

“Good morning!” Emily says to Y/N as her eyes catch sight of hr entering. Emily was a nice woman from publicity. She’s been working in PR for over 25 years, making her a pro in handling any scenario. 

“Good morning.” Y/N smiles back as she pulls her hand carry with her to one of the seats.“Why are you sitting so far?” Emily laughs. Harry seemed to be too interested as he read something on his phone. “We don’t bite.���

“Oh no, I’m okay here. Thank you. I just have to stretch my legs.”

“Alright. Well now that you’re here to keep Harry some company, I’m going downstairs to get a bagel.” The old lady stands up and grabs her purse. She waves at them one more time before leaving the room.

Silence. 

Nothing but pure awkwardness and it was driving Y/N mad. She hated that this man was making her cry even though they were over. Maybe, she shouldn’t have stayed with the company.

“They have really good smoothies downstairs.” Harry blurts out, still looking at his screen. “I know you really like having one in the morning. Thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” Y/N was playing with her cuticles but gave him a quick glance. “I’m fine though.” Nothing but distant conversations can be heard as the ex-couple continued to act disinterested in one another.

This is the final call for flight BA111 to Thailand. 

What caught Y/N’s eye, however, was Harry reaching something into his back pocket. It made her have to speak up. “Putting on your ring again? Funny how no one seems to notice how hot and cold you are with it.” Harry scoffs as he stays frozen staring at her.

“None of your business.” He slides the ring on successfully and goes back into his old position.

A brief pause happens before Y/N decides to speak up -she was tired of his attitude. “You know what?” She glances around the empty room before whispering back at him. “I don’t understand what got your panties in such a twist. You need to stop being such a jerk to me!” Harry’s face shows no emotions as he listens to her. 

“You don’t know why? How about out of the blue your girlfriend breaks up with you.”

“It was destined to happen, Harry!” Y/N’s eyes widen at his response. “You’re marr-”

“They had so many bagels to choose from! I had to buy two since I couldn’t pick!” Emily walks in, all innocent. “You guys okay?”

“Perfect,” Harry mutters but it wasn’t. As they boarded his private plane, he watched Y/N walk in front of him, trying to wipe her tears.

~

The whole plane ride was quiet since he realized most of them had to catch some sleep but for some odd reason, he couldn’t. Harry’s bodyguard was at the very front row, snoozing off. Emily had her own chair and she crashed the moment the plane took off. He didn’t know if Y/N was awake but he hoped she was sleeping. When he saw her the first time this morning, she looked so drained out. 

Harry just didn’t know what to say nor what to think. His breakup caught him off guard and now he’s been in a bad mood ever since. Sometimes, he wondered if his divorce would make him feel this way and in all honesty, he knew it wouldn’t. 

There was something still tying him to that depressing marriage and he’s starting to think that maybe Y/N was correct. He was scared to be like his parents but that didn’t make him regret anything he said to her that night. He knew he would keep her a secret even if he was single again. The idea of reporters picking on her didn’t settle well with him. Just the thought made his stomach sick.

 So although he’s heartbroken, the only way he found himself coping was by picking on Y/N. Y’know the girl that broke his heart. He didn’t mean to but his first instinct was to ignore her until her internship ended -And that went well until Rob announced her permanent position in the company. He was mad at her for torturing him. He told himself that he would let her go because she wasn’t happy with him. So why the fuck does it feel like she’s teasing him. 

Every time he walks into those meetings, he can feel the tension between them. It makes his head go crazy as if he needs to beg on his knees so she can take him back. But like every love story, it’s just not that simple. It’s his pride and his reputation on the line. He needs a gap after his divorce before he can even go public with her. Oh, what is he thinking? No matter how much time he thinks can fix this, people will still attack them. He lost so many girlfriends because of his fame and he won’t let Y/N deal with it too. Especially, since she’s not a celebrity. She has no idea what this lifestyle can truly be like.

 ~

“London is quite… big.” Harry puts his shades on as he watches his bodyguard put the last luggage in the car. They were in a hidden corner outside of Heathrow Airport, Y/N and Emily stood next to him as they waited for his instructions. “You ladies can travel and explore the city. But, I was wondering if you would like to stay at my home this week. It will save you some money.”

“Oh no, Harry we don’t want to bo-” Emily speaks up.

“No, I insist. I had to bring you ladies along the last minute. Tom, you have my car ready right?” His bodyguard nods. “Perfect, you girls hop in with me and Tom will drive behind us.”

“Harry, your house is so beautiful.” Emily’s eyes shine as they step out of his car. 

“Thank you.” Harry smiles proudly as he glances at Y/N. “Let’s go inside so you can pick out your rooms.”

The house was gorgeous. Y/N wanted to tell him too but after their little fight at the airport today, she decided to keep her mouth shut. To be honest, there were so many things she wished she could tell him but he’s been acting so unapproachable. 

As they walked inside, the house smelled faintly like him, making Y/N forcefully hold in her breath a couple of times. How can this man barely be here yet the place smelled just like him.

“Oh, Harry…. You and your wife are very lucky to have this house. I love this rustic theme. It feels so homey.” Emily compliments him. “Y/N when you get married, make sure you take care of the decorating portion, so you can have something like this.”

 “Oh-” Y/N’s eyes widen as she hears Harry cough behind her. 

“My wife has actually never been here before. She’s not a fan of London.” Harry tries to say nonchalantly. In reality, however, both of their hearts were racing. Their brains synced up with one another as they thought about a distant memory.

 ~

It was a couple of months into their affair as they cuddled naked against each other in Y/N’s bedroom. The moonlight was shining right onto them as they both stared at random objects in her room, appreciating their intimacy. Harry’s hand comb her hair back while she let her fingers mindlessly trace his tattoos. Their breathing was in sync as they whispered sleepy thoughts to one another.

“What’s it like in London?” Y/N mumbles as her lips touch his chest while she speaks.

“It’s rainy,” Harry replies back. He scoots himself closer to the girl and kisses her forehead. “Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“I’ll bring you one day, I promise.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I’ll bring you to all my favourite places and fuck you so hard in the hotel rooms.”

 “Why does that sound so appealing?” Y/N laughs as she looks up at him. “Can we go soon?”

“When I find out how to not get seen by the paparazzi, sure.”

“Does this mean we have to have all our meals in our hotel room?” Y/N pouts -because as much as Harry can request a secluded room, he’s still married and people will talk. 

“Baby, don’t make it sound depressing. I’m sure we’ll find ourselves a loophole.”

...

“You’ll try?” She pulls away immediately looking at him. “What do you mean? Have you not been trying to do that these past few months!” He rubs his face in frustration. 

“It’s hard Y/N. I told you countless times.”

“I know it’s hard but what’s stopping you from doing it! You told me that you don’t want to lose me but for some odd reason, it seems like you don’t want to lose her!”

“She was my first love Goddammit!” He finally yells back at her.

~

It’s been two days since their stay in London and Y/N was enjoying every minute of it. Although she had to give some of her hours to work, she couldn’t deny her excitement as she and Emily walked through the unknown streets.

Funny enough while they were eating at a small cafe for lunch, she ended up meeting a new guy. His name was Elliot and he came from New York to visit his family here in London. He was just having lunch with an old friend of his. He noticed her accent and decided to approach her table.

Although, Y/N thought he was cute - she wasn’t interested? It confused her because the moment he asked for her number, she thought of Harry. Which automatically made her say yes. She just doesn’t know if she’s ready for a new relationship but what’s the problem with trying?

“How was your day?” Harry watches the women come into his home as he sits on his couch watching TV. It was around 8 PM and he had nothing to do. His schedule this past year was made to be available for Y/N (excluding PR events)  and since they broke up, he never planned on changing them.

“Harry, oh we didn’t think you’d be home. You’re a celebrity! Shouldn’t you be out partying?” Emily laughs as she sits on the couch. She rests her bags on the floor as Y/N does the same. 

“Oh no. I’m not really into those. I don’t know it’s a nice Friday night to relax. Tomorrow, we have that interview in the morning so I wanted to sleep early.”

“What a smart boy! Well, Y/N and I did some shopping. London is so beautiful. I’m glad I’m here again. Actually, that reminds me! Y/N tell Harry what happened today!”

“Huh?” Y/N’s face pales as she looks at Emily. Her co-workers seemed to invade her love life without seeing a problem. The problem is, however, is that they don’t know what’s truly been happening. “Elliot.” Emily gives her a comforting smile.

“Oh, do you  know him?” Harry gives her a serious look as he turns down the TV. 

“No, he came up to us while we were having lunch.”

“He was so cute Harry! I hope they get together.” Emily squeals. “He’s from New York but I think he was truly interested in you Y/N. He was bold enough to ask for your number!”

“Did you give him your number?” Harry asks Y/N without looking at her. He was biting the inside of his cheek pretty hard trying to pretend as if he didn’t care at all. Suddenly he was too focused on watching the show on his TV.

“Yeah.”

“Cool”

And although Emily continued the conversation, Harry didn’t think it was cool at all.

~

Knock...knock…

Y/N hears the soft knocks on her door as she leaves her ensuite. A couple of hours ago the conversation in the living room ended leaving them to rest in separate rooms of the house. 

“Hey.” She catches herself off guard as she sees Harry in front of her when she opens the door. She glanced at his familiar outfit and for some odd reason, it made her feel good. He was wearing his sweatpants and an old band tee she used to wear when he stayed at her’s for a few nights.

 “I was wondering if we could uh talk.” He glances at the hallway he’s standing in. He was scared Emily would walk out of her room.

 “Oh yeah Sure. Come in.” Y/N opens her door a bit wider to let him in. Her luggage was messily opened in the corner of her room while her shopping bags stayed on the other side. She mindlessly hides her arms in her sweater and sits on the bed. “Funny how you want to talk but you’ve been ignoring me for 3 months.”

“Uh just thought it was a good time to talk to you since we’re not really at work and we’re not surrounded by people.” Y/N rolls her eyes. He had to be bullshitting her.

“Why are you here Harry? Are you thinking you can sleep with me tonight? That this is an opportunity?” Y/N gives a disgusted look as she watches Harry standing in front of her with his arms crossed. 

“What? No. Y/N… I just- Fuck.” He lets his arms out in disbelief. “ I don’t know why I’m here. I’ll leave.” He turns around but her voice calls him out. 

“No. Stay. You obviously have something to tell me.” He turns around and sighs. He sits beside her on the mattress and looks at his hands.

“I miss you.” He blurts out. Y/N rubs her eyes, not from tiredness but because she misses him too -so mainly from frustration. 

“You can’t say that.” 

“You told me to stay and tell you what I needed to tell you.”

“You didn’t need to tell me that.” Y/N pulls her hands from her face and sarcastically laughs at him. She knew she was still in love with him but she also knew their break up was for the right reason. Their affair was wrong. He didn’t know what he wanted and she knew too specifically what she needed.

“Well, you’re right.” He replies with a bit of an attitude. “I don’t know- just forget this ever happened.”

“Okay good, I’ll go back to texting Elliot.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders and reaches for her phone but before she knows it, Harry grabs her phone and unlocks it. It was still his birthday as her passcode and although that made him feel a bit better, he stood up to recite to her the stupid messages on her phone. 

He tries to hide his red cheeks as he scrolls through their text messages. “Did he just ask you what your favourite colour was?” Harry squints his eyes as he looks at her. He was carefully observing her reaction to his texts.  “That’s a stupid question.”

“I found it cute.” Y/N speaks over him. “Are you done looking at MY messages.”

“Bub, you actually think you’re going to get with this guy?” Harry looks away from the phone and looks at her. “He seems like a total wim-”

“Don’t call me bub Harry!” She interrupts him. “Especially, since you’ve been calling me stupid in front of all my colleagues at work during these past two months!” Y/N furrows her brows as she takes her phone back. She hates that he’s here right now. He’s acting like he wasn’t a total ass to her at her work.

“Shit Y/N.” That’s when he realized he fucked up. “Okay, I’m sorry about that.” He watches her as he combs his hair back. 

 “You can’t just come in here, say you miss me and look through my personal text messages. You pretended as if I didn’t exist these past few months and that hurt me!”

“Y/N, I’ve been hurting too!” Harry walks closer to her and shakes his head. “Don’t think our relationship meant nothing to me.” 

“Well, you sure as hell mastered the acting skill! Don’t try to manipulate me, Harry. You ignored me. You embarrassed me. You’ve been treating me like shit!”

“I needed to move on from you Y/N. I had to manipulate myself into thinking I was making the right choice. Our relationship was the only thing making me happy.”

“Do you have any proof of our relationship?” Y/N sarcastically replies as she closes her MacBook and places it on the nightstand. “You have all these pictures of you and your wife but everything about us is hidden.” Harry’s eyes widened. “I lie to my family. You come to my apartment taking the hidden roads and a thick cover-up. Do you think that makes me feel better? Knowing you’re not just hiding me but your affair from the public.”

“Okay, what the actual fuck? What is wrong with you? What’s up with your obsession with us being public? Do you want fame or something?”

“How dare you?” Y/N stands up to meet his height. “Is that what you think of me? Using you for fame!”

“It sure damn seems like it.” Harry rolls his eyes as he walks forward to her, making them the closest they’ve been in for months. 

“Harry, I’m 23! Everyone I know makes it clear they’re in a relationship. Just because people know about us, it doesn’t mean I would publicize everything we do. I just need evidence that this relationship we have between us is real!”

“YN are you bloody kidding me right now. Of course, it’s real! What have we been doing these past years?”

“Messing around?” Y/N scoffs. “You’re married and for some goddamn reason you won’t leave her!”

“Even if I ended things with her, I would still keep you a secret Y/N. I don’t know what you want from me.” Harry calmly states as he closes his eyes. 

“There’s a difference in keeping me a secret and having our relationship known to the public but being very private.”

“I don’t know why this matters to you so much. You know I care about you and I want to be yours. Fuck -I was yours.” Harry wipes his eyes a bit. 

