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vivwritescrappythings · 2 months

Text

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready.

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd.

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives.

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now.

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere.

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime.

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back.

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance.

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth.

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said.

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.”

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair.

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself.

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat.

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor.

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine.

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger.

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding.

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.”

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight.

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her.

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car.

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close.

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed.

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth.

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection.

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare.

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside.

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist.

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear.

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers.

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms.

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up.

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth.

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart.

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him.

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks.

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you.

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up.

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped.

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat.

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge.

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him.

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge.

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you.

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further.

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside.

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you.

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach.

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.”

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat.

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself.

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it.

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us #reader insert #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #tlou hbo #pedro pascal sag awards #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x fem!reader

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part four.

“Saw McLaren posted pics of the new car,” Jack says in lieu of a greeting when he sees you after the weekend. He picks up his pace and crosses the distance to meet you where you’re fumbling with the keys to your “office”, and then he takes a few of the many equipment bags you’re attempting to juggle, saying as he does so, “You take any of those or no?”

You laugh, “Ah, no. They actually hire on a whole studio crew that does that. They’ve got lights, green screens, special camera lenses, the whole lot. The post-production on those photos is mad though.” You get the door unlocked and usher him inside, “I got to sit in on it once, and it’s crazy how much work goes into getting just a couple week’s worth of promotional content.”

He sets your bags down where you direct him to and then offers you a snarky grin, “Still probably would’ve looked cooler if you took ‘em, to be fair.”

It makes you laugh again. Jack seems to be good at that, and it feels nice to get along so well with someone you work with. You’ve found a surprising friend in him. At the end of your conversation on Friday, you’d exchanged numbers and he’d made you promise to reach out if you needed him for anything. You hadn’t, but he’d still sent you an unflatteringly angled picture of Kyle Walker from after their match against Newcastle, followed quickly with━ “use this in the next media drop thx,” and the chatter had gone from there.

You set down your own bags. “Well, thank you. Pretty sure it’s not as fun as this job, though.”

And you mean it. You’ve had opportunities to switch over to studio photography, and though you respect the people who do it and the unique challenges it poses in its own right, there’s nothing like being upfront and personal with all the action, getting to see the athletes in their element and know them on a level that goes beyond an hour or two shoot. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Wait,” you pause, hands stopping just above where you’re ready to start sorting through your equipment, “since when did you keep up with Formula One?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t. But you work for that team, yeah? So I figured I might as well see what they’re all about.”

“Well, if you need something to do during the summer, let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” you tell him, resuming your sorting. “They give me extra tickets for each race but they usually end up going to waste.”

You don’t bring up the falling out you had with your parents at eighteen when you told them you were going to pursue photography or the fact that you haven’t really talked to them in years because of it. You also don’t mention that due to the strenuous, near-constant traveling and the strict schedule of your job, your friendships are limited to the athletes you work with and the other McLaren staff that travel with you━ all of whom have passes of their own, for obvious reasons.

Jack, thankfully, doesn’t ask about it either. Whether he’s made his own assumptions or respects that it’s probably a sore subject, he leaves it alone and the two of you carry on in companionable silence.

You get your equipment unzipped from the bags and organized across the room per your system, guiding your temporary helper with pointed fingers to where it all should go.

The silence is only broken again when he asks you a question. “You got a favorite driver?”

It’s so out of the blue that you nearly jump, startled by the suddenness of it against the quietness of the room. But then you laugh and shake your head. “Officially no, but just between the two of us, me and Lando started at the same time so he’s got a special place in my heart. He’s also my best friend.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” Despite the persona he puts on, you think he secretly loves gossip. “How’d he take the news about you being with Ward, then? ‘Cause I’d have some choice things to say to any friend of mine if they got with a prick like that.”

You purse your lips, divert your gaze to avoid Jack’s eyes, and shrug, fiddling with the neck strap of your camera as you do so. “I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’”

You shrug again and feign checking over the settings as if your camera’s aperture is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “He hasn’t been picking up my calls,” you start, “or answering my texts since the paps released the pics, so.”

When you glance back up, Jack’s making a face. “So, your best friend finds out you’re dating a total bellend, and instead of asking you about it or at the very least taking the piss, he ignores you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel a bit stupid for being more sad than you are angry.

All you can do is shrug.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mancity, jackgrealish, and 241,976 others

tagged: jackgrealish

yourusername ladies and gentlemen, jack grealish (i was threatened into posting these, send help pls)

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You decide that if Lando gets to be petty, then so do you.

The thing is, you’d told Lando you wouldn’t replace him with any of the guys from Manchester City, and you’d meant it━ you still mean it, despite your frustrations and annoyances with him telling you otherwise.

But if he’s going to play games, then so are you.

Technically you hadn’t started the relationship with Garrett willingly, but Lando doesn’t know that, and even if you had that doesn’t give him the right to go about ignoring you. You’ve been supportive when he’s gotten girlfriends━ you even ate greasy pizza, drank cheap wine, and cried watching The Notebook together when he ended his long-term relationship back in 2022. He could at least pretend to be supportive, or better yet he could pick up the fucking phone.

As pathetic as it sounds, you’d let him yell at and berate you if it just meant he’d answer your calls. Because having Jack around to gossip with and shoot the shit is nice, and he really does help you not feel so alone at Etihad Campus, but Lando’s your best friend and he has been for years now. There’s nobody that understands you as well as he does, even if he is a twat half the time, and what you need now most of all is that particular Lando brand of annoying to cheer you up.

The door opens, drawing your attention from where you’re scrolling through McLaren’s newest posts. Garrett stands in the opening.

The memory of that night still lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, bitter and unpleasant. You’ve managed to avoid him for the most part in the time since then, ignoring the looks he shoots your way out on the field or in the weight room, and lucky enough that his meetings with the physio team keep him preoccupied so that he can’t seek you out in between training sessions. You’d known it was inevitable that you’d have to face him, but that doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in your stomach when you see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he surveys the makeshift office you’ve done up for yourself.

“They couldn’t find you an actual office?” He comments, looking disdainfully towards your desk and the large Manchester City logo emblazoned across the front.

You shrug, wishing he’d just get to the point. “I’m only here for a few months. Doesn’t matter much to me. What do you want?”

He takes a step farther into the room and closes the door behind him, taking his sweet time to cross the distance toward the seats. When he’s finally lowered down into one, he looks up to you with a nonchalance that fills you immediately with anger.

“I’m making some amendments to our agreement,” he announces.

“Like hell you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect people to believe we’re a couple if we never actually do anything to give off the impression of being a couple?”

You scowl. Obviously, you hadn’t expected to just skate by on the coattails of pictures from a single night. You’d known from the very beginning that you would eventually need to make another public appearance together at the very least if you wanted to keep the paparazzi fed and encourage the idea to the media that you’re in a committed relationship with one another. You’d just been hoping you would’ve had more time until then.

“I’m not an idiot, Garrett,” you grumble, crossing your arms in your seat. You had been looking through pictures from the day’s morning practice, but now you think having to look at any more of Kevin De Bruyne’s grinning face will make you lose your mind when you feel the furthest thing from happy.

“Obviously,” Garrett scoffs. “But you’re the one who said I get one kiss and nothing more. Newsflash, love━” your scowl deepens, “━couples do more than just kiss one time.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

He pulls his phone from the pocket of his joggers and swipes across the screen for a few moments of anticipatory silence. “Well,” he finally says, “it’s the sixteenth now. We haven’t got a match until the twenty-sixth. Go on a date with me this weekend.”

You can’t say no. There’s no plausible excuse for you to get out of it, and deep down you know the only way you can get rid of Garrett is to just do what he says and hope the media make their conclusions about his change quick enough that you can ditch him before the summer break.

At least during the Formula One season, you can use traveling as a reason to get out of dates. When the Champion’s League starts back up he’ll be traveling around Europe a bit more than he is now, and there’s always a chance you could be in the same country at the same time, but the likelihood of your schedules aligning is slim and that means you’ll be safe from any ventures out into public.

But for the time being, you’re stuck.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He claps his hands, a deceptively cheerful grin on his face. If you didn’t already think of him as the worst prick you’ve ever met, you might’ve found it charming. It’s the same smile he used to flash at you in your first week when he was trying to cozy up and ease his way into your good graces. The sight of it makes you sick to your stomach, now.

“Great,” he rises from his seat. “We’ll do some shopping, get some lunch━ make a full day out of it.”

At this point, you don’t care what he has planned. You just want him to leave you alone so you can try to at least pretend like you’re gonna finish the rest of the work you need to get around to.

Garrett’s made his way to the door and has his hand reaching for the handle when he turns back around and gives you a smirk. “Might wanna work on your happy face, though, love,” he comments, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “‘Cause if you look like that in front of the paps they definitely aren’t gonna be very convinced that you love me.”

Just to spite him, you let your scowl deepen. “I don’t need your advice. I know how to handle myself, Garrett.” You say his name like a curse━ like the very feeling of it on your tongue causes you pain.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment. His face turns thoughtful, but there’s still the smugness painted across his features that makes you so unfathomably annoyed. “You must be pretty familiar with the paps if you’re always around those drivers, yeah?” He knows the answer to his question already, so you’re not sure why he’s even asking.

He stays silent, though, like he’s genuinely expecting an answer, so you shrug your shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats back to you.

His laughter is all you hear echoing in your ears even once he’s long gone.

Until your phone starts to ring and Lando's name flashes across the screen.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght

━━ a/n: cliffhanger hehe~ also, i promise we're getting to ACTUAL formula one stuff soon

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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marzipanandminutiae · 1 year

Text

in view of Netflix and a few other networks apparently announcing that they are no longer requiring actors to wear corsets/stays, but framing it as the ultimate in feminist allyship against an Oppressive Historical Torture-Garment (and presumably typing their press releases one-handed, if you catch my drift), I have a few things to say:

1. I presume they will also be condemning Spanx, dieting, weight loss surgery, obsessive exercise, breast or pectoral or ab implants, Flat Tummy Tea, editing actors’ bodies in post, etc. since this is all about promoting healthy body image. ...right?

2. Okay, this one is not tongue-in-cheek: if a costume designer forces you to wear massively uncomfortable stays or corsets and tells you your discomfort is an inherent feature of that garment type, they are lying. All the articles on this cited reports from actresses saying they threw up because of Regency stays or couldn’t eat in Edwardian corsets. And while I’m sure some of that is giving interview audiences the sensationalism they want to hear, I believe them in general.

Someone needs to tell them that that’s not normal.

I have worn corsets and stays a lot in my life. I know people who wear them as everyday support garments. And neither I nor anyone I know has been seriously hindered in normal activities by them. There are even photos and videos of women from corset-intensive eras climbing glaciers, playing sports, having snowball fights, doing manual labor...living their lives

Sure, there have always been and will always be people who find corsets or stays inherently uncomfortable- that’s why it’s good to have many support garment options available for people who need them. And there have always been and will always be ill-made, ill-fitting, or extreme examples of the type- I’m not saying corsets are always The Most Comfortable Thing Ever For Everyone, because that’s not universally true of any garment.

But these production companies have been hurting actresses under the guise of “historical accuracy,” and this latest pronouncement is just another attempt to shift the blame.

Don’t let them get away with it.

EDIT: Apparently the Official nature of the source for this announcement is in question, but the gist of the post still stands, so I’m leaving it up. Will edit further if new developments arise.

#netflix #period drama #historical fiction #bbc #itv #(those are the other networks mentioned in the articles)#dress history #fashion history #historical costuming #historical fashion #corsets #stays #rant #diet mention #disordered eating mention

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stellar-skyy · 5 months

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COURT GOSSIP — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Fontaine has a lot to say about Furina's lover. (Now with a part two!) ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Very very slight spoilers for the 4.2 archon quest, brief use of pet names (darling). iii. NOTES: Angst, reader doesn't actually make an appearance but they are talked about throughout, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.1k words. iv. A/N: Angst bc i lost the 50/50. This probably isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm tired and I was sick of rewriting things.

They called the relationship a lot of things. Scandalous, shocking, shameless. Shameless wasn’t the right word. Furina had plenty shame, but the taste of love had left her too excited to worry about repercussions. Careless, was more accurate.

If she had more care, she would be home by then, curled around her lover, laying with her ear pressed to their chest so she could hear their heartbeat. She wouldn’t be pacing back and forth and wearing grooves into Neuvillette’s office’s carpet.

“It is going to be alright, Lady Furina. Sit down.” Neuvillette said calmly. He was sitting still, hands folded in his lap, and to the ordinary eye he looked perfectly at ease. But Furina hadn’t spent five centuries with him without learning his mannerisms. The stiffness in his shoulders, the twitch of his eyebrow, the way his words sounded a touch too sharp; it was obvious he was just as concerned as she was.

“It’s not! Do you know what they’re saying?” Furina hissed. She threw the newspaper across his desk, letting it land in front of him with a smack. The photo of the two of them—her arms wrapped around their neck, while they kissed her cheek—took up almost the entire page, only broken up by the title.

Exclusive: Who is Lady Furina’s secret paramour?

“I must say, this is quite a poorly titled article.” Neuvillette frowned, looking closer. “The word ‘paramour’ is archaic by itself, but more than that it already implies a scandalous relationship. The word ‘secret’ is superfluous.”

“That’s not the point!” Furina practically wailed. “Look at what they’re saying!”

“Hmm… ‘Who is this mystery partner, and how did they catch the attention of the Archon herself? Is this unknown lover strategically targeting Lady Furina to attempt to obscure the justice of Fontaine?’ Ah, I see. They believe your partner to be seeking you out to gain influence of the court system.”

“How dare they! To think they would stoop to such a level to accuse my—”

“It is alright. I have already scheduled an official announcement to acknowledge the concerns and quell the rumours.”

“It’s not only that! The people are losing their respect.”

“…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“For me! They—” Furina halted. “I—I heard them today. They think of me as just some love-stricken girl. Archons above—” Neuvillette chose not to point out that she herself was an archon. “I couldn’t stand it...”

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

It had been a pleasant morning; so pleasant that once Furina had detangled herself from her partner’s arms, she decided to take a walk.

As she strolled through the streets, the sounds of the city beginning its day and the singing of birds mingled together in a strangely beautiful symphony. They competed for the attention of whoever happened to be listening, with songbirds chirping and crooning from the tops of buildings, directly above the sounds of vendors and other salespersons trying to sell their products.

“Fresh lavender melons, straight from Inazuma!” A fruit-seller called, holding a basket filled with bright purple fruits.

Ah, Lavender Melons. They were a fairly new sight in Fontaine, only appearing after trade with Inazuma was reestablished. Perhaps she should purchase a bunch.

“Extra, extra!” a young newsboy yelled out, waving a newspaper above his head. “Read all about the latest Fontaine news, from the Fontaine Gazette! Hear about the case that divided the Chief Justice and Lady Furina!”

The newspapers were always embellished, but the Fontaine Gazette was a particularly egregious example. Not a single word in that paper was without exaggeration. Though, it was entertaining at times to look over the stories and laugh about the incredulity of it all.

She strolled over to listen to the boy’s calls, idly looking past the rows of newspapers and magazines. She withdrew one from the stand, a gaudy looking magazine with bright red headlines screaming in her face.

The Spina di Rosula in shambles! it shrieked. Such a crude form of entertainment, the misery of others. It was good Fontaine had enough reputable newspapers to drown out the crows and calls of garbage like that.

“Extra, extra! Lady Furina has a secret lover? Read all about it here!”

In a second, the magazine in Furina’s hands slipped onto the ground, and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

She had to have misheard him; it must be a terrible mistake. She’d been too careful to hide them from the spotlight, keeping them away from the public’s claws. If they’d been discovered, the media would stop at nothing to tear them to shreds. Not to mention how she’d look if their relationship was found out—the Archon of Fontaine, falling head over heels for a mere mortal.

Furina had snatched the paper right out of the young boy’s hand. As he started protesting, she quickly threw a handful of Mora at him and bustled away to read the paper. Behind her, two ladies gasped and leaned over to whisper to each other.

“Is that Lady Furina?”

“I’m surprised she can show her face… I wouldn’t have the courage.”

Vultures, the lot of them! Had they no shame, gossiping about her from six feet away, like she couldn’t damn well hear them?

Their chatter faded to static and white noise in her ears, as the newspaper unfolded to reveal the story she’d been fearing. In it, the photo showed two lovers were caught in an embrace, one hidden in the other’s shoulder. The other was turned at just the right angle to show herself to the camera, grinning down at her partner with love in her eyes.

Furina stared in horror as her own face stared back at her.

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

“Furina—Ahem, Lady Furina,” Neuvillette paused, blinking at his mistake. Oh dear. He must be on the verge of a breakdown, if he was already messing up her name. “We must begin the conference soon. Shall we leave?”

“I—I suppose that would be prudent,” Furina said shakily, straightening her back.

The trip to the Opera Epiclese was filled with silence. Furina stared at her hands in her lap, picking at the edges of her gloves, while Neuvillette gripped his cane tightly and periodically shot her concerned looks. The only words that were spoken were after they had arrived.

“Are you ready?” Neuvillette asked, hand curled around the curtain separating their backstage room to the front balcony.

“No,” Furina whispered hollowly, before smoothing her features into neutrality and stepping onto the stage.

“Hello, my dears.” Her lips moved of their own accord; voice disconnected from her mind. “I am here to address some rumours you may have heard. If you have been following the news, you would know that some pictures have been spreading of me and another individual. Since then, there has been a number of gossip floating around the court, very little of which is based on fact.”

“Tch, she’s already trying to avoid the blame.” A particularly loud audience member commented, loud enough for Furina to hear. She hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

“This person is as many have suspected,” Furina breathed out. “A romantic partner.”

“Ms Furina!” A young man—notebook and pen in hand; a reporter, likely—yelled out. Furina bit back the haughty That is Lady Furina to you on her tongue. Arrogance wouldn’t serve her well in this performance. “People have been saying that this ‘lover’ of yours is a threat to the integrity of the justice system. How do you respond to the allegations that they are using you to sway the court?”

“T-That isn’t true! They—”

“How can we trust the Palais Mermonia if the Archon is being influenced?” A voice in the front row whispered loudly to her friend.

“If she’s that weak to the charm of a random person, then what does that say about her judgement?” Another responded.

“I—” Furina stuttered out. “P-Please, calm yourselves! I can explain myself if you just wait—”

“Is this really what Fontaine is coming to?” That pesky reporter yelled out, only stirring the chaos further. The courtroom erupted into noise, all overlapping opinions drowning out any conscious thought of hers.

“Childish—”

“Unprofessional—”

“Not fit to lead—”

“—If she’s so distracted by love.”

If the first words were a punch in the gut, the last were certainly a strike straight to her skull. She flinched, her resolve cracking enough to let the throes of panic wash over her face. It was all too much: the lights, the noise, the audience.

But she was used to commotion. She had been acting for centuries.

In the drama, she had almost forgotten her place; the Court of Fontaine was her stage, and she was the leading actress. The citizens before her were the audience to her performance, and she was damned if she wasn’t to put on a show for them.

With a deep breath, she slipped right back into the façade, smoothing over the cracks in her mask with inhuman poise.

“They say the true tragedy of godhood, is one never gets the chance to live like a human.” Furina smiled coyly, playing up the eccentric goddess act that she had been cultivating for centuries. “So many experiences we are robbed of; growing up, falling in love.”

“You wanted to be human?” An audience member called out. Young woman, nervous expression. Perfect extra for Furina’s show.

She turned to stare her in the eyes, coy grin lighting up her features. “Tell me, dear. Have you ever had a lover of your own?”

“M-me?!” She squeaked. “Oh… I-I haven’t really had a girlfriend. B-But I have been in a… relationship of sorts.” The audience member spluttered and blushed. “A… summer fling, I suppose.”

“Well, wouldn’t I be a fool not to chase a summer fling of my own?” Furina tilted back her head with a laugh, letting her voice boom across the Opera with the confidence that left the audience hanging on her every word. “Oh, my dearest citizens. Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d let a brief bit of romance keep me from my duties? That I would be blinded by something so silly as love?”

“You don’t love them?” Another nervous audience member asked.

Yes, Furina wanted to scream. I love them more than I have ever loved anything in this world.

“Ah, love. Such a novel concept.” She loved them, she did. Oh, how she hoped they would forgive them for this. “The only love I hold is for my people and my nation! I need no lover, when I already have the love of my beautiful Fontaine.”

“I believe we have strayed off-topic,” Neuvillette said, smoothly shifting their attention to him. “The Court of Fontaine retains that this individual carries no influence over Lady Furina, the Palais Mermonia or the Fontainian justice system. This… relationship is something inconsequential that has no effect over Lady Furina’s work, and is not of a concern to Fontaine’s citizens.” Damn right it wasn’t their concern. “To put it frankly, this person is of no significance at all.”

Only Neuvillette was close enough to hear the sharp gasp that escaped her.

“This conference is hereby adjourned.”

They were going to hate her.

How was she supposed to look them in the eyes, after telling an entire courtroom that they were of no importance to her? The love of her life, the one who brought light into the world and a smile of genuine joy upon her face with just their presence. She imagined them watching the court; hearing her words, feeling them strike against their skin like blades.

They were going to hate her, and she would let them.

She would let them hate her, if it meant the public would forget their name. The moment they disappeared from the light, then the rumours would disappear just the same.

And a part of her—a small, barely noticeable, inconsequential part of her, but a part of her nonetheless—breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that her balance hadn’t been overturned. It was selfish, she knew that, and the thought disgusted her as much as it brought her comfort. That part whispered that it was for the best, not just for them but for her as well. Her reputation was secure, they were quietly pushed away from the light, and the scandal would die down quickly.

Furina stumbled backstage, stomach spinning. She leaned heavily against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, dreading the moment she would have to go home and face her lover after what she had done.

“Oh, darling.” She murmured. “Please forgive me.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gi x reader #furina x reader #genshin furina x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #furina angst #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #furina x gn reader #furina x gender neutral reader

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suppermariobroth · 8 months

Text

Top: a deleted scene from the 1993 Super Mario Bros. movie would have included two "lizard men" being held in a cell next to Mario and Luigi when those are in prison. A production photo of one of the lizard men, played by Mark Miller, was released.

Bottom: a version of this scene was put into the official coloring book for the movie, though with the lizard men being made much more cartoony compared to the live-action version.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source

#super mario bros #nintendo

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mirai-e-jump · 1 year

Photo

#sanrio #hello kitty #my melody #kuromi #plush toy #cinnamoroll #pompompurin #pochacco #official product #from official photo #transparent #my edit #do not repost #source: fancy shop design series #cute #png #toy #plush

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studentid · 5 months

Text

sanrio frosted flurries series

#sanrio #hello kitty #my melody #kuromi #plush toy #cinnamoroll #pompompurin #pochacco #official product #from official photo #transparent #cute #png #toy #plush #mine #carrd icon #carrd resources #moodboard png

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moonchildstyles · 8 months

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ephemere

élan part three: when the night comes crashing down harry is the only one there for y/n.

wordcount: 22k+

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, unwanted advances against our y/n (nothing too intense), and her dad is veryyyy mean in this one

—————

"Good morning!" Dom—(Y/N)'s stylist, and the most important person of the day—sung as he swept through her apartment, a team of people following behind, "We have so much to do today, are you ready?"

(Y/N) sleepily shut the door behind the last person that trickled in. "Yeah," she yawned, forcing herself to keep her eyes open after the lingering blink she gave.

Today was early enough already with the fact Harry had come over an hour prior, and now her apartment was full of half a dozen others that were way too happy for the early hour. (To be fair, it was just before ten a.m., but she didn't love to get up any earlier than that when it wasn't a pilates day).

Tonight was finally the night of the 132 Gala. She'd prepped as much as she could this week—an esthetician visit the other day, waxing studio visit the day before, a touch-up and trial run appointment with her hair stylist earlier in the week—but so much of the process had to be left to the day of.

"Just yeah?" Dom teased, imitating her sleepy voice, "I thought you'd be excited to see me today."

"I am, I am," (Y/N) argued, trudging towards him with her sleep shorts rustling against her thighs, "I didn't sleep well last night, but I promise I'm excited. Just a little tired."

She wasn't lying about her late night, the small hours of the morning having been the only time she managed to sleep. A letter had been sent to her apartment the night before, plaguing her mind a little too deeply.

It had only been a matter of time, she knew when she saw the official publications posting about her secret rendezvous with Harry at the country club. (Her favorite was the subline on one article, saying that (Y/N) was insisting he was only a bodyguard but how could she resist a body like that? As invasive as it was, it was still rather clever). Now that less real drama was circulating about her, rumors had taken the helm and that seemed to draw her admirer out much more often; less concrete answers seemed to draw them out. They seemed to feel a need to rewrite them to fit a specific mold they had for her, one (Y/N) never really understood the parameters of. It gave her a spike of anxiety in the pit of her stomach now whenever she picked up her mail, worrying that something too heavy to be friendly would be slipped between the bills and other pieces.

"Well," Dom chirped, clapping his hands together, "We'll just have to make sure no one can tell!"

With that, the day turned into a bit of a whirlwind. Many of these big events deteriorated into such, too much going on for (Y/N) to properly focus on one thing at a time.

At least there was a photographer Dom brought along to take photos of the whole process. One more person running around her apartment.

Her hair was the first thing to be started on, the one thing that was going to take the longest. Ensuring everything was perfect, a wash was made to start the day, plenty of products and serums applied before everything was dried and brushed. The natural texture of her strands was altered, her stylist wrapping them around hot and heavy curlers. Earlier in the week at the trial, extensions were added to her hair, adding to the weight on the top of her head. Though she loved the look it would achieve in the end, everything looking effortlessly glamorous with big curls and draping strands, she almost erupted into a migraine from the tension.

At least once the rollers were in, though, she caught a break from her hair stylist. Done was all the tugging and pulling from the various hot tools and hairbrushes, now she could just sit there and concentrate on ensuring her scalp didn't throb before she had a chance to feel pretty.