“You don’t know why it matters to me so much because you aren’t me. You don’t know how it feels to have the second bits of someone. You don't even understand how I feel -to be so in love with someone, only to know from the beginning they were never fully yours, to begin with.”

“You love me?” Harry chokes on his breath as he looks down at her. He obviously knew they had such a deep connection but he never thought about love when it came to them. You want to know why?

Love always makes everything complex and hurtful. He fell in love for the first time with his wife and look where it led him? In a broken marriage where he no longer had hope. He had wishes and dreams for the two of them and throughout the years, they all disappeared in a drought.

 Love is such a pleasing and attractive feeling that every human wants but why does it always end opposite for him? To be in love is different. You have to be vulnerable and Harry has never done that with Y/N. He doesn’t even know if he can do that again. He already fell in love and found someone who he would call his partner. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. That didn’t go as planned.

“Yes.” Y/N looks down but Harry’s hand rests on her chin to make her look at him again. 

“Why couldn’t you tell me sooner?” He was stalling. He was asking her questions so he wouldn’t have to explain his feelings for her. He was also trying to let her down slowly. 

“Last time I spoke to you, you told me you wouldn’t leave your wife because she was your first love.”

“Oh.”

“Is she your only?”

“My only what?”

“Your only love?”

Silence.

There’s your answer.

“For a husband to cheat on his wife, people would say you have a big ego but I don’t think so. Elliot isn’t the wimp Harry… you are.”

“It takes two to tango Y/N. Don’t just blame me.” Harry lets his hand fall. “I have rules I stand by when it comes to marriage and you know how much of a pain she is!”

“You told me you wanted to leave her but that never happened! I kept telling myself that our relationship was okay but why was it still killing me?” She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at him. “ Do you still love her?”

“No,” Harry answers immediately. 

“Why are you still holding onto her? Why can’t you see that she’s not making you happy and you need to get out of this marriage.”

“Because it’s marriage Y/N! I committed myself to her for my whole life!”

“You sure as hell weren’t committed last year!”

“You don’t understand because you aren’t married!” Harry finally screams the loudest. His face was red and it seemed like the blood vessel in his neck was about to burst.

“You’re telling me… you rather have me continue compromising my morals and keep this relationship hidden just so you can have the best of both worlds?” Y/N scoffs. “You’re stupid.”

“I know.”

“You can’t have everything. I know you’re famous and rich but you made the choice not to fight for me two months ago and now I’m choosing the same.” Y/N shakes her head and rests her back on the wall. She looks at him with disappointment in her eyes. “I don’t know why we keep having this same fight. We always go through the same topic and the same arguments. Although I’m fighting for what I need in a relationship, I’m also fighting for you to realize you’re better off without her.” 

“I guess you can say I’m a bit stubborn.” He speaks up in a soft voice trying to communicate with her in a more respectful tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want me again. I just needed to tell you I miss you. Ever since we broke up, I realized how much of an impact you made on me.” He repeats.

“Ok.”

“Do you miss me?” His mouth pouts as he watches her. “Have you ever?”

“Of course I did Harry. I loved you.”

“Wait a minute. You don’t love me anymore?” Harry was quite offended to hear that from her.

 “What? No… it’s complicated. I can’t describe it.”

“You either love me or you don’t.”

“I’m trying to move on. Why can’t you let me? You don’t seem to love me back anyway!”

Silence.

"Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do” He admits to her., letting his confession easily slip through his lips.

“Resisting you was harder yet I failed.”

-

After their conversation, Harry left Y/N’s room to get some sleep. Although he approached her with the main goal of receiving closure he realized that his true main reason was to win her back. Maybe it was because of this Elliot guy but Harry couldn't imagine her with someone else. It made him drown in jealousy and sadness -A feeling that his lover knew all too well. That night, he realized he couldn’t have what he wanted. He’s confused about his feelings and how he could win back Y/N. 

“Thank you for meeting with me.” Harry lays his head on his mum’s couch as she sits in front of him. Today was their last day in London since tomorrow morning they were going to the airport. Harry knew he had to visit his mum and ask for advice since he needed someone to talk to.

“You’re my son. Of course Harry. What are you saying?”

“I don’t know.” he closes his eyes as he explains everything to his mother. He began with the cold turn of his marriage and later on shared his affair with Y/N and how confused he’s feeling right now.

\\

“For god’s sake. I can’t believe you.” Anne expresses her disappointment. “Harry, I’m not proud of you cheating. I never thought you would do this. Now you-”

“I think I love Y/N.” Harry interrupts her as he rubs his hands on his thighs. Anne lets out a sigh but displays an understanding look.

“If you love her, you’d be willing to compromise and fix things to make her happy. She’s right you know? Why are you still tied up to that other woman if she barely acknowledges you? You never told me about this.”

“Because I don’t want you to worry mum.” He looks at her and rests his elbows on his thighs. “I thought the whole marriage thing would fade away since I’m barely in it. I just thought everything would slowly change and I’d be back to who I was before I became a husband. I was hurt when she became cold to me but I slowly just forgot about her and went on with my day. I was only seeing her 5 times a day and I was starting to be okay with that but whenever someone would ask me something about her or I’m at an event, I realize I’m married. I made promises that I barely kept.”

“She never kept them either.”

“I know. Our marriage was over years ago before we truly started. I just -I don’t want to have a divorce like you and dad. I know you might be offended but I cried my heart out when you told me and Gem you two were splitting up. I promised myself I would never do that.”

“You were 8 Harry. You didn’t understand how love and marriage were so complex. Your father and I just didn’t work but that doesn’t mean I can’t find another person and have that life I always imagined. Rob was that man for me. I think you’re thinking about everything a little bit too hard that you don’t even realize the girl you love is slipping through your fingertips.”

She’s right.

“I’m scared that she won’t be happy with me after I change everything for her. I’m scared she’ll be just like the other woman I married.”

“You can’t let that stop you. It’s unfair for the two of you. You need to fight for her. And don’t think I’m encouraging you and your cheating but I want you to be happy and if that’s with her. I’m okay with that.”

“I need to talk to her.”

~

It was around 6 PM by the time Harry came home. He barely parked his car into his garage as he entered the house. He noticed Emily was just about to leave.

“Harry! Our interview went great today.” Emily looks up after rummaging in her purse. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I-um have to pee?” Harry’s cheeks turn red as he leans on the railway and slowly climbs the stairs.

“Oh go then! My uber is here. I forgot to buy some treats for my kids.”

“Oh okay. Is uh Y/N here?” He bites his lip as he watches Emily walk to the front door.

“Yeah, she’s packing. She finished her marketing meeting for your shop like an hour ago.”

“K, thanks. See you tonight.” And with that, Harry jogged up the stairs to go to her room.

Knock… knock…

Deja-vu hits Y/N as she opens her door and sees Harry standing behind it. “Hi, you’re here again. The most I’ve spoken to you after the last three months.” Harry says nothing as he steps inside the room and closes the door.

“I’m leaving her.” He blurts out. He glances at her cozy outfit and her messy room before looking at her again.

“Oh.” Y/N’s eyes widen but she turns around and continues to fold her clothes into her luggage. “That’s a good decision to make. What made you change your mind?”

“You.”

“Harry, We were together for a year and you still didn’t want to leave her.” She sits on her bed and gives him a knowing look. “What made you change your mind?” She repeats.

“Um, I’ll share it with you. When I was eight, my parents divorced. After that, I promised myself I would take love and marriage so seriously -There would only be one person meant for me.”

“I never knew that. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared to be vulnerable with you.” 

“But you opened up so easily to me about who you were. I just never knew this side of you.”

“I know.” Harry clears his throat and walks towards her. “It’s stupid to think about that rule I made to heart when I was younger. Things are different and I have you or at least I want you.” He closes his eyes for a brief second.. “I spoke to my mum and she told me you‘re right.”

“I know I am.” Y/N lets out a small laugh. 

“I just needed someone other than you to tell me it was okay to leave her. I know she and I aren’t even really together but everyone we know thinks we are.”

“Oh.”

“Look I’m sorry that I make things harder for us. I hated talking about the consequences of our relationship because it made me feel guilty and you don’t deserve to be the reason why. You make me so happy and I- I never took into account how truly you felt about our relationship. I continued to put you in a position you didn’t want to be in.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Y/N purses her lips and looks at him, “Even though you were a total ass after our break up you know I still love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Even if you don’t love me back, and even if we both move on, there will always be a part of me that will always love you no matter what.” 

“Y/N I made myself promise that I would only love one woman and I never really thought about loving you when we were together. Maybe because it was so natural, the feeling went straight to my heart and I never thought about it. B seeing you at work yet feeling so distant from you and our relationship made me recognize how serious I was about you. With that, my wife never made me feel the way I’m with you. You taught me things to make me a better person. She’s different from who I fell in love with before and that’s okay because I’m different too now. ”

“So you aren’t just bluffing. You’re going to leave her. Not just for me but for you too?”

“Yes, I’m doing it for us.” He smirks at her and rests his hands on her waist. “I don’t know why I was stalling.”

“Well, now you’re here.” Y/N smiles as she reaches out to him. “I miss you.” She immediately kisses him as his hands intertwine with her hair, making him desperately kiss her back. 

“I miss you too baby.” He pushes her down gently on the bed as he carries her clothes off the bed and onto the bed. “I don’t know if I want to make love to you or fuck you so hard because I miss you.”

“Just do both. Over and over again.” Y/N whispers as she unzips her hoodie and takes off her shorts, leaving her in just her underwear. Harry locks her door and returns back as he quickly takes his shirt off. 

“Fuck you look so beautiful. My sweet angel. I can’t believe I had to lose you for a while.” He eyes her greedily before leaning down to leave soft kisses down her chest. His hands pull her down the bed and spread her legs open as his mouth continues to go south. “You don’t know how many times I thought about just fucking you over the desk at your work.”

“You barely spoke to me.” Y/N laughs as she watches Harry kneel on the floor. She quickly shuts up, however,  as she feels his hot mouth teasing her covered wet center.

 “Didn’t change the fact I had sleepless nights craving your body and needing your cuddles.” His cheeks turn red.

“What else did you want to do then.” Y/N takes her bra off and lets her fingers tug his hair. She was impatient, was it obvious? Both of them only had their hands to keep them happy.

 “Last month when I screamed at you in the meeting about merch prices, I was so hard because of your unbuttoned blouse. I couldn’t focus and I needed you out of the room.”

“I wasn’t even doing-”

“You were staring at me and rolling your eyes baby. I know my bad girl when she’s mad. I was so tempted to just pull you by your hair and make you suck my dick.”

“Then let me suck you off now.”

“Nuh, It’s about you,”Harry mumbles and kisses her inner thigh before ripping her thin underwear apart. “Fuck, so wet. I missed the way you taste baby.” Harry immediately dives in, letting his mouth suck on her clit as his fingers dance their way to her needy core.

“Har-”

“Call me what you want to call me.” Harry looks at her as his mouth bites and sucks on her thighs.

 “Daddy.” She moans out as his fingers quicken their pace. Her hands holding onto his hair as his mouth greedily attacked her. Licking and sucking without any mercy.

“Play with your titties baby while you watch me fuck you with my fingers.” He instructs as Y/N holds herself with one arm and plays with her boob with the other. 

“You make me feel so good. Oh my god.” Harry quickens his pace as he spits on her center, making him watch his saliva drip down to the sheets. 

“Turn around.” He helps her into the position before slapping her butt cheek. “Guess I’m going to fuck you first.”

“I need you so badly. Fuck, you ruined me for any other guy out there.” Y/N rests her head on the mattress as she feels him tease her centre. His pants were half off since he was too focused on his girl.

“So no boyfriends these past couple months.”

“No.”

“What about Elliot?”“

I was just starting to talk-” Harry inserts himself in. His hands tightly holding onto her waist. 

“You’re going to stop talking to him right? Cuz you’re mine.”

“Mhm…” Y/N turns herself around after a couple of thrusts, making her look directly at him. “Have you been uh seeing any-?” 

“No. Couldn’t get my mind off you and I just wanted your company.”“

Oh fuck, harder.” Her eyes roll back as Harry hits her most sensitive spot. His hand rests on her stomach as the other wondered around her body. 

“You’re so good for me baby.” He grunts as he leans down to kiss her. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Just let go, it’s alright love, I'm here.” Harry softly reassures her with his hand wrapped around her neck.

So, this is what it feels like to be in heaven? Y/N thinks to herself as she finally reaches her high. Harry quickened his pace and by the time, he knows it -he spills his seed right inside of her.

“I love you Y/N.”

~

The trio was now back in America as they stood outside of LAX. Emily was in the car talking to her husband while Harry and Y/N decided to stay outside and talk. They were still waiting for the airport’s security to lead them out of the lot since there were paparazzi outside of this VIP parking area they were in.

“Do you think soulmates are real?” Y/N asks Harry. They stood 5 feet apart, both resting their backs on the car. They were acting as colleagues, as friends -not lovers.

“Yes.” He glances at her through his shades. “No matter where we go or what happens, the universe would lead us back to each other.”

“Are you saying I’m your soulmate?” she sucks on her lollipop innocently as she smirks at him. Harry just smiles back and nods as he crosses his arms again. 

That’s cute.

“I’m happy I have you again.”

“You better not be a bitch to me when you visit the office.”

“Me? A bitch?” Harry laughs at her statement.

“You’re sassy! Why else do you think I angrily stare at you at work.”

“I know. It pained me to walk right past you the first day after our breakup.” Harry stares at the concrete wall in front of them. “Did you notice I was in the office more though? I kind of hated you but I had this constant need to see you all time. I even started bugging Marissa and Paul about the marketing contracts so I could work with you through lunches.”

“A simp.” Y/N laughs.

 “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” She laughs at how clueless he is.

“Your hands look cold. Mind if I warm them up.” Harry intently looked at her hands that seemed to be doing alright. 

“We’re in LA and you think I’m cold.” She gives him a funny glare.“Just accept my flirtatious attempt to hold your hand.”

“Emily is inside the car and there’s paparazzi outside.”

“And?” 

“You can’t just

“Thought you wanted physical proof we’re together. No one is going to see us.”

“Security camer-”

“Walk closer to me.” Harry interrupts her. She follows along and stands beside him. He secretly reaches behind them to grab her hand. Now they were holding hands but no one could see. 

“You’re cute y’know.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at her. 

“Well, I should go in the car. There’s AC.” Y/N laughs at his cute attempt. As she walks away, her hand is still intertwined with his leading him to quickly pull her into him so he can kiss her.

“Sorry I couldn't stop myself.” His eyes widen. 

They immediately pull away. Harry looks inside the car to see Emily talking on the phone looking outside the window towards the other way. Thank the lord, she didn’t see them.

“Mr. Styles, the security is outside already. We can go.”

~

“Harry!” Y/N yells out his name through the speaker.

“Hi baby, I just woke up.”

“You have to rea.. read the news.” She was crying so badly that she could barely breathe.

“Why? What happened?” 

“They know Harry. Everyone knows about us and Paul just called me in for a meeting.”

His heart was beating fast as he hung up the call without bidding her goodbye or comforting her. His wife was sleeping in the other room but he could already hear the vases and picture frames being thrown at the walls. 

TMZ

Harry Styles is Caught Cheating on His Wife With Mysterious Girl!!!

Daily mail

Harry Styles is a Womanizer!

People

Harry Styles’ mistress is Y/N L/N!!!

Hollywood Life

All About Harry Styles’ Affair with Columbia Records Employee!

part three ici

[sibillascribbles08]

Dareth and ten year old Toby

Dareth yawned, begging his coffee to kick in as he took another long sip. He went to bed at a decent hour, only to be awoken by the kid sneaking into his room. Of course he bolted as soon as he was spotted, hiding back in his own room that he’d occupied for almost a month now.

A month. They picked that kid up in the garage almost a month ago and he still wouldn’t come out. Dareth wasn’t sure what to do with him anymore. He wouldn’t throw him out, of course not, but maybe it was time to find another place to put him.

One more sip of coffee. He didn’t normally drink it black but he tricked himself into believing it would work better that way. Dareth set the mug down and sighed.

The kid stood next to his chair.

Dareth jerked, almost flinging coffee across the room.

At least that woke him up.

“Wh--kid?” Dareth looked at him. “What are you doing down here?”

The kid stared at him, glaring, always glaring. If Dareth wasn’t aware he could pick the kid up with one hand he might find it intimidating.

“You’re talking.” The kid said.

“Uh...”

“You never talked before. Why now?” He pointed.

Dareth studied his hands while he could. His fingernails weren’t long but they were ragged, likely being chewed on, but there was still some dirt underneath. He could see a film of dust and old sweat on his skin as well, not even speaking about his hair. Probably only shiny from natural oils.

But getting him to come out of his room had taken a month how long would it take to get him to take a bath?

The kid puffed out his cheeks. “Answer me!”

Dareth sighed, his exhaustion coming back. “Me and Ronin trade the ability to speak sometimes.”

“Huh?” The kid lowered his hand and stepped back, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Now that, is a personal question.” Dareth pointed back before drinking more coffee. “And since you aren’t inclined to tell me anything about yourself, I think I’ll do the same.”

The pouting face returned, hands clenched at his sides. Dareth just decided to pretend he wasn’t paying attention.

“What is that?”

He glanced over this time to see the kid pointing at his mug.

“Coffee.” Dareth said.

“Co-ffee.” The kid repeated the word slowly, moving his mouth with each syllable like he’d never heard it before. “What’s coffee.”

“Drink that helps me wake up.”

“Um... can I see it?”

Dareth blinked at him a few times before he held the mug out. The kid flinched at first, stepping away, but then crept forward and leaned over the cup. His nostrils moved before his nose scrunched up.

“Ew.” He covered his face and stepped back. “Smells bad.”

“You learn to love it.” Dareth finished it off. “You hungry kid? Want breakfast?”

Dareth stood. The kid scurried away, ducking behind a chair. Dareth just watched him, waiting, until he finally crept back out.

“You want some eggs? Bacon?”

“Ba-con... eggs... what are those?”

Dareth’s heart stuttered. “Huh? You don’t know?”

The kid shook his head. “What are those things you always put outside my room?”

“A... a sandwich?”

He nodded. “I want one of those.”

Dareth tried not to let his panic show. Kid didn’t even know what a sandwich was? What eggs were? “Well, hang on. Sandwiches aren’t always breakfast food. I just took those because I figured it’d be easiest to eat.” And less clean up later, but he didn’t say that. “Why not try something new?”

Pouty face. “But sandwiches are my favorite.”

“Kid, you don’t even know what eggs are. How do you know those won’t be your favorite.”

It seemed to present quite the dilemma. The kid almost seemed distressed, eyes darting around.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal.” Dareth put his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. “I’ll make some breakfast and if you don’t like any of it I’ll make a sandwich instead.”

“Um... okay.”

With that out of the way, Dareth headed into the kitchen. He opened the main fridge, snatching up half a dozen eggs, a package of ground sausage and a package of bacon. Simple, not too crazy. He almost worried he’d blow the kid’s mind if he tried to make pancakes or waffles.

He set the food aside as he turned on the griddle. They had a smaller home kitchen upstairs, but Dareth just kept using the one down here. Between him, Ronin, Harumi, the kid, and sometimes a whole grizzly bear, it was worth it just to cook in bulk.

The kid came into the kitchen, glancing around. Dareth let him wander but kept half an eye to make sure he didn’t pick up something dangerous.

“What... what are those for?” The kid sounded terrified as he pointed to the large sinks in the back. Three in a row all with faucets and a hanging spray hose.

“Washing dishes.” Dareth grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs.

That got the child’s attention. That startled look over came his face and he shuffled closer to watch. “What is that?”

“These,” Dareth cracked another, “are the eggs. The shell isn’t edible so you break them open to get the good stuff.” When he emptied them all he let the kid look into the bowl.

Another look of disgust. “Looks gross.”

“Eh, there’s not really a way to make eggs look not gross.” Dareth grabbed a whisk and started to beat them. Scrambled eggs always were the best way to introduce someone to them, in his experience. At least Harumi and Ronin weren’t too picky about how they were cooked.

He tossed in some pepper and salt, though not a lot in case the kid wound up not liking it. After tossing some butter on the griddle and letting it melt down, he poured the egg mixture on top.

They hissed when they met the hot metal. The kid jumped, but didn’t run.

Dareth flashed a smile at him. He grabbed two short hand spatulas off the wall and began to push the eggs around on the griddle. Sometimes he’d cut through them, other times he’d flip them entirely.

When the eggs were cooked he scooped them up and set them aside on a plate. Next came the bacon and sausage. He laid out the strips on the back of the griddle before dumping the whole container of sausage. Once again he used the spatulas to separate it and shape them into smaller patties.

While it was cooking he flipped the spatula in his hand and winked at the kid. For a second he swore he saw a smile.

Pyrite chose then to come inside. The smell of cooking meat must have inticed him to wake up. The kid looked at the bear wide eyed, curious, but not at all frightened.

“Morning buddy. You mind if the kid pets you?” Dareth gestured. “Looks like he wants to.”

“That’s fine.” Pyrite yawned, showing his teeth. “Just not the snout.”

“He says you can give him a pat, kid.” Dareth nodded. “Just not on the nose.”

“You can talk to him?” The kid gasped. He slowly approached the bear, hand out. His small hand practically vanished in Pyrite’s dense fur.

“Sure can. I can talk to the rats too. They talk about you sometimes.”

“What? No fair.” His voice turned into a mumble. “I wanna talk to them.”

Dareth laughed and flipped the bacon. “Hang out long enough maybe I’ll give you some pointers.

The kid sat on the floor with Pyrite while Dareth finished cooking. The bear gave him a few sniffs, making some humming noises that Dareth wasn’t fond of. It usually meant he found something unusual, but no point in asking about it right now.

“Alright.” Dareth made up two plates before piling some extras in a bowl for Pyrite. “Lets head back to the table, huh?”

He let them leave first--because stepping over Pyrite was more trouble than it was worth--and set the plates on the table before putting the bowl on the floor.

“Uh, what do you want to drink, kid? Milk? Juice?”

Once again, the kid stared at him, apparently not knowing what those words mean either.

“Okay I’ll try this. Out of all the liquids in cups I gave you beforehand, what was your favorite.”

“Um... actually that was um... the brown one. It was warm.”

Hot chocolate huh? With cinnamon? That was also Ronin’s favorite.

Curious.

“That was hot chocolate, but that’s also not really a good thing for breakfast. What about the white one?”

“Yeah, that one was good.”

Dareth got the kid a glass of milk and himself some more coffee before sitting down. He intentionally picked the farthest seat, making sure the kid felt as comfortable as possible.

The kid didn’t look entirely comfortable though. Instead he stared at the fork in his hand, obviously trying to figure it out.

“You uh... never seen a fork either?” Dareth asked.

The kid shook his head.

“Uuuh okay.” Dareth leaned over to one of the other tables, where he kept the rolled up silverware, and pulled out a spoon. “How about this one?”

The kid nodded.

“Okay, well this is a spoon. It’s a lot like a fork. Forks are just built to be able to stab food as well as scoop it up.” He decided to demonstrate, cutting off a bit of sausage and poking it. “Like this.”

The kid’s eyes seemed to flash with determination. He gripped the fork in his hand like he was ready for a fight. He stabbed it onto the plate--a bit too hard judging from the screech from the ceramic--but managed to get some eggs on the end of it. He made a face at it, obviously put off by the way it looked, but put it in his mouth anyway.

His face light up. He stared at the plate like he’d just struck gold. Suddenly he was shoveling the eggs into his mouth way faster than he should be. Dareth barely had the chance to speak before the sausage and bacon vanished along with it.

“Good.” The kid picked up the plate and licked off any stray bits of egg. “That’s so good!” He smacked the plate down, a huge grin on his face.

Something gripped Dareth’s heart and squeezed as he stared at that open smile, the crooked baby teeth with one of the front ones missing.

“Hah.” He tried to smile back, ignoring the lump in his throat. “First time I’ve seen you smile.”

Sadly, that made it vanish. The kid stared back at him, bewildered. He picked up the plate again and stared at it, as if looking at a reflection. “Oh.”

“Sorry, don’t worry about it.” Dareth forced a laugh. “Hey, if you want seconds I’ll gladly give you more, kid. If Ronin snoozes he loses.” He went to finally start eating his own breakfast.

“Toby.”

He almost dropped the fork. “Huh?”

“Toby, my name is Toby.” The kid stared at the table, hands now in his lap. Were his cheeks turning red?

Dareth smiled, that same tight sensation returning to his chest. “Nice to meet you Toby, I’m Dareth.”

“I know.” Toby tried to make himself even smaller. “I hear you and Ronin talking, sometimes.”

“Well...” Dareth finally took a bite. “I’m sure you have your reasons for being scared, Toby. But I promise none of us are going to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“Mmm...I know.” Toby moved on his seat, probably rubbing his hands together under the table. “I just figure you’ll... kick me out eventually.”

“Well, we aren’t the most qualified people to take in homeless kids.” He forced another laugh before clearing his throat. “But we won’t kick you out either, promise.”

“Mmm...” Toby didn’t look convinced.

“Nevermind it right now. You want seconds? Or maybe something else? What about some fruit?”

Toby squinted at him. “What’s a ‘fruit’?”

Dareth sighed. Oh boy.

[aellynera]

Accidental Anniversary (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

ACCIDENTAL ANNIVERSARY

💜💘 Happy Valentine’s Fic Exchange, @samrockweil​ 💘💜

I am your Valentine’s elf (or maybe cupid?) It was an absolute blast writing this for you!! At first I couldn’t decide which guy to write for, but Llewyn spoke to me and I ran with it and I hope you love it even half as half as much as I did writing it. Happy reading and happy beeps!

Also, huge thanks to @sergeantkane​ for putting this fic exchange together! Love you Clarke!

Word Count: around 8k oops look i had a whole MONTH okay i’m not sorry

Summary: You meet Llewyn Davis one night at the Gaslight, and soon find out that the universe has an odd sense of humor and an even weirder sense of timing.

Warnings: A few curses. Nothing else, it’s 99.999999999% fluffy fluff.

March 14

The air inside the Gaslight is thick with smoke that coils and kinks around the dim lights on the walls and the candles on the tables. Someone at the end of the bar calls out for a whiskey, which you pour and pass down. The sound system shrieks with feedback for three painful seconds as your boss flips the power on.

You’ve been working there for a couple weeks, a side job to help make your rent and keep you busy on the weekends. It’s not a terrible gig, most of the time; the patrons are pleasant enough, the performers hit or miss, and Pappi, your boss, is okayish, so long as you can mostly steer clear of him.

You begin to wipe down part of the bar while the next performer sets up on the small, dingy stage. You haven’t seen him before, but whispers from the stools at the counter hint he’s semi-popular around these parts. You quirk an eyebrow; he certainly is easy on the eyes, at least.

From the minute he takes the stage, your focus is ninety percent on him (you do need a little brain power to do your job, after all) and you find that he is also very easy on the ears. Dark curls, dark beard, dark eyes, dark clothes, but a surprisingly bright voice singing lovely songs. He finishes his set, comes off the stage, and sidles up to the bar. You hand him the requested bourbon with a soft smile.

And the next thing you know, Pappi is on the ground and this stranger is holding his hand, wincing, flexing his fingers. Your mouth drops open.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “What--”

“Jesus Christ, Llewyn,” Pappi groans from the floor. “I was only kidding.”

“Yeah, doubt that,” this Llewyn person mutters under his breath, taking a seat on the stool closest to him. “Can I bother you for some ice?”

You keep a wary eye on him, and on Pappi as he gets up and wanders to the other side of the room like nothing happened, and wrap some ice cubes in a towel and hand it to him. “You decked him.”

He scoffs and takes a sip of his drink. “You hear what he said about you?”