While the curlers cooled enough to truly curl her hair, her nail tech pulled up a seat beside her. Carlotta was her usual warm self, pleasantly chatting with (Y/N) until a light silence settled between them. Applying and filing her nails were comforting motions, knowing that her set was coming together. It didn't take long for the paint to come out, sparkling pearls to be added to the pastel pink French manicure to match that of her dress. Her fingernails looked every bit like the princess set they had been calling it before Carlotta made her exit for the day, her job done in one go compared to the others that would stick around for final touches.

After a quick break for snacks, her hair was ready to be unraveled and her makeup ready to be applied. The photographer began her closeups then, the camera shuttering as her hair fell in large curls around her face, her makeup artist prepping her skin. Dom periodically checked in, ensuring things were going according to their plan all the while he was coordinating garments and creating problems just to fix them a moment later. Around her, members of the glam team began to pull out their phones, their own cameras trained around the space to document their own experience getting her ready.

(Y/N) sat quietly in the middle of it all, eyes closing when instructed, head tilting when needed, body still in her silken robe.

For hours on end, Harry was like a statue in the corner of the room—silent and stoic. When things began to get hectic, Dom tried to kick him out, only for Harry to ignore the attempts and stay right where he was. He wouldn't be going anywhere no matter how hard Dom tried.

—————

"Everyone out! She needs to get dressed! Everyone out!"

(Y/N) could see Dom was moments away from ripping his hair out, the time making him more than stressed. Styling her hair took longer than expected, draining an additional half an hour from their prep time. Dom timed things meticulously, the schedule written down to the minute to leave her to be on the carpet at a fashionable time—not too early, not too late. This was going to through everything off, and Dom was already feeling it.

The second her hair was finally pinned into place, a layer of hairspray going across the strands to keep anything from moving in any direction, he pulled her into her bedroom where she was to be dressed. Everyone was to be shooed out of her space then, Dom directing them with an agitated tone.

On their way out of the previously quiet room, (Y/N) slipped away from Dom and offered her thanks, hoping they didn't take her stylist's tone too personally. They would still be needed for finishing touches, and she didn't want them stepping out on account of her stylist. Especially since she loved them for their regular services, anyway.

Quietly padding back to her bedroom before Dom became more agitated, Harry became her ghost once more.

"I'll wait outside here for you, okay?" Harry murmured, looking at her with a clear gaze as he stopped in the threshold of her bedroom.

"You don't have to," she told him, lingering in the doorway. She could promise she would be on her best behavior if he needed her to.

Harry shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. "I'll be here."

With that, she was pulled into her bedroom with the help of Dom's assistant, her grip much more delicate than that of the stylist.

The process of squeezing her into her garments began then. Shapewear and the proper undergarments pulled over her body, her form smoothing with rounded curves. (Y/N) held her breath with every swath of fabric wrapped around her body, more and more of the look piecing together the closer they got.

"Careful," Dom told her, helping her step into the molten pearl of the Vivienne Westwood dress of her dreams. His assistant held the gown with utmost care, ensuring there was no way there could be a rogue crease or an unwanted footstep on the hem.

(Y/N) stayed stagnant, allowing them to zip her into the corset. Dom took over as his assistant began to shoot photos, documenting the way the tight corset adhered to her body. The top was tighter than the original fitting, alterations stiffening the boning and pushing her breasts up high on her chest. Her cleavage was deeper than she ever thought it could be, the swells pushed up and almost spilling over the neckline. The body makeup her artist applied sparkled in the lighting, highlighting the soft parts of her body in a sunny glow. The draping of pearls as her sleeves dripped down her biceps, strategically broken strands having been added during alterations to allow another string to hang down the length of her arms. The high slit was just as scandalous as she remembered, a breeze settling over her bare skin.

She felt gorgeous.

Glancing in the mirror bolted to the wall across from her, she saw the vision come together. Her hair was perfect, bouncy and full, tickling her collarbones with soft brushes. Her dress glimmered like molten pearl on her body, clinging to every curve and edge. Her makeup glittered in the gentle light, delicate sparkles on her eyelids with soft pinks airbrushed across her cheeks and lips. Everything was dewy and light—she looked like a cross between a celestial body and a mermaid inhabiting the waters of a moonlit lagoon.

There was a level of giddiness rising in her knowing that there were going to be countless photos of herself dressed this way. For the first time in a really long time, she looked forward to the torrent of cameras and flashes that would be pointed her way on the Gala carpet.

That serenity didn't last for very long, though, before Dom found another detail to begin to worry over.

"Where is the purse?" he muttered, voice sharp as he rifled through the bag he brought along with him.

"The purse?" his assistant, chirped, stepping back once the proper photographer had rejoined them, his camera flashing to catch (Y/N) in a candid moment.

"Her purse. The purse. The one (Y/N) is supposed to be carrying on the carpet in less than an hour." Dom was seething now.

"It's not in there?"

"If it was, I'd have it already," Dom snapped back, his arms almost elbow deep into his endless bag of everything.

The level of chaos in her apartment ratcheted up a notch in that moment. Now was not the time for something like that to go wrong. Not when—as Dom listed out—finishing adjustments to her makeup needed to be made, final touches to her hair, and someone needed to help her put her shoes on so she didn't bend and crease the dress. Not to mention the photoshoot Dom planned on having (Y/N) partake in before she left for the event, photos to be taken for his portfolio.

"Dom—I can—"

(Y/N) was quickly cut off as he shook his head, his long hair flying around his face. "No, you are not doing anything! Where is everyone?! We don't have time for this."

His assistant scuttled away then, gathering each of the members of her prep group to accomplish each of the things Dom was beginning to fret over.

"Henry—Harris—Whatever your name is, can you please help instead of just standing around?!" Dom shouted through the now cracked door of (Y/N)'s bedroom.

A beat passed before everyone—including Harry—stepped into her room. Carlotta had an extra file in hand, her hair stylist a comb and a bottle of hair spray in his apron pocket, and makeup artist with a gloss in hand. Harry held nothing but a raised brow over the way Dom spoke to him.

Each of the artists and techs descended upon her then, each quietly assessing what needed to be perfected before they were off. (Y/N) didn't have a chance to see what Dom was commissioning Harry to help with before she had to blink her eyes shut, her makeup artist fluffing a brush of glitter on her eyelids.

"Find her bag, and someone put her shoes on, please! We won't have time for pictures if we keep this up!" Dom rattled off, "The event is almost over at this point! Where the fuck is her bag?"

As much as (Y/N) loved Dom, it was moments like these she wondered if the stress of preparing for events was worth it.

Murmured voices of his assistant and a deep voice (Y/N) thought could be Harry, adding to the chatter of the room. The sound of her door creaking happened before the dull roar finally settled.

"(Y/N)?"

Chancing a blink of her eyes open, (Y/N) saw Harry standing before her, just behind her makeup artist, with the box of her Manolo Blahniks in hand.

He met her gaze over the shoulder of the artist swiping more gloss over her lips, his eyes dropping imperceptibly down to her mouth before ringing back up once more.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Dom traipsed back in, his cheeks decidedly redder than before. "Help her with her shoes, we need to go!" he shouted, Harry not even bothering to look back.

He was hesitating—waiting for her permission. There was an unspoken line they'd put in the sand, one that kept each other at arm's length; (Y/N)'s aloofness, and Harry's professionalism the key administers. He wouldn't come any closer if she didn't want him to.

"It's okay," she told him, her makeup artist pausing as her lips moved.

With that, box in hand, Harry wormed his way in-between the various artists and stylists warmed around her. Bending to one knee, he knelt before her with the pristine white box just off to the side. She could feel his eyes on her when he made the first touch, a hand on her ankle. Unwilling to disturb the makeup artist tending to her face, and the stylist primping her hair, (Y/N) wasn't able to meet his eyes despite feeling them trace her face.

The photographer's camera shuttered at a rapid rate, but (Y/N) knew these photos were going to be the kind that stayed in the archive with her.

His thumb grazed the bone in her ankle as she shifted her weight, helping him slip the first cream colored pump onto her foot. The custom pump had a ring of pearls that were to be attached around her ankle. (Y/N) could feel the brush of Harry's fingers over her skin as he latched the stones around her leg, his touch decidedly more gentle than she could have expected from someone who's entire job centered around the rough use of them.

"Let me go grab a setting spray, hold on," her makeup artist murmured, dropping her hands from where they were separating her fluffed lashes and diffusing the color on her eyelids. With that, the woman scurried away, leaving (Y/N) the freedom to finally shift her eyes.

Glancing down, she saw Harry on his knees, a furrow in his brow as he concentrated on helping her balance on the teetering heels. It was like he knew she was watching with the way he peeked up, the fan of his lashes a frame around the green of his eyes. His hand faltered for a split second when she met his gaze.

The rest of the noise melted away for that moment, (Y/N) only taking in just how delicate the shoes looked in comparison to Harry, how gently he was treating her. How pretty he was. She wondered if Dom had ever considered taking Harry on, prepping him for this event instead; he'd fit right in with the models and celebrities that would be on the carpet.

Despite her eyes following his movements, (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention when he had finished slipping her shoe on, the pearls latched around her ankle. She teetered where she stood, a slight gasp leaving her lips.

In an instant, Harry was there, standing to the full of his height in front of her. He steadied her, his grip on her arms firm in his hold but gentle in his touch.

"Alright?" he asked, gaze skipping down her features for just a moment.

(Y/N) almost thought he sounded breathless.

"Yeah," she answered, the word low between the two of them as if there weren't a handful of others around. "Thank you."

Harry only nodded, his hands lingering for a split second longer before they fell away from where he had them on her biceps.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the way the photographer seemed to be capturing every second of the interaction. Camera flashes and the lens shuttering added to the chaos.

The same time Harry was backing away, her makeup artist returned with a glimmering bottle in hand. She was flustered, immediately stepping back into place in front of (Y/N), leaving only a sliver of a view of Harry over her shoulder.

(Y/N) had her eyes glued to him as he approached the entrance to her bedroom, his previous post having been just outside. She saw as he lingered, his head down as he shifted his weight as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to step forward or step back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"Close your eyes for me," her artist instructed.

Hesitating before doing so, (Y/N) just barely caught the way Harry seemed to look back at her.

A loud commotion burst into the room then, (Y/N) flinching where she stood with her eyes closed.

"I found the purse!"

It took a moment for Dom's voice to register. (Y/N) had completely forgotten about the purse.

—————

(Y/N)'s fingers skipped over the pearls dripping down her arms, keeping her gaze forward as they rushed through the New York streets. Beside her, Harry had changed into an all black suit while she was commandeered for photographs at Dom's request. He kept his gaze solely stretched out the window. He hadn't looked at her since that moment in her bedroom, the space between them on the bench seat just a hair larger.

"When would you like me to come for you?" Sully asked, breaking (Y/N) from her over-analysis of how many inches of space was supposed between two people in a working relationship that had also shared a somewhat intimate moment just an hour earlier. At least, (Y/N) thought it was intimate.

She recrossed her legs, shifting in her seat. "Um, I'm not sure," she murmured, noting the way Harry didn't break his staring contest with the window even at this disturbance, "I don't want to say too long, but Francesca will probably want to go to an afterparty."

"Okay, just give me a call about thirty minutes before you're ready. I'll make it as soon as possible, but you know how these places can be."

A smile stretched across her glossy lips as she nodded her head. "Got it. Thank you."

She wondered if Harry knew how many shades of green were in his eyes, if he saw the same tiny blonde hairs threaded through his dark curls that she did. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was. She hoped he didn't know that she was still thinking about the way he looked up at her when he was on his knees before.

Despite the sun having set and sunk below the horizon, the city was still bright outside the windows. (Y/N) wondered how many of the other vehicles passing around them were also heading to the Gala.

Peering through the front windscreen, the gallery came into view. The large building that was usually splashed in black and white with 132 on the front in primary colors, had been transformed to allow a tent to be set up up front, shielding the public from the massive red carpet laid out underneath. From here, she could spot the overflow of people, bright lights shining from under the white tent. At least a fourth of that light had to be from the crowd of photographers and publications that had made it inside the event.

Coming to a smooth stop in front of the event, Sully put them in park but didn't make any move to usher her out. From the curb, she could see those set up along the carpet, ready for interviews or photos. She could even see Francesca towards the end, nearest to the entrance.

Her fiddling with the pearls of her dress resumed, anxiety spiking. Her crossed leg swung.

For the first time since leaving her apartment, Harry turned to look at her. His eyes stayed fixed to her face, not daring to skate anywhere else on her body.

"Ready?"

A faux-natural smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Mhm," she hummed, glancing at Sully through the rearview. It was too crowded for him to help her out of the car as usual, she knew that. She would have to settle for a smile through the rearview to settle her through the night. "See you soon?"

"See you soon, sweetheart," he confirmed, his eyes gentle as he met them through the glass.

With that, Harry took his leave first, scooting out of the car with her small purse in tow before reaching back inside to offer her a helping hand out. It felt like a movie the way she could hear the snapping of cameras and dull roar from the event. The shadows around him lengthened, backlit by the fluorescent bulbs.

Rubbing her glossy lips together, she put her hand in his and followed him out onto the sidewalk.

Harry was dropped into his element then second they were faced with the budding crowd waiting to be herded onto the carpet. He had to have been familiar with events like these as he let go of her hand only to place his palm on her upper back, ushering her through the bodies. It was a form of a greenroom that was waiting at the entrance of the carpet, another tent with event coordinators ensuring pacing out the carpet. He didn't let her stop even as some familiar faces gave her small greetings.

Dipping his head down, (Y/N) could feel the tip of his nose brush the draping strands of hair by her ear. "'M going to stay a step behind you the whole time, okay? If at any point you want to be done, jus' look at me and we'll go. I'll be with you."

Drawing away just enough to match his gaze, there was that earnest intensity she'd seen only once before at the pilates studio.

"Okay," she said, giving her head a minute no, unwilling to remove her gaze from his.

With one final push towards the head of the line, (Y/N) could spot the event coordinators clustered around the entrance, earpieces in and tablets at their chests. She watched as they ushered someone onto the carpet—a model she remembered from a trip to Milan, but couldn't place his name—cameras flashing the second he made it to the first pose point.

Harry's hand was a warm weight on her back, grounding her as she forced herself not to pick at her nails or fiddle with her dress as she attempted to sike herself up for her own upcoming turn. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the familiar coordinators perk up when he spotted her, one of the ones that had been assisting the event for the last handful of years. The coordinator—Monty—brought the lapel of his blazer to his mouth, muttering something into the covert microphone, before (Y/N) felt extra eyes on her.

With a bright smile on his face, Monty pushed their way through the clusters of people, stopping right by she and Harry.

"Ms. (Y/N), how are you this evening? You look gorgeous," Monty greeted her, his eyes obviously shifting from her gown to the petite pearl bag in Harry's hands. His brow raised just that much more at the sight.

"Thank you so much, Monty," she bubbled, knowing the version of herself he would be expecting and slipping into that role, "How are you? Busy, I'm sure."

"You have no idea," he exaggerated, the words ending with a boisterous laugh (Y/N) joined in on. "Are you ready to walk?"

"As ready as I can be," (Y/N) offered, shaking her head as she gestured down to her shoes, "Didn't get a chance to break in my shoes at all, and you know how the Vivienne corsets can be."

"We'll get you through as fast as possible, then," Monty laughed, smiling a little too bright, "You know, when we got your RSVP, we made sure to stock the bar extra just for you."

It was meant to be a joke, she knew that, a rib at the way she was apparently always drunk whenever she went out. She was sure it was supposed to be something meant to entice her into being that much more excited to get the carpet over. Nonetheless, she couldn't help the way she wanted to roll her eyes and huff a sigh.

Still, she laughed along, leaning forward as if she were doubling over in laughter. The photographers ate it up. "You know me so well," she told Monty, taking in a deep breath, "Thank you."

Casting a look towards the carpet, Monty double checked his tablet before he looked at her with a mild smile. "Ready to go?"

Following his gaze, the patrons in front of her had dwindled down to none, leaving her the next on the chopping block.

Feeling a tad bit stiff after the last interaction, (Y/N) still nodded her head. "Of course."

Harry was a silent pillar beside her as they followed after Monty. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

A beat passed, Monty waiting for a cue, then he looked to (Y/N) with that practiced smile. "Go ahead, Ms. (Y/N). I'll see you in there."

(Y/N) waved her goodbye, stepping carefully into the mouth of the event, the carpet shifting under her feet into something luxurious and soft. At her back, Harry stepped up.

"I'll be right behind you," he murmured, a quiet reminder, before the chaos erupted.

No doubt the media recognized who was at her back, cameras fluttering with flashes burning her gaze. She smiled effortlessly, stopping to pose and look in whatever direction she was called. She stood out against the stark white and deep black of the carpet, the attendees meant to be the color in the gallery for the night. Around her, others were posted up giving their own poses to the cameras facing them, some having brought friends or dates to chat with in between.

(Y/N) hoped she would see Francesca or Emma soon.

Traipsing through the carpet, (Y/N) stopped and pose at ever juncture instructed, blowing kisses and showing off her gown at every stop. As nervous as she was to have so many eyes on her—many wanting some kind of slip up to be able to report on—it couldn't knock how excited she was to have herself immortalized in a look like this. That couldn't take away how pretty she felt.

Harry was a silent soldier behind her, never wavering as the hall had shouting photographers, shuttering cameras, and chatter from the various attendees. He followed her carefully, a delicate pink bag hanging from his hands that were clasped at his front. He stayed far enough away to ensure every shot only captured her, but close enough she could turn to face him and give him whatever signal was needed to get out of there.

Going down the carpet, (Y/N) grew used to the feel of eyes all over her, beginning to revel in the way her body and look was being appreciated by the attendees. While she didn't love the sound of her name being shouted across the carpet, she didn't mind when it meant she was going to be posing for a photo that she would be happy to see floating around the internet.

Scaling the plush staircase trailing further down the carpet, the mass of the photographers thinned leaving only a few here and there to snap the final photos before guests were led into the gallery, with a few publications waiting for a moment to catch an interview. Scanning the few, (Y/N) tried to spot the one interview she was scheduled to make for the night.

Catching sight of a bright blonde head of hair, (Y/N) inched towards her hoping the woman was who she thought it was. It took a moment for the interviewer to turn around, the strands of ultra straight blonde hair fanned around her familiar face. Relief hit (Y/N), then—she didn't have to stand in the middle of everything hoping someone noticed her and gave direction.

"Hi, (Y/N), how are you?" The interviewer, Gwen, greeted her with a bright smile, leaning over to give her a light hug around their immaculate gowns.

Noting the camera that was definitely still recording, (Y/N) ensured her own tabloid smile was fixed to her face, her voice pitched and pleasant. "I'm doing well, thank you! You look amazing, Gwen," (Y/N) bubbled, stepping back to admire the embellishments on the gown.

She wasn't surprised, really. Gwen was the yearly reporter for the major fashion magazine that sponsored half of the attendees at the event. They were one of the few legitimate publications that printed stories about her and reached out for articles about her looks or to be featured in segments on their website—even if there were hate comments flooded on her features.

Starting off like the rest of the interviews that had been conducted that night, Gwen asked who she was wearing and rattled off questions about the inspiration behind her gown. (Y/N) answered pleasantly, attributing everything to the collaborative effort with her stylist and the handful of others that helped her prep for the night. Standing just off camera, Harry stayed back but she could feel his eyes on her as she spoke with Gwen.

More than once did Gwen's eyes shift from where (Y/N) stood, peeking over her shoulder to find her bodyguard. (Y/N) hated to think what she might be assuming at that moment, the kinds of questions that might be swirling. Tomorrow, when all of the analyses of this moment were circulated through the public, she was sure people would assume that there was something more going on in the moment, that Harry was doing something just off screen that would somehow confirm that he was her affair partner and secret boyfriend.

"But, yeah, we wanted something classic for the hair, but it definitely took a lot more time to get there than it looks," (Y/N) ended, brushing those stray strands out of her face.

Waiting for the next question to come, (Y/N) saw the way Gwen tossed a glance towards the producer that was standing behind the camera. Something was exchanged in that look.

Keeping the energy up, Gwen turned back to (Y/N) with her practiced smile. "While I have you here, (Y/N), we do have to ask," she said, lowering her head with a glint in her eye as if she were just a girl friend gossiping over brunch, "We see you've brought a guest with you tonight, can you share with us who that is?"

She was definitely fishing, trying to glean something out of the interaction. Even magazines like this couldn't be completely free from rumors and gossip, she guessed.

Staying in character, bubbly and bright, (Y/N) looked behind her with a giggle. (Another scene that was going to be overanalyzed, edited and clipped to show the "truth"). Waving to him to step forward, she hoped Harry would play along for just a couple of minutes. Hesitant, Harry took a careful step forward, inching into the view of the camera with her purse swinging in his grip.

"This is Harry," she bubbled off, gesturing to him as he gave a reserved smile to the camera before tipping his head down so as to not garner any more attention, "I know he's been pictured with me a lot recently, but he's just my bodyguard. I think there's been a few different stories floating around, but that's the truth."

Gwen paused for a second, certainly rattled by the soft denial she was given for details. In an attempt to recover from the fishing, she joked, "And, is that your purse or his he's got?"

"His, but he let me borrow it for the night," (Y/N) played along, hoping Harry wouldn't mind taking ownership over the mini beaded bag in his grip.

Gwen joined in her laughter, sounding a little more than exaggerated with the way she reached out to grab (Y/N)'s arm as if to steady herself.

"Well," she started once recovering, "it was so much fun talking with you, (Y/N). We'll see you inside."

"I'll see you inside, Gwen," (Y/N) reciprocated, giving another small hug as a goodbye.

"Hopefully, we'll both be at the same afterparty—I'd love a chance to see you let loose," Gwen laughed.

"Right," (Y/N) answered with a peal of laughter, stepping out with a wave as Gwen's next interviewee was set to step up to the plate.

Taking in a deep breath and shaking out her hands, (Y/N) was grateful to be out of view of any cameras. Only a stitch remained off the carpet before she would be ushered into the event, but there was a moment of reprieve in this moment.

Close behind, Harry stepped up beside her, his eyes clear when he matched hers. "Alright?"

"Yeah," she breathed, fluttering her lashes with a shake of her head to get the stray hairs from her updo out of her face, "I didn't expect anyone to ask about that. Sorry."

"'S okay," he murmured, scanning over her features, "Want to wait a second before we go in?"

(Y/N) nodded her head with a mumbled yeah. Harry didn't push her as she lingered in that space in-between, allowing her space as she calmed her rattled nerves. It wasn't until she heard the sound of others approaching, more people to clock her with her shaking hands and stressed demeanor, that she decided she was ready to move on.

"Let's go," she murmured, eyes downcast as she spared a few more moments before she was to be on again.

"Y'sure?" Harry checked, reaching his hand out to hover between her shoulder blades. All he needed was the reaffirming nod from her before he was helping to usher her inside.

The hosts of the event were the first to greet her as they stepped into the gallery, familiar faces (Y/N) had seen year after year. Harry's hand on her back was warm and weighty, keeping her on track as he took the blame to usher her through the interactions as soon as she received their seating tickets and were wished a good evening. She was grateful for him getting her through, still feeling a little bit too exposed after that interview.

Entering into the gallery space that had been renovated for the event to feature round dinner tables and a stage for the hosts and donors to be honored for the night. Matching the carpet out front, everything was left as black and white, the guests being the splashes of color as if they were the artworks for the night. The decor came in the same monotone hues only the cocktails and drinks breaking up the greys on the table.

"Did they seat you with me?" (Y/N) asked, passing Harry his ticket for the night.

Giving the paper a small glance, Harry kept most of his attention on getting her through the clusters of people standing about. "Think so," he murmured, a furrow on his brow.

Peering over the large curls on her head, Harry guided her through, finding their table. Lucky for her, despite being a bit later than she had scheduled, her father and his associates hadn't arrived yet. That allowed her to peek at the seating chart, lips thinning when she saw she'd be at her father's side through the night.

"Can I have my bag?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Harry just a step behind her. He didn't hesitate to pass off her tiny purse. Still embarrassed by what happened on the carpet and thinking about the dull way he confirmed he'd been seated next to her, (Y/N) bit at her bottom lip before turning towards him. "It's okay if you don't want to stay tonight. I know this stuff is really boring, so if you'd rather—"

"No. We've been over this," Harry said, his voice stern as he matched her gaze, "Wherever you are, I am."

While she knew this was all a part of his job—his following of her, his determination—there was something that bubbled behind her ribs. Even if there was no other reason he would spend time with her, at least there was someone always at her side; she wasn't going to be alone in these moments as long as Harry was there.

"Okay," she nodded, biting back a smile. Peeking over his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted Emma and Francesca settled around their own table, chatting away while others breezed past their table with small greetings. "I think I'm going to go talk to my friends before my dad gets here, but you can go get a drink or something if you want. If anyone asks for any payment or anything, just say it's on me."

While she knew there was a high possibility that he wasn't going to take her up on the offer, he only nodded at her before she was sending off towards the girls.

Growing closer to their court, (Y/N) could see Stavros at Emma's side, with Francesca thankfully alone—it was always a good day when she didn't bring some billionaire or to come hang out in hopes of commandeering his yacht for the weekend. They had leaned close together, chatting over the table while Stavros absently stroked his hand up and down Emma's arm, his gaze shimmering as he gazed at her profile.

Franny was the first to spot her approach, her gaze lifting and posture straightening. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, Emma turning in her seat with a matching smile, "You finally made it!"

"You look gorgeous," Emma gushed, her own glimmering dress surely a Stavros original.

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled, taking a free chair at Emma's side to slip into the conversation, "You guys look so pretty, too."

At that, Emma couldn't seem to help herself before launching into the origin story of her dress, introducing Stavros and his genius mind as the one behind her high couture sheath dress. Francesca had clearly already heard this tale, her gaze checked out as she pulled her phone from her purse.

"Did you bring anyone, (Y/N)?" Emma pressed, no doubt having already seen Harry at her table and fishing for more information.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the ends of her hair tickling her collarbones. "No, just Harry."

"Just Harry?"