Well, no, you hadn’t actually, but having heard what Pappi has said about others in the club over the past two weeks, you can imagine. “I can handle him,” you say archly.

“I’m sure you can,” a huff of air escapes his lips, “but you shouldn’t have to.” He turns around to look at Pappi, who just glares and shakes his head. The man in front of you flips your boss off.

You refill his glass without him asking and stick out your hand, telling him your name.

He shakes it and says, “Llewyn Davis” with a sheepish smile.

April 14

Llewyn shuffles down the sidewalk towards the Gaslight, really only noticing the early spring chill that hangs in the air. It’s early, before noon, but he wants to run through his set before the night’s performance and the early hour is convenient for him to be able to do so in peace.

He’s about a block away when a sound distracts him. A voice is singing, pure and sweet - if a tiny bit off-key - and if he didn’t know any better - and he certainly does, at least most times - he would call it angelic. No, not angelic. An actual angel. That’s what it sounds like.

Llewyn stops and looks up at an open window on the third floor. He can make out the vague outline of a figure inside, but he’s unable to see any details. But that voice. A few minutes pass as he just listens, staring up at the window, thinking about calling up to get the attention of the mysterious singer. But he doesn’t, and he just stands and listens, until he finds his feet starting to carry him on to his usual destination. 

Three steps into his walk, he realizes he knows the song. It’s one of his songs. Part of him can’t believe it, and the rest of him wants to offer pitch correction. Three more steps into his walk, and his face makes very solid, very resounding contact with the light pole on the corner.

“God dammit,” he shouts.

A few seconds later, the window on the third floor slides open and a head pokes out. “Oh my god. Llewyn?”

Llewyn looks up and groans inwardly as he recognizes your face from that last gig at the Gaslight. “Hey,” he waves awkwardly, leaning on the pole.

“Are you bleeding?” you call down to him.

He reaches up near his eyebrow and realizes he is, in fact, bleeding. Quite a bit, honestly. Before he can answer, you call back down, “Come up the fire escape to the side window!” The window drops shut and he can hear another slide open.

So Llewyn Davis climbs the fire escape steps and meets you at your side window, a first aid kit in your hands as you motion for him to sit. He does and you start to patch up his wound.

“You should be more careful,” you mutter as you worked, stopping briefly to look him right in the eyes.

He holds your gaze. “Sorry, I was...distracted.”

“Mmm,” you return. You fold a gauze pad and hand it to him. “Hold this on that cut. I’m going to get you some ice.” You turn to walk to your kitchen.

He mumbles his thanks and leans his head back against the fire escape railing.

May 14

You glance back behind the bar, making sure the bottles are stocked and the glasses are ready. Another night at the Gaslight is about to start, and although Llewyn isn’t playing tonight, he takes up a spot at the end of the bar and thanks you as you pass him a drink.

“How have you been?” you ask. You’d seen him a few times over the past couple weeks, here and there in the Village, but it’s been several days. You found Llewyn’s company quite enjoyable. You’d talked a bit and even shared lunch once at the diner a couple blocks away.

His lips turn up, a shy smile lighting his face. He opens his mouth to respond, when another voice breaks in.

“He’s been an asshole.”

Llewyn’s head ships around and you follow his gaze. A slender woman with long, straight brown hair and piercing eyes stands about ten feet behind him, arms crossed and glaring. Neither of them says anything for a beat, Llewyn turns away from her, and then she’s on him, daggers flying from her lips, going on and on about assholes and responsibility and electrical tape.

Llewyn keeps his eyes down, the bottom of his glass suddenly staring back at him. “Jesus Christ, Jean.”

You bite your lip as you glance between them. You have no idea who this woman - this Jean - is, but it’s clear she is not a fan of Llewyn Davis. In three seconds flat you decide you do not like her either.

“Is there something you needed?” you break in.

Her eyes flare at Llewyn, then at you, then bore into the back of Llewyn’s head. You resist the urge to literally toss a glass of whiskey in her direction.

“I need Llewyn to stop being an asshole,” she seethes. Llewyn rolls his eyes.

You arch an eyebrow and the words are on your tongue - I need you to back off, you crazy weird bit-- you bite your tongue just hard enough to make your mouth behave. Fortunately, she’s distracted by someone else calling her name and her attention drifts to the stage. With a final mutter of “asshole” and a rude hand gesture, she flounces off.

You point over Llewyn’s shoulder. “Um, what was that?”

He snorts. “A night of bad decisions and a lifetime of regret.” A pause. “It’s...a long story.”

You watch as she adjusts the microphone center stage. “Good lord, is she a singer? Tell me she’s not going to just smile and sing after...whatever that was.”

“Yeah. Well,” he offers by way of explanation and doesn’t say anything else. It’s almost like this woman sucked all the fight out of him and you feel your heart give a little twinge.

You toss the rag in the sink and take his glass. “Do you wanna get out of here?” The air around you has a weird vibe now, and you felt a sudden impulse to get out and take this man - your friend - with you, away from this...whatever she was, somewhere safe.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, a grateful glimmer passing through his dark eyes.

“There’s a great cafe down the block.”

“But don’t you have to...you know...work?”

You look around and shrug. “It’s dead in here, and Bobby can handle it,” you hook your thumb at a co-worker behind the bar. “And if Pappi says anything, I know someone who can set him straight.”

Llewyn’s eyes glint and his lips turn up in a real, honest smile this time. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee.”

June 14

The summer - or very last days of spring, technically - is starting to get hot and your open windows are doing the bare minimum to alleviate the warmth. Of course, the third glass of wine you’re drinking probably isn’t helping things either.

Whatever. It’s your day off.

Shoes kicked off, jeans rolled up above your ankles, feet up on the arm of the couch, a record on the turntable and your glass of red as the dusk slowly melts into dark. The night is tranquil and relaxing and perfect. It has been a shitty week, and all you want is to ignore the outside world and do exactly this.

The shrill ring of your phone bursts that bubble..

You close your eyes and tilt your head back on the couch. Ignore it. If you just ignore it, it will go away. The phone stops ringing. Deciding to take no further chances, you switch off the ringer, completely, then sigh happily, settling yourself on the couch and sipping your wine.

Perfect.

A resounding, repeated thump echoes through the room. You bit back a shriek. Ignore it. If you just ignore it, it will go away - lightning can strike twice, right? It was extremely rude of people to just call you and knock when all you wanted was--

“Hey, are you home?” a muffled voice comes from the other side of the door.

Suddenly alert and somehow much less annoyed, you spring up and cross to your front door. Yanking it open, you find a very disheveled Llewyn Davis on the other side. He doesn’t seem to notice right away that the door was now open, and you had to jump back as his hand, raised to pound on the door again, almost knocks you in the head instead.

You take a deep breath. You catch a waft like the mat under the taps after a long night at the bar.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” You take him by the arm and drag him inside, appraising him quickly. His eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, his curls an absolute mess, and there’s a dark mark under his left eye and a split in his lip. He looks terrible, smells just as bad, but suddenly all your desire for a quiet, no-other-humans night evaporates. “And did you get in a fight?”

“...yes?”

You sigh and point to the couch. “Go. Sit. I’ll make some coffee, and then you’re getting a shower..”

“You’re incredible,” he slurs, smiling, “And you’re so…I tried t’call you, from th’phone on the corner but you dinnt answer. An’ then I realized, hey, I’m on your corner, so decided t’come up and see you. You’re pretty.”

You take him by the elbow and lead him to the couch, only stumbling twice and managing to catch him as he sways, precariously, once. “Uh huh,” you bite your lip to hide a smile. “Sounds like you’ve had a fun night. You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He flops down on the couch and buries his face in a pillow.

By the time you make the promised pot of coffee and get back to the living room, Llewyn is snoring, still face down in the throw pillow. Turning off the music and the lights, you cover him with a blanket and take your glass of wine to your room.

July 14

Ring, ring, ring.

You’d remembered to turn the ringer back on three days after Llewyn slept it off on your couch, but your phone hadn’t actually rung again until just over half an hour ago, and honestly you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or if it was just sad.

You are sure, however, that the sheer desperation in the voice on the other end when you answered is the reason you’re on this train to Queens. Are you doing anything, Llewyn had asked, because I could really, really use some help right now. Please, I’m begging you. And now the echo of your phone ringing just, well, rings in your ears.

The train screeches to a halt and you exit, making your way to the given address. You knock on the door of a smallish, nondescript row house and it swings open almost immediately, revealing a very disheveled, slightly panicked looking Llewyn.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes and grabs you by the arm, dragging you inside.

“Llewyn? What is going on?”

“It’s a disaster,” he says. He’s completely serious.

You’re preparing yourself for blood, broken bones, water damage, collapsed ceilings, possible dismemberment, anything, really, that could explain your friend’s current frazzled condition. What you get is completely, unexpectedly, not anything like that.

There are about ten kids, all around ten years old, running around in the living room, which is also full of balloons and streamers. One giant pinata, shaped like a baseball glove and bat, hangs from the light fixture. To Llewyn’s credit, it is kind of...chaotic, but it’s far from a disaster and you can barely contain the guffaw that escapes your lungs.

“Whose birthday?” you grin at him.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s not funny.”

You consider this and try to straighten your lips. Nope, not working. “It’s a little funny.”

Llewyn smacks you lightly on the shoulder. “It’s my nephew’s birthday, and my sister forgot some party thing and made a run to the store. I was stayin’ here last night and she just decided, oh, Llewyn can watch the kids, and she was gone.”

“So what’s the problem, exactly?”

“She should be back by now,” his eyes look slightly panicked.

“Maybe she had to go to a couple stores? Maybe she just got delayed by transit?”

“I can’t do…” Llewyn gestures around weakly, shaking his head. “This.”

“Llewyn, they’re kids. They can’t be more than what, ten years old? Just blindfold them and let them whack at the pinata.”

“You’re the people person. I can’t...can you help me, please,” he turns to look at you. Directly at you. You’re fairly certain his eyes cannot get any bigger or shine more pleadingly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Let’s go wrangle some kids.”

The panic slides from his face and to your surprise, he throws an arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head in his thanks.

And when one kid takes a wild swing at that tacky papier-mache sports equipment, misses completely, and lands a clean hit on Llewyn’s thigh, neither of you talk about it.

You just get him an ice pack.

August 14

“I’m making lasagna. Come over for dinner.”

You worked early that day, and said this to Llewyn as you left the Gaslight for the day. He isn’t playing tonight, and he’s really just here to stay out of the sun, and as much as he doesn’t like to push his luck with others’ hospitality, he has to admit that a home-cooked meal does sound incredible.

He has a feeling your invitation was partly due to Jean showing up, ready to do unnecessary verbal battle because she just can’t let it go, and you’d asked to both deflect her and keep yourself from actual physical battle. But whatever.

So he finds himself at your front door a couple hours later, a bottle of cheapish red wine in hand and an odd tingle in his chest. He dismisses it offhand; he’s probably just hungry.

You open the door and Llewyn’s nose is assaulted by the smell of homemade sauce - he’s half Italian, he knows these things - and cheese and garlic. You smile brightly at him. Yeah, he’s definitely hungry.

“Hey! Come in, it’s almost ready.”

He hands you the bottle. “Brought wine.”

“Excellent,” you lead him to the kitchen table and motion to a seat. He settles himself into it and grabs a piece of bread from the basket on the table as you grab two wine glasses.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks around a mouthful of carbs.

The timer dings and you pull the lasagna out of the oven. “No occasion. I just felt like making this and I didn’t really want to eat alone.”

“Lucky for you I like to eat,” he chuckles.

Your face suddenly feels warmer. Well, you did just pull a piping hot casserole dish out of the oven, so that does make sense, you suppose. You turn and put the lasagna on the trivet in the middle of the table, then turn and grab two regular glasses for water. There is an outlandish, metallic ka-chunk-ing noise as you turn on the tap, and suddenly water is shooting from under the sink and halfway across the room.

Llewyn jumps up and dives at the faucet, a chunk of bread clutched between his teeth, at the same time you crawl halfway under the sink to try and shut the water off. The stream blasts you in the face and you sputter.

This is not how you imagined tonight. Blasted ancient, rickety building. You make a mental note to have words with the super tomorrow.

You finally get the water shut off, and Llewyn closes the tap and sinks down onto the wet floor next to you. You lean against the cabinets and try to wipe the water out of your eyes.

Llewyn fares a little better; he’s only wet from his waist down. Your head thumps back on the soaked particle board behind you and you turn your head towards him. For a long moment he looks back at you, then rips the butt off the hunk of baguette in his mouth and passes it to you.

You snort. He bites his lip.

“Sorry, I think dinner might be a bit late,” you deadpan, eyes still on him, and take a bite of bread.

He bumps your shoulder with his. “It’s okay. Lasagna is always better the next day.”

Llewyn has to admit, though, it’s still pretty good a couple hours later, after you’re both dry and the lake in the kitchen is mopped up and you settle on the couch with your plates.

And if you use the water glasses for the wine, well, neither of you mentions it.

September 14

It’s pleasantly warm today, the heat of late August dragging itself into the beginning of September, and you find yourself in Washington Square Park, on a checkered blanket, a basket in the middle and a guitar by your feet. Pigeons wander and plot to steal food, but it’s easy enough to shoo them away.

It takes a little convincing, early that morning, to get Llewyn to agree to join you. It didn’t, really; he’s quickly become one of your best friends, and he doesn’t have anywhere else to be, he just likes to tease you.

But he does accept, and you eat some of the bread and cheese you packed and drink the iced tea you brought, and you get out a container of fruit salad and package of cookies your down-the-hall neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, made for you that morning.

“For you and your lovely man,” she’d said as she knocked on your door. You feel the warmth in the tips of your ears and you certainly see the color rise in Llewyn’s embarrassed face, but you don’t have the heart to correct her. She’s such a sweet old lady.

Llewyn plays a song or two while you enjoy your lunch, and even asks if you want to hear a new song he’s been working on, which you are more than happy to agree to.

It’s such a pleasant afternoon.