A smile spread across her cheeks at Emma's prodding. "Just Harry," she parroted, unwavering despite Emma's tease. Turning to Francesca, (Y/N) shifted the conversation, "Has your mom called again since she visited?"

It only took a roll of Fran's eyes to tell (Y/N) everything she needed to know. "It's not if she's called, it's how many times."

With that Francesca started on the epic that was the amount of phone calls, FaceTimes, and voicemails left on her phone with her mom still insistent that being a gallery owner is all her daughter could ever want. Following along and allowing her laughter to flow freely, (Y/N) slipped into herself as she sat with her friends. Seeing the event photographer fluttering about the tables, she was grateful that this moment could be forever immortalized—a time she felt like herself with her best friends.

Unfortunately, also from her peripheral, she could spot her father and his friends having seated themselves at their table. His showmanship in terms of his boisterous laughter that had to be at a volume just higher than the rest of the crowd was what gave him away. Harry was also seated though he was decidedly less interested in the conversation than the rest of the table, his gaze shifting to where she sat more often than not.

(Y/N) couldn't help but to scoot in further to her borrowed table, despite knowing that she was only pushing off the inevitable. She was going to have to speak to her father anyway, especially with her place setting residing next to him. Nonetheless, she preferred to put it off as long as possible. She was having a good time at this point, no reason to cut it short.

Being spared only a handful more minutes, (Y/N) knew she couldn't steal this spot forever when she saw one of the hosts start making rounds before edging towards the stage. She was sure the rightful owner of this spot was waiting for her to leave, anyway.

Finding a pause in the conversation, she began to stand with a careful hand ensuring the slit in her dress didn't open too wide. "I'd better go sit down, guys. I think everything's starting soon."

Francesca gave her a pout. "You'll come see us after dinner?"

"Of course; you think I'm going to stay over there all night?"

Both Fran and Emma let out a laugh, Stavros awkwardly joining in despite most likely needing a translation of what she said from his girlfriend.

Sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) pasted a smile on her face as she made her way back to her own table. At some point she must not have caught, Harry had gotten up and was now returning with a couple of glasses of water in his hands. She watched as he placed them beside their individual plates then took the spot beside her father. A pinch took her brow.

Their table was full of exclusively her father's friends: two men she recognized from the country club, one of their wives, and Harry. The rearrangement would leave her to sit between Harry and the man's wife, a step removed from her father. Not that she was complaining, though.

Without missing a step, (Y/N) approached the round table with her hands folded in front of her, tiny bag on her wrist. The sound of her heels clacking over the floor was muffled under the dull roar of the chattering ballroom.

Silently, she took her rearranged spot. Scooting in, no one acknowledged her, her father instead holding court as usual. At least here, he was one of many important fish, so she didn't have to deal with people fawning over his facade.

Peering at the name cards she had spotted before, (Y/N) saw her's and Harry's cards had been swapped. Harry had been stationed at the table the whole time, she couldn't imagine anyone had a moment—even her father—to move the places around without him noticing.

Eventually, just as she was about to pull out her phone and do anything to entertain herself, she heard her name come from her father's mouth. "You look nice, sweetie" he complimented, his investor meeting smile lighting up his features.

"Thank you," she answered, her own features arranged in a practiced expression, "You look nice, too."

Just like that, he moved on, replacing his attention to now land on Harry. It was a replay of the day at the country club, another round of praises being offered to her "handler" and all the amazing work he's done for (Y/N). Tuning it all out, she instead focused on the ice in her water glass, smiling when she heard a laugh around the table and zoning out otherwise.

It wasn't until there was another joke made at (Y/N)'s expense, that she was brought back to the surface with a discreet brush of a hand against her knee. Blinking back into the moment, she saw Harry looking at her, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Alright?" he murmured, eyes flittering about her features, "Do y'want me to get you a drink?"

The beginnings of a smile touched at the corner of her lips, her mouth going lopsided with her lipgloss glittering in the light. "I'm okay, but thank you," she muttered.

If she was being honest, she was on the brighter side of okay in that second. It was nice seeing someone ignore her dad for once and offer her some attention.

Harry only gave her a quiet nod before seamlessly slipping back into the conversation. Her attention followed him, watching the way he interacted very differently than only a couple weeks prior at the country club.

He was stiff in where he sat, features closer to a flat mask than the more languid expressions she was used to seeing him give her father. His jaw was tight, his forearms coming to rest on the lip of the table, his hands an inflexible bundle over the fine china of his plate. He was taking up space, shoulders broad and eyes solid. Following his line of sight, she saw him fixed on the man sitting at her father's other side.

(Y/N) only recognized him from the country club, specifically during her last visit a couple of weeks back. He wasn't notable by any means, but he was one of the couple that spared her a lingering glance even when her father was promoting Harry to the rest of the table.

Maybe, he was the reason Harry was in such a rotten mood when he met her in the maze. One of the few times she wished she had stuck around her father's drinking table, if only to know why Harry was insistent on shooting this man daggers.

"Right, Harry?" her father jested, most likely looking for Harry's confirmation to a deprecating joke at (Y/N)'s expense.

Blinking in the direction of the man, Harry barely spared a glance to her father.

"Right," he deadpanned.

It was the expression on her father's face, obviously thrown off by the lack of enthusiasm on Harry's part, that had her hiding her smile behind a sip from her glass of ice water.

Perhaps this dinner wouldn't be so bad.

—————

With dinner plates cleared and trays of mini desserts being distributed throughout the room, (Y/N) took her first chance at escape.

Others had started milling about, socializing with drinks in hand before the afterparties that would no doubt last well into the night. It was easy to slip within the masses, the wife of one of her father's friends being one of the only that could have spotted her disappearance. The men at the table were too distracted to even acknowledge her mumbled excusal to go to the restroom—including Harry, even if half of his attention was still placed on the sharp looks he was giving to the man across from him.

Emma and Francesca happily welcomed her back to their table, a couple of other girls they occasionally clubbed with also having pulled up a chair. From where she sat, she could still spot her father's table, his back facing her. She was able to relax then, feeling comfortable around her friends, even when she spotted the photographer from earlier meandering through the tables once more with the camera to his eye.

They bubbled over the surprise performance over dinner, an impromptu concert from one of the celebrities in attendance, with (Y/N) hoping they ended up at the same afterparty as her so she could get a chance to ask who designed her gown. Francesca shared the person she now had her eyes on, a man she recognized from touring galleries with her mom who was now seated only a few tables away. He was an artist, she decided, way more romantic than any guy with a yacht. Emma and Stavros were very much ready to head to the afterparties with the way they could barely finish a sentence before sealing their lips together.

"I'm going to go get a drink, do you guys want anything?" (Y/N) asked, standing from her spot with her tiny purse hanging from her wrist.

Chatters of denial spread over the table, many of the girls having their own drinks or refraining until the afterparties. (Y/N) shot them a smile before turning on her heel and making her way towards the bar.

The bartender was busy lacing together elaborate themed cocktails for the string of other patrons waiting, leaving (Y/N) to lean against the counter, arms folded on the bartop. She watched the show, enthralled with the mixing of ingredients while in wait.

Suddenly, she felt a hand touch the small of her back, the boning of her corset stiffening against her skin. (Y/N) jumped where she stood, her breath coming up short. Turning to face whoever spooked her, she recoiled when she saw it was the man that Harry had been shooting daggers at across the table.

He didn't even look at her as he flagged down the bartender, raising his voice to call across the long bar. (Y/N) stood there, her brain a little too muddled as she watched him speak over her to order a duo of drinks.

All of her father's friends sucked, but never once has any of them so blatantly disrespected her in public like this. He couldn't wait a few more minutes to get his whiskey and gin and tonic?

(Y/N) started to pull away then, shaking off his hand as she slunk away from his hovering body. He didn't let her get very far, his hand flexing on her back as he stepped along with her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said, a megawatt smile on his face, "I saw you standing here alone and figured it was my chance to finally talk to you."

"Oh," she sounded, unsure of what to say. More than anything at the moment, she was now annoyed that there was another order before hers, just wanting her cranberry juice-heavy cosmo in her hand.

"I'm Barron," he told her, dipping his head down as if it was loud enough he needed to whisper in her ear.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, her expression practiced, "I'm (Y/N)."

"I know," he flirted. (Y/N) swore her eye could have twitched.

Just in time, the bartender reached over with a whiskey on the rocks and a crystalline gin and tonic. "Here you are, sir," the bartender smiled, placing both drinks on coasters in front of Barron.

Thankfully, he removed his hand from her back to lean across the bar, relaying the tab information, his voice a little too boastful when spelling out his last name. (Y/N) felt she could breathe easier almost as soon as his hand left her form. Now was her chance: order her drink, and get back to her girls as soon as possible.

Instead, she saw as the bartender stepped away, relaying back to his previous customers as Barron passed the gin and tonic towards (Y/N). "Here you go, sweetheart."

Though she was startled, (Y/N) kept her practiced smile on as she stepped back just enough. "No, thank you. I was actu—"

"I insist," he cut her off, speaking above her with another push of the drink and coaster towards her. His hand returned to her back, caging her in with her front still against the bar. This time, he pressed his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers dipping low underneath the scoop of her corset. Unpleasant goosebumps erupted over her skin. "Your dad said you would need someone to keep an eye on you tonight, and I can see your bodyguard is a little busy at the moment. I can take care of this for you instead."

Her jaw felt tight. Peering over his shoulder, she was able to spot Harry sat with his back facing the bar, just as she left him with her father.

"Well," she started, chest expanding as she pulled in a deep breath, "Thank you for the drink. My friends are waiting for me, but it was nice to actually meet you."

Expecting his hand to fall from her, (Y/N) attempted to make her exit. Instead she was offered a stronger grip, his arm a bar across her back. "At least let me talk to you," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe she was trying to slip away, "I got you a drink, I think that's only fair, right?"

"Oh, I mean," she floundered, reciprocating with a polite laugh, "I should probably get back, though. After I got a drink we were planning on leaving for some afterparties, so."

He barked out a laugh, bringing his whiskey to his lips as he took in a deep sip. The ice clinked within the glass as she shook his head. "You know, your dad did say you were a bit feisty, but I didn't think you'd be like this."

Shifting her weight, (Y/N) would have done next to anything to crawl away from this moment. She didn't like the idea of him asking about her to her father; she dreaded to think what kind of stories were told or publications discussed that could have brought up the topic of her being "feisty".

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographer meandering close by. All it would take was a slight struggle, a slight raising of voices, and that camera would no doubt be up to his eye with a high definition photo of the moment splashed across the internet by the end of the night. That wasn't even taking into account the amount of cell phones around the room that could be trained in their direction in a moment's notice.

As annoying as this man was and how much she was itching to leave her skin over his touch, fighting him further wasn't going to be worth the scene it would cause. Especially not with her father right there; it would be too easy for this man—his friend—to turn this whole thing around on her without any argument from her father.

All she could do was hope Francesca or any of the other girls noticed she was missing for longer than it could possibly take to grab a drink.

"Come sit with me," Barron commanded, urging her to roll underneath his arm so he could guide her to a nearby table with vacant chairs. Swallowing, (Y/N) followed along, her smile tight. "Don't forget your drink."

Her smile grew that much tighter over his words.

The chilled glass was slick against her palm.

Barron pushed her into a seat, his hand finally leaving her skin and leaving an overly hot point on her body. Sinking into her chair, (Y/N) tried to create as much space as she could between them, even with the way he leant across the space to enter her bubble. Her hand clenched around the gin and tonic glass.

"See, not so bad, is it?" Barron teased, taking another sip of his quickly draining glass.

"Right," (Y/N) let out a humorless laugh, "So, how do you know my dad?"

This was a trick she learned to get these men off her back. They loved nothing more than to talk about themselves and the things they thought deemed them important. Barron seemed all too excited to talk about his business prowess that led him to her father's "inner circle", surely exaggerating the amount of acquisitions he headed to get him where he was.

"But, I can't lie," he said, lowering his voice and smirking at her, "I told him I wanted to meet you a month ago, and we've started talking a lot more since. He told me you were having some troubles, and I had a feeling I might be able to help you."

Reaching across, Barron settled his too warm hand on her knee, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh of her thigh.

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten at the touch, the way he looked at her over the rim of his glass, as if he were doing her a favor. She was sure he thought she should be grateful to feel his hand on her skin, like this was the first step to getting her through her troubles.

Her grip around her glass tightened.

What was she supposed to do now?

She felt trapped. He scooted closer to her over the floor, his hand sliding over her thigh. He even stuck his foot out, playing footsie as if she looked open to flirting.

Swallowing, she let out a strained laugh, bringing her glass to her lips for no other reason than to buy herself a moment's reprieve.

She couldn't decipher what would be worse: staying in this situation or causing a scene that would no doubt have her father locking her down in a remote cabin for the winter?

With the amount of cameras in the room, if she flipped the way her bubbling anxiety urged her to, there was no doubt the last vestiges of her reputation would be burned to the ground. Everything was bad enough already, but there would be no recovery from a documented outburst like the one she could feel brewing.

A forced laugh fell from her lips, "I guess you could say that." Glancing through the room, she tried to spot Harry. Maybe, he had miraculously turned around and could see what was happening. If she caught his eye, he could put a stop to this.

He told her all she needed was to look at him, and he would be right there. He could take her away from this. He told her—promised her.

Suddenly, she felt that overly-hot hand that had been on her leg pinch her chin. Barron redirected her strayed attention, forcing her to look right at his smug face.

"Eyes on me when I'm speaking, babygirl. It's respectful."

If not for the fact she was close to having an anxiety attack, (Y/N) could only imagine the amount of rage she would feel at his condescending words.

Instead, all she could feel was his hand too close to her throat, the absolute view of his eyes he was forcing on her. Her skin felt too hot, though she swore goosebumps were rising. Her stomach churned, the corset feeling way too tight around her lungs.

"Sorry," she swallowed, almost choking around the word though she could tell he didn't even notice.

In as casual of a way as she could muster, she pushed his hand off of her chin, disguising it as a move to flip her hair over her shoulder. Barron instead settles his hand on her shoulder, fingering the pearls draping over her skin.

"Good," he said, seemingly pleased with her feigned obedience, "I want to hear about you, though."

"What do you want to know?" she forced out through a high smile.

Her heart jumped into her throat, clogging her airways with every brush of his fingers over her skin. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

One of the only times she ever would have wanted a bodyguard and he's not even here. If her father could shut up for two seconds, Harry could have done the job he was hired for.

Instead, (Y/N) was left with a pit in her stomach, something that she swore could eat through her dress and absorb her as if it were nothing. How was she supposed to breathe when her organs had to make way for the blackhole in her stomach? How was she supposed to think clearly when her instincts urged her to move along, with nothing else managing to make an impression on her brain?

This man was pushing her too far. He was touching her too much, looking at her too closely, talking too loudly.

She needed him to stop. She could barely feel her hands, her toes, her lips. No amount of air in her lungs was enough.

(Y/N) hadn't even realized Barron was talking until his voice was cut off. A decidedly gentler hand settled on her opposing shoulder.

"There you are!" Francesca greeted, bending down to (Y/N)'s level with her eyes widening just enough when she made eye contact, "I'm about to head to the bathroom, could you come with me?"

Without a second thought, (Y/N) released her chokehold grip on the gin and tonic, looking Barron in the eye as she took in the first semi-normal breath in the last handful of minutes. "Sorry, I'll be right back."

Francesca took (Y/N)'s hand in her own, scurrying to the bathroom in record time. Stepping over the tile floor of the single stall restroom, (Y/N) felt a tingle in her hands, her gaze unable to focus while Francesca locked the door behind them.

"Hey, what's going on?" Fran questioned, stepping behind her with a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

All it took was a flutter of (Y/N)'s lashes and a stuttered breath before everything she was holding back spilled over. A whimper sliced from her throat, her vision blurring.

"(Y/N)?"

Spinning on her heel, she couldn't help the way she braced herself against her best friend, Francesca collecting her into a hug as if she might collapse at a moment's notice.

"I-I don't know," (Y/N) cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I—Fran—I'm—Thank you."

Nothing falling from her lips made much sense, everything too mushy and half-baked as she sputtered. She didn't know how to articulate how uncomfortable Barron was making her feel; how much she wanted to crawl out of her skin, how she felt trapped, how she knew what he did wasn't all that bad—even compared to her own experiences—but she swore she hadn't felt so unsafe since that night with Damien Moore. How was she supposed to get all of that out between gasping breaths and tingling lips?

Francesca was her pillar at the moment, keeping (Y/N) upright as she held her. "Okay, it's okay," she tried to soothe her, despite her own voice wavering, "I didn't even know, (Y/N). I'm sorry. I would have helped you sooner, if I had."

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) parroted, sniffling, "I-I think my dad told him to talk to me."

Francesca muttered something under her breath, which sounded a lot like a string of curse words though (Y/N) hoped it was actually a hex against her father.

After tightening her hug, Francesca began to pull away from (Y/N)'s melting form. "I'm going to be right back," she told her earnestly, "I'm going to grab my bag and call my driver, and we're going to leave, okay? Your dad isn't even going to know."

"Okay, okay," (Y/N) repeated in a broken voice, nodding her head, "Thank you."

Francesca left with a concerned look over her shoulder.

Circling the drain, (Y/N) couldn't stop pacing around the bathroom, the clack of her heels echoing in her ears. Her mind was running way too fast to keep up. There was no focus she could give to anything when she swore her corset was strangling her. The spots that Barron's slimy hands touched her dirty, gross and sticky in a way only the longest shower could hope to erase. Her head was too muddy, swimming too far away, for anything to make sense.

Striking through it all, she remembered her father was out there.

God, she was going to be in so much trouble. There was no way she could talk herself out of this one, and with how fragile she felt at the moment, she couldn't imagine making it through a scolding of his like she usually did. Not like this.

What if he blamed Harry, even? What if Harry was roped into her orbit of trouble, being blamed for the fact she had a breakdown in one of the most inconvenient places? Her father would no doubt reject the fact that he was the reason behind Harry's distraction.

The idea made (Y/N) crumble that much more. These were her problems, and now Harry might be held accountable for the fact she couldn't suck it up over a couple of lingering touches and condescending words. As if she didn't know how to handle it already.

Memories of this man's hands on her body—along with a quick montage of others in his place before, including Damien Moore—were a thick ocean in (Y/N)'s head. The illusions were only cut with the scolds of her father, lists of things she'd done wrong and could never recover from.

Through the depths, she could hear distant voices. They were having a muffled argument on the other side of the door, that much she could collect. Every other detail was lost at sea, (Y/N) too busy crumbling by the sink with her breathing too short to be good for her health.

Suddenly, the voices were much closer, a firm tone telling their partner that "I need to see her, let me in!" She knew she recognized that voice, that firm tone and grumbling accent. (Y/N) knew who was on the other side of the door, but nothing could properly register in her head.

The door burst open a second later (or it could have been a handful of minutes, time wasn't real in the moment to her). Both Harry and Francesca tumbled through, Harry's brow furrowed and eyes hard while Fran's were boiling in anger.

"(Y/N), I tried to tell him to—"

Francesca's voice filtered through the bathroom, though (Y/N) only saw the way Harry assessed the situation. His cool demeanor never wavered as he catalogued the crumbling mess that made her up. The only thing that gave away the fact that this was out of the norm of his routine was the furrow to his brows and determination setting his jaw.

Taking broad steps over the tile, Harry met her by the sink, his hands gathering hers from where they were fumbling and picking at her middle.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice somehow louder to her than Francesca's in the background of the moment, "Why aren't y'breathing, (Y/N)? What's going on?"

"I-I want to leave, Harry, I don't want to be here anymore," she rushed out, her tongue tripping over itself with salty tears traced the shape of her lips. "I don't w-want him to touch me again, I want to go home."

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw. "Okay," he nodded, features composed as he slipped his hands out from hers to settle them on the curve of her waist. Before (Y/N) could have any kind of reaction to the touch, Harry was lifting her to sit on the edge of the sink, the slit in her dress splitting to reveal one full leg with the other still draped in the silken material. "Before we can do that, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?"

"I-I can't," she whined, the tenor of her voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. From the corner of her eye, she could see the silhouette of Francesca paces away, quietly watching on.

"Okay," Harry soothed, his hands taking hers once more, "But I need you to try. We can't go anywhere until you try."

The idea that she would have to stay here even a moment longer made (Y/N) choke up even more. How could he ask her to do the impossible like this? She just wanted to leave and Harry was making her stay here, pressuring her to breathe as if he thought she could actually manage that.

"Harry," she cried, her voice broken.

He shook his head, a stray curl falling from his tousled head of hair. "Just for a minute, yeah? Then we'll leave, I promise."

When he didn't dare to break the eye contact he was making with her, (Y/N) couldn't do anything but nod her head to his wishes.

"Copy me," he instructed, taking in a deep through his nose, holding, then exhaling through his nose. When he didn't see (Y/N) doing the same, he repeated, "Gotta copy me, (Y/N)." A pulse of his hands around hers gained her attention.

"Okay," she peeped, nodding with jerky movements.

Another round of structured breathing came from Harry, his chest expanding with his perfect lips forming an "o" when exhaling. (Y/N) copied him as best she could, her chest straining against her corset and her lips feeling sticky with tears when she blew out. Harry stuck with her even when her lungs stuttered and she sobbed through the exercise. It wasn't until she was able to make five full breaths in a row that Harry relented in his pressing.

"Feel a little better?" he asked, eyes searching her face.

(Y/N) took stock of her state, noting the tingling in her fingers and toes had relented, leaving only the aches of a panic lingering in her body. Her head felt a little bloated and her chest tight, but she was doing world's better than she was only a handful of minutes earlier—even if that wasn't a necessarily hard bar to cross.

She nodded.

Using his gentle grip on her hands, Harry guided her off the counter, steadying her back onto her heels. (Y/N) had her eyes on her feet, watching the sparkling of her shoes against the immaculate tile of the floor. She really, really, really hoped tonight wouldn't ruin these shoes for her.

Stepping back into (Y/N)'s line of sight, Francesca looked just as concerned as when she had left the first time. Her purse was now in hand with her phone clutched between her fingers. "Let's go back to my place, okay? I can make sure my driver can be here in five minutes, then we'll leave and we don't have to talk to anyone else."

Francesca reached out a friendly hand, intending to take her from Harry's hold and back to her like they planned before he tumbled into the bathroom. (Y/N) didn't even realize that she was shying away from her best friend until she felt Harry's hand settle on the top of her back with his arm curling around her.

"Fran—I—," she floundered, unsure of where her voice went but not trying to find it, "I want to stay with him, I'm sorry."

Though (Y/N) expected hurt to touch Fran's features, she instead only saw a look of surprise raise her brows and widen her eyes. "That's okay," Francesca reassured her, "Don't be sorry. Just text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, her hair tickling her bare skin.

Taking a tentative step forward, Francesca held her arms out. "Can I hug you before you leave?"

(Y/N) didn't say anything before she collected her friend in a clumsy hug, cheek against her shoulder with their hair creating a mess.

"I'm sorry, Fran," (Y/N) repeated in a hoarse whisper.

"Why are you sorry, don't be sorry," Francesca reminded her, "I just want you to feel safe, that's all." Pulling away, Fran matched her gaze, a soft smile falling on her mocha lined lips. "You look so hot tonight, so you better still post pics."

It was the way Francesca looked at her so earnestly as if what she was saying was just as important as solidifying her plans to make it home, that had (Y/N) spilling with a huff of laughter. "I will," she sniffled, her cry-swollen mouth, "Love you."

"Love you, too."

Francesca parted with her after another squeezing hug, (Y/N) turning to find Harry with his eyes on the ground waiting for her. He peeked at her through the fan of his lashes, noticing her eye on him once more.

"Ready?"

All it took was (Y/N) nodding her head before she was reaching for Harry once more, allowing him to take her under his arm and bundle her to his side.

"We're going to have to fast, okay?" he murmured to her as he pushed the door to the bathroom open, Francesca lingering in the restroom.

"Okay," (Y/N) repeated, staying still as he peered around the secluded hallway in search of anyone else lurking around the space.

Once he determined everything was clear, he started her in the direction of the ballroom. (Y/N) stiffened under his arm. Her father was out there. So was Barron. And over a hundred cell phone cameras and a trained photographer with a high quality camera for moments just like these.

"I know," he crooned to her, the tip of his nose brushing her hair from where she had her eyes trained on the ground, "But 's the only way to get out. There's a back way, we jus' need to get through by the bar, then we'll be alone again. I promise."

As much as she wanted to stop in her tracks, hide a little while longer, she allowed Harry to guide her steps down the hall. If this was the only way out, she was going to have to endure.

The dull roar of the Gala filled every space in her body the second they stepped back under the chandelier light of the ballroom. (Y/N) kept her head down, hoping that if she caught anyone's eye, she could at least spare herself the humility of them catching her ruined makeup and swollen eyes. She clutched Harry's hand cupped around her waist. Her anchor.

Harry guided them through the space, dodging most of the crowd as he took a swift turn, (Y/N) doing her best to stay steady on her feet. His steps didn't falter once. Until they did.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks when Harry skidded to a stop, something in their path that she was trying not to panic over. She kept her eyes trained on the pearly hue of her shoes as if she could pinpoint every hue that glimmered off of the expensive fabric.

"Harry, what's going on?"

Almost jumping out of her skin, (Y/N) whipped her head up to find her father and Barron standing in their way. Her father spoke through gritted teeth, Barron's cheeks too red and eyes too glazed as he didn't even try to hide the way his gaze clung to her form. It's as if he forgot everything that led up to her fleeing from him and now returning with ruined mascara.

(Y/N) flinched back on instinct. His eyes were almost as bad as his touch.

Harry was a firm cage around her, keeping her steady as he ignored her father. He dismissed them as he tried to get around them, finding a path between a pair of tables. Her breathing caught in her throat when she saw her father try to reach for her, his hand like a wolven claw meant to drag her away.

In a moment, Harry had twirled her away, putting her out of range while he acted as a solid wall between them to her.

"Do not touch her," he gritted out, an undertone to his voice she'd never heard before. He was looking her father right in the eye as he spat out his command, taking him on without a wavering second.