Until a small, brownish-gray blur jumps onto the blanket and grabs a chunk of bread and darts further onto the lawn.

“What the hell!’ Llewyn shouts as you yelp in surprise. The squirrel, for its part, just stops fifty feet away and turns back with a triumphant gaze, then scoots off into the bushes, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in its wake.

He starts to make a comment about the nerve of the wildlife, but you’re not really listening. Your eyes are fixed on the path the squirrel just ran and you tug on Llewyn’s sleeve. He keeps muttering and you tug harder.

“Llewyn.”

He finally looks up and follows your finger. There’s a flock - an honest-to-god flock, not that he has any real idea on the technical makeup of a flock, but there’s more than one so as far as he’s concerned, yeah, it’s a flock - of geese marching directly at the blanket.

Okay, so there’s only three of them. But they look angry.

The leader strides forward deliberately and bites at Llewyn’s shoe. Another yelp leaves your lips and he grabs your hand, pulling you to your feet. He also grabs the remainder of the bread and tosses it in the opposite direction as he takes off running towards the fountain, dragging you behind him.

“Where are we going?” you shout.

“No idea,” he replies. The leader falls for the bread feint, but his loyal minions do not, and they follow behind you, quacking and honking and flapping and Llewyn isn’t sure but he may dislike geese even more than he dislikes pigeons.

He jumps up on the edge of the fountain and pulls you into a protective embrace as the beasts close in. Only Llewyn doesn’t account for, you know, physics, and the force of your bodies colliding sends you both straight into the water.

Spluttering, you try to wipe the water out of your eyes. Llewyn is doing the same when a loud HONK startles you both. The leader is back, flanked by his friends, and they’re all staring at you.

“Um, Llewyn?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“...don’t geese like, love the water?”

His eyes flick to you, then the winged monsters, then you again, then the fountain like he’s seeing it for the first time and all he can do is mutter, “Shit!” and grab your hand as he pulls you to your feet and takes off running again.

You manage to swing by and gather the leavings of your picnic, blanket and basket tucked under your arms and his precious guitar clutched to him, as you beeline out of the park, soaking wet and laughing.

October 14

Llewyn slides the key into the lock and turns it, an odd flutter rolling up his spine as he hears the bolt click open. He’s had a key to your apartment for almost two months now. You gave it to him, insisted really, telling him this way he wouldn’t need to worry about finding somewhere to crash. That your couch is always open.

It still doesn’t feel real and he doesn’t always use it, but tonight he really, really doesn’t feel like making the rounds. You’ve been spending more time together recently anyway, and he feels mostly comfortable around you.

He’s greeted by the sight of you wearing a catcher’s mask and knee high rubber boots, and you’re wielding a tennis racquet. He doesn’t know what to say for a full minute.

“What are you...why are you wearing...what the hell.”

“There’s a bat,” is your whispered response.

Llewyn’s nose scrunches and he isn’t any less confused than he was a second ago. “What?”

“There’s a bat,’ you repeat. Your voice is slightly on the edge of hysteria because, well, “there is a bat. In the bathroom.”

“...okay?”

You jab your finger at the closed door. “I was just going to wash my face and brush my teeth and I went in there and it was just...in the corner, by the shelves. It was staring at me.”

He bites his lip, trying his hardest to suppress the smile tugging on his face. It isn’t working. He drops to a whisper himself and asks, “Baby, why are you whispering?”

Your head jerks towards the bathroom, and your shrug nearly sends the tennis racquet into his shoulder. “Because that’s how they...they’re...how they do the...the bat hearing thing!”

Llewyn laughs fully. He can’t help it; you’re ridiculous and his face heats a bit as he realizes it’s entirely endearing. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” he says, his voice sliding back to a whisper. He avoids your death glare as he makes his way to the bathroom door. “But sit tight, slugger, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Hand on the doorknob, he pauses and considers this. “Just gonna encourage it to go home? I dunno.”

Your grip tightens on the racquet. “How will that work?!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a fucking bat!” he hisses at you. “Just, make sure a window is open.” He opens the bathroom door.

Several things happen at once. Llewyn doesn’t so much open the door as he flings it wide and it slams into the wall. The bat makes a squeaky-shrieky noise (you were entirely unaware, until now, that they could even do that) and swoops out, recklessly streaking through Llewyn’s mess of curls. You make an actual shriek and fling the side window open as wide as possible. Llewyn makes a sound he can’t describe and you’re honestly not sure if it was Llewyn or the bat. The bat decides to take a few laps around the living room and you duck under the window sill just before it mercifully decides that outside is the place to be. Llewyn slams the window shut and you spring back to your feet, crash into his chest and his arms wrap around you.

Neither of you say anything, and Llewyn isn’t sure how much time passes, but he’s very aware of your hand running through his hair, and your soft words catching as you say you’re just trying to smooth out the bat damage.

He clears his throat. “I, uh, I’ll keep watch out here, make sure that thing doesn’t come back,” he jokes. “You okay?”

You finally - finally, he cheers internally - take off the catcher’s mask and nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m...good. Thanks for...thanks.”

Llewyn lets you go and takes the tennis racquet out of your hands, placing it next to the couch. He throws you a soft smile. “Just in case.”

November 14

It’s been a long night at work, a lot longer than it has any right to be and infinitely insufferable. The Gaslight is packed, patrons nearly crawling the walls and not an empty seat to be found. Drink orders stack up and you try to keep up. It’s so crazy that even Pappi doesn’t have a chance to be a smartass like usual.

Apparently it always gets like this, closer to a holiday.

Note to self - skip holidays.

There are two acts tonight. Llewyn is first, and it’s clear much of the crowd is here to catch him. It cheers you slightly, and it would certainly cheer you more if you had the time to pay more attention to him, but the constant call for whiskey and gin takes most of your focus. But for the time he’s on stage, your heart feels lighter.

Then the second act takes the stage, and Jean launches eye missiles at Llewyn from behind the microphone, and your mood sours instantly.

Yeah, it’s a very long night.

Everything is blurry for the rest of the evening, until last call mercifully rolls around and you can finally get to straightening out the mess the bar has become. You notice Llewyn still sitting on his usual stool at the end of the counter, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Don’t even say it,” you point at him sternly. “When will you stop fussing about this?” Ridiculous man. He has a key to your apartment, and still he worries that he’s an inconvenience.

You toss an orange slice at him, and he allows you a sweet grin.

Finally - finally - you’re home and Llewyn follows you inside, locking the door behind you. He heads for the couch and you head for your room, a mumbled g’night the only word that passes between you. You’re far too exhausted to deal with anything higher level.

It could be minutes or it could be hours later - your alarm clock somehow ended up on the floor and the darkish sky outside giving nothing away, and when did it start raining anyway - when a loud SPRONG and then a yelp and a THUMP from the living room jolts you awake.

It takes a few seconds to regain your senses. “Llewyn?”

“Fuck.”

You stumble out to the living room to find him half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor, the quilt he normally uses tangled around his knees and ankles. He rubs a spot on his lower back and winces.

“Llewyn! What happened?” you cry.

He points to the middle cushion and you see something sticking up from the padding.

“Oh, Llewyn, jesus. I’m so sorry,” you apologize. You really do feel terrible; your couch hasn’t been in the best shape for ages, and it looks like the squeaky spring you noticed a few weeks ago finally gave up and poked it way through. And stabbed Llewyn in the back as he slept. Damn it. 

“It’s...it’s fine,” he tells you, still wincing. “I can turn the other way, or sleep on the floor. Not a big deal.”

You shake your head. “Yes big deal. My couch just stabbed you, and it’s cold outside, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

“S’fine. Not the first time I ended up on the floor.”

You make up your mind before you even think about it and reach your hand out to him. “Come on,” you wiggle your fingers. “Come to bed.”

Llewyn’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to protest, but your look is so firm that he relents with a soft sigh and extricates himself from the blanket. He follows you to the bedroom and asks, no less than seven times, if you’re sure this is okay and says he really has no problem sleeping on the floor. You eventually tell him to shut the hell up and get under the covers.

You both lay on your sides, facing each other, but keep a space between you. Llewyn still looks mildly uneasy but relaxes as you smile at him and the warmth of your duvet and the softness of your pillows pull him under.

“Good night again, Llewyn,” you whisper.

“Good night again,” he replies with a soft yawn.

The rain steadily patters on your window and the sky slowly lightens as morning breaks and you languidly wake, curled into Llewyn’s chest, his arms secure around you.

December 14

Snow falls lightly outside, coats the grass and sticks to Llewyn’s curls, and his breath swirls and makes curlicues in the chill winter air. It’s two weeks until Christmas, and you decide to put up a tree, a real tree, and you tell him he’s going to help decorate it.

You also tell him that a bunch of your light strings have stopped working, and before you can ask him to run to the shop down the block that sells replacements, he volunteers and is out the door.

He can’t remember the last time he was anywhere with a real tree. It was usually those cheap-looking fake ones, the green plastic branches a color that would never exist naturally, if there were any tree at all.

So yeah, maybe he’s a little excited. He comes up the steps to the apartment, a bag perched in the crook of his elbow as he unlocks the door.

“So I got the lights, like you asked,” he says cheerfully, and sets the bag down on the table by the door.

“Help.” That’s...not the response he’s expecting.

It’s two weeks since the entire living room has been rearranged. The new, non-back-stabbing couch is on the opposite wall. You rearranged all your shelves, got a new armchair, and much to Llewyn’s wary delight and bewilderment, a new side table. The side table has blank sheet music and pens and there’s a guitar stand next to it and he doesn’t really know what to make of it. You just smile and tell him he needs a space to be himself, whatever that means.

The newly-opened space under the window is where the tree is going. Or, should be going. Llewyn looks down at the toppled fir and sees a foot sticking out near the trunk.

“Sweetheart? What happened?”

Your voice answers from beneath the branches. “Can you just help get this off me, please?”

Llewyn rights the tree and turns his head to check on you. He’s more concerned about you than the tree, of course, but he wants to make sure it doesn’t take you out again so he secures it to the stand as he takes you in. Thankfully you look fine, a few needles stuck to your sweater and a tiny scratch on your cheek, but otherwise…

He tries to stifle a laugh. “You’re looking very festive.”

Your eyes narrow. “Go ahead and ask,” you bite out, “because I know you’re going to ask.”

“I already did ask, before I had to be your lumberjack.”

You refrain from telling him that lumberjacks fell trees, not upright them. Whatever. You motion your head to the shiny silver tinsel wrapped around your torso. You can’t use your hands, really, and you’re not sure how they got tied up in this mess, exactly, but here you are, sitting on your living room floor in a pile of pine needles, trussed like a Christmas goose in sparking silver twine.

And your best friend is laughing at you. Jerk.

“I was trying to get this around the top part, and I lost my balance. Then like an idiot I tried to catch myself on the tree, and the whole damn thing went down with me,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how the rest of this tangled mess happened.”

He does laugh now, full and rich. “I was only gone for like, twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, can you maybe...untie me?”

“Oh! Wait, here, I got something else,” Llewyn jumps to his feet. He ignores your request and pokes around in the shopping bag.

“If it’s not chocolate, I don’t want to hear about it,” your grumbled response brings another laugh.

Llewyn’s back in front of you seconds later, holding a small white cluster above your head. The grin on his face is equally charming and infuriating.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you blink at him.

“I mean, I was just gonna, y’know, hang it above the door later and let it happen, but now seems like a better time for some Christmas cheer.”

“I think you’re pretty satisfyingly cheerful right now, idiot.”

He waves the mistletoe over your heads. “Come on. It’s tradition.”

One day, maybe you’ll be able to stop sighing in his presence, but today is not that day. You sigh again, roll your eyes, and lean in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and delighting in the shade of crimson he turns in response. He clears his throat and places the mistletoe to the side.

“Now will you untie me?” you ask, sugar-sweet.

He does, and helps you get the tinsel where it’s supposed to go and you spend the rest of the afternoon decorating the tree and drinking hot cider.

Llewyn sings you more than one Christmas song to make up for all the teasing.

January 14

It seems like a good idea at the time. One of your friends at your actual day-to-day job offers to set you up with another coworker, and it’s been ages since you went on a date and you figure, why not? What could possibly go wrong?

It turns out the answer is, a lot. A lot can go wrong. So much that you don’t even want to think about it.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. There is no chemistry, no spark, just an hours-long recitation of how your date is god’s gift to pretty much everything under the sun and possibly also the moon. The name-drops are just the cherry on top.

Maybe your first impression isn’t wrong after all.

You trudge up to your apartment, the bag of your favorite takeout under your arm filled to nearly bursting, and get the door open. All you want to do is stuff your face and maybe take a long, hot bath with a glass of wine. Yes, that sounds perfect.

The melody of a strumming guitar stops as you place the bag on the side table and shimmy out of your coat. The lamp in the corner is the only illumination and you tilt your head towards the armchair’s occupant. You’re surprised that he’s there, but only because he was supposed to be somewhere else tonight. Knowing he wouldn’t be around was at least...half the reason you agreed to this stupid date in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date tonight?” Llewyn asks in a low voice through the dim light.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing at the Gaslight tonight?” you retort, brow raised.

He shrugs. “Might have had a few too many an’ said some things. Might’ve gotten thrown out.”

“Mmm,” you appraise him. He just looks the same way you feel; ridiculously tired. Exhausted. “Might’ve told my date I had to use the restroom but… maybe didn’t mention I meant the one at my house.”

“That bad?” Despite his snort, Llewyn sounds genuinely curious.

You sigh as you flop down on the couch and hold up the takeout bag. “I’d rather not talk about it. You wanna help me eat this?”

In an instant he’s on the couch next to you and you hand him some plastic utensils and a napkin. You get up and grab two beers. For a while you just focus on eating, passing containers back and forth with occasional comments about the food. Your knees bump sometimes as you each reach for different containers or your drinks.

“So what happened?”

You stab a piece of chicken a bit more forcefully than necessary. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. It was a stupid idea to go on a blind date.”

“Kind of a stupid idea to go on a date at all,” Llewyn replies softly.

“What.” It’s not really a question. You definitely don’t mean it as a question and you vaguely think about throwing an egg roll at him but that would be an honest waste of decent takeout.

“I know what the problem is,” he continues in a normal voice. “It’s the fourteenth.”

You look at him with a raised brow. He has an odd look on his face and you wait a beat before asking, “Okay? And?”

Llewyn also waits a beat before replying and points at you with his fork, a green bean stabbed on the end. You lean forward and pluck it off with your teeth. He needs a moment to clear his throat before he can go on. “It’s the fourteenth,” he repeats. “Don’t know if you noticed, but...well..weird things seem to keep happening. On the fourteenth. Of every month.”

“Huh.” He’s right, now that you think about it. You stab your food again. “What do you think that means?”

Llewyn looks like he wants to say something, like he’s going to say something, but instead he just shrugs. You put the container down and lean back on the couch, swinging your feet into Llewyn’s lap. 

He idly strokes your ankles as his expression grows serious. “I think it means we should not go out on any fourteenths, ever. Just to be safe.”

You poke him with your big toe. “You’re an idiot. There are things that can happen inside. There are things that have happened inside.”

A smirk creeps through his beard. “Shit, you’re right. One-a your crappy novels might fall off the shelf and crack me on the skull.” He pauses. “More run-ins with wildlife? Oh! I know. Squirrels, but this time, in the walls.”

“That’s not funny!” you try to poke him again and dissolve into giggles as he tickles your foot. Your combined laughter ricochets off the living room walls before dissipating back into silence.

This time, you’re clearing your throat before being able to continue. “It’s been a day. I’m gonna go take a hot bath.” You get up and walk down the hall to the bathroom.

“Please don’t fall asleep in the tub!” he calls after you. “Don’t forget what day it is.”

Idiot.

After your bath, you head to the bedroom and find Llewyn passed out on top of the covers. He has a key, and he stays over far more often than not nowadays, and even though he’s been told numerous times since the broken couch that it’s okay if he’d rather sleep in a bed, you don’t mind sharing, he rarely takes you up on that offer. Okay, so this is the first time since the broken couch that he’s even sort of taken up the offer.

It’s been a weird day.

You grab a quilt and curl up on the other side of the bed, pulling it over both of you and snuggling down into your pillow. 

“I wonder what happens on the next fourteenth,” you yawn mutter into the darkness of the room.

You’re asleep, so you can’t notice that Llewyn isn’t, really, and he rolls to face away from you and whispers, “Yeah, me too.”

February 14

The air inside the Gaslight is thick with smoke that coils and kinks around the dim lights on the walls and the candles on the tables. Someone at the end of the bar calls out for a straight bourbon, which you pour and pass down. The sound system shrieks with feedback for three painful seconds as Pappi flips the power on.

You glance back behind the bar, making sure the bottles are stocked and the glasses are ready. Another night at the Gaslight is about to start, and Llewyn isn’t playing tonight, and he hasn’t shown up yet, which is strange.

Another thing that’s strange? This weird feeling of déjà vu.  Whatever, you’ve been working more nights at the club recently, and they’re all starting to blend together.

“Your friend’s out back,” Pappi’s voice breaks into your thoughts as he sidles up to the bar and leans back on it.

“My friend?” you ask, confused.

Pappi shrugs. “Said he was a friend of yours. Dark curly hair, worn corduroy jacket, always looks tired or pissed off or both.”

Your expression doesn’t change. “Wait, why is...did he get the crap kicked out of him again?”

“Nah,” Pappi shakes his head. “At least, maybe not yet. Anyway, I dunno, he just asked me to tell you he was outside. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to.” He nods his head towards the back exit and turns to tend to the bar.

Strange.

You duck your head out the door and glance up and down the alley. You see nothing except the usual debris; trash containers, the dumpster, the rusty drain pipes that run down from the gutters, weathered fire escapes. Something skitters off at the far end and disappears between the buildings. Was that a raccoon?

You snort a laugh as you recall Llewyn’s jab about wildlife run-ins. It would be something that happens, in a dark alley behind a basket house in Greenwich Village on the fourteenth of…

Oh. It is the fourteenth.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from the head of the alley.

Llewyn stands there, leaning against the brick, dark curls and worn corduroy and all. He holds a single yellow rose in his hands. He looks incredibly nervous, enough to match you looking incredibly confused.

You step fully outside and the door clicks shut behind you. “Hi?”

“Uhm, this is for you,” he says, awkwardly holding the rose out. “Saw a guy selling ‘em a few blocks down, thought you might like it.”

“Thank you? But what’s the occasion?” Why is everything coming out as a question? Even that.

He bites his lip. “You don’t know what today is?”

“Yeah, it’s the four---” Oh. Oh. 

“You wanna get out of here? Have dinner with me, maybe?” Llewyn rubs the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit you’ve seen him done countless times, usually when he’s thinking about something serious and… Oh.

You twirl the rose in your fingertips and don’t quite meet his eyes. “I thought you said maybe we shouldn’t go out any fourteenths.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, well. Um, I don’t know if you also noticed, along with this whole fourteenth business, but I...I really like spending time with you, just hanging out with you, and...I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I thought maybe we could, y’know, have a non-weird fourteenth day of the month for a change.”

He’s rambling and it’s adorable. You hum softly. “...on Valentine’s Day.”

Llewyn’s hands twitch in his pockets. “Well...yeah. I mean, I like spending time with you, but...I also like you. So why not?”

He has a point. And really, now that one of you has said it out loud, you really can’t deny it. All the time spent together, all the shared meals and drinks and late-night talks on the couch and letting him basically move into your apartment...it’s no secret, you realize, it never really was, how close you’ve become over the past many months. How easy it is with him. How natural it is.

All the times he helped you. All the times you helped him. All the times you were together, just being.

The fourteenth of the month be damned.

You pretend to think about it for a little longer than necessary as Llewyn watches you anxiously. “Well, I do have to work, you know.”

“I already asked your boss,” he shakes his head, “and he was more than willing to agree. Something about not getting a black eye on your behalf tonight.”

Your laugh rings out into the street. “But it is the fourteenth. What if one of us gets food poisoning or chokes on dessert or something?”

“Vomit doesn’t bother me and I know the Heimlich,” he smirks. “And I’m already asking you out in a dark alley in the Village, how much weirder can it get?”

“You make a fair point, Llewyn Davis.”

He extends an elbow and a hopeful smile.

If he notices, as he brushes his lips on your knuckles as you take his offered arm, that your breath catches and your heart rate increases, he doesn’t let on.

But later that night, as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your neck and asks you what you want to do on the next fourteenth, well, Llewyn Davis definitely notices then.

~end~

[atsukashii]

chapter 16 // tell me its over

Apartment 204 - Katsuki Bakugou x reader

<< sixteen  >>

|| tell me its over  || 

Word count: 4K - because i have no chill

In which Bakugou is your hellish asshole of a downstairs neighbour, and also the cute, broody regular at your work you’ve been hitting on for the past few weeks. Things get complicated though when the past makes a reappearance, then shit kinda hits the fan.

You glance down at your phone, the screen far too bright for your eyes in your dark room. Katsuki’s last message to you is staring you right in the face, sending a sharp pain straight into your chest. Black dots dance across your vision as you remember to breathe. 

What is going on?

You know that you’re partially at fault for this, for not telling him even some semblance of the truth about your ex, but you were just trying to not be a damn burden. Why should he have to deal with that? You have had to do things on your own for such a long time, even your friends knew your boundaries - how does one even rely on someone without becoming so co-dependent that it hurts to be away from them? No, you think. Somewhere along the way, you became so used to seeing and being with him, that when you parted it hurt to breathe. Hanging your head in your hands, you press the heels of your hands into your closed eyes trying to stop the pressure from building behind them. How did you get to this point?

What a waste of time…

That line made you so mad. You knew he was hurt and mixing pure anger in with his already not-headed nature, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. And you weren’t going to take it from him that’s for damn sure. Your mixed emotions were swinging between despair and anger like a wrecking ball going through concrete, and you knew if you weren’t careful it would crush everything and crumble the foundations of your very being. But Jesus Christ you just wanted to scream!

“What a fucking asshole!” You suddenly shout, feeling not even a sliver of the building pressure inside your release. You need some mood music, you decide, before you crumple into a useless ball of tears. Maybe you were just unlucky when it came to relationships. You were already aware that your communication skills sucked majorly, but you honestly thought that he was it. That he was that one person that was made just for you, and were you aware that it sounds cringe? Yes, you were. But you didn’t really care, though, if he thinks he can talk to you that way, oh he’s got another thing coming.

Getting up and walking to the stereo in the lounge, you connect your phone and turn the sound dial to deafening.

‘Look inside Look inside your tiny mind Now look a bit harder 'Cause we're so uninspired So sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor’

Turning the music up louder until you can physically feel the bass vibrating the floorboards beneath your feet, you let out a frustrated yell at your whole situation - you would rather be angry than the other option was miserable despair. You’d get to that point eventually, but right now you’re pissed as fuck. 

What the actual fuck had happened? 

One second, everything had been peachy and perfect, and the next he was accusing you of cheating on him? What utter fucking bullshit! Stomping into the kitchen, you open the cupboard beneath the sink and pull out the vodka you had leftover from your last girls’ night with Ochako a few weeks ago, and tear the lid off. 

“What utter bullshit!” You snap at nothing, and raise the rim to your lips, taking one swig. Two. Three. Suddenly, there’s a thumping under your feet that doesn’t come from the beat and you know it’s your asshole neighbor. “Fuck off!” You mumble.

What a fucking waste of time.

You want to hate him. 

You want to be violent, to punch him in the face, to scream and cry. You wanted to do something, so that he could possibly feel even a sliver of the pain you were currently enduring...but you couldn’t bring yourself to do even that. 

‘You know he’s hurting too, that’s why he bit your head off’. You would call that rational voice in your head common sense, but tonight it could get the fuck out.

Because you know that the reason this hurt so bad, the reason you are breaking down is that you loved that brash asshole that scowls too much. The one that calls you a dumbass but did so with eyes full of admiration. The one that buys you coffee even though he knows you could get it for free from your work because he can, the one who will sit in on a fucking boring ass biology lecture at 8 am in his free time because he was bored and just wanted to be with you. The one that puts your education, dreams, and aspirations at the forefront of his mind, and knows you do the same. The one that helps you study for exams. The one that knew you loved PDA and would do stupidly cute things like hold your hand and kiss you in public even though he despises public displays of affection. 

You should have told him about Shindo ages ago. You should have told him how when you’d met the raven-haired boy you were only ten. That you’d been enamoured with him until he finally had made his feelings known when you fifteen. He had been your first everything; first kiss, first love - everything. You had even chosen your current college purely so you could be with him. What a stupid move that was. He made promises that he never kept. Like the flip of a coin, his sweet and kind personality you thought you knew turned into something completely different. You could barely recognize him. Shindo Yo became the psychotic boyfriend that you should steer far clear of. Expecting you to be at his beck and call, you found that being around him no longer took your breath away as it had once before, but instead smothered you.

You should have told Katsuki how you had come home to your shared apartment to find clothing littered across the floor, leading to your bedroom. You knew what was going on before you even recognized what you had heard. You should have told Katsuki about just how much it crushed you, about how you crumpled to the floor after walking right out of your apartment. You should have told him about the slump you were in after. There were days when you wanted to scream and days when you wanted to cry. You should have told your boyfriend that your ex had cheated on you and that he was pestering you non-stop. You should have trusted him, you should have relied on him. But that’s the thing about looking back on something, you see every little mistake you’ve made and how you could have changed it, but you can’t change what’s in the past.

You know that you were partially in the wrong for this, but so was he. Who does he think he is talking to someone like that? You know he’s hot-headed and can be borderline arrogant, but the way he spoke to you? Maybe you didn’t need that in your life…

‘Your point of view is medieval…’ Lilly Allen’s voice sings through your speakers and you frown at the blank tv in front of you. You had every right to be pissed at him right now, and though you know you may never truly hate him, you could be fucking livid. The chorus hit and you stood up on your couch and shouted the lyrics along with the music. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you very, very much. 'Cause we hate what you do and we hate your whole crew, so, please don't stay in touch!” You all but scream, not caring for anything but the anger and pain trying to burst its way out of you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and faster than you would like to admit it finds its way to your hand. 

Text from Unknown: Y/n...can we please meet up. I just want to talk to you again, I miss us. Hear me out please gorgeous... - Shindo.

You feel something inside you begin to crack as the tiny sliver of hope you had that it was Katsuki leaves you. There is no hesitation as you turn off your phone and toss it on the couch away from you.

“Why are all men douchebags?” You ask yourself, tears threatening to fall as your anger begins to shift to something else. No no no, you’re not going to cry. You are not a fucking crybaby y/n... Earlier, the idea of being alone sounded like what you needed, but now, the music blasting, your apartment felt eerily quiet and your heartbeat echoed inside your head in perfect synchronization with the beat. You just knew you as you had reread your boy- ex’s texts, you couldn’t have your friends right that second because you knew you would break down and burst into a useless puddle of tears and you were better than that. You were stronger than that. A boy wasn’t going to break your heart. Not again. 

“Do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful? 'Cause there's a hole where your soul should be,” you mumble along with the song, sitting on the edge of the couch just listening along with the words. Your brain wanders to your friends, and then automatically to Kirishima and Kaminari. His friends were so nice to you and were people you had started to think of as your own friends. Ones he was so rude to but fiercely loyal to. Why couldn’t he be this loyal to you…

You feel sobs building at the back of your throat and try to swallow them down. It hurt too much; his accusation was a force of relentless bullets that keep ripping new wounds into you. The thought of ever doing that to someone else, of someone having to go through what you had, it made you sick to your stomach.  Your heart physically throbbed painfully inside your chest. Looking at the vodka, you decide against it and go looking for some water. 