Her father, taken aback, almost stumbled on his feet. "Excuse me?" he let out.

Ignoring him once more, Harry shot a sharp look at Barron. The man recoiled as if he had been struck.

Harry didn't linger a second longer as he took through the tables, getting them back on track as soon as possible. (Y/N) could feel eyes on her, no doubt cameras following suit. This was a moment publication and gossip blogs would rather die than leave out. Tomorrow was going to be a shitshow with the notifications that would blow up her phone, but she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment.

She only focused on Harry, keeping up with him and keeping her hand in his on her waist.

Eventually, they stepped into the back hallway. (Y/N) recognized it from the times she'd visited 132 during a regular exhibition; it was the best way to sneak in and out when she didn't want to be spotted.

Pushing open the heavy door after the hallway forked off into two different directions, Harry pulled (Y/N) into the fresh night air. Though the sky was clear, not a single star could be seen above their heads, the lights too bright to see anything in the heavens. The alley behind the gallery was big enough to allow protected trucks full of art pieces large enough to be considered murals to make through, the space clean enough. Cigarette butts were on the ground, and a dumpster resided on the other side. Still it was enough to please that of the higher clientele that visited the 132 Gallery, though (Y/N) wasn't sure she would care if she were stepping through piles of garbage at the moment.

She was out. The gallery, her father, Barron, the cameras were all behind her.

That knowledge alone allowed her lungs to open just a hair more, the rush of oxygen almost choking her.

"Sully's on his way, okay?" Harry told her, his grip on her lessening now that they were alone, "I told him it was an emergency and he said he'd make it as soon as possible."

"Okay," she gasped, nodding her head as best she could through her muddied mind.

"Yeah," she breathed out, her lungs shaky but nothing like before. She just needed to think about every intake, which was a feat in its own, but whatever helped.

A beat passed, Harry surely keeping track of her breathing. "Thought we stopped crying?" he murmured after a moment, closing in around her with his hands settling on her biceps.

Raising her hand to her cheek, (Y/N) swiped away a stream of tears she hadn't even been aware were leaking out.

"Me too," she whispered, her voice watery with a pinch to her brows.

Through the vignette of her tear-clumped lashes, (Y/N) could see the barely there smile on his features. "You've got all that pretty makeup on, remember? Can't keep crying like that when Sully gets here," he crooned, his voice more gentle than she ever thought he could manage.

He thought her makeup looked pretty. Maybe he wasn't saying that she looked pretty, but it was still enough to loosen her muscles just enough.

A watery smile fixed itself on her lips. "Yeah," she let out, the word floating on a delicate huff of laughter.

From behind Harry, a bright beam of light outlined his silhouette. The sound of tires popping over the pavement and the purring rumble of a car engine filled the alleyway. Harry looked over his shoulder, leaving (Y/N) with only a view of the cut and hinge of his jaw, looping curls on the back of his neck.

The car stopped beside them, Harry not wasting a second before he was gathering (Y/N) in his arms and pulling her into the back of the SUV. She was first in, with Harry following behind her over the leather bench seat.

(Y/N) couldn't look at Sully when she settled, avoiding the reflection of his gaze in the rearview mirror she was sure that was pointed in her direction. As soon as the pair of them were buckled in—Harry having done hers—Sully was off. They were seamlessly incorporated into the city's traffic, the route back to her apartment, one he knew well and (Y/N) hoped he could quick work of.

Harry, having forgone the usual buffer he placed between them, shifted in his seat with his thigh pressed against hers. In the back of her mind, (Y/N) knew this should feel like it was too much for her, that she should be shying away from his touch after the gross feeling Barron left her with, but she didn't feel that instinct to revolt. Instead, he was like an anchor, the steadying pillar that followed her about and ensured there was no way she could drift away from shore.

"Alright?" he whispered, ducking down to peek into her line of sight, "Almost back home."

She nodded, her brain feeling numb though she was sure there were still tears dripping off her cheeks. Now that the initial wave of panic passed, exhaustion was moving in. She would find out soon if there was going to be an aftershock, a tremor that would wrack through her when the night rushed back to her clear mind.

Sinking into her seat, (Y/N) tossed her watery gaze out the window. Only a couple of hours prior she was in this same spot, though with perfected makeup and her skin buzzing from anticipation and excitement. Now she only buzzed with the feeling of oxygen reentering her bloodstream.

God, she couldn't wait to get out of her clothes, and get the pins out of her hair.

No longer caring, she got a head start and began shakily unraveling her shoes from her feet. Her fingertips fumbled over the latch on the string of pearls around her ankles, but it didn't take long for her to kick off her pumps and curl her knees to her chest. Harry silently reached down and took the Manolo's from the floor, his fingers hooked in the top straps.

When (Y/N)'s building came into view, Sully rolled to a stop just outside the entrance. (Y/N) finally chanced a look at the rearview mirror, her driver's soft eyes matching hers through the glass.

"Thank you," she peeped, voice broken.

Sully simply smiled and nodded at her.

Behind her, Harry urged her out onto the sidewalk with a careful hand on her back. She didn't think twice about her bare feet landing on the burgundy carpet rolled out on the sidewalk before her building, keeping her mind focused on getting up to her apartment. Harry lingered for a moment, the rumble of his voice saying something to Sully, before he was joining her.

"C'mon," he murmured, grabbing her hand in his.

Much like he had at the Gala, Harry directed her through the lobby, her hand in one of his with her shoes in the other. He didn't let her linger on what the doormen could be thinking, seeing her with tear stained cheeks and bare feet with her designer gown. He took her straight to the elevator and input the code to her floor.

For the first time since landing in the bathroom with panic in her chest, (Y/N) noticed the small detail of elevator music.

Following after him, Harry took her to her apartment, using the key she'd given him weeks ago to let them in. He let go of her hand once they crossed the threshold as he lingered back to lock the door behind them. Looking around her apartment, the rug under her feet, (Y/N) couldn't pinpoint what triggered her, but the sprinkling of tears leaving her eyes elevated to a full downpour.

Her breathing came out in a stuttered pace, a whimper swirling from her chest. There was that aftershock.

Oh, how this night was derailed.

In an instant, Harry is there. His arms looped around her, his instincts taking over as she was pulled to his chest.

"Hey, hey," he crooned to her, "What's going on, what happened?"

(Y/N) only shook her head against his black suit-covered shoulder. She didn't have a real answer to that, and wasn't interested in digging through the events of the night to give him a full picture at the moment.

Instead, she focused on his hold. She could feel the bump of her heels on the small of her back, but that didn't keep him from keeping her in a grounding hold. Though he was touching her in the same places that Barron had—her back, her arms, her leg, her chin—Harry's touch didn't feel the same at all. She didn't recoil or expect a film to be left on her pores.

She all but melted into him, her muscles liquifying like the tears from her eyes. Harry held her up without a second thought, just as he had the rest of the night.

A pinch took knitted her brows together at the thought, her eyes squeezing shut as more tears fled from her ducts.

Never did she picture herself needing him the way she did tonight. He was so calm and strong, keeping her from falling to pieces on the bathroom floor. (Y/N) loved Francesca with her whole heart and knew she owed her a phone call before the night was over, but she didn't think her best friend could have controlled the situation and her breakdown like Harry had.

He stopped her father from touching her, Barron from talking to her. He knew the precise way to make it out with the least amount of disturbance possible. Even letting Sully know to pick them up as soon as possible wasn't something that had even crossed her mind, but that had to have been one of the first things he did when he realized her state.

She hugged him tighter, her arms around his middle.

Drawing away just enough to look down at her, Harry scanned her with sparkling green eyes. "Do y'need to breathe with me again?" he asked her, the suggestion gentle and quiet as if there were people around to overhear.

"N-No," she said, shaking her head, "I just—... Can you stay with me f-for a second?"

In response, Harry homed her back into his chest. "I've got you," his voice rumbled his chest under her cheek.

Though it was more than clumsy with missteps and stilted movements, Harry led her to the staircase that ran up to her room. From there, he sat her on the bottom step, with him following closely after. She huddled up to him, Harry's arms curling around her as she sat with her dress splayed around her.

She didn't know how long she sat there, one of Harry's hands on her shin with his thumb moving in a soothing circuit over the bone, her face in his neck, but no time seemed long enough. The only reason she even dared to begin to pull back was the itching feeling of her clothes wrapped around her body.

"What do you need?" he asked instantly, ducking down into her space. From this view, she saw a collection of freckles across his nose, faint.

Swallowing, (Y/N) felt her hair sticking to her wet cheeks, the chunks of desecrated mascara surely mixing with the strands on her skin.

"I don't want to be in my dress anymore," she said, her voice as loud as she could manage without breaking. "It's too much."

"Okay," he murmured, giving a small nod, "Okay. I'll help you up to your room, and then y'can change into your pajamas."

The idea of him leaving her being in her bedroom had the lump in her throat thickening. She could barely keep her hands steady and he wanted her to be by herself?

"I-I can't do it by myself," she whimpered, too far gone to feel embarrassed about asking her bodyguard for help like this.

"Y'need my help?" he pressed, looking for verification though his gaze didn't waver from her own.

(Y/N) simply nodded her head.

His lips thinned but he gave her a confirming dip of his chin before he started helping her stand. He kept his hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her up the steps, (Y/N) following pliantly into her bedroom.

With a toss, Harry left her shoes in a heap somewhere in her room, but his attention was firmly laced on her. He kept her bedroom door open, the light from the hallway seeping through.

"(Y/N)?" he voiced, his voice firm, "Can y'look at me?"

Turning her gaze, she found him looking directly at her as his hand slipped away from hers. She almost wanted to reach for it back, unwilling to let go of that tether.

"You're okay with me helping y'undress?" he prodded, reiterating the same question she thought she already answered at the bottom of the stairs, "I need you to tell me if you're sure. I'm not going to help unless y'mean it."

"I-I can't do it by myself, please," she told him. Not once had she made it in or out of this dress by herself, and she couldn't fathom doing that now when her eyes were swollen with tears and her hands fighting off tremors. "I don't want to wear this anymore."

he looked at her for a beat longer, gaze matching her own. Whatever he saw in there must have been enough for him to give her a small nod. "Okay. Tell me what to do."

"Just get the zipper," she told him, facing her back towards him where the scooping line of her dress made it that much harder for her to reach the tiny mechanism.

Silently, Harry stepped behind her, her hair already up and pulled away when she reached towards her. The hook at the top of the form was the first to go, his fingertips brushing the same swatch of skin Barron had violated. Taking the zipper down, every tooth that was pulled apart allowed her lungs to fill deeper with air. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, her dress loosening around her shoulders.

Pressing her hands to her chest, she kept the bodice of her dress up once Harry reached the bottom of the line.

"Can y'breathe better?" Harry murmured behind her, his words fanning across her skin. His breath felt cool against her skin.

"Uh-huh," she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing into a gentle slope, "Thank you."

She heard him murmur a good in response though he hesitated where he stood. "Do y'need any more of m'help? Or do y'want to be alone now?"

The idea of Harry leaving her, setting her to be alone in the dark of her room, the city skyline dusky out the window. She feared his hands were the only things keeping her from falling apart.

"Help," she answered simply.

Wordlessly, Harry assisted her in pulling down her dress, her back facing him as it became an ethereal puddle at her feet. Dom was going to kill her when he found out she let the gown touch the floor.

The nude forms of her shapewear and barely there bra was all that was left on her body as she kicked away her dress, the corset now structureless and folded with pearls a mess around.

(Y/N) didn't even think before she was pulling down her shapewear, the compression just another layer too much.

"I—" Harry coughed from behind her, his voice cutting short, "I'm going to get y'some clothes."

Her skin heated when she realized the way she had so carelessly began undressing in front of him. She was so used to having a team be there when she prepped and redressed from this, the shyness accompanying undressing and pulling layers off her body no longer lingered in moments like these. But, Harry wasn't a member of those teams, and this obviously wasn't the kind of thing he had anticipated when he obliged to stay and help her. She hoped she hadn't scarred him with the way she was almost completely nude in front of him.

At the same time, she couldn't curb the urge to get these pieces off of her body. She wanted to be rid of the night, the touches, the layers of herself that fell victim to her father's pressures to stay perfect at all times. The sooner that could happen, the sooner she would feel like herself again.

By the time Harry returned from her closet, an oversized shirt and a pair of her pilates shorts in hand, she was down to her thong with her hands holding up the push-up cups of her bra. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him move out of the corner of her eye, his steps faltering before he trained his gaze on the ground.

"I'll leave these here for you," he mumbled, the set of clothing being dropped on the edge of her mattress. He brought his knuckle up to brush against the tip of his nose, "I'll be outside your door. Come find me when you're done."

When the door shut behind him, (Y/N) was sealed away by herself. Her room became a vacuum, the air sucked out in a way that only felt calm.

Left in only her underwear, she allowed her bra to drop to the floor as she fell back on her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with the light of the city filtering through her balcony in hazy beams.

This is her apartment. She's in her bed. She was in her skin. Her clothing was waiting at the end of her bed.

(Y/N) eyes fell closed as relief flooded through herself at the mantra. Everything around her was hers. No one could take any of this from her. This peace was hers to hold.

Tomorrow she would be worried about the stories that would be spun, her father's reaction to everything that had transpired, what consequences would follow this breakdown. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to relish the sense of safety, that for a second she worried she would never experience again (that panic in her tummy was rooted deep).

She needed to text Francesca.

While she would have preferred to give her a call, there wasn't enough energy in her body for something like that.

Instead, (Y/N) lethargically redressed into her pajamas. Her top slouched around her form, the neckline wide and sleeves draping. Her shorts were well worn and stretchy from the many pilates sessions they accompanied her to. Taking her phone after she was settled into her skin, she typed out a text to Francesca.

thank you for helping tonight. harry got me home a little bit ago so I'm alright. I love u so much fran thank you thank you thank you

The second she pressed send, the confirmation that the message was delivered popping up, (Y/N) dropped the device among the folds in her duvet to find Harry.

Whipping the door open, she found Harry just outside her bedroom door. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere in her apartment, his tie missing as well. Now he was left with the top couple of buttons undone of his shirt and his shirt sleeves now loose around his forearms. The tattoos she spotted the first day they met were back on display, roses and mermaids and bugs and script.

That peace she found in her bedroom strengthened at the sight of him.

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, his posture straightening from where he had leant against the wall.

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping over the threshold, "I-I can breathe, finally." She swallowed, taking in the state of his messed hair and flush to his cheeks. She knew what the night looked like from her end, but she could only imagine the kind of trouble he went through. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head, lips thinning at her apology. "Don't be sorry," he affirmed, reaching a careful hand out, "C'mon."

Laying her palm in his, (Y/N) was ready to follow wherever Harry wanted to take her. She padded after him as he escorted her to her bathroom, the space littered with beauty products and a bay window showing off the light of the city through the frosted glass.

"Let's get your makeup off and hair down, yeah?" he asked her, meeting her eyes through the glass of her mirror as he flicked on the overhead lights.

"Yes, please," she nodded, her voice heavy with fatigue now that the come down was beginning to settle in. "I'll start with my makeup if you'll get my hair?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry murmured, a shadow of a smile touching the corners of his lips.

A comforting silence settled in the air, Harry concentrating on breaking the hold of the can of hairspray that was used on her styled hair. A furrow appeared in his brow from where she spied him in the mirror.

"Let me know if I hurt you," he mumbled, picking bobby pins out of her strands. He only worked with gentle hands, fingertips brushing her scalp.

Now it was her turn to feel a curling grin tease the corners of her mouth. "Okay."

Pulling her removal balm from her drawer, she spread the oil across her fingertips and began shedding the layers of ruined makeup from her skin. In the back of her mind, she wanted to care about Harry seeing her with raccoon eyes and greasy skin, but she was sure he'd already seen her much worse earlier in the night. Nothing could scare him away at this point, even if she knew it was more for job security than anything that had to do with her. Besides, she didn't mind showing him this part of herself; he was her safety net tonight.

More and more of her strands broke free while (Y/N) peeled her lashes off, a damp cloth being used to get the removal balm off of her skin. Her pores and blemishes were on display once more, her skin breathing after being caked under powders and rivers of tears. Her scalp felt sore with every bobby pin Harry took out, a pile accruing on the counter.

"Can I ask what happened back there?" Harry piped up, breaking the silence that had settled like a fog over the room. His usual deadpan tone softened into something malleable and soft, gentle to her ears.

(Y/N)'s lips thinned at the question. She knew how to answer the question, but it was more of a matter of if she wanted to hear the answer after already living it. She bought herself time as she swiped her face with an extra cleansing water, her reusable cotton pad soft against her skin.

From her view in the mirror, she saw as he kept his eyes trained on her hair, fingers tracing through the strands comb out the twirled mess made earlier in the night.

"I know y'might not want to tell me because we aren't... friends, but even as someone who's meant to look after you, it would help to know just so I can protect you better next time," he mused, his voice gentle.

"Franny didn't tell you?"

A beat passed. "I want to hear it from you, (Y/N)."

Harry kept her steady when her weight shifted on her feet. His hands in her hair dropped to settle on her biceps, his eyes returning hers in the mirror. She felt his eyes scanning over her face. Whatever he found there had his jaw hardening, his resolve strengthening from where he stood behind her. "You're not there anymore, (Y/N). It's all over, don't forget."

She nodded her head, taking in a wavering breath through her nose. "Right, um," she started, her fingers fiddling with the sewn edge of her cotton pad, "It was that guy, at our table. The one sitting on my dad's other side. He found me at the bar when I was getting a drink, and he just didn't really listen. He bought me a drink and kept wanting to talk to me even when I was saying I wanted to go back to Emma and Francesca."

With his hands resuming in her hair, Harry listened along. "Right," he murmured, his voice now holding an edge that had previously been melted away. She had a feeling he knew bits and pieces of this story, and it only made it that much harder to hear it from her mouth.

"He kept touching me, and talking to me like I was stupid. It wasn't that bad, it just felt wrong—it made me feel gross." She swallowed around her dry throat, grateful for the lack of makeup on her face, her tears now welling over clean lashes. "I tried to leave, but I knew people were around and my dad would have been so mad if I made a scene. I tried to find you but I think my dad was talking to you so you couldn't see me, and the girls were busy, and there was a camera guy going around and taking photos. I couldn't... I let him keep touching me, but I was getting so nervous and it was all too much."

With her hair finally down and free from the style it was put in, Harry noticed the shine of her tears falling down her cheeks once more. He didn't hesitate before he was spinning her around, looping his arms around her to collect her to his chest.

"I know, I know," he murmured to her, her own hands curling in the fabric of his black shirt, "'S over now, though, right?"?

"Right," she breathed, voice a bit hoarse.

His hand petted her hair, the strands fluffy now that the hairspray was broken but still holding the heat style she was given. She couldn't wait to wash her hair when she had the energy, already missing the natural texture.

"Y'said it was the man sitting beside your dad? Barron?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) whimpered at the sound of his name. "I guess my dad had told him I needed to be taken care of, and I think he told him other m-mean things about me."

Her words dissolved into a string of sobs, Harry going tense against her. She couldn't help herself, sniffling and crying against his chest, her breathing coming in erratic puffs. She felt guilty, feeling him tense around her. She didn't mean to upset him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, pulling away to look at him with a crinkling sniffle of her nose, "To-Tonight has been a lot. Thank you for helping me."

(Y/N) attempted to unravel herself from his hold, only to be stopped by his arms caging around her middle. "It's okay, don't apologize to me," he told her earnestly, matching his gaze to her blurry one, "Thank you for telling me, but I want to make something very clear right now."

Nodding, she looked up at him, watching as he ducked down into her space, crowding around her with intensity in his eyes.

"If y'ever feel uncomfortable or like you're in danger, for whatever reason—I don't care if you think it's not that bad, or your father will be upset, or whatever reason you think is good enough to stay in that moment—you are going to leave." His words were a command hiding behind a gentle tone. He was unwavering in his stance, that much she could glean. "I don't care what you have to do, what kind of 'scene' y'have to make, come find me if 'm not right there. Whatever will make you feel safest, that's what I want you to do. Don't ever feel like you have to put up with anything that upsets you for whatever reason.

"You matter more than whatever cover story or photos someone could make up. Okay? Don't ever think it's the other way around."

(Y/N) couldn't hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks, her skin stained and chin dripping with every drop. Her father had never said or even made her feel like putting herself first was an option, that she was the one variable in these stories that deserved a bit of protection. There was even a brief period of time when she had a publicist, and he never said anything close to what was coming out of Harry's mouth.

Everyone else around her had always shared the importance of what those around her thought, what could be said about her, the kind of stories that could be splashed across the pages. Her feelings, her safety, herself was always at the bottom of that list.

"Okay?" Harry prodded, his hands on her back flexing with fingertips denting the planes of her back, "Do y'understand what 'm saying?"

"I do," she choked out, lips quivering. Even blurry through her tears, dressed in all black and exhaustion on his features, Harry was the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. An angel in the frosty light of her bathroom. "Thank you."

Harry only tugged her closer to his chest, cupping her back of her head where she snuggled in and allowed tears to run from her eyes.

(Y/N) clung to him tighter.

—————

Waking in her bed, duvet in folds around her with her pilates shorts chucked on the floor beside her discarded gown, (Y/N) blinked her stiff eyelids open. She couldn't be sure what time it was when she stalked to her bedroom, only remembering the ache in her muscles and stuffy nose. Harry had stayed with her all night, soothing her through the bouts of tears and being there when all she needed was to not be alone.

Stretching out of her bed with her feet hitting the floor, she couldn't remember if Harry had stayed after she fell asleep. She was barely aware of her own body when she shed her shorts and flopped into her bed, too exhausted to even crawl under the covers.

Stepping over her cold floor, (Y/N) crept out into the hallway, peering down the bend. Just barely, she could see a folded suit jacket and the first strands of curling brown hair from where she could spot the end of her couch. The closer she came to the living room, the closer she came to letting a smile settle on her features.

How he could manage it, she didn't know, but it was very much in his character to sleep with his brows pinched and arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look like he was resting particularly well, his suit jacket acting as his pillow as he threw himself into an odd shape to lay on her couch.

He stayed.

A heat bubbled under her skin at the thought. Despite the wringer she put him through the night before, he stayed here. Though she wasn't exactly sure how she would navigate the conversation that would have to occur when he woke, how she would handle knowing that he saw those most vulnerable parts of her, at least she knew she wasn't alone.

Letting him stay where he was, (Y/N) silently moved past him to her kitchen. She could start to say thank you by making him breakfast, she decided. If anything, it might be a good enough distraction to push off the conversation a bit longer when he woke.

She fell into her element as she pulled out the ingredients, feeling her muscles relax and joints loosen. Trying to be as quiet as she could so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty on her couch, she pulled the dish together as she went. Slices of toast were warming in a butter skimmed pan while she raided her spice rack. From her fridge she pulled eggs and chorizo, cheese and hashbrowns until she came up with a scramble. A rich and lemony hollandaise started on her stove, her apartment filling with toasted spices and the sizzling pop of the chorizo looking. She hoped he would appreciate the extra shred of manchego she stirred in.

With her mind running around the kitchen, timing and anticipating everything, she felt okay. She knew there had to be more than a handful of notifications on her phone, too many articles with her name tagged, and her father scheming her punishment, but, right now, she was content in living in this moment. She could wash her hair later, answer her phone calls, and explain to Dom that she didn't mean to let the Vivienne gown wrinkle on the floor. Before then, she would allow her only consequences to be the ache in her bones and the crust in the corners of her eyes.

Adding the final seasonings and beginning to plate everything, (Y/N) shifted her attention to the other consequence laying on her couch. She really hoped he liked what she made.

Adding the hollandaise over the hashbrown bowl, (Y/N) finished up with adding the slices of crusty toast to the rim of the bowl. She placed them on her rarely used dining table, hesitating at the chair beside where she determined Harry would sit before backtracking and placing her own serving in the seat across.

Now was the hard part.

Padding over the rug, she made her way to the couch, Harry's restless form still stiff where he laid. With the top buttons of his top undone, the tan skin of his chest was on display, the necklace she had noticed time and time again, the pendants finally on display. The faces of a duo of birds inked on his chest peeked out, matching the dark black of his outfit. He even fell asleep with his shoes on.

He did all that work to make sure she was comfortable—getting her out of her dress, helping her take her hair down, reminding her to wash her makeup off—only to fall asleep with his suit jacket as a pillow and his event clothes wrapped too tight around him.

Crouching beside him, she sat on her folded knees. His profile was on display this way, the line of his nose and curl of his lashes highlighted through the sunny window.

Using a gentle hand, she cautiously settled her palm on his tensed shoulder. "Harry," she murmured. She gave a minute shake to his shoulder.

Harry woke up with a start, his reaction much quicker and more drastic than she had expected. He sucked in a big breath, his eyes flying open as he sat up, his hands reaching behind to prop himself up. She could see the recognition settle over his features, his eyes frantically searching over her face with his mouth in a soft gape.

"(Y/N)," he breathed out.

Having sat back some when he startled, her hands in a bundle in her lap, she blinked up at him. "Sorry," she started, "I just... I made you breakfast, if you were hungry."

Disoriented, he ran a heavy hand through his hair as he shifted where he sat. The suede cushions fluffed up, the fibers mimicking waves around him. "Yeah?" he asked, moving to sit properly with his feet on the ground and knees wide apart.

Still on her knees, she looked up at him, his hair a mess and chest heaving as he caught his stressed breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but every thought was ripped from her head when her front door was flung open.

Whipping around, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her father stepping inside. His face was twisted in anger, wearing a suit too nice for this early in the morning, and his eyes as daggers trained right on her.

He stomped over the threshold, coming towards where she was still folded on the floor.

"Dad!"

Ignoring her voice, she saw him finally take in the scene. For the first time he seemed to realize Harry was there. With (Y/N) on her knees in front of him. His clothes were a rumpled mess, the same ones from the night before. His chest rising and falling from his startled good morning, hair a stressed mess.