You wouldn’t have heard of it if you hadn’t had to walk past the door of your apartment. The vigorous pounding and a voice shouting that's muffled by the music. Your downstairs neighbor no doubt. Oh, you were so not in the right frame of mind to deal with this. The pounding force rattles your door and for a second you think it may just break off its hinges. 

Jesus Christ is this person fucking insane?! 

Your somewhat ‘war’ with them had been put on hiatus recently as you had spent a lot of time between Ochako’s and the boy’s apartment as its location was much closer to school. Also with everything going on with Katsuki, you had forgotten just how much of a raging asshole the dickbag downstairs was. But now you remember every little crappy thing they had done, the blender going off before five am, his constant complaints when you were up later than eight, oh and that fucking note! The audacity that they had to pull that crap... Fury fills your blood again as you stomp towards your door, finally ready to give them a piece of your mind. You don’t care if they were an old person like you had previously assumed, they were being an insensitive asshole! Can’t they hear you’re in pain? Sniffling, a burst of anger left your mouth as you yank the door open.

“Leave me the fuck alone you miserable-” what met your gaze stopped you in your sentence, cementing your feet to the ground.

No, this can’t be happening right now. The horror in your eyes stared back at a pair of red vermillion ones, as your next breath rushed out in a gasp. His bloodshot eyes previously filled with rage that rivalled yours quickly morph into shock. 

You stare at the boy that broke your heart not even an hour ago. You look at Katsuki Bakugou and his beautiful face, and everything that happened today tears through you like a wave of blades. A pathetically broken noise comes out of your throat and you immediately slammed the door in the blonde's face.

Oh my god…

Your legs collapse beneath, you causing you to fall to the floor. Oh my god, he was your neighbor. This whole time, he had been downstairs. Katsuki had been the one to drive you fucking mad whilst also make you feel so weightless and happy. The shock causes your body to shake as sobs rip through you, no longer able to hold anything in. 

No, no please don’t let him be here. He can’t be here.

And the previously cracking piece inside of you shatters.

                                             ❀ ❀ ❀

You’re not sure how long you stay there for, back against the door, weeping as if a limb has been severed from your body. The only indication of time moving on around you is through the ever-changing music seeping from your speakers. By the time your world somewhat comes back to focus, Kodaline is playing in the background. 

There's a gentle thump on the door, and you, for a moment, ignore it. You don’t want to see anybody. As if hearing you, you feel the next tap right on your spine followed by a soft voice.

“Y/n…” You force yourself to stand up and look through the peephole of your front door, the music playing too loudly for you to determine who is on the other side. You brace yourself for the worst, not really though knowing what that is - but the sight that meets you is a welcomed one. Another broken sob rips out of your chest as you see a pair of heterochromatic eyes that you have known since you were a child. You sling open the door so fast, the slam of it hitting the opposite wall is felt through the floor. Without a second of hesitation and without a single word, you throw yourself on your best friend and let your sobs be muffled by his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” Shouto says, holding your head against his chest. Never before, have you been so glad to see them in your entire life. You’re not surprised at all by their arrival, however, because they knew you, just as you knew them. 

You feel Todo walk you inside and sit on the couch, with you tucked up next to him in silence. The music is turned off and they don’t ask what happened, doesn’t demand anything from you, Todo just holds you as Izuku whizzes around your apartment like a man on a mission.

“He-he…” You try to say, making both boys stop to look at you. Your voice is hoarse from your crying and your throat burns at the attempt, but you need to get it off your chest. Todo’s serious gaze encourages you to find your voice again and between sobs, you manage to get it out. “He was my neighbor. Downstairs.” they look at each other before looking at you, a mix between anger, disbelief, and shock.

“You’re going to come and stay with us for a few days,” Is all Todo says in response, not leaving any room for discussion as you break down crying once again. Relief floods through you, both at having them here, but also for not having to be in the same building as Katsuki. 

With haste, they gather what you need and you quickly hurry down the stairs, the boys glaring at the level below yours as if tossing up the idea of getting into a physical brawl. You know that had they known just who occupied the apartment below yours before arriving at your rescue, they would have made a quick pit-stop at apartment 104. Shouto opens the passenger door for you and quietly,  you slip inside. You wipe your nose on your sweater sleeve and try to muffle your sniffles. Once the car is started and you’re buckled in, from his spot behind you, Izuku wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you to the chair.  You lean back into your friend’s embrace as he kisses you on the head. 

“You want some chocolate?” He asks quietly, and Todo actually snorts.

“Contrary to popular belief, chocolate doesn’t fix anything Izuku.” 

“Really? Because I have proof that it does,” he sasses back, resting his head on your chair.

“I’m good for now, thanks Zuzu.” You look between your two friends and try your best to give them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Whatever you need, we’re here y/n.” Shouto says, and your lips wobble. God, they were so precious to you. Sensing your inner turmoil, Izuku squeezes you tighter and you chastely peck the arm across your chest in thanks. You don’t know what you would do without them, or where you would even be.

The rest of the trip is relatively quiet, only Zuzu’s humming as songs play on the radio fills the car, and you’re grateful for even that distraction. When you finally make it to their shared apartment, you open the door and there’s Ochako, pacing and looking so damn worried. Meeting her halfway, you let her pull you into her as the silent tears you can’t seem to stop, run down your cheeks. 

“We’re watching movies,” she says, leading you into the lounge where you find three mattresses on the floor. You give them all a watery smile in thanks but turns into a broken attempt at a laugh as your eyes lock onto the three bags of KFC now in Shouto’s hands.

“You feed a small army with all that food.” You smile, wiping your nose. 

“We’re basically the same thing.” Todo points out as you all sit down and get comfortable on the floor. With your friends surrounding you, you give them all another sad smile and try to wipe away the uncontrollable tears as they fall.

“I love you guys so much.” You sniffle. Pulling you into him, Todo wraps an arm around your shoulder, and Ochako hugs your waist. 

“We love you too chickadee, more than you will ever know.” But, you think as you look over them and then at the Disney opening on the tv screen, you do know, and you love them just as much.

He stands outside the door of the apartment above his own -  your door, staring at it with wide eyes. No fucking way were you his neighbor. He wasn’t a moron, or inept, he would have known that. Surely he had walked you home before?...no, you had been staying at Ochako’s a lot because it was closer to your work and classes… Your love for abba, your fucking sass, and annoying tendency to take no shit from even him that he adored. 

God, it was so obvious. How did he not fucking know?

Turning down the stairs, he all but sprints back to his room, clenching his phone so tight in his hand it almost cracks the screen. Fuck he needs to talk to someone or hit something. Some divine intervention that could prevent his phone from certain death emerged through an incoming call. Without hesitation, Katsuki answers, knowing full well who’s on the other side and his mouth moves too fast for him to comprehend. Looks like it’s talking and not hitting something.

“She was my fucking neighbor Kirishima.” he blurts out, his ass falling onto his couch as he speaks. Leaning back and he looks up at the ceiling as if he could still see her broken face when she had answered the door and seen him. He was sure that the shock on his face mirrored hers, but then the pain that it turned into... Good! She should be feeling what I felt. His brain argues against the very words, but he doesn’t care.

Katsuki manages to catch a very confused reply from his friend and rubs the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“She’s my upstairs neighbor.” He repeats, the situation finally daunting on him. The girl he had been dating for months was living above him, making his life hellish whilst doing the opposite when she was with him. Fuck my life.

“Fuck man,” Kirishima says distracted, and Katsuki can’t blame him. “I’m assuming you saw her or something then?” The redhead asks carefully. A growl rips out of Katsuki’s throat and he stands up, fisting a hand in his hair. He so wished that he hadn’t seen you. That someone else had opened that door, instead of your broken expression and bloodshot eyes. The way you had looked at him was as if he were something between a ghost and your worst nightmare.

“I wish I fucking hadn’t,” he admits. 

“Bro, she obviously meant something to you so I’m not surprised that you’re hurting-”

“Well, she doesn’t anymore. That shit’s done and thank god for it.” He wants to be fucking livid at you but no matter the shitty things he says about you, all he can see is your pained face and the feeling dissolves into nothing, leaving only despair in its wake. The words actually hurt as he says it, and Kirishima sighs from the other side of the phone - as if he could hear the turmoil in his voice. But the redhead doesn’t mention it. Good, because there would be hell to pay if he had.

“I’m currently staring at a half-full bottle of scotch from work right now, and am feeling kinda pathetic about drinking myself. Want some?” Katsuki knows that his friend doesn’t want to fucking drink. He works as a personal trainer most mornings during the week, including Saturdays, so getting slammed on a Friday night was something he often opted out of. But for this situation, for what his friend was going through, he’d do it. Or at least would watch over Bakugou as he got roaring drunk. 

“That is fucking pathetic shitty hair,” he replies, shaking his head at his friend’s antics. “Bring the fucking bottle or you’re not coming in.” 

“I knew you’d think so. I’ve got spiced ribs too just sitting here, I’m going to bring them too.” Katsuki would have to be an idiot to believe his friend would have one of his favourite foods just hanging around, but he didn’t object to it. “You’re second favorite bro might also make an appearance. But we can decide that depending on how much he pisses me off in the car.” For a moment, Katsuki’s lips tick up, but quickly drop again as he hears the sound of a door closing coming from above him. You’re leaving. 

Without realizing it, his hand has moved up to his chest where he gently rubs the skin above his heart. 

“I don’t care, Kirishima. Just hurry the fuck up and get over here.” He can hear Denki in the background and chooses to ignore them both before with a final curse at his friends, he hangs up the phone. His feet drag him to the window of his apartment that looks over the car parking of your apartment complex, and it’s like the world has a vendetta against Katsuki Bakugou this past week. Because there you are, getting into a car as your friend with the half and half hair closes the door behind you. From this angle, he can see you clearly through the passenger side window, and he can see the tears running down your cheeks. He has an urge to run to you, one that he blatantly ignores because you don’t deserve it. 

He’s better off without you.

Your green-haired, freckly friend wraps his arms around your shoulders - and then the car is gone. Katsuki turns his back on the window and walks towards the kitchen.

He’s better off without you. The whole thing was a fucking mistake. He doesn’t need anyone. His aspirations will take up everything he is, and he would much rather focus on that than you. 

Anything otherwise isn’t even worth a fucking thought.

a/n: whew, that was a doozy. Sorry if its a bit wordy, I just had to get it all out. This will be the only written chapter of this series, so everything from here on out is back to the social media format. We’re so close to the end now its so scary. This smau is my baby and I love it lots so its really sad. 

Tag list below. Wanna be tagged? shoot me an ask!

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@ambitchousaf

@a-timeheist​

@bakubatty​

@bikinibrattoms​

@breaking-ur-kneecaps​

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@ew-i-hate-that-goaway921​

@fangirls-are-scary

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if your name has a strike it wouldn’t tag :(

[amethystpath-writes]

Maybe a Civillian whose been kidnapped by the Villain as leverage or whatever, and is being held as his place? Only to find out that villain has a little girl living with him. His daughter. She’s all giggles and smiles, and asking to play with Civillian!

Civilians hands are a bit tied (literally) scared of upsetting villain by getting too close to his daughter. Little does Civillian know that he actually adores how good you look holding his little girl

Tumblr f'd up so you might get this answered twice, or three times. Either way, I made this gay so I hope you don't mind.

******

"Have a seat." Villain gestured to the dinner table.

As Civilian stood frozen, eyes buggy and wide, Villain came over, placing a hand on his new captive's back, urging him forward.

"Maybe I was too harsh. Welcome to my humble abode. Take your jacket off and stay a while."

Still, Civilian said nothing, only breathed quick and harshly as he was guided to the table. He wasn't sure what he thought was going to happen at the table. Maybe the wood would turn metal and he'd be flipped on his stomach while Villain dug at his spine with just his bare fingers.

"Just sit right there while I make dinner." The villain's voice was cold and lazy. He seemed tired, which scared Civilian even more. Being tired meant being careless, and why wouldn't Villain already be careless with a captive? This was bad. This was really, really bad. And this was why Civilian let himself be pushed down into a chair. If he was cooperative, he'd be okay. Right?

The sound of fast feet sounded and Civilian's attention snapped to a hallway up and to his left. A little girl emerged from the dark.

"Daddyyyyy!" she yelled and promptly ran to...to Villain. Civilian nearly choked on nothing but his own shock. There was absolutely no way Villain had a daughter. No way. Kidnappers couldn't be parents. Bombers of cities couldn't be parents. Criminals like Villain weren't parents. It didn't make sense.

But the sight was right in front of Civilian as he silently watched from the table. The girl squeezed Villain's legs together while he fried something in a pan.

Villain said, "Honey, you need to step back. The grease pops and I don't want you getting burnt, alright?"

The girl giggled and hung on as if it was a challenge. Civilian didn't understand. Villain had a daughter, one who clearly looked up to him right now, and was...was happy living under the roof of a man who caused chaos seemingly just because he liked it.

A spatula clunked against the skillet. Villain turned, grabbing his supposed daughter's shoulders. Here it is, Civilian thought, and he nearly stood- despite his fear- to defend the young girl. Before he could even push his chair back, though, Villain took a step forward, forcing the girl back. "No getting hurt. Go sit at the table, alright? I'll bring you the food and some fruit punch when I'm done."

"Hawaiian punch?"

"That's fruit punch, isn't it? Did I get the wrong thing?" Villain seemed genuinely confused, which made Civilian even more so. This was wrong. It was all so wrong. Villain couldn't be a parent, much less a good one.

Villain shook his head. "I got you red juice. Now go sit down before I burn all of our potatoes."

This time, the little girl didn't argue or try to hug Villain's legs again. Instead, she came running over to a wide eyed Civilian, and it didn't take her long to notice him.

"Hello!" She gave a toothy smile and waved wildly at Civilian as he was sat across from her.

Civilian stole a glance at Villain who moved very, very slowly as he stirred. He was listening.

"Helloooo. Person?"

He said nothing. Surely, interacting with the Villain's daughter wouldn't bode well with his captor. Surely, it would lead to Civilian being split open with dull blades. Or- or maybe Villain would-

"Go on, Civilian. Introduce yourself, nicely."

Civilian coughed, fingers clenching into fists behind his back. "I- uh- I'm...I'm Civilian."

"And?" Villain piped from the kitchen, scraping the spatula against the skillet before flipping the diced potatoes he was cooking.

And? And what? He gave the kid his name. What else was there to say, to give? "And I'm a friend of Villain's- of your dad's." Civilian watched the villain nod.

"You're Daddy's friend?"

Civilian nodded at her with a discreet swallow.

"Will you be my friend, too? Oo! We can play stuff. Daddy bought me legos. Will you play with those?"

"I don't think- um..." Civilian's hands were wild behind his back, unable to separate as Villain tied them together so long ago, but to squirming with anxiety.

Footsteps sounded. This time they weren't soft and quick like when the little girl ran out. These steps were slow and heavy. Villain. Villain was coming closer. Did he not like how Civilian was talking to his daughter? But hadn't he just told him to elaborate? Oh god, what was Civilian supposed to do?

Villain walked behind him, and Civilian's eyes widened as he felt a cold plane lay up against one of his arms. There was an edge to it, too. "Of course he'll be your friend, darling. You want to play legos, Civilian? She's been working on the Millennium Falcon. Maybe you can help her out while I finish our meal."

That wall of cold disappeared and Villain began cutting at the rope. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I'll help you build that- that...what was it?" Civilian chuckled falsely in his panic. "The- the Star Wars thing. I'll help you build it. That sounds like fun. Fun."

There was a breath of warmth on Civilian's ears. His breathing picked up speed as Villain whispered, "Take a deep breath." Civilian didn't understand it was supposed to be soothing. He took it as a threat and braced himself for Villain cutting into his wrists.

But that time didn't come. Instead, the rope fell from Civilian's hands and he sighed in relief. Villain whispered again. "Now go play."

And so Civilian did.

***

"I'm done now." The kid stood from the floor, stepping out of the chaotic mess she and Civilian made.

This was just in time for Villain to call out from the kitchen that food was ready.

As Civilian began to stand up, Villain's daughter came running back and nearly knocked him over. "Up," she said. "Pick me up."

"Oh. I- That's- Maybe I shouldn't."

"Pleaaaaaase."

He stood up all the way, the girl clinging to his shirt. Civilian glanced down at the end of the hall, where, to the right, he would see Villain pouring potatoes into bowls or on plates.

This was a bad idea. He couldn't hold Villain's daughter. He told Civilian to play legos with the girl, not bond with her and hold her like Villain should be doing.

"Pleaaaaaase? Please please please. Pleaaaase."

Civilian could hear the way she was about to cry, and wouldn't crying be worse than just giving in and picking her up? Crying would imply that he hurt Villain's daughter or something. That would be worse. It would be way worse and Villain might kill him.

"Okay. Okay, okay." Civilian held his arms out and the little girl squealed, lifting her arms up so that Civilian could grab her pits and lift her up.

He walked her out of the room, stopping just before they could exit the hallway.

"Um," the kid said, "the table's right there. Can we go there?"

Civilian didn't hear her. He was too afraid of walking out there, knowing Villain would see him holding his daughter.

"Daughter, Civilian! Food's getting co- oh." Villain stepped into the dining room, visible from the hallway- which also meant Villain now saw Civilian. "You're right there. Come sit down."

"I'm sorry," Civilian spewed, setting the girl down. "She wanted up and I wasn't going to, but then she started begging and I could tell she was about to cry and I was afraid you'd-"

Villain walked to the fridge and pulled out a ranch bottle, while interrupting Civilian by saying, "It's fine. Go sit down. I'm getting ranch and vinegar- do you want cheese? I have sharp and mild."

Civilian might have read into Villain's words too far, noticing how he said sharp before mild. It was a warning, Civilian thought. "No cheese," he said, "but thank you." Thank you for not killing me when you saw me holding your daughter.

***

Dinner was eaten, and almost immediately after, Villain's daughter wanted Civilian to pick her up again- just to carry her around and see things from a different perspective.

When she told Civilian that she wanted to be taller than him, but not taller than her dad, Civilian flustered, nearly putting her down right away.

But Villain didn't mind, not at all. In fact, it was cute- the way Civilian blushed when Daughter asked for something, anything. The way, when he thought Villain wasn't looking, he smiled. Or he laughed when he thought Villain was too occupied to hear. The way he loved a villain's daughter like she was just some kid off the street. All of it.

The best, exactly, was when Civilian held Villain's daughter. Because it was then that he really became...something. Villain couldn't say what 'it' was. It wasn't attraction. It couldn't possibly be attraction. Civilian was here as a prisoner...but still. Civilian was pretty, and he was great with kids. He pointed at various objects and laughed as he held Daughter. She certainly enjoyed it.

Still, Civilian's light always dimmed when he realized Villain was watching- admiring- what all he did. Civilian didn't know it was admiration, though, and Villain couldn't tell him that it was. Why? Because Civilian was supposed to be leverage against Hero. If Villain ever admitted it wasn't scornful and threatening looks directed at Civilian, word would get out, and suddenly he'd become leverage against Villain, not Hero.

[mystic-sky]

This is just a request, but do you think you can write something short about gojo meeting his s/o who is a poc and how he’d react to her curly hair 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 the fandom is still pretty new so there’s not a lot of poc drabbles out there if any at all.

Here you go bby, I hope you enjoy 💕✨

Summary: An AU where you’re a sorcerest whose stationed in Japan due to the National Sorcerer Exchange Program I just made up lol. Even though it’s your first encounter Satoru is a big flirt, as usual✨💘

Word count: 1.7k

It was annoying, being one of the few special grade sorcerers based in Tokyo. Satoru Gojo often wished he could duplicate himself at least three or four times, just to reduce some of the workload stress he had. The older he got, the more he wished he wasn’t the strongest- and that’s a pretty surprising statement on his end.

He felt he couldn’t catch a break. Between special grade work, his students and now looking after Yuji Itadori, who hysterically swallowed a special grade object, he had a lot on his plate.

It was hardly a burden for him. He only wished he could be in multiple places at once. This way, he could make sure the higher ups wouldn’t mess with his students, who meant so much to him.

In sight of the increased special grade activity in Japan and several other countries, the first ever Sorcerer Exchange program was implemented by higher ups across the world. It would ensure that special and first grade sorcerers were evenly spread out and or placed in regions that needed special attention. Satoru wasn’t particularly fond of anything the higher ups did, but this idea wasn’t so bad.

“A government funded, international sorcerer exchange program,” Yaga informs Satoru, who sits across from him, idly drinking his tea.

“And how does this work exactly?” Satoru raises a brow at Yaga before dropping cubes of sugar into his cup, stirring loudly.

“For 6 month spans, high level sorcerers who applied to the exchange will be stationed in different countries to regulate curse activity.”

“Sounds like it pays more. Nanamin might like that.”

“It does, depending on your skill level.” Yaga sits back in his seat. “We’ve already received a few sorcerers from America, Africa, China, Russia-”

“All special grade?” Satoru interjects.

“Currently the exchange program only allows special and first grade sorcerers. Considering the high levels of cursed energy around the world this year, it would be best if we avoided any casualties by placing inexperienced sorcerers in the wrong places.”

“That reminds me. You’re prohibited from participating, considering we’re a red area. Until cursed activity improves here you won’t be allowed to participate.”

“Aww c’mon, you guys suck.” Satoru cocks his head back, sighing loudly.

He already traveled a lot for special grade missions but never for more than a few days. Now there was a whole six-month program and he wasn’t allowed to participate in it? Then again, he couldn’t leave Yuji here with the possibility of the higher ups trying to hurt him again. He promised himself he would protect all of his students.

“There are several meetings I must attend tomorrow and I’d like for you to be there. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Satoru is already up and gripping the handle on the office door.

“I’ve also decided to assign a co-teacher to your first years, for your shorter stationed trips every now and then. She’s an extremely talented special grade from the exchange program. So you needn’t worry of a repeat of the detention center incident with Yuji.”

He had already swung the door open, towering above your body in the door frame. Your nose is barely touching his jacket, and hand almost touching his chest as you were attempting to knock. You take a step back, a bit startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I tried to knock,” you say, looking up at the blindfolded man in front of you. “I’m looking for Masamichi Yaga?”

Satoru is startled by your flawless Japanese, considering you’re clearly not of Japanese descent. He took note of your tan skin and big, curly hair that was pinned back in certain spots to display your face.

What a cutie.

“No, I’m Satoru Gojo. Principal Yaga’s the one sitting behind me.” He’s not entirely surprised by your appearance, considering he’s traveled all over the world to fight curses. “And you are?”

You almost think he’s flirting, considering how smooth the question was. Also, you’re now recognizing who he is, cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m (Full Name). You’re the special grade I’m going to be subbing with for the first years! I’ve heard great things!” You politely bow a bit.

“I know.” His grin large and cocky as he steps out the way, allowing you to walk in. “No need to be so formal though.”

You’re slightly put off by his attitude, but principal Yaga interjects quickly.

“(Last Name), come in. I’ve been awaiting your arrival. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yaga is on his feet now, bowing towards you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m excited to work with you all.” You say as he motions you to sit and have some tea.

Satoru has found a reason to stay in the room, plopping down beside you and taking up his tea he had previously abandoned.

“Thanks for sending Ichiji to the airport to help with my belongings. I brought so much stuff, I hope it wasn’t too much for him.” You brain flashes back to Ichiji struggling to hold all of your luggage outside the baggage claim.

“Pffft, feel free to call on him whenever you want. That’s what he’s here for.” Satoru assures you, flashing you a toothy grin. You get the feeling that he probably made Ichiji’s job a living hell.

“I must say, Ms. (Last Name), your Japanese is remarkable. How did you become so fluent?” Yaga asks, filling your cup.

“I’m flattered. I taught myself what I could before attending (insert random ass college name in Japan) University. I’ve always admired Japanese culture so I studied it pretty hard. I can also speak (Native language, if you have one) and (two other languages of your choosing).”

“Wow, your Japanese is better than most locals.” Satoru chuckled. “And you’re pretty too. Lucky me.”

You shifted in place on the sofa. The most powerful sorcerer known to man was sitting beside you and he was complimenting you.

“Thank you,” you say loosely, picking up your teacup.

“Ahem,” Yaga interrupts, earning a tiny snort from Satoru.

“He hates it when I flirt.” Satoru whispers as he leans over towards you. Your face feels a bit hot, and you decide it’s from the steam of the tea in your face and not the handsome man leaning a bit too close to you. You set the cup down after the lightest sip.

“I hate to get down to business so soon Ms. (Last Name), but I’d like for you to get settled in as soon as possible. I’ve mapped out a few assignments for you this week. This is your first.” He slides the first report across the table.

“There have been several reports of abnormal cursed energy in Shinjuku City. It’s likely a special grade. I’d like for you to get to the bottom of it. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering your level of expertise. I’ve forwarded the documents to you as well.” The glint in his glasses makes you chuckle a bit. You flip through the report briefly.

“I skimmed this one on the flight. Whatever it is,” you begin, taking out your phone, “seems to be luring children. This corresponds with the rise in missing childrens’ cases I read about in Shinjuku.”

You place the article on your phone down on the table for principal Yaga to read. You liked to do your own research on locals news to see if curses had any sort of correspondence with a certain area’s events.

“You think a curse is kidnapping children?” Satoru suggests.

“It’s just a hunch. It’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.” You bite the nail on your thumb, realizing the inevitable.

“Unfortunately, if I’m correct, those children most likely aren’t alive.”

You stand up, firmly.

“I trust you’ll take care of it then,” Yaga hands your device towards you.

“Most definitely,” you look at your watch. “And I’ll be done before dinner.”

You offer the principal a smile before you slip on your trench coat, eager to take on your first mission.

“By all means, it can wait until the morning after you’ve rested.” Yaga persists.

“Nope! Not when children are potentially involved. I can’t risk it.” You straighten your clothes, and bow once more. “I’ll report back soon.”

“(Name) doesn’t let jet lag stop her from doing her job. What an admirable woman.” Satoru cooed.

“Well, Gojo-san, it was a pleasure meeting you.” You begin to wave but Satoru is on his feet, and right behind you, making you stumble back again.

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” He grins. “I’ve gotta see what the most powerful special grade sorceress is capable of in person.”

While you had heard of your own nickname before, you hated when people called you that. You tried your best to be humble about it. There’s always new ways to improve your cursed technique, even if you don’t know how yet.

“So you do know who I am,” you shifted your stance, hands on your hips.

“I’ve heard a few things,” he says slyly. “But I’d like to see them first hand.”

“Hmph, alright then. I suppose you can show me around Shinjuku. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” You flip your hair, making your way towards the door.

“And it’s your lucky day, I feel like showing off.” You say, peaking over your shoulder.

“Great, it’s a date.”

You stop dead in your tracks, just two steps out of Yaga’s office.

“What?”

“Even after four years of university in Japan? I said, it’s a date.”

The door shuts behind him, and his grin is even more smug.

The audacity.

“You’re not going on a date with me unless you ask me properly.” You roll your eyes, swaying down the steps. So this was Satoru Gojo.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’d be iconic as hell— the strongest man and the strongest woman? We’d be unstoppable.”

“I don’t even know what you look like underneath that thing.” You say, motioning towards his blindfold.

Oh , but you lied. You’d seen his Instagram.

He was a selfie fanatic. That and a cake fiend.

“Wanna see right now? Will it change your mind?” His voice low and steady behind you.

“I’ve got a curse to excorcise.” You roll your eyes, speeding up ahead of him. It didn’t help much considering his legs were so long.

“You know you wanna,” he bends down, voice deep in your ear.

“I’m not listening~

You’re far ahead of him now, attempting to hide the heat on your face and hearing deep chuckles echo behind you.

“Ah, this is going to be the best six months ever!” He laughs heartily.

A small smile crept on your lips.

Maybe it would be.