(Y/N) could practically see his blood pressure rising through his body, his hair standing on end when he returned his gaze to hers. He was seething, taking his assumptions from the scene before him.

"Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?" he hissed, his hands practically shaking at his sides. He towered over her, even from where she sat feet away. "What do you think you're trying to do to him!?"

Scrambling to stand up, she was already shaking her head in denial. This wasn't the kind of scolding she was going to be able to sit through.

"What? I'm—No, that's not—"

He shook his head, his jaw stiff. He seemed to bite his own tongue, stopping himself from saying anything more. "We will have to talk about that later," he cemented, "Because you need to tell me what the hell you were thinking last night."

While she knew this was coming, she honestly expected more of a phone call. She thought he would be too angry to even look at her. He'd never been angry enough to burst into her home and yell at her there. He much preferred his home turf, where he controlled all the power.

Swallowing, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. "I know it looks bad, but I promise I didn't mean—"

"I don't want excuses!" he shouted, cutting her off despite the fact he was the one that invited her to talk in the first place. "I'm tired of you embarrassing me every chance you get! I always knew you'd be crazy like your mother, but I didn't think it would be this fucking bad."

(Y/N) recoiled at the mention of her mother. He rarely talked about her unless in punishment, but he hadn't said anything so blatantly evil about her.

She didn't know what to say. This is why he never told her about the racing in her heart and the stress that filled her without permission. She didn't want him to think of her as crazy, something that needed to be medicated and put away. But, she supposed now, he didn't need to know that information to say that about her.

Her father took a menacing step towards her, his expression that much more angry after her silence.

In an instant, Harry was sliding between them, his back facing (Y/N) with his height obscuring her view of her father. "Sir," Harry started, a warning to his tone that had to come from years of dealing with pests.

It was her father's turn to take a step back, (Y/N) just barely catching the way he rolled his eyes. Harry's interference only set him off further, it appeared.

Speaking around the wall that was Harry, he yelled to (Y/N), "How am I supposed to trust him now, after I saw what you were trying to do to him. What did you do last night that convinced him that you needed protecting from me when you're the problem!"

Harry took a step towards him, a hand out as if to soothe a vicious animal while barring him from coming any closer should he attempt. "Sir, I think it's best if you step outside for a moment."

Ignoring Harry's plea, he only craned his neck to ensure (Y/N) could see him when he yelled again. "I always knew you'd end up a whore," her father seethed, "But you only seem to like it best when it's a way to get back at me."

With that, Harry didn't hesitate before grabbing her father by the arms and twisting him away. He escorted him out the door of her apartment, pushing him over the threshold with a slam of the door behind them.

Muffled shouts started on the other side of the door, her father's voice the one that was raised. She couldn't pick out individual words, but she figured that was probably for the best. She didn't need to hear any more of what he thought of her.

Staving off a replay of last night's breakdown, she sunk to the floor, her legs a tangled puddle underneath her. Her hands shook in her lap, matching the cadence of her lungs as she fought to keep her breathing even.

Suddenly, a loud bang against her door rang through her empty apartment. Tears filled her eyes.

The blaring noise was compounded with a stretch of silence. The low timber of Harry's voice rose then, though his was layered with the typical composure he always had, even in the face of someone as unreasonable as her father.

The silence gave too much room for her thoughts to grow, her head bloated and heavy.

In an odd way, she was grateful he was as angry as he was. He was too upset, his vision too red, to say anything properly damaging. If he had been thinking any clearer, she worried she would have a plane ticket to Sweden in hand and all credit cards in her name shredded.

While this morning was bad, it definitely could have been worse, she decided.

She couldn't be sure how long she sat on the floor, waiting for whatever would emerge back into her apartment, but soon enough the doorknob twisted with the hinges gliding open. Harry was the only one to step inside, her father missing from the hallway when she glanced around.

His cheeks were red, hair in an even sorrier state than before, but he kept that same calculated set to his irises. He didn't hesitate to crouch to her level, his brows pinching as he met (Y/N)'s eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, intensity laced through his voice.

(Y/N) nodded her head, stray hairs curtaining around her face. "Sorry about everything he said. I-I don't know where he—why he—"

Harry shook his head, his jaw ticking. He dropped his gaze from hers as he shuttered them in a lingering blink. When he dared to glance up at her once more, he said, "No, don't apologize for him. I jus'... (Y/N), I think 's best if I go home, now."

Instinctively, she wanted to question him. She wanted to investigate his reasoning and attempt to make him stay. He was her solid pillar, the buoy keeping her afloat. She worried what she would do without him for the first time in twenty-four hours.

But, she couldn't blame him. Her father just accused her of trying to seduce him to wriggle into his head, with whatever else he shared behind that closed door. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he was now in her presence, both his employer and client having varying breakdowns in front of him.

"Okay," she settled, dropping her eyes to her hands. At least the tremor stopped. "Thank you for staying with me last night."

Giving a curt nod, Harry stood to his full height. He moved silently around him, stoic as ever as he collected his suit jacket and cell phone. His footsteps seemingly echoed in the otherwise silence of her home.

She wasn't even sure if he looked at her again before he slipped out the front door, leaving her alone.

—————

Dad

I have a flight scheduled to take you to Paris in a week. You can't be trusted here to stay out of trouble, even with Harry's help. You will be staying through to the winter, and I hope you take this time to reflect on what you've done and how you plan on fixing your attitude.

Harry will be accompanying you, but I expect you to keep your relationship strictly professional with him. Don't squander this time away, (Y/N).

I will check in soon to ensure things are going well.

(Y/N) felt heavy reading her father's string of texts.

Today had been enough of an obstacle already, and now she had to plan to be out of the country well after Summer had ended.

She didn't bother to type a response, only reacting to the top message with a thumbs up.

Falling back on her bed, the mattress bouncing under her spine, she stared up at the ceiling.

She was going to have to call Francesca.

—————

"Is there anything I can grab for you, Ms. (Y/N)?"

A pleasant smile curled over (Y/N)'s lips, the bags under her eyes shielded by the heavy pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. "No, thank you."

The flight attendant scurried away at her dismissal, all too eager to practically sprint away. While this crew wasn't especially friendly with her, always seeming a little too scared of her, there was definitely a difference in how attentive they'd started for this flight. They'd no doubt seen the articles that had been swirling for the last week.

She couldn't blame them, honestly. Reviewing the articles herself, she was painted as an out of touch socialite, a woman who flipped out after a perceived slight. There were photos of her speaking to Barron, the moment having been described as the final moments before the blowup. The drink clutched in her hand was blown out of proportion, insiders and onlookers dishing out how she'd been drinking the whole night despite those two sips of the gin and tonic being the only alcohol she partook in the entire Gala.

The men around her were painted as heroes, including Harry. Her father and Barron were trying to talk her down from her drunken antics, urging her to calm and remind her of the cameras watching. Harry was doing the chivalrous thing and helping her out of the event before she stumbled around and humiliated herself more than she already had. Some sources even became so bold as to claim that the reason she snuck away to the bathroom for so long, others checking on her, was because of a drug problem she was hiding behind closed doors.

All of it was her fault. She was being unreasonable, and rude. Untamable and embarrassing. Crazy, even.

The webs were spun so well, including the official photographs along with blurry photographs posted by anonymous social media accounts. Every story looked worse than the last.

Even knowing the truth, seeing those photos gave (Y/N) a deep sense of humiliation she couldn't shake.

Seeing an outsider's perspective, the way she clung to Harry with messy hair and swollen eyes, crying over him and using him like some kind of shield. She couldn't believe he had stayed with her after the way she acted—and those were only the things that occurred in public.

If that wasn't bad enough, after the fashion magazine's interview was posted along with the event's photos and stories, Harry was now having articles written about him. People were digging into his private life, hunting down any kind of hint of who he was, what he meant to (Y/N). Most likely, some were even hoping to get into contact with him and earn and exclusive. She couldn't blame him if he took someone up on the offer.

It was all her fault.

Maybe that was why this past week, she hadn't heard from him at all. To be fair, she hadn't gone anywhere, preferring to keep out of the public eye while the gossip circulated. Francesca met her at her apartment instead, helping her with everything; they packed a small bag to get her through her traveling, cried, bitched about her dad, and had a two day sleepover before (Y/N)'s exile began. She was the only one (Y/N) told, knowing it would get to the rest of the girls in a matter of time, only after she had disappeared for a good few weeks.

That left (Y/N) with a small go-bag, a full wardrobe and duplicates of her favorite things already waiting at the French penthouse, sweats on her form and embarrassment too deep to coax Harry into interacting with her.

She felt stiff where she sat, imagining what the stew crew was whispering about her just out of earshot, imagining what Harry was thinking about her as he refused to even glance at her despite the orientation of their chairs. She couldn't relax in her skin. She was too in her head to manage something like that.

Though (Y/N) was happy to get out of New York, these circumstances were killing any joy she could tie to the change in scenery. Paris was one of her favorite places in the world, her penthouse securing a special spot in her heart, but her father wanted to turn it into a prison. he wanted to ruin another safe place for her. It sucked.

And, the one person she was too embarrassed to even properly look at, was the one person accompanying her through it all. Her new roommate was the same guy that she was being accused of sleeping with out of anger at her father, out of her rampant sexual desire that kept her from staying with any one person for too long, or a cute decoration that was placed around her to give her clout. At least that's what the rumors swirling around were.

Heaving a sigh and crossing her legs, (Y/N) wanted to be surprised that Harry didn't even flinch in her direction, instead she felt just a sting of hurt behind her ribs.

—————

"You know where the house is?"

"Yes," Harry answered, his response curt as he shifted the car into drive.

(Y/N) couldn't blame his short reply, she wasn't being particularly warm either.

Instead, she silently settled into her seat, conflicted on how to feel. She'd never really travelled without a driver. Even if it wasn't Sully since he stayed in the city with his family, there was always someone else that took care of her wherever she went. This time, it appeared Harry would be in charge of that.

Most likely at her father's request, she figured. Now there was no reason for her to be away from him for even ten minutes. Her babysitter extraordinaire.

Shifting her gaze out the windscreen, she took in the emerging city. It had been a while since she was away from the lights and the skyscrapers, the crowds of tourists. While Paris wasn't quite as quant as the movies made it out to be, it was definitely different from that of New York. There was more breathing room.

Her dad always thought it was too slow, too boring, a place to spend a single day in before moving on to something much newer and exciting. Maybe that was why it became one of her favorite places, her first request when she was old enough being that she could find a penthouse in Paris. She knew he wouldn't want to follow her here.

Harry drove like an expert through the winding streets, a GPS screen hooked up to show him the way to her penthouse, though she doubted he needed it. He kept his gaze shifting through the cycle of peering out the window, checking his mirrors, and glancing in the rearview. He didn't waver in his routine, as if (Y/N) wasn't even there.

The familiar lead up to the neighbourhood of Saint-Germain had (Y/N) sitting up. She couldn't wait to lock herself away in that top floor penthouse.

Taking advantage of the free space not too far from the entrance to the building, Harry pulled in in one smooth motion. The click of the gear shifter settled them into park. He pulled the key after a beat, finally shooting her a fleeing glance.

"I'll grab the bags and follow you," he directed, not waiting before he was pushing open his door and stepping out onto the street.

She followed suit, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.

Upon her first deep breath in, (Y/N) wondered if she had been away for long enough to convince herself the air really did smell like butter and wine the way poets always described.

There were still a good amount of tourists given the neighborhood's proximity to various landmarks, but this place was worlds different in comparison to the city. She hoped her father knew she was enjoying her punishment.

Harry, with their bags in hand, waited for her to take the lead. She gave him a careful smile before she breezed past him, leading them to the entrance of her building. This place was much different than that in the city, no doorpeople around and only a small bank of two elevators beside the various mailboxes.

Once in the lift, she entered them in to be taken to the top floor. Harry was a silent pillar beside her, his luggage and her duffle bag in hand. She swallowed around the silence.

The top floor was all for her, the space being bought by her father by the time she was twenty. Knocking down the walls, the three separate apartments were turned into one big space that was gutted and turned into an immaculate penthouse. (Y/N) fought to keep as many of the original features as she could.

Stepping inside the space, her efforts were rewarded with the sight of the off-white walls, texture embedded in the slabs. Wrought-iron fixtures were littered throughout, the original doors and biggest kitchen left as it was. Everything held the air of romance, the space a lot more intimate than small than what she had in New York. A trio of different balconies were stationed on the outside, those terraces offering views of the Eiffel Tower.

It was lovely. That was the only way she could describe it. The kind of place that deserved to be draped in roses and lit exclusively in candlelight. Late nights and Burgundy wine with silk dresses.

Harry followed her as she stepped towards a plane of French doors, the glass frosted to keep prying eyes out. "This is my room," she told him, voice detached, "But down that hall are a couple of spare bedrooms and bathrooms, so you can pick whatever one you want."

Dropping her duffle on the floor, he gave her a single nod. "Okay."

With that, he turned on his heel. She watched as he started down the hall, leaving her with a single syllable.

She needed to say something. As distant as she was acting because of her embarrassment, she couldn't not acknowledge what happened. Every time she looked at him, she saw those photos of her clinging and crying on him, her mascara a mess while he looked at her with sympathy. She saw the way he tended to her hair in the mirror, using his fingers to break the hold of the hairspray and gently pick out the bobby pins holding the style in. She saw him defending her against her father.

"Harry?" she peeped, eyes fixed to his back.

"Hm?" He stopped, looking at her over his shoulder.

Taking a step towards him, her hands a fumbling mess behind her back, she swallowed. "I wanted to say thank you again for last week. Especially after everything. And for defending me," she started, her gaze dropping to the middle of his back, "I'm sorry I acted that way, and how I have been acting. I know I can be unreasonable, so it means a lot that you stayed with me and still came here with me. I hope this isn't too bad of a place to be exiled."

She tried to go lighthearted, ending with a breathy laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Harry only looked at her with a pinched brow, his arm dropping the bag he had slung over his shoulder. "I... I don't think I understand."

Clamming up, (Y/N) felt too exposed. She waved him off, shaking her head in hopes of dismissing all that she shared. "Don't worry about it," she said, "Just thank you for looking out for me, and I promise I'm going to make your job as easy as possible while we're here. Hopefully, I'll be able to get you home before the holidays."

A silence settled between them. Harry didn't offer any kind of response, only his eyes following her. She shifted her weight where she stood, her fingers knotting behind her back.

She inched towards her room, the space feeling too heavy as her words hung in the air.

"I think I'm going to unpack and take a nap," she murmured, offering a barely there smile, "We can order food later if you want, but I don't plan on doing anything, so the rest of the day is yours."

With that, she slipped between her open French doors, the warmth of her room enveloping her once she sealed the rest of the penthouse out. She didn't want to see if Harry was still standing there, watching her with eyes that were too observant.

She took in a deep breath, shifting her gaze through her bedroom. Her eyes landed on the open drapes to her balcony. Outside, the Eiffel Tower shimmered.

—————

ephemere is the French words for a fleeting beauty; a summer love, a shooting star, greatness gone too soon

this part is def one of the longer ones of the series so thank you so much for getting through it! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard harry styles #love on tour #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #satellite

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pomegranate-pen · 7 months

Text

Why you shouldn't fall for blondes

Yandere! Aqua Hoshino x Reader

summary:

Perhaps, becoming the official composer for B-Komachi was a mistake.

Sure, the pay was great, and yes, you did get a good sum of followers and subscribers all because of your guest features on the official channel. But somehow, even if you were still much less popular than the girls in front, you’ve been starting to feel…watched.

---- alt title: in which reader, a composer for B-Komachi finds themself being stalked, and needing to take some security measures for safety. unfortunately for them, the situation worsens.

here's the ao3 version if you're more comfortable reading there!

warnings: the usual yandere stuff, such as stalking, kidnapping, manipulation, gaslighting and etc, though, no murder or extreme noncon happens ( though there's still noncon kissing), there are slight mentions of nsfw, but they are in the context of jokes! reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns.

words: ...30k...lord have mercy...

Perhaps, becoming the official composer for B-Komachi was a mistake.

It was first very subtle, and you only perceived it as perhaps getting a few more glances from strangers due to your face looking familiar. Someone they perhaps saw on their recommendation, or heard of by name or photo. But ever since your job offers outside of Strawberry Productions increased, and your contributions to different art communities have become more acknowledged, you’ve gotten more colleagues and friends around you, and with that, you’ve also felt more stalked than ever.

Still, you naively brushed it off. Or perhaps, you intentionally wanted to constantly ignore it. you've gotten so far, and you’re becoming more popular than you could’ve ever wished for. It was a dream come true, a dream any artist such as yourself would want to achieve. Why stop now just for this small feeling?

Yet, as time passed, and the feeling increased, you couldn’t help but start to feel paranoid. Even now, in the midst of your writings and scribbles in the office, as the B-Komachi team chatted, You heard Kana speak about being forced to take different routes home, because she too, was noticing the pair of eyes behind her back. it was even more concerning when Memcho agreed with her, speaking about how in recent weeks she’s seen articles about different idols finding stalkers around the comforts of their homes.

Shit. That is not good to hear. You take a deep breath, pencil now dropped to the table as you quickly grab your water bottle in stress.

Ruby, ever curious, was first to notice your strange behavior for the day. “You okay there Y/n?”

You turn around to face the group, though refreshed, the water does not help to quell your fears. You cleared your throat, a bit of exhaustion seeping into you. “I’m fine.” Was all you could huff.

“You don’t look fine.” Memcho gave you a concerned look.

Soon enough, Arima’s attention seemed to be caught as well, though her tone was more scolding rather than concerned, you knew her intentions were in the right place. “If you have something on your mind, it’s best to tell your coworkers rather than stay silent”. She raised a brow. “Is it about our vocals in the new song?”

Not wanting to see another feud of Arima’s self-deprecating humor and Ruby’s repeated determination to sing the notes perfectly, you quickly answered the question. “No No- it’s not that at all-“In a hurried moment, you felt the hairs on your skin stand still as you felt the same piercing gaze once more. You glance behind you in a fit of panic, yet you only find Miss Saitou and Aqua busy with their work, and that feeling of edge left as soon s it came, leaving you confused and a bit horrified. Saitou looked at you with concern.

“…are you truly fine, L/n?” she questioned, and you were left speechless as now everyone in the room was staring at you like you were going insane.

“I-..I uh…” Ah fuck. Perhaps, it wouldn’t hurt to tell them. After all, usually when one doesn’t tell others about such strange situations, they end up dead in an alleyway- or at least- that’s what all the crime movies have told you.” This might be me being overwhelmed by how popular B-Komachi is getting..but, ..I think I have a stalker.”

You didn’t really want to look at them, you were completely sure they were smiling and holding back cackles of laughter. Is a mere composer for the band getting stalked rather than the team itself? It’s more than just funny, it’s ridiculous.

Silence takes over the room, and for 15 solid seconds, you keep thinking perhaps they’re holding back their giggles. Yet nothing comes out, and you finally look up to them, only to see horrified faces. Surprisingly enough, Ruby’s expression was the most haunting of all. it’s as if she saw a murder happen right in front of her. Aqua was the first to cut through the silence, and though his expression looked solemn, he did seem quite conflicted. Yet..there’s something different about his expression. Something you couldn’t quite place. It’s as if he was masking something else. You truly weren't certain about what exactly he was masking. Perhaps it was the true horror he felt? After all, Aqua is an actor, he’s most likely using these skills to calm everyone down and not add more fuel to the fire. He’s always been caring in that sense. “Are you certain it’s a stalker, Y/n?”

“I mean…not really.” You answer truthfully. The more you think about it, the more uncomfortable you feel. There was this sort of tension your mind was warning you about, a sort of alarm, that the gaze you so fear is still right around the corner. Curse these anxieties, you thought. You try to shake off those thoughts and continue with your explanation. “ It’s kinda just like what Kana said, a pair of eyes everywhere- but lately, it’s been getting more frequent.”

You take another glance at Ruby, and you feel guilt course through you.“I-I’m sure it’s nothing though! I’m probably just being paranoid and stupid- sorry to worry you guys-“ her eyes were so sorrowful, it’s as if she’s seen a ghost. She looks at you as if you just spoken about a traumatizing experience with perfect nonchalance. And you wonder, maybe you did, and your fear has now increased tenfold.

“Paranoia or not, with the level of fame B-Komachi is acquiring these days, it wouldn’t hurt to enhance more security in your lives.” Saitou soon looked back at her computer, the sounds of her quick typing apparent. “ I can add more security to the building here since we now have the funds available for it. you can also ask us to install some security devices in your houses if you two feel that worried about it.”

“huh? I’m not that concerned.” Kana shrugged, though her face was a little bit more on edge than before. “ I just said it as a casual comment. I-I expected something like this anyway-I can find my way out of a situation like this easily.” Though her show of confidence was admirable, you could notice in her slight shifts in posture and twitches in her eye that she wasn’t feeling that safe now either. Now deepening more of your guilt as you silently berate yourself for even bringing the topic up.

To your relief and slight concern, Ruby finally spoke. “ Still, we should be really careful from now on, I don’t want any of us to get hurt.” Something was certainly off with her, too. But you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. The twins have always been a mystery to you. though Ruby is better to understand, there are certain tones she has that make her words feel a bit like a lie or hide a deeper agenda. And for Aqua, it was always evident that he lies to hide certain emotions, or rather, lies to fabricate some emotions he shows to the public. Nevertheless, though your observation skills have always been on the stellar side, you still can’t fully understand who they are. And right now, with the cautious and out-of-character seriousness that Ruby’s tone has, you can guess that there’s a deeper reason for her tense nature. Still, that doesn’t explain the eerie feeling you get from Aqua. The nonchalance he has isn’t out of his personality, yet it plants a seed of doubt in your mind. “We should leave the place in groups from now on. “

“I agree.” Aqua comments. “We should be in groups divided by two, each person should walk with someone who's closer to their neighborhood.”

----

To your constant unfortunate luck, your home is much farther than everyone else's. With that, Ruby and Saitou paired up together, Since they live together, of course. Arima and Memcho were luckily near each other, and all that was left were you and Aqua. Though. Aqua could’ve easily just paired up with Ms.Saitou and Ruby, everyone thought it was ideal if you had a pair as well. after all, you are the one who raised the stalker concerns, as much as that guilts you now.

“Something on your mind, Y/n?”

In the now dark quiet streets of the once busy city, you find yourself ashamed and embarrassed for staying up all night again and working on the new song, completely forgetting about the blonde actor that was patiently waiting for you. it was around one a.m. when you finally checked the time and remembered the companion just a few seats away from you. After some apologizing, you began your walk to the now-empty streets. Hey, at least we avoided the crowd traffic’ Aqua commented, though it wasn’t really helpful in soothing your embarrassment. "It’s nothing. I just feel bad about bumming out your sister. Sorry about that.”

Aqua merely hummed, the casual sour look still on his face." don't blame yourself. It’s not your comment that got her frightened per se. we…didn’t have a good experience when the first B-Komachi fell from grace.”

Right, Ai Hoshino’s murder. The infamous idol that Ruby and Aqua always seemed so fond of seeing as a role model, they must’ve been scarred from her death as well, you figured. You give Aqua a sympathetic look. “ I can only imagine how hard it was for everyone in Strawberry Productions. He was silent for a moment, and the only noise in the dark streets was from the few little cars that were passing by. You wonder if you’ve crossed the line somewhere- perhaps your choice of words has caused a misunderstanding- but before you can clarify anything he finally speaks.

“Yeah…she was the star that always lit up the room. without her, everything started feeling….” The space between all his words, the hesitancy that was in his posture and tone, it was something you’d never seen from Aqua. an enigma of emotion from an emotionless boy.”… dim.”

“I see…” was all you could reply with. A few moments pass by, and by the unmoving stare Aqua has on the ground, you knew he was quite gloomy now. “Well- if it makes you feel any better…I think Ruby has that certain light Ai had.”

Aqua gives a small scoff. “She’s more like a fire hazard than a star.” He mumbles.

“And you say that because?”

“She gets too excited. I don’t understand why she wants to be an idol given our experience with it.”

oh, so everyone else wasn’t exaggerating. He is quite a bit protective of her. Even so, you wouldn’t go as far as calling him a siscon…although, Kana did mention that his protective behavior has died down a bit ever since your arrival. A connection that you were completely confused about, since there could be no way that you have affected their relationship in such a way when you were just a mere stranger to them. You go to a completely different school and only briefly known Arima as an old classmate. That was the only connection you had to B-Komachi until Saitou ordered a few commissions from you.

“Have you ever thought that maybe because of how much Ai has shined for her, she just wants to be that same star for others?” you suggest, though it was more of an absentminded thought of yours that’s been in the back of your mind for a few months now. You’ve seen her passion, and her love for the craft even through its hardships. And from a stranger's perspective, she’s got the best chance of being an idol than any other normal teenager. Her mother is a manager of an entertainment agency, and her brother already has a good reputation in acting. By all means, the field was hers for the taking.

Even so, your comment seemed to shock him once more. As he stops replying for a few minutes. you try to observe his expression, to see if there’s any change whatsoever, yet, once again, he remains as he’s always been. Whether he believes it or not, you must admit, he has exceptional skill in acting. Though he might not realize himself, the very power of hiding your true emotions requires much skill, one that Aqua honed from the very beginning of his childhood. It’s a certain skill not all people possess, and certainly not all actors of his age, it is why you believe he still gets so many roles, even if he thinks his skills are lackluster at best. Human expressions are often easy to decipher and understand. You know when someone’s angry or relaxed. Frightened or excited. But with Aqua, it’s all blank, even now, you find it extremely frustrating trying to decipher his expression’s emotions, and you probably look like a psychopath with how hard you’re staring at his face. Despite that, he doesn’t give one flinch under your gaze.

“Are you sure you’re not the real stalker? ” he solemnly says. You snap back to reality, looking away a bit embarrassed (and honestly, a bit amused by his dry humor,). You quickly apologize, muttering up an excuse about being stuck on a new song that’s in your head before looking straight ahead again.

“You’re not wrong, by the way.” He speaks up again. “ I guess…it does seem fitting for her to have that kind of goal.”

You merely hum at that, but soon enough, a question pops into your mind.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you in the industry?” you asked and gave him a glance, soon noticing that he was glancing at you as well. “You once told me that you hated acting. Is that still true?”

“There’s someone I’d like to meet.” He replied rather quickly this time. “And the only way to meet him is by going to the top in this industry, little by little.”

“Can’t you just…call him or something? Is he that big?”

“…I don’t know.” He meekly replied, speaking in riddles at this point. “ I just know he’s an actor.” Before you could question anything further, quell all the confusion in your remind by his words, he stops dead in his tracks and looks up behind you.

“This is your spot, right?”

You look behind you, seeing the ever-so-familiar- apartment complex your family lives in. “Uh…yeah.” You felt a bit of doubt get aced within you, and you quickly try to find out why. Soon, your eyes widened and you look at Aqua confused once again. “wait- how did you know I lived in this building?”

He looks at you blankly. “ you talked about annoying upstairs neighbors and your elevator breaking once. The only apartment around this area is yours, and the other building don’t have enough levels to consider an elevator.”

“okay?...you seriously got all that from one conversation with me?” you smiled a bit, amused by his strange nature.

Aqua merely hummed and shrugged. “ I’ve been told I have a good memory.”

“thoughtful, smart and handsome? Damn Aqua, no wonder everyone’s all heart eyes for you.” you teased a bit. “you’re like a prince charming and a bad boy all fit into one.”

“A bad boy?” he questioned, his tone, if one listened to it closely enough, a bit baffled by that statement. “In what terms could I be a bad boy?"

“I mean..in terms of otome games pretty much? It’s like you’re the popular kid and the aloof and quiet one-“

“So not a bad boy.”

“Hey now- one could argue that the quiet guy’s always a sort of a bad boy-“

“Does he ever commit any crimes or go against a certain system?”

“Well…no-“

“So then, not a bad boy.”

“Are you seriously arguing with me about otome characters?” you couldn’t help but chuckle, a giddy smile on your face. “Are you mad that I called you a bad boy?”

“No.” he huffed, and your excitement was further increased that he actually replied with a bemused tone rather than his normal monotone one. “ I just don’t see why anyone could perceive me as a bad boy.”

“Aqua,” you start getting amusingly serious about this discussion, completely forgetting the time and world around you. “ can we agree that a bad boy is basically the character who goes against a certain system in the story? Whether it’s the school or some sort of council?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then you’re a bad boy.”

“You lost me.” Aqua looks at you disappointed, and you giggle at this point, feeling rejuvenated at the fact that you're slowly breaking Aqua’s ice on emotions.

“You usually go against what a production or producer says during a show- like how you helped Akane get her reputation back after that scandal with the reality show.”

“That’s not really going against a system. I just did the right thing.”

“Spoken like a true bad boy!” you grinned. “That’s the exact words they say to the MC when they have a heart-to-heart.”

“Do you play otome games that much?”

“Do you always have to change the conversation when I’m right?”

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Aqua’s blank face breaks, and he laughs. He giggles like he's been holding back for hours now, and the ballon of his façade was finally popped. And his smile, oh god, his smile- it wasn’t one of politeness or fake charm, like you’ve often seen him do on that reality show, no. it was real. And it was full of huffs and wheezes, like a true laugh would be. You thought you’d merely cracked his icy expression, but you’ve fully shattered it, it seems.

“Was what I said that funny?” you smile a bit, an unbeknownst giddy feeling taking over you from this whole ordeal.

“No, not really-” He huffs out another laugh, yet he tries to hide it with his hands. You want to grab that hand of his and put it back down, to see that true smile of his as he looks at you, but you stay put, and let him find comfort between the hand, holding it as a mask of sorts. “ but your reactions are.”

There’s a certain twinkle in his eye, a certain shine on his starry pupil that was always black. It was like a light was shining in it, it was looking almost like Ruby’s. it’s pure, and full of excitement, though his is more peaceful than his sister’s. you find yourself feeling your heart warm up, feeling a sense of victory over what you’ve done. Like you’ve cracked a case or solved an impossible puzzle, given a checkmate to a grandmaster in chess.

“You know, you should smile more.” You unconsciously blurt out. “It suits you.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, but it’s obvious now from his expressions ( you can’t believe you can say that now) that he’s shocked by your words, and bashful about it too. His cheeks get a rosy tint as he avoids your gaze.

“It’s really late.” He mumbles. “You should go inside now.”

“Right…” You sighed, now fixing up the bag on your shoulders and making your way inside. You’re one step away from opening the apartment’s door when Aqua suddenly calls out to you. As you turn around, what you see is a complete shift in Aqua’s expression, going from embarrassed and bashful to sorrowful and serious.

“If anything happens, just text one of us.”

Ah right. The stalker. You’ve almost forgotten about it on your walk with Aqua. though you sometimes did feel the prickling gaze, you merely ignored it, feeling safe with another companion beside you. yet now, knowing that tonight of all nights, your parents have left for a business trip together and you’re home alone makes fear in you settle in once more. You only nod in reply, now waving a bit at him then finally opening the door, and letting the fall breeze get away from you, and the sensation of warm heaters settle on your skin once more.

---

You couldn’t sleep.

From the moment you stepped into your house, something was up. You weren’t sure what it was. Either the eery silence that filled the place or the emptiness it has now, there was something wrong with your house, and you didn’t know where to look.

You made sure to lock all the doors and windows, turn on the TV, and put it on a reality show with the volume up just to give the potential stalker the illusion that you’re perhaps not alone. Coincidentally so, it was Aqua’s reality show that the channel was airing, so your fear-riddled and insomniac mind decided to make up a midnight snack and watch the episode.

With the blaring lights and strange love triangle (and honestly, a lack of drama compared to their Western counterparts,) you used the show as white noise as you scrolled through your phone.

‘Just text one of us’. Sure, that could’ve been useful if it wasn’t three in the morning and everyone was asleep by now, with their phones either on silent or turned off for good measure. Everyone is offline for now, everyone, except one, you noticed. Aqua, apparently, is still wide awake, and has been online for the last thirty minutes. with a few sleepy thoughts, you decided to bite the bullet and text him.

Y/N: hey

Y/N: can’t sleep either?

God. That was a cringey line. You hissed a bit at your own horrible conversation starters. You only hoped he doesn’t ignore your text so you’d just awkwardly delete it by the next morning. Luckily enough, he’s seen the message, and soon little bubbles appeared on your phone.

Aqua: No.

Aqua: I’m not even home yet.

Oh shit. Was your home that far from his? You felt really bad now.

Y/n: oh :(

Y/N: is your place far?

Aqua’s typing, and you’re patiently waiting for his reply by watching the TV again. Seeing how many fake smiles he puts on this show, you find yourself prideful in finding a true one tonight. Yet, a piercing fear soon latches on your pride, and you quickly look around in every direction, feeling the familiar watchful eyes. Though it was small, just like how it was at first, you can slowly feel it building up, and for a moment, you wonder if this is just your paranoia. You gulped. Your phone buzzes.

Aqua: No. I just didn’t feel like going home right now. I like taking walks near the park at this time.

You look at your phone. The feeling pierces you. you look up. it fades away. you rinse and repeat, and with every drop of paranoia, your heart becomes an ocean of fear. You try to ignore it. it must be your imagination. There is nothing here.

Y/n: ohh that’s cool.

Y/N: wish I had the confidence to do that all alone lol. I get pretty scared when I’m alone.

A loud noise erupts beside you and you flinch. You frantically look around, only to realize it was just the shocked gasp and overly edited slap sound of that infamous scene with Akane. You grumble at yourself.

Aqua: It’s pretty easy to do when you’re mind is somewhere else entirely. Usually, people make playlists for such occasions.

At least Aqua’s texting is helping you distract your mind from that fear. You smile a bit.

Y/n: ‘usualy people’?? what do you do? just accept the atmosphere?

Aqua: No.

Aqua: I just think there a lot.

Y/N: lmao nerd.

Aqua: You’re not funny.

Y/n: emo nerd.

Aqua: still unfunny.

Y/n: I should make you an emo song. Do you by chance like my chemical romance??

Aqua: Blocked.

You snicker, and a feeling of ease washes over you as you lightly bully him more. Though in five minutes the feeling of fear started to soothe down, it was now increased with a chime of a notification, and a message left you still and frozen.

The name was just a phone number, one completely unknown to you. the text being as mocking as it could be by asking you,

XXXXXXXXXX: do you watch reality shows often, Y/n? you don’t seem like the type.

Worst part was, that it was on your normal messenger app, one usually used to get some dumb advertisements and bank account info. Whoever this guy was, they knew your phone number. It made you even more sick, and you quickly blocked them. Your breathing heightened a bit as you finally got up from your couch and clicked on every light switch in the house. With thoughts on where they could be plaguing your mind, you rush to the kitchen, grabbing the sharpest knife you can and clutching it as your life depended on it- because in fact, it did. And that makes you feel even more hopeless.

Your phone chimes again, and unfortunately, it wasn’t Aqua. a new phone number, again, one you don’t know. The text made you want to hurl. To scream and tell whoever they were to get out and show themselves before you force them out.

XXXXXXXXX: That knife won’t help you

Fucking hell. Shit.shit shit shit— your breathing became ragged. Your mind started spiraling all over the place with thoughts on where they could be. In the closets, the vents, the cupboards behind you—

You open them. Nothing’s in there. you take a deep breath to calm down. It fails miserably. Should you call the cops maybe?—

Your phone buzzes

Aqua: did you fall asleep on me?

Oh thank god- he’s still awake. You get up, knife on the kitchen table and inches away from you as you quickly type.

Y/n: Aqua

Y/n: oh my god the stalker is real

You take a screenshot of the texts and send it to him.

Y/n: I don’t know what the fuck to do

Y/n: should I call the police????

Y/n: I’m home alone rn. But I keep feeling like someone’s watching me.

You wonder for a moment, that if you texting him this seems desperate and uncalled for. Your mind quickly berates you for that. This could be life or death. It’s a potential kidnapping we’re talking about- though, then again, why not just call the police- but he did say to text anyone if anything happens- that included him, right?- Of course it did, you think. Aqua at the moment is the only awake person you can trust right now. Maybe. Maybe not. Oh god why are you thinking about this so much-

Aqua: No. don’t call them. The stalker might get away.

Y/n : ????? that’s exactly what I want to happen???

Aqua: if they get away they’ll just target someone else. Stay put, don’t freak out.

Y/n: don’t freak out??? Aqua??? I’m??being???stalked??? they know where I live????? they’re watching me RIGHT NOW????

In your small conscious part remaining, you wonder if you’re freaking out a bit too much. But at the moment, your hands are shaking, and you can feel yourself at the very brink of a mental breakdown. You think you might die, or something even worse potentially happening.

Aqua: I know.

Aqua: just trust me please.

Aqua: I’m on my way right now.

Aqua: I’m not too far.

A sickening notification pops up.

XXXXXXXX: why are you crying?

Huh? Crying? Since when did you-

They send a picture of your crying, the perspective seeming zoomed in through the window of your house.

You fall silent, now noticing the teardrops that dribbled to your thumb, all coming down from your eyes like a wave. At this point, your body was shaking as if the room had been chilled to the bone. Your heartbeat has gotten so loud you can’t even think. You slowly turn your head to the window, and fall in despair over the empty displays of the buildings right next to you.

Y/n: Aqua

Y/n: If I die

Y/n: I’m going to fucking haunt you

Your sniffles have become louder, and you couldn’t help but just clutch your phone and knife for dear life as your eyes scan every corner. The feeling is still there. the prickling, needle-like sense of eyes watching your every flinch and tear. It felt like you were an object, like you were made to be in terror for this sick person’s amusement. All you could do now is hum your favorite lullaby and hope to dear life that it’d calm you down and you won’t die tonight.

Then, it happened. A familiar footstep slowly trudged near your door. A familiarity you never even knew it even existed. It’s the same almost quiet steps, one taken with such slow and meticulous planning, that you’d almost think it didn’t exist, that it was all just your imagination. For a long time, you thought it was. For months, you were sure it was all in your head, that these strange tip-toed footsteps and piercing gaze is merely your anxiety knowing your mind. But it wasn’t. dear god it wasn’t. the person behind that door was your stalker. Your heart is racing badly. You gulped, and a few broken breaths of gasp and tears spilled down more. You clutched the knife for dear life. Tonight was your doom.

Three knocks bang on your door. “Y/n? “ the voice, soothing yet cold, makes your senses fall down and your breath hitch. “ it’s me, Aqua.”

Quickly, with no time to lose and a gasp of relief, you get up from your seat and scramble to open every lock you put on the door. When it opens, you’re met with an out of breath Aqua, as if he ran all the way just to get to you, yet you see no sweat on his forearms or face. But that didn’t matter to you, all that mattered was that you weren’t alone. You’re safe. Safe here. with Aqua.

“Have you been crying?” his question goes unanswered. You just look at him with more tears threatening to fall down. Your breath hitches and you break into sobs. All the shock and fear leaves your body quickly, leaving aftershocks of emotional turmoil and pain. You hug him, and you don’t know why exactly you do. it was probably from relief, from the thought of not dying tonight. But you wreak in the sobs like there’s no tomorrow as you clutch his black hoodie for dear life. Your mind is in shambles, so it doesn’t cross you odd that he hadn't gone home, yet had a complete wardrobe change now. The only thing you cared about was that he was here, and the stalker wasn’t. or at least, the stalker won’t appear. Not when he’s around.

Slowly, Aqua hugs you back. he holds you tight and lets you make a mess of tears and sniffles on his hoodie as he tries to calm you down.

“I’m here now. There’s no need to be scared.”

Right. He’s here. and when Aqua’s here, you don’t feel that gaze on you anymore. As if it faded away entirely. When he’s here, you feel relieved.

He really is just like a prince charming.

-----

It’s been two weeks since that accident, and due to it, you found yourself now living with the B-Komachi team all in the same apartment.

Aqua said he checked all the streets and alleyways around him after he called Ms.Saitou that night, telling her to drive him back into their home now for safety. Saitou convinced Aqua to contact the police as well, so they could send an investigator to be on the case. You don’t know how much evidence they’ve found for now, but from how frustrated Saitou looked these days, you can guess things weren’t going well.

“I win again!”

“What?! But I was almost first place!! You definitely cheated-“

“Ruby, did you forget I stream for a living? Obviously, I have good skills in these games-“

“still!! I was so close to winning that one…”

-“Could you two be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to memorize my lines here-“

“Then go to another room!”

“The other rooms are too cold to sit in!”

“Then take a blanket with you.”

“No way, I’d get sleepy.”

“You’re just scared of being alone, aren’t you?”

“W-what?! N-no! Obviously not!”

You sigh, unable to concentrate on yourself now from the commotion going on behind you. you close your laptop and put it on your blanketed lap, putting on your earbuds and hoping that the girls’ enthusiasm over living together dies down in the next weeks at least.

Living with B-Komachi has become…well- as best as it could be. It’s not like they were bad people- of course not. And you all got along well too. But the whole ‘almost dying and fearing for your entire life’ thing that happened less than a month ago has left you pretty on edge lately. You can’t bring yourself to write anything or even do anything ever. The only thing you made was a small lyrics drabble, but it was so bizarre and different from other songs you made for them that you just abandoned the whole draft. Honestly, right now all you desire is an eternal nap and an unlimited supply of your favorite songs (or as unlimited as they can get, though Spotify has been really annoying you these days with its ads).

You want to be excited about this, to bond more with the girls and get a better understanding of who the group is and what music fits them best, but you can’t bring yourself to do it when everything feels so new and nauseating to be around. You were used to being alone, to having your parents leave on work trips on a daily and having a senseless quiet takeover of the room. having another presence in the house, and the presence being as loud as their group is, was not really helpful in getting accustomed to this new setting Ms.Saitou assured would only be a ‘one week’ thing. A precaution was just made to make sure the ‘Ai’ incident doesn’t occur again.

It was weird enough how easily Kana and Memcho accepted this situation and Kana’s parents even gave the green light, but it was even more shocking that your parents didn’t even call to check on you and just gave you a lousy text of ‘hope you’re okay’.

How they even gave permission for you to stay here was bad too. They didn’t even know you worked for Strawberry Productions- how on earth were they okay with you staying here? did they not care for you that much?

Sure, it was you who had to accept it anyway- and you did, because at this point, there was nowhere else to go. Living with your parents would only lead to depressing moments, since conversations with them always felt like speaking to a stranger rather than your own family- and relatives? Out of the question. the ones you favor are way too far, and the ones that are close aren’t near enough to your school and work.

The more you thought about it, the more your frown deepened and you buried yourself into your blanket, one of the few things you brought with you from the apartment, and one that gives you a little ounce of comfort in this unknown area.

“hey,” a shadow looms over you, and you don’t even turn around to see who it was. It was obvious from their voice. Determined, bit bossy, yet kind and well-meaning. Kana has always been the one you were closest to around here. although, that's not really saying much, since you have that feeling only because you’ve been classmates in the past, but have never spoken a word to each other. “give me some space.” She said, almost in a demanding tone- but you knew her intentions were from the immense kindness she possessed. a kindness that could be a blessing and a curse, one might argue. You tuck your legs in and scooch a bit deeper into the couch’s back, giving enough space for Kana to sit down and look at you with her intense gaze. “How are you holding up?” The question made you feel numb.

“meh.”

Her eyes squinted in slight annoyance at your response, though, you could see the underlying worry in it. “ I’m serious.” She huffed. “ it’s fine if you still feel pretty shitty. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“so do you feel shitty?”

'Do you feel shitty?' is an amusing, yet mind-pausing question. do you? do you feel like an absolute fucking tired and exhausted and in need of a slumber of death kind of person right now? Well, to them, you probably look the part now, don’t you? Dressed in the most comfortable clothes you had, doing none of your school work, barely doing any music work and drowning yourself in your biggest comforts while dissociating from the world around you.

“I…maybe?” your voice breaks to one of confusion. “ I don’t know what I feel,” you move around a bit, your neck feeling a bit cramped from the twist it had to remain in just to see her. “ I don’t know what to feel. “ you sighed.

“It’s just that— well…” you stay silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts, then you speak again. “It all just happened so fast…I don’t know what to process first or last. Actually, I’d rather not process anything at all.” You turn your neck around, freeing it from its frustrating twist and now looking at the ceiling. “ I just wish I could forget it. because deep down, I know this isn’t a one-time thing.”

“hm? What do you mean by that?”

You look at her blankly for a moment, thinking perhaps you should shut your mouth and not explain further, afraid that it’ll lead to more fear growing and breaking the calm atmosphere this apartment has despite its dark reasoning for even being occupied with idol residents at the moment. You can still hear Ruby and Memcho fighting over who gets to be player one on the game they're playing, your songs, though now white noise to your conversation, still give you a sense of peace. You’d rather hold these small threads of positivity rather than prick and destroy them one by one. Unfortunately for you, Kana Arima is a professional actress first, Idol second. And as part of her career, she has studied the human expression and it’s changes for years on end. She’s enhanced her skills, skills that easily surpass your observant ones. Just like you, she can sense the fake smiles of Aqua, she sees the stress that lays behind Saitou’s shoulders, and she absolutely can see the blank look you give her being one of conflict and hesitance. She furrows her eyebrows at you and crosses her arms.

“Hiding all the bad things and keeping it to yourself won’t fix the issue.” She started scolding you as if you were a child, her little sibling she’s trying to give a good life lesson to. “Like it or not, you’re a part of the B-Komachi team. It doesn’t matter if you’re on stage or behind the scenes. It’s your songs that people enjoy. This whole stalker thing should be enough proof for you to realize how valuable you are to this team.”

“—Kana, we don’t even know why the stalker had me as a target in the first place— it could’ve been the same old creepy gross guys who follow high schoolers.”

“Still,” she urged. “Hiding your feelings and digging them down won’t help. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You take a glance at her, and only see a face of understanding. However, there was a tint of red on her cheeks, and her eyes looked like they were far back in memory lane. It’s then you remember her huge crush on Aqua that's gotten crushed by the reality TV debacle. Even though that relationship didn’t last, purely because it was a fake one anyway, it seemed to have stung a lot for her.

You hesitate, though come to the conclusion that what you’ll say might help with the strange situation you’ve all been cast in. After all, the last time you’ve spoken about things, you’ve survived a potential murder.

“I feel horrified.” You gulped. “ I keep— I keep feeling like this isn’t the last time I saw that stalker- it wasn’t a first time either. Something about the way they texted…the way they watched me was so oddly familiar.” You started fidgeting with your fingers out of stress, completely avoiding her gaze now. “so I’ve been thinking— and I-I know this sounds crazy but- I never walked back home after school, I always headed to the Strawberry Production building, and after my work’s done I head back home…and honestly? I never had that sense of being watched when I was walking out of school…only when I was heading back home from work I felt it— I guess- what I’m saying is-“

“You think the stalker might be working in the agency, right?”

“Y-yeah pretty much” you sighed. It felt like you were disobeying something, disrespecting a rule by accusing the very agency and team that is offering you protection. “ sounds pretty crazy, right?” you joked, desperately trying to lighten the mood. “I might be losing my mind.”

Kana is quiet. Unusually so. Her gaze remains stuck on the ground beneath you as she pouts in thought.”…you might be on to something there.”

“Wait- seriously?”

“I mean- you said it yourself.” She reasoned. “ the only time you felt like the stalker was near was when you got out of the building- and this all started happening when you joined the team in the first place, so this leads to one conclusion—“ she finally looks back up at you, a perplexed frown on her face and eyes that seemed filled with the same fear you feel. “ the stalker is someone inside the agency- specifically someone working with B-Komachi.”

You wanted to continue the conversation, to perhaps lead to a few suspects or at the very least a few key clues you could give to the detectives later, or maybe even, just investigate the whole thing yourself since they didn’t seem to be doing much. But as you were going to speak, the front door opened and everyone’s eyes quickly went to the bags of takeout, and the meticulous blonde who was holding onto them.

“They only had one can of strawberry soda left.” He said, not understanding the war he was about to erupt.

“DIBS!!!!” Ruby’s war cry was followed with screams of NO!!, soon Kana chased after her and left you and Memcho to quietly look at each other and mourn the peace that was in this building for less than half a day.

----

Emptied-out sodas and cardboard, oil-drenched baskets of food are left for you to pick up for the night. With the B-Komachi’s starry idols all napping soundly on the couches, too tired to even go back to their rooms to sleep, you and Aqua are left to pick up the mess from today’s banquet.

You would go to a giant bear nap too if it weren’t for the fact that you were rotting in bed all day, then relocated to the couch when Memcho urged you to get out of the room for once in a while. For Aqua, however, you really can’t find a reason. Other than the feeling of obligation and responsibility as an older brother, that is.

“Are you done with the trash?” he quietly whispers out. you nod, closing up the black plastic bag with your palm and walking up to the small kitchen where he was, mopping up some traces of food you could barely see in the dot.

“Thanks for helping.” You whispered back, done with your last task and sitting on one of the chairs. “ you really didn’t have to.”

Aqua merely shrugged, the broom that was in his hand now placed in the small corner of the place. “ it was nothing.” Was his only response, right before he surprisingly enough, took out a chair and sat across you. he looks at you with a focused gaze- one completely different from the underlying sympathetic gaze Kana had. “how are you feeling?”

Frankly, you were a bit tired from constantly hearing this question, but you can understand why they keep asking it. not everyone comes out of a situation like this fine, or even unscathed. truth is, you feel terrible. You feel far more than shitty ever. You just want to wake up, to realize this has all been a creepy dream made up by your brain as punishment for the lack of sleep you keep giving yourself. Alas, no matter how much you blink or how muh you sleep now, you wake up in the same place. The new unfamiliar apartment and the uneasy feeling.

This is the first time Aqua directly speaks to you after the incident, first time after seeing you sob on his shoulder like you saw your life flash between your eyes. It feels awkward, to say the least. You can’t help but avoid his gaze, too embarrassed and vividly remembering the way you held onto him that night. God dammit- how does he easily affect people this much?! He barely does anything, he’s not even flirtatious or teasing, yet, his words and sincerity are so raw and real, it makes people, and unfortunately even you, swoon.

“fine. I guess.”

“good.” Unlike Kana, Aqua doesn’t pry much longer. He doesn’t try to spill information out of you. why that reason is, belonged to either his way of interrogating being different, or the fact that he was there in the moment, and knows that you are in fact, not fine. “ have you made any new songs?”

A bitter taste forms in your mouth, feeling disappointment reek into your bones from your own laziness. “just some lyrics.” You muttered ashamed. Yet Aqua didn’t criticize, nor did he pressure you to work more. Rather, he asked if he could look at the work, and so you booted up your laptop and gave it for him to scroll. Usually, the first people who get to give an opinion on the work is B-Komachi’s idols themselves, then you approach Aqua to give a fan’s perspective of the work. So, to simply put, you were feelign quite nervous about the whole new ordeal, praying to the universe that you haven’t goofed up or messed up a word in the lyrics. Aqua doesn’t flinch, barely even blinks as he intently reads your newest work. It’s quite cute, how he gets so serious when it comes to idols. A little creepy yes- but still quite nice, since he never really seem interested in much anyway. Even towards his career, he seemed quite bored of it. yet with Idols and their songs, and specifically and weirdly enough, how they give hope to younger fans, he seems quite determined and entranced by it. at your first week working, he once told you that ‘the first hope in a fan ignites when they hear song resonating with them’. You never quite understood that, since all the songs you’ve heard from idols have been about hope and trying hard, but you always found those words to be just empty lies. A little motivator as white noise when you’re working to the bones for a dream that is impossible to achieve. To you, one doesn’t just ahcieve success by sheer hard-work. Usually, all you need is luck and money. Despite that ideal, look at where you are now. Gone from a small composer just sending songs online as a hobby to a full-blown career. Maybe , sometimes in the world all you need is hard-work.

Something about that makes you feel weird.

Aqua leans away from the blaring lights of the computer, his eyes that were glued to the screen now glancing at you. you shift awkwardly for a moment, feeling your heart beat rise up as you ask the haunting question. “thoughts?”

He looks back at the computer again, then at you. his eyes were so deep in thought that for an anxious moment— you think that he might trying to formulate his harsh critcism in the nicest way possible—

“I think it’s amazing.”

You look at him bewildered. A sense of pride slowly grows in your heart, but you urge him with your expression to continue.

“it’s…well it’s not really B-Komachi’s style at all- but in terms of your skills- it’s the best thing you’ve made yet.” Your look is enough shock to urge him to continue. “ it feels more..like you than B-Komachi. You wrote this from the heart and it shows.”

“…huh, I never really thought of it that way..” you think back on the lyrics, remembering the undertones of worries each line had about the costs of stardom- something that was meant to be about reaching high like a star has become a criticism of such a possibility- just like Aqua said, it’s a song not fit for B-Komachi’s thoughts, but yours instead.

“ it’s moving.” Aqua said, with a normal tone and unmoving expression, yet also with eyes looking back at you with such strong wielded boldness, he comes off serious. “ it feels like I’m looking at thing in an idols real perspective rather than the perception they show for the fans.”

“so…It’s stupidly edgy and I need to scrap it?” you huffed out, now criticizing every line you wrote within your mind.

Aqua’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes look at you with frightening intimidation. “I want you to keep writing this.”

“woah, ok there bad boy,” You tried to shrug off the fear that jumped on your shoulders. “ why are you so serious about this?”

He takes a moment to answer, only starring at the laptop screen before him, scanning the lines once more as he speaks. “I’ve seen how you work.” For a moment, his comment comes off as jarring, until you remember the night he stayed with you till late night for the group walk. “ you often start working on a song for hours, but halfway through you get scared and give up on it. no matter how good it is, you listen to it so much that you suddenly start seeing flaws in it and you start from scratch one more time.”

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly defend yourself. “I just wanna make sure it’s catchy even by the tenth listen- it’s how you keep making fans come back for more.”

“No, you do it because you’re a perfectionist.” Ouch. That one stung a bit. “ you have so much anxiety over your work not being good enough that you don’t stop until you’re completely satisified with it.”

“W-well— well…uh…!” you desperately try to find excuses, anything that could change his mind, but you fall short, and are left speechless at his straight to the point remarks which have left a considerable stinging damage to your pride and heart.

“keep working on this.” He closed your laptop, the dark engulfing his face and the atmosphere. He glances back at you, and in this dark, barely lit by the street lights and silent room, you see a certain sincerity in his eyes that Aqua would’ve never show in broad daylight. Aqua has always been sincere, he’s always been honest, but it was only ever visible through his actions rather than expressions. Having the Aqua Hoshino, infamous for being incredibly quiet and dry, show this level of care and volume through his starry pupiled eyes was a miracle in itself. Him laughing? That was like peaking mountain Everest, now him showingf you another vulnerability? One that, you’d guess a guy like him would see as unnecessary for him to ever even express having, show it to you? my god, it’s like you’ve travelled the galaxies.

“you don’t need to start over again.”

“…never knew you cared that much about my health.” Your gaze doesn’t look into his, fearing you might get emotional from it.

“why wouldn’t I care?” Aqua gazed away as well, trying to avoid you seeing his face. “…I care for you.” he then quickly added, “everyone in B-Komachi does.”

You frowned, your heart was rested in confusion, and the midnight hours and daily oversleeping has left you with a mix of emotions you couldn’t comprehend. “..it feels weird.”

“what does?”

“…you guys caring.” You hesitantly answer. A lump latched onto your throat. “..I never really…felt that before, you know?like-“ you become silent for a moment, organizing your thoughts into comprehensible sentences, and Aqua patiently waits, like he always does. “— I-I had my parents feeding me and all that, but, I never really felt like…they did it out of love, you know? it always….” You fell short, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Yet Aqua finishes it for you.

“it always…feels like they do it out of responsibility, rather than love.” There was something about his tone, something about how his shoulders hunched, and his gaze was latched to the table. How his fists clenched into a grip. It was like he’s been through this as well, that he’s felt this too. For a moment, you wonder what his father was like. Or how Ms.Saitou perhaps has treated him due to her packed up work schedule.

“Exactly.” A sigh comes out from your lungs, and a heavy weight gets back in it instead. "you know…sometimes- I keep thinking about…—” your lungs felt full, and you wanted to throw up. the stab wound that was left on your heart started throbbing in pain.

“ ..I keep thinking about how fucking funny it is-“ you couldn’t help it. couldn’t help but let the well of emotions you had bottled up all inside of you slowly drip, spill and quickly leave like small little teardrops almost coming out of your eyes, making the world look as blurry as ever.,and you choked on your laugh a bit. “ that Kana cared more- Ms.Saitou cared more- and you, cared more than my parents ever did.” Before you knew it, your tears were slipping.” My parents didn’t even call me yet. It’s been days after the incident and they still haven’t called me. y-yet— everyday, Ruby tries to distract me with different activities- Memcho keeps trying to help with my homework- and—“ You weren’t sure what made you sob like this. Perhaps it was your mind finally breaking from the exhaustion, or maybe it’s all your pent-up emotions now blowing up in rage. Whatever it was, it’s making you sniffle and hiccup as quietly as you possibly could muster. For a moment, you’re embarrassed and ashamed from the fact that this is your second time crying buckets when you’re with Aqua. you wonder if he’s cast a spell on you, or maybe it’s just pure instinct to be so trustful of him and easily show your vulnerability to him. in some part of you, you feel like he understands you. he gets what you’re going through and knows of it’s hardships. The hardships of neglect, of loneliness, and the fear of failing the expectations loved ones set out for you.

Aqua doesn’t speak. He’s completely quiet as you hold back your hiccups and try to stray away the depressing thoughts in your mind. He gets up, walks closer to you and then opens his arms as an offer for a hug. One that you quickly accept, wrapping your arms around his back as he does with you. it’s just like last time, yet, in this one, his hug feels different. Rather than having a relaxed form and giving you access to leave if you want, his arms put you in a lock, tightly holding onto you for dear life as you cry on his shoulder and try to escape in its comforts.

He gives you no access to leave, no way of leaving the hug he’s set you on. if your mind wasn’t so riddled, you’d be a bit perplexed and scared of that idea, but you aren’t thinking straight, not when you’re with him. right now, all you want is to have someone-anyone- who could be here for you and become a shoulder to cry on and listener to whine to, and shockingly so, Aqua has become the perfect person for it.

“….you need a break.” He mumbled, his chin resting on top of your head, eyes in deep thought. “Being stuck here for so long is only making your mental state worse.”

“I-I don’t think a day outside is going to help much,” you speak through a sniffle. “ and what if the stalker’s still out there? it’d put the whole team in danger.”

“the stalker won’t show up if it’s somewhere public.” He loosens up his hold a bit, and you lean away to look up at him. “there’s actually an amusement park's opening that’s happening tomorrow.” He brought up, and his conversation and your emotional blurriness of a mind is enough for you to not realize how close you two are, inches away and looking like a married couple. Yet he, ever the cool-headed, doesn’t seem to mind the position at all. “there’ll be plenty of people there to stop any sort of kidnaping or crime happening. We should go there. it’ll help brighten your mood and quell a bit of your fears.”

“We?” you raised a brow. It was a question you’d quickly regret, since Aqua’s face flinched a bit and he looked away ashamed.“…sorry- you can obviously go by yourself—“

“oh no nonono-!!! I didn’t mean it like I don’t want you there!-“ you spoke a bit louder than intended, a huge amount of self-cringe now stuck on your heart from asking stating your question in the worst way possible. “I just thought you might be busy- since you have that whole full time variety show job going on.” you looked down embarrassed. Somehow, meeting his gaze is so difficult. Especially at the dawn of midnight, where human emotions, even as controlled as Aqua’s, can pour out easily in one’s eyes. You fear that he might see your small affection for him, how you’ve grown close to the stoic, multiple fanclub having actor.in a moment of sleepy haziness, you gulped, fiddling with the hem of your clothes as you mutter, “I’d actually love to go with you.”

“…”

“….”

Quiet. It’s incredibly, and agonizingly silent. Your mind is screaming in terror and rage over what you’ve just muttered and he obviously fucking heard since your fucking inches away and oh my fucking god Y/n you fucking idiot you idiot you fucking dumbasss oh my goood-

You bite the bullet and slowly look up to see his, what you would assume would be weirded out or awkward expression. Yet, that’s not the case at all. rather, he’s blushing. And he looks a bit irritated with that. His hands are shaking a bit, trying to slowly go up to hide his face from you, but he doesn’t know you’re looking at him yet. That you’re seeing this evident red blush on his face once more, and the embarrassed pout he has. His gaze is far away from yours as he keeps thinking quietly, believing that you’re quietly looking away from his too.

You’re in awe. You feel like butterflies are stuck in your stomach. Your heart is in less depressive disarray and rather, it’s in an exciting mess instead. You don’t know what you should do now- or even how clearly he likes you back or perhaps, is just really flattered by what you have said. Maybe even- he’s completely embarrassed. God, Aquamarine Hoshino always keeps you guessing.

He looks back at you with widened eyes and a small gasp, his sharp mind now noticing that you have seen his embarrassed face. His hand instinctively comes up to hide it, but he knows it’s too late. He can’t help but stray away from your gaze. His starry pupil was shining once more.

“uh….” You want to die from embarrassment, but you push through it and try to not speak in the shakiest dumbest voice ever. “ so…are you free?” you weren’t sure if you wanted him to say yes or no, you’re unsure of how badly he’ll reject you, or how much coldness there would be when he begrudgingly says yes, but you hope to dear god that it’d be as less damage inducing to your heart than you believed it would be.

“it’s a weekend, so yes.” To that, you gave a sigh of relief. Muttering a ‘cool’ before going back to an awkward silence. You felt something tug your fingers, and you soon glanced and realized it was Aqua’s fingers slowly inching closer to yours, yet not doing any movement to intertwine them. As if he was waiting for your permission for such a step. You’re certain you look absolutely embarrassing right now, because the butterflies and jitters of lovestruck and glee you feel is coursing through your veins, and you’re desperately holding back yourself from smiling in pure giddy. You slowly intertwine your hands with his, hearing your heartbeat louder than ever.

Aqua clears his throat, and you hope he’s not looking at your dumbstruck face, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “..I’m glad you like spending time with me,” he mumbled. A squeeze was giving to your palm, like it was a sign of reassurance. Sign of honesty. “because I like hanging out with you too.”

You were going to pass out. You were speechless, mind processing every little word and action he’s done up until now, desperately trying to understand how he’s gotten you so flustered this easily. You truly don’t know what to say, but rather than remaining quiet and letting a new and worse state of awkwardness set in, you bring your intertwined hands up, and quickly peck his knuckles and release your hold. You don’t even look to see his reaction, feeling your panic rise up from the unthinkable action you’ve just done. You quickly say thank you and bid goodnight, speed-walking as quietly as you could, while trying yo not hit any of the idols who were sound asleep on the ground and completely unaware of what has transcribed in the kitchen.

You want to shut your door as fast as you can, but before you do, you steal one more glance at the kitchen, and see Aqua with a widened, indescribable expression on his face, and the blush redder than it ever was, starring at his kissed hand as if it was a raw diamond from the mines.

You shut your door, and immediately jump and scream into your pillow.

What the fuck did you just do?!

------

Chitters and chatters of the crowd dulled the sound of drums and flutes that was coming from the carnival. children and adults of all ages frolicked at the new park like ants, trying everything and taking pictures at every corner they knew. The animal mascots happily engaged with the kids and played different carnival games with them (all whom were rigged, but when the mascots played they’ve instantly became fair.) the smell of candy and pretzels was invading your senses, and you found yourself craving for cotton candy as you walk by the stalls.

Aqua Hoshino, the man who made you think so much last night that you barely got a wink of sleep in you, yet you’re so nervous and excited about today that you’re thankfully not dying from exhaustion-, is walking beside you. his eyes trail on where your head turns too, and he notices you staring a bit too longingly at the cotton candy cart with a circle of parents and children around it.

“you want something?” he asks, yet you look at him and politely shake your head. You’d rather die than make someone else pay for your cravings, especially something as childish as cotton candy-

Aqua’s eyes squint a bit, and he hums. He leaves your said, walking closer to the pink cart. You frantically follow suit.

“w-what are you doing?”

He gives you a glance before answering. “I’m hungry.”

“oh.” you slow down your pace. “ok then.”

You patiently wait as Aqua waits for his turn, buying one cotton candy and walking ip to you. he takes one bite, and you never knew how strange of an image is to see such a cold guy like Aqua eat sweets, especially since he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it much. You get suspicious, and that feeling only grows when after one slow bite and gulp, he offers the pink fluff to you.

“I can’t finish it.”

“ but you only had one bite?!” you countered.

He merely shrugged. “my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I guess.”

You pout, looking at the cotton candy as if it was a trick lied up by a scummy fox. Yet, it looked so delightful. A pink shade so soft, and a sticky shine to it that left your mouth watering. You begrudgingly take it, looking at Aqua inquiring. “you bought this for me, didn't you?”

Aqua doesn’t answer, because he knows he doesn’t need to. he merely looks at you with a tiny bit amusement in his eyes as he says, “ if you don’t eat it now it’ll melt and your hands will get sticky.”

“oh, are you beckoning Snow White to take a bite of the apple?” with your nervous anxieties treading away slowly, your shyness was melting faster than the cotton candy in your hand.

He rose a brow. “are you saying I’m the evil witch?”

“No, of course not.” You smiled, as if you hit the jackpot. “I’m saying you’re the gorgeous Queen.”

“isn’t that character the same character, though?”

“hm, that is true,” you ponder for a moment, instinctively twirling the cotton candy in your hands. “…then you’re the prince, I guess.” You looked up at him with a grin. “ gorgeous and beckoning. It’s a perfect fit.” You stare at him, looking like you’re a snarky winner, a playboy who won the popular boy’s affection, yet rather than blushing like you wanted him to, he stays silent for a moment, but his mouth keeps shifting- like he’s holding back a smile. He finally breaks, giving you a subtle smirk and looking down at your hands.

“the cotton candy’s falling.”

“the what-“ your eyes quickly widened, looking at your hand and seeing the cloud-like candy being seconds away from hitting the pavement underneath you. in a quick disarray, you regrettably grab the thing with your bare hands, groaning in disappointment, yet still taking a bite of it. you hear a snicker, and look back to see Aqua looking at you with a small smile. If someone told you last month that ‘smiling’ would actually be a common expression of Aqua’s, you’d holler and laugh, yet here you are.

He takes a candy off your palm and eats it. your shock increases, and becomes extremely apparent on your face. He looks at you with a certain competitive glint in his eyes. “ what?” he questions your reaction. “I’m not the Evil Queen I’m the prince, so of course, I wouldn’t give you anything poisonous now, would I?” though his face has become blank, you could hear the hint of giddiness in his tone. “so you should eat what I give you, Snow White.”

Though he wasn’t wrong, a small part of you felt like he was much more serious about his words than he let on. there was something about his tone, an underlying certainty you can’t quite pin well. nevertheless, you trust him, so you take another cotton candy and let it dissolve in your mouth.

Soon after, you quickly went to the bathroom to wash up the last remaining's of the cotton candy, then decide to go on the fastest roller coasters you knew. In every single ride, Aqua either just gave a short gasp from the lack of air or just- quietly held onto his seat with mortified expression on his face. Meanwhile you and other passengers were screaming your lungs out like never before. After the rides, he’d ask you ,with a tinge of plead in his voice, if this is the last one you want to try, and he’d look at you deeply puzzled when you answer no.

After so many rides, exhausted, you take a break at the café as the sky darkens. Aqua insisted on paying, but you managed to convince him to split the bill instead. The small place you chose had their walls filled with drawings of its mascots. Actors and entertainers all frolicked around the place and stole the children's attention. The smell of pizza was engulfing itself in the air, making most customers give in to temptation and order more than just coffee. Aqua left to place the order moments ago, so you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, trying to silence the loud cries of a four year old sitting across the window in your mind. The light on top of your table leaves a warm aura on your head ever few seconds, and soon, when you see a shadow loom over you, and it’s smell was riddled with smoke, your posture stiffens as you realize it’s not Aqua. you look up, seeing a guy around your own age, dressed in a leather jacket with tattoos riddled on him. not a good sign- but they did say to never judge a book by it’s cover. Though..that snarky smirk on his face, added in with the glint of pride in his black eyes gives you the sudden urge to run and avoid. But, you stay still, and when you see he hasn’t spoken yet, but keeps staring at you, you clear your throat and put your phone down. “uh…may I help you?”

His nose scrunched up, his smirk becoming a grin. You want to die. “ what’s a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?”

You hold back your scowl. Best not to evoke rage in this guy. “ I’m not alone.” You say it clearly. “ I’m actually with a friend right now. he just went to order.” You hoped he’d get the message.

He raises a brow, as if he was challenged to a brawl by a wimpy brave kid thinking they could defeat him. his whole posture screams cocky bastard as he leans a bit down to your level.

“you mean that celebrity blonde over there?” he points to Aqua, whom was waiting in line. he then scoffed. “ what are you doing dating an attention-seeker like him? did you want something exciting to happen?” don’t punch him don’t punch him don’t punch him-

You hold back the urge to pull on his black hair and shove him to the ground. Though, you do give him a disgusted glare. One which he gave an amused one back.

“what? Did I hit it right on the nail?” quite the opposite, actually. This fucker really doesn’t know what he's talking about, and it’s obvious that he’s just trying to cause a scene just to prove something to those friends of his outside the café. You wonder why no security guard has approached them yet. By now, you’re glancing around the crowd hoping for an employee to see your obvious discomfort and usher him out. however, a part of you fears that that’s exactly what he’d want. An attention seeker at heart, he seems like.

Seeing as you gave no response, he continued. “ if you want excitement so much, why not ride along with me and my friends?—“

“—and you are?” the sudden calm voice of Aqua brings relief into your heart. Your head quickly snaps back to him, seeing that he looks rather irritated- annoyed even, by the sudden man’s interruption in your hang out. he gives you a small glance of concern, then his face shifts to one of annoyance once more when he looks back at the guy whose only inches away from you and very visibly making you feel uncomfortable.

“I’m the better guy for them.” You couldn’t hold back your snort.

“I don’t even know you.” you managed to bring up through your laugh. Though- the laughter was more out of stress than amusement. It was a strange amalgamation of both of those feelings.

Aqua takes one more glance at you, his eyebrows furrowed deeper. “ look, you’re making my friend uncomfortable. I suggest you leave before I ask an employee to call security on you.”

The guy seemed to want to quarrel more, to show his ‘superiority’ in some way, but thankfully, the manager quickly came into the picture and asked for the guy to leave. He did, though not without sending a few death glares to Aqua and the people who were ogling at him. when Aqua finally sat down, and the chatters of the people around you started again, you found yourself smiling.

“are you okay?” Aqua asked, his eyes quickly scanning to see if you’re still uncomfortable or maybe even hurt. Only to be left confused when he saw the small smile that was on your face. “seriously, are you okay? Are you having a stroke?”

You felt a giggle bubble up in your chest. “I’m fine.” You grinned. “I’m fine, because you’re here.”

Aqua froze, looking down at the table.it is here you come to the conclusion that Aqua often avoids your gaze when you flirt, as if he’s trying to hide the windows to his soul, to what he’s feeling from your actions and words.

“….you really need to stop saying those cheesy pick-up lines.”

“but you seem to like them!”

“on the contrary, I don’t.” he lied through his teeth, and for an actor, his performance on this was very lackluster. his actions made you feel like a winner.

“for an actor, you sure are a horrible liar.”

He says nothing, and you remain victorious.

-----

With the sky almost pitch black, and the sun no where to be seen, the carnival booths were one of the only light sources through your walk. In the amidst of the loud, shining and overbearing colors of knick knacks and toys between the booths, a certain plushy catches your eye.

“oh my god- there’s no way-“ you couldn’t believe it for a moment, and you didn’t notice the confused look Aqua sent you as you speed-walked to a small booth full of plushies, Through al the teddy bears, fluffy bunnies and kuromi merchandises, there was a small, adorable little Kaito from Vocaloid plushies that absolutely charmed you. it was a mad hatter themed one, all from the iconic hat to the purple-ish zany suit. You see no game set up, which made you conclude that this is just a shop set up through all the booths. A place for anyone to buy a plushie if they just didn’t win anything.

“do you want it?” Aqua’s voice startled you. you looked back at him, glanced back at the beckoning adorable dopey face of Kaito and then gave a look at the price- shit- that’s a lot of money for just one plushie- and then it hit you- this was a limited time one, so with so many small amounts around with this high quality, the price is set high. Dejected, you just shrugged. “I mean- I find it adorable…”

You look at the price again and wince. “…but no I don’t want it that much. "that's a lie. You’d fucking sell your soul for it. “it’s getting late, we should go home.”

Aqua stays silent. You walk a few steps before you notice that he’s not following you. looking back, you see him staring at the plushie for a second too long- then walking right towards you. silence takes over the walk back home, and though it was a comforting one, you didn’t want the hang out to end without you thanking him. yet your words came to a halt as you heard a ‘CLANG!!!’ only a few feet away from you. both of your movements came to a halt, quickly locating where the sound has come from, and seeing a group of teenagers, all dressed in leather jackets, fight off in the dead of night.

“oh shit.” Was your first response, seeing some blonde beat the shit out of a brunette kid. “are they like- a gang?—” you look at it with more curiosity, your eyes widened as you saw a familiar bastard getting his guts punched. “—that’s the guy from the café!”

No response. in a fearful instinct, you quickly shift your head to see if Aqua is even here or not. Much to your relief, he was, yet, there was something different about him. he no longer looked calm, or perplexed as he often does. Rather, his pupils were blown wide, and the white shiny star you saw the whole evening was gone once more. His posture seemed tense- shaking a bit even. He looks at something across the road, and he finally speaks.

“there are multiple bikes over there there. it must be theirs.” Oh, so they’re a bike gang. You wanted to take a glance at the bikes too- yet the sudden shout of pain from the brutal fight stole your attention. You could see specks of blood now. You gulped.

“should we call—“ a sudden strong grip takes your wrist. You flinched, looking at the perpetrator being an extremely different Aqua from who you’ve shared cotton candy with only hours ago. He looks at you with furrowed brows, and eyes you could only describe as vicious. As if he was ready to pounce on someone and rip them apart. You feel your breath shorten a bit, an uncomfortable weight set on your shoulders, and your wrist going red from the sheer grip he has on it, like handcuffs made of the heaviest metal.

“Y/n,” your name comes out of his mouth like a threat, his tone like a demand. “ we have to go. Now.” He doesn’t even let you reply. Doesn’t even let you take one more pause before leaving. He drags you away to an alleyway, empty and much more horrifying than the gang fight you just witnessed. You try to keep your cool, though your heart is beating up a storm and your mind is screaming for you to escape. Aqua Hoshino looks different. He feels different. His grip, with the gentle palm of his, feels like death itself. You could see your wrist bruising, and could feel your eyes tearing up. his eyes are cold. In the past, they’ve merely looked dead. As if he was repressing everything he felt. But it’s not the same here, rather, his feelings here are as clear as day, the feelings of malice and distrust, dark thoughts that you can’t guess the concept of. You feel sick, and you’re not sure why. It’s still Aqua- right? He's just being paranoid…right? why does this feel awfully familiar? Why does his footsteps give you a sense of déjà vu?

You didn’t like that thought. Hell, you didn’t like thinking about anything right now. You gulped, hoping it would dim down your fear, yet it only increased it.

“Aqua.” your voice shakes a bit and you hiss. “Aqua—I think we’re far enough now-“

Nothing. No answer, not even a hum like always. The only thing you get is mutters too whispered for you to comprehend it's words. Which only fueled more of your fear. “Aqua please—“ you try to stop your legs from moving, yet he dragged your wrist, making you yelp from the sudden pain. “fucking hell Aqua—“

“Aqua!” you put all your strength to come to a halt, and you try shake your wrist away from his grip. Fear takes over your mind when you find no escape from it.

He seems to be in a trance, too in his own mind to even hear your pleads. You felt like you lost- and when he tries to drag you to walk faster- the grip practically ripping your wrist apart- you couldn't help but scream.

“Stop it! “

All walking and scraping comes to a halt. Your wrist is freed, and you give a cry of relief as you pull your hand close and rub the newly purple bruise. You find yourself gasping for air- as if you've been holding back breaths this entire time, and the drums of your heart is so loud, you didn’t realize you were practically shaking from fear. You think for a moment- desperately trying to process what the ever loading fuck has just happened moments prior. And the throbbing pain from your wrist wasn't helping.

You hear a shift- a scrape on the pavement and look up to see Aqua.

His breathing has become ragged, his form shaken up. as if he has witnessed a scene from his nightmares, his eyes are widened and lost. His mouth is shaking, as if he’s desperately trying to form words, yet his mind was so muddled, he couldn’t even bring his voice out. he looks at you with such immense guilt, glances at his own palms with such horror. You almost forget the horrid pain in your wrists. Almost.

“…what the fuck was that?!” your voice shakes. You wanted to kick something- wanted to lay down somewhere and sob- you wanted to punch him in the gut- fucking hell. “what the fuck was that?” you didn’t mean to repeat the question, but your feelings were so out of spiral, your heart couldn’t help it.

Aqua shakes even more.

“Shit.” Aqua Hoshino, kindest guy you’ve known up until now, swears. ”Shit!” he repeats in a cry. He reels in a breath, but he still shakes. he brings him palms up to his face, trying to hide his broken down expression. But, no amount of palms can hide the glossy tears that you see slipping down the pavement.

Shit.

Your mind is in complete and utter chaos now. You’re so confused, yet you don’t even want answers anymore, in fear of what they could even be. You don’t say anything. You can’t bring yourself to. all you can do is watch as the ever-so-calm and poised Aquamarine Hoshino breaks down. You wonder if you should comfort him. your wrist flashes a screaming pain in protest. You purse your lips and hold back a grunt.

“I’m sosorry- I-I didn’t mean to,” his hands come down from his face, revealing to you the absolute sheer panic he’s in. eyes like needles- with his starry on pupil darker and smaller than it ever was. Wrinkles all etched up on his nose with brows furrowed in shame. “Fuck, I'm sorry. I-I messed up.” this was so insane. This was too weird. Too out of character for him. never in your life have you heard this man stutter, or even have such a shaky and broken voice. In a second, your mind wonders if this is all some weird dream. Despite that thought, the cool air of fall shivers down your spine and devastatingly reminds you that this, in fact, is reality. Aqua just bruised your wrist and now is breaking down at the back of an alleyway.

He takes a step close to you. his breathing hitches when you take a step back. he looks at you as if you're the one who hurt him, as if this is more painful to him than it was to you. “Y/n,” your name comes out so softly now. Barely even a whisper. A complete contrast to the brutal one from before. It’s like he has two sides- it’s as if he has a bottle full of emotions he kept shut tight, and now one by one, they’re all spilling out with no stop. “I’m— I’m so sorry,” he repeats through tears. ”I didn’t mean to..!” he hiccupped. He hiccupped. “ I just—….I thought—“ he breaks down again. Exhaustion takes over your mind. You conclude that for tonight, he is obviously not ready to express anything. His mind is warped up with thoughts- memories and ideas that you wish you could see for yourself.so, you do what he has done for you. you walk up to him. your frown was shrouded in disappointment, of a ruined night and a bruising pain, yet your eyes were full of sympathy. You know this was hard for him. apart of you, the softest part of you, knew he didn’t mean to hurt you. though your wrist and mind were practically begging you to quickly leave him, you listened to your heart, like you’ve always had. You bring your hands up to his teary face, and clean the droplets away. he stays still in shock, then fully leans into your touch. He keeps crying, and soon notices the bruise on your wrist, on the very palm he's leaning in. you don't know how, or even why, but he, as gentle as ever, takes your hand by the fingertips, and pulls your hands a bit up, then, gently gives kisses to your bruised wrists as he repeats ‘sorry’.

You, really, really don’t know what to say. You can’t even comprehend if you’re horrified or flustered. Your crush is kissing your wrists, it should be a rejuvenating moment- yet it’s the very wrist he bruised up, the very wrist he kept dragging as if there was a bomb behind you. you merely hitch a breath, letting him do what he can in the disarray he's in. this is all just confusing to him, you try to reason. He’s never had such waves of emotions go through him before, he’s not thinking straight. That’s all.

No matter how much you try to excuse, try to reason or try to process even the smallest second of this strange situation, there’s the inkling of doubt slowly becoming deeper.

You let him sob, and you let him affectionately kiss your wrist better, but you can’t bring yourself to be lovestruck by this. Something feels wrong. Something feels hidden. You want to think deeper about it- but god damn it- the soft kisses are so distracting. They’re so enchanting- he looks straight out of a romance manga. And the soft touches is slowly making you forget the hellish grip he had on you- the strength he secretly bares.

-----

You didn’t really talk to Aqua after this.

Sure, he walked you into the apartment and you bid goodbyes. But that was it. no text, no see you, no nothing. You couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him anymore, afraid you’ll see another Aqua again. Someone different from the real Aqua you knew, and the stoic one you’ve come to see when he's with others. you fear you’ll see the dead Aqua. the vicious one who frets over your safety as if you’re a delicate glass. You've come to wish you’d never see that dead set eyes of his again. You can’t think much about what has conspired. Your mind pretty much blocked out everything, and urged you to just close your bedroom door shut and sink deeper into your bed.

Though, Aqua did try to speak. He did try to text, to call, hell even knocked on your door and asked if he could come in. but you never texted back, never accepted the call nor let him in. you didn’t want to see him, unsure of how much you can handle looking at his eyes without remembering the wincing pain or the hot tears that were on your fingertips. You didn’t process it yet, didn’t give yourself the time to pause and think. Only distracted yourself with the song he urged you to work on. you felt a bit confident for what you've done, realizing you did have some sort of power in your strange relationship, that you’re not completely helpless and prone to get hurt in his very in need of therapy tantrums- but on the other hand- you felt like a completely monster. You let this man show his most vulnerable sides to you, you let him cry on your shoulder, as he let you. but now you’re shutting off all contact with him? you sound like a wacked witch who basks in everyone else's despair. Who only used Aqua for their own ends. You couldn’t handle the guilt, and so you didn’t think about his constant offers to talk to you either- you just worked, slept, ate, and went through it all over again. Only opening your doors at the latest of nights, the girls rarely even saw you come out of your room. Ruby and Memcho took it as you probably having a squabble with Aqua, but Arima, the ever so intelligent and observant, seemed to notice something deeper than that.

Anytime Aqua knocked on your door, it was quickly replaced with Kana confronting him on what happened. She doesn't have that shy tone she always did when around Aqua, and you were almost certain that she didn’t have that soft gaze either. Not with how loud and accusing her voice is through the door. She keeps demanding for an answer, constantly blocking the oath between your door and him, telling him to either explain the situation or stop forcing you to let him in. Aqua always answered the same, he’s not sure if you’re comfortable with everyone knowing, so he won’t share anything either.

You banged your head on your pillow and screamed into it with full rage.

Multiple problems, zero solutions and endless self-hatred. This was becoming unbearable. Not even your most favored hobby, the very thing you made a career out of, is helping you cope through this. Your favorite movies have become dull distasteful garbage you don’t want to see ever again. Your skills have become an amateur's- a complete parody of the song you intended to write. You feel immensely empty, and the constant sleeping has made your head feel heavy, and even sleepier than before.

You really need to talk to Aqua.

But you don't want to talk to Aqua.

But you miss him

But you're scared of him.

You scream into your pillow again.

You can’t get the scene out of your head- the crying, the kisses, the bloody gang fight happening a few feet away- though some dialogue feels blurry, every face of anguish Aqua had is in highest quality in your head.

You can’t even upload the song you were working on anymore- you realized how the tone keeps shifting- from solemn quiet to a hyper song- then quickly into one of jumbled chaos- the lyrics re in no good shape either. They look like lyrics from different song genres all copy and pasted into one draft. You can’t even comprehend what you were trying to write here. A dreadful, slow knock echoes through your door. You don’t have to think twice to know who it was.

“…Y/n, I know you’re mad at me. and I don’t blame you.” his tone made your gut churn in grief. You couldn’t think straight anymore- what were you supposed to do? you still haven’t decided on a thing. You don’t know if you should forgive him, or be the one who asks for it. you wait for him to talk more, count the seconds before Arima barges in the halls and demands Aqua for at least a small clue on what happened. But nothing came. Not even a noise, nor a muttered chatter. The only thing you hear was a sigh, and small shuffling on the ground. After, it was footsteps, each one quieter than the last.

You see a small shadow still looming over the creeks of your door. You try to dig up a few memories- a few personality traits of Aqua’s to guess what it could be behind that door, and if it's worth opening the door for. Your heart stops in a moment of realization, the shadow of a top hat making your frown deepen, and your stomach drop in more pounds of nausea and pity. You wish you could throw up, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You’re ever-so confused, and when you open the door and see the small little Kaito plushie you could feel your eyes water up a bit.

“goddamn it Aqua.” you muttered. Upon inspecting it more, you see a little note inside his pocket, one you don’t remember being there at all. you take it out, fix up the crumble and take a deep breath when you see the words written within it.

Fuck it. you made up your mind. You heard the gate door below you being closed, so with a panic, you rush out of the house, ignoring every confused grunt and question thrown at you by the idols. You put your shoes on as if they’re sandals, you don’t wait for the elevator, and rather run down the stairs as if it were a slide. You hurriedly open the gate door and shut it with a bang.

“AQUA! WAIT!”

the figure merely a few feet away from you stood there frozen. Just like the night before.

Drip drip

Cold little specks of water startled you both. You glance up, realizing the grey mood the sky has been in as well. drip drip, it came down like a song. A beat that soon turned into a melody, small little taps becoming loud serenades and soaking you both.

Aqua turns around to look back at you, but his gaze never meets your eyes. “ we should go back in- we can talk there!” he shouted, walking up to you. “ you’re going to get a cold with the clothes you’re wearing.”

Huh? What's the problem with your- oh, right. one look down and you can see your shirt was completely drenched, and your pants were not warm enough either. A shiver ran down, the cold water now sinking into your body.

“No. we can’t.” yet, you deny it. you stop him from going farther away from you and closer to the entrance. You make him look right into your eyes. “we can’t talk there. it’ll be awkward with the team around.”

“you’d rather stay out in the rain with your pajamas rather than facing some small embarrassing tension?”

“yes.”

He gave a huff, a small laugh that eased a small bit of tension that was between you two. But the amusement died down quicker than a flash, and you were both just staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

With the rain acting as your white noise, you collected your thoughts and spoke. “Aqua— I’m so sorry-“ your voice breaks. “you- you had a breakdown right in front of me and I just- I just closed the door at you. I’m so sorry.” you don’t let him cut you off, you grab him by the shoulders, urging him to stay quiet and just listen. “ I got scared, because I didn’t know what to do. I-I got stuck- I kept thinking that whatever I do, it won’t be enough. It won’t help you properly. And I wasn’t sure if I was mad at you for the bruise or-“ Aqua’s face flinched to a pained one from that sentence. “ –I was mad at myself for not saying anything when we got back to the apartment. You don’t have to apologize for the bruise. You..uh..you already did do that right after…so..”

You awaited his response. awaited the insulting words or disappointed tone you’ll get for the cruelty you’ve done to him. but that didn’t come. “Y/n,” how does he always charm you with that soft voice of his? How has he never considered becoming an Idol? For the first time in days, he gazes right into your eyes, making your heart beat quicken. Shining so bright, and so full of sorrow and guilt, his expression was not like one of a prince, nor a bad boy. But a human’s. this was the real Aqua Hoshino speaking to you. with the crinkled up muscles on top of his nose, the mouth with a frown one wouldn’t see on a hot guy’s face in a romcom, and a voice unable to be recorded in studios. “why are you the one apologizing?” he almost laugh, it comes out as a scoff. “ I thought you were going to tell me to never see you again- I-…“ he got quiet, ad just like that night, his thoughts seemed to be quicker than his voice. Quicker than the words that were trying to come out from his mouth. “…I though you were just ghosting me because you were mad at me- yet here you were thinking you’re the one who should apologize?” you can’t describe his expression. it looked like one of lovestruck and guilt, of amazement and amusement, sorrow and sarcasm. “ why are you apologizing? I’m the one who ruined the night.” He sighs, one that comes out like a puff of cloud in the cold rain. “ I don’t know what happened that night. I don’t know why I just-…I....just-…”

“blew up?”

He winced. “yeah, blew up.” he repeated, confirming it to himself.

“Well…” you take his hand in yours, hoping it would provide comfort in the truth bullets you’ll shoot. “Maybe…it’s because you keep constantly bottling up your emotions- and you’ve been doing it for a very long time- and that night when everything was quite overwhelming- your mental stability kinda..couldn’t..handle it anymore?”

He looks at you with horror, as if you’ve just uncovered a murderous secret. A quiet moment passes, and you hope you hadn’t misread and offended him- Aqua chuckled.

“ it’s..really funny.” You looked at him confused, unsure of what that comment even meant. “I mean, scary how you can read people so well..yet you thought I was going to hate you from now on.” you started getting flustered, yet he continued. “ I don’t think I’d ever hate you.” it’s as if a switched has flipped within him- a switch that always clicks to the other side when he's with you. it’s out of his control. His feelings for you is too much for him to handle and organize, and bottle up with the others. it always bursts out, and with it, other feelings stick to them like glue to get out too. “ every time I’m with you..I feel comfortable. I feel happy. I feel like I can be myself for once.” He’s looking at you, however, his mind seemed to be somewhere else. Somewhere deep within his heart, trying to articulate and put his feelings to words. “ that night…I got scared. I kept thinking that those guys were going to hurt you…or that-“ something in his eyes shift. “maybe they were the stalker. I didn’t want them to hurt you and I didn’t want you to get scared..but in the end,” his eyebrows scrunch up in hate. “I ended up ruining the night all by myself.”

“well- I wouldn't say you ruined the whole night…”

“please don’t lie.” He grumbled.

“I’m not lying! I still had a lot of fun.” You squeeze his hand, a sign of reassurance. “ those moments I had with you at the amusement park? Better than any birthday I ever had. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

He’s quiet for a moment, squeezing your intertwined hand multiple times like a heartbeat. “me neither.”

You dare to inch a little closer, look at his eyes a bit deeper, get lost in it’s blinding blue. The blue never reminded you of the sea nor the sky. With the very star laid in it’s right iris, it rather reminded you of a galaxy. An infinite space of beauty. Despite the rain being a nuisance on various aspects- you will thank it for one thing- the dampness that Aqua’s hair has faced- the way the strands stick close and an inch away from his eyes, how they fit perfectly with the stage right inside his starry pupil, it makes him look perfect. It reminds you that Aqua is a real person, not an ice prince, or a robot who would yelp at the sight of rain and malfunction. He's not the Aqua he intends to be, but he is the Aqua you’ve grown to adore…that you've grown to…

“Can I say something crazy?”

“you’re in the rain in your pajamas.” He remarked. “ I think you’ve already reached that level.”

“these are not pajamas, rich boy.” You retorted. “these are casual clothes.”

“I’m not a rich kid.”

“your mom owns an entire agency-“

“well-“

“you’re an actor.”

“not-“

“you have multiple fan clubs dedicated to you, have you seen the accounts that come up in twitter when you search your name?”

“..No,” he smirked. “have you?”

Caught in your argument, you choked on your words. “N-no! of course not!- I’m just very unfortunate enough to have them pop up in my for you page since I follow you.”

“…Y/n.”

“yeah?”

“I don’t have twitter.”

SHIT.

Bamboozled and befuddled, and not to mention, stuck in your own tom-foolery, you couldn’t handle the embarrassment and hid your face in his chest. An action of which he gave a hearty laugh too through the shivering cold.

“I won.” He takes his hands out of yours. Before you could grumble about the lost warmth, he wraps his hands around your waist, bringing you closer.

“no you didn’t.” there was no way you were backing down. “ your sister’s also an idol.so by all means, you’re a full on rich kid.”

“don’t use my skills on me, love.” Love. Oh god, the old-school nickname is making your heart skip a beat.

You don’t say anything back, your tongue twisted in shock. All you could do was look at Aqua in the same lovestruck way he was looking at you.

“So what were you going to say?”

You shrug and roll your eyes, but your excitement is apparent, and you weren't really known to be a good actor. “forget it, the moment’s ruined.”

“I’ll tell everyone else that you secretly follow my fanclub’s page.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“I very much would.”

“fine.” You clicked your tongue, shoulders having a bit shakiness in them as you gaze up right into his eyes, head only mere millimeters away from yours.

“I think I like you.” it comes out in a blur, and you’re left to falter with an explanation. “like….a lot.”

The rain wouldn’t stop. It just grew heavier by the second. you’d think the rain would make you two get shelter at some point, but your bodies didn’t comply to the cold. For you, it was warm enough in his embrace.

“I think I love you.” he mumbles. Your hand gets out of his grasp and lays softly on his cheek. Unsure of what to do other than lean into your palm, Aqua, in a fit of passion, quickly asks-

“can I kiss you?”

In a swift second, you close the gap. His clutch around you tightens a bit in pure giddy, and you wrap your arms around his neck in an instant. Warmth was spread all over your body, his cold lips from the weather were still as soft as a cloud and as sweet as a sugarplum. You could feel him smiling in the kiss. You could feel your body jittering up in happiness as the tip toes of your shoes tap the pavement. The warmth he provided, the love he poured, everything he did and everything he is, you adore. You wish you could say I love you back, but your lips were too preoccupied smiling and giggling between kisses with him. there was no shrilling cold, no tapping rain or soaking shirts. it was just you and Aqua, trying to show your love within every kiss.

-----

“HAHA!” a victorious and ever so notorious laugh comes out of Ruby Hoshino. Meanwhile, a very sad Memcho rummages through her pocket for some money. “ I knew they’d kiss! Woah- they’re- they’re not stopping-“ she looks at the scene almost horrified. “uh…ok no this is gross now.”

“ah let them be, it’s young love, after all.” Memcho put the hundred yen on the counter. Soon though, she hissed at her own words. “god..I sound like a thirty year old wine mom…”

“wait- they kissed?! What the hell?!” Arima Kana has been frantic all week. From her almost-kidnapped- friend looking very worse for wear, to her ex-crush acting much colder than before to anyone else- all while her almost-kidnapped-friend came home late with a bruise on their wrist- she was certain things ended really badly between the two. Disastrously, even. All while the two wouldn’t say a thing to her- especially the almost-kidnapped friend whom finally opened up a bit- and she thought the two of them were now one step-closer to a deeper friendship, a strong bond that will last even after she announces her leave with the B-Komachi team.

“told you they'd kiss.” Ruby said, full of pride. “ I’ve been living with Aqua for years. It was obvious that he’s lovestruck.”

Arima didn’t retort anything back. she only looked down at the giddy composer whose surely about to get a cold in worry. Something was up. something felt wrong. Rather than bearing slight jealousy and an urge to tease the newly couple, she only feels danger. A calm before a storm. Something about the gaze Y/n had when they came home late, the way they didn’t ramble on lovestruck like she thought they would. The way Aqua’s words started feeling empty, and his expressions becoming fake. Being an actor has a sort of kinship, a sort of understanding between the community. You can easily decipher when someone’s lying, and can easily understand when a fellow co-worker is acting.

At first, she thought that Aqua was simply acting like a charmer just to make you stick to the team like glue. Quite scummy if you ask her, and admittedly, a very Aqua Hoshino-thing to do. yet, there is something different in the way he acts around you. it’s…a different method. He’s not pulling out words and feelings that are in truth, empty promises and white lies. Rather, he’s hiding a deeper agenda. A deeper agenda she can’t understand. What’s even worse is how happy he looks underneath the rain with you. truly happy. As if there was no lying to begin with, merely a boy trying to act ‘cool’ in front of his school crush.

But something felt wrong.

She cannot point fingers, and she cannot blame anything. But she knows deep in her gut that something is awfully fishy about this. Something feels planned, fabricated. The stalker, the gang fight, the plushie with a note right on your door, it all felt too romantic to be true. Too thought-out. if she were in Aqua’s position, if she were to take on the role of Aquamarine Hoshino in a play, when her beloved would be threatened by a kidnapping or death, wouldn’t she do the Aqua-centric action, and become overly-protective? Wouldn’t she try to live with the group, or give daily visits just to check on her crush, rather than visit every week-end and make them crave her presence? She would’ve quickly gotten her nose deep into the stalker case, and find every strand of hair and fingerprint she could of the culprit, not nonchalantly tell the beloved to go outside with her tonight, on a very busy day, with all kinds of people, and then have the bad-luck get stuck in a gang-fight.

Aqua is hiding something, Aqua isn’t acting like the Aqua she knows, the Aqua she observed and studied for a time. The deeply kind and protective teen who acts like a cold prince with a warm heart. What she fears most, what she hopes isn’t the slightest bit true, is that all of this was intentional.

She frowns. Memcho thinks it’s because she’s tremendously jealous, Ruby thinks it’s because she’s doesn’t have that much luck with boys. But the truth is, she’s just worried for her friend.

She hopes her worries are just for naught.

----

Morning cuddles, pecks on the forehead and ice cream on a winter night. That is how you’d describe what being Aqua’s lover feels like.

Though Arima was highly opposed to him starting to live in the apartment with you all, you still convince him to stay longer than intended, wait for the rain to stop or the bustling streets to get a little less crowdy and oh- would you look at that! It’s midnight! Surely, you can’t go out right now, can you? oh well, sorry Kana. He has to stay for the night. Whoops.

Aqua cuddles with you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. his grip on you is comfortably tight, as if he’s pleading for you to not leave the bed before he wakes up. he’ll never admit this, of course. He’d only excuse it and just say he must’ve had a bad dream, or maybe he wasn’t really acting in a conscious matter. The blush on his face always debunk such excuses.

What you like most about such mornings, is how messy Aqua looks with his bed hair. Strands of blonde tosseled around and tangled in different knots, it takes all of your self-control to not run your hand through them and give him soft pecks to wake him up. you knew he had work today, he needs all the sleep he can get.

Aqua grumbles in his sleep, his voice gruffier than usual. He delves deeper into the blankets, finding solace in the crook of your neck. An action that made you hold back a shocked yelp.

If Aqua was the one laying beside you all the time, you wouldn’t ever try to avoid sleeping. With him, you feel fuzzy, his presence is one of a gentle spring warmth, calming and never harsh on your skin like summers’ warmth is. You feel safe around him, you feel at peace. He seems to understand you so well, you can’t help but just be yourself around him and not feel as if you need to be polite or responsible in a situation. You only wish he feels the same way around you.

With how peacefully he sleeps on your bed, how easily he banters with you or whines and complains about a task he must do, you can proudly (and reassuringly to yourself) say that he is. There’s an understanding between you two, a mutual love and respect for who you are. No one knows that Aqua secretly loves much older games like Sonic the Hedgehog, the very first one- or how he doesn’t understand certain memes and gen Z humor, but he’s too afraid to ask someone about it due to not wanting to be called a ‘boomer’. But you know that. You are the one he confides in about such things. Something about that makes your heart swell in pride.

Sure, not everything was completely perfect. There are times where Aqua’s actions seem more possessive than they are worried. These days, after months of no intel on the stalker situation, you slowly tried to socialize again and meet=up with some old friends. It was both for hanging out and for tutoring sessions, since you’ve been falling behind a little from your studies. When telling Aqua, something in his posture shifted, his eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit as he listened intently on what you have to say.

He interrogated you as if you were a suspect in a murder case. questions about where you were going, what time and what place, and strangest of all, who will be there and who has ha d a as crush on you. you didn’t understand why he was so serious about this, but you figured it was perhaps because he was still iffy about the stalker business, and since he doesn’t know these people he's unsure if he can trust them or not. However, you told him, you know them, and you’re certain none of them would be the stalker, just as you are certain he wasn’t the stalker, either. Therefore, there is no need to worry about that.

Aqua didn’t say anything back. once again, your gut begged you to rethink things over, but you’re so happy, you’re so content, there was no way you’d let this overthinking gimmick ruin your moments with Aqua, so you set them aside, like you have been for the past months.

Besides, it’s impossible for him to be the stalker. He was the one who saved you from the culprit. He was a witness rather than a suspect. A vicitm, even. If there’s anyone you should be suspicious of, Aqua is far from it.

You quickly grumble, hiding your face into Aqua’s shoulders. No no no- do not overthink this. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You’re fine. You’re happy.

There’s no need to worry anymore.

You hear a loud serenades of bang and chatter happening outside of your door, then it hits you. today was your turn to make breakfast. If you don’t get up now, you’ll be facing an extremely hungry pair of stars and a harsh scolding from their kindhearted yet strong-faced leader. The temptation of staying in bed and given proper warmth and love by Aqua was immense, but you had a responsibility. With a sigh, you let your body bid goodbye to the fluffy bed, all while giving Aqua small little pecks on his face, a common action you both do when the other needs to leave.

“H-Oomph!”

You try to scooch up, to finally leave the bed and answer to the hungry cries of the idols, yet a pair of arms drags you down again. Aqua brings you closer than ever, giving a peck on your forehead.

“Aqua,” your sleepy voice gives you a drawl. You try to clear your throat before you speak again. “ Ruby’s going to kill you and me if you don’t let me make pancakes.”

Aqua’s first response was to grumble. “she’s sixteen. She can handle making pancakes on her own.” You rolled your eyes, yet gave in and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

“but it’s my turn.” You still argued, even though the drowsiness was making your head slowly lull into a deep sleep. “ and you don’t like the way she makes it.”

Aqua’s face scrunches up. “what made you think I’m going to eat her cavity-filled monstrosity of a pancake?” he huffed. “ I’ll just make us breakfast. Five more minutes, ok?”

“but- it’s my turn. Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair that you have to do it?”

He gives you a glance. “do you wanna do it?”

“obviously not.”

He looks at you dumbfounded. “then why are you insisting on this?”

“because it’s unfair if I make you do it when it’s my turn.” You whined, the guilt and procrastinator sides of you now at war.

You hear Aqua chuckle, making you look up and meet his soft gaze. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s normal for me to make breakfast for you.”

Your eyes squint. “ stop trying to rizz me up, Hoshino. We’re already dating.”

Aqua snorts, shifting a bit and poking your cheek. “I’m not ‘rizzing you up’” he repeats like an old man. As if he’s a grandfather desperately trying to fit in with the teens. “I’m just doing what I love.”

You tilt your head. “cooking?”

“no.” he snickered. “spending time with you.”

“oh my god. You’re doing it again. Stop it.” despite your words, your heart was hammering in your chest. “I’ve been your partner for two months, pretty boy. “

“why can’t you just accept that I love doing things for you?”

“because I want to do things for you too.”

“you being here with me is enough.”

“why must you sound exactly like the sappy fanfics they write about you?”

“Oh, so you read them?”

You fall silent. Aqua chortles a laugh, slowly sliding out of the bed.

“don’t worry, I’m actually quite flattered.”

“shut upppp.” You groaned into the pillow. Now only wanting to rot and cease to exist. The embarrassment is unbearable, yet Aqua still gazes at you with adoration. He takes a breath, and soon his lovestruck faces turns into one of annoyance, the smell of syrup filled pancakes invading his nostrils.

“let’s go cook together then, before Ruby gives us all diabetes.”

---

“are you sure everything is fine?”

It was the hundredth time she was asking you this. The hundredth, in merely this week. If you had to count in the other occasions she’s done this, it’d be up to millions.

“Kana, listen-“ you stop your tracks, your school bag feeling heavy from all the piles of homework and worksheets given to you due to your constant absence from class in the past months. “ I appreciate your concern, I really do- but seriously, everything is going great with Aqua. “ you figured she might be the most frazzled from your relationship, since she was the one most concerned for you after the carnival fiasco. “ frankly, it never could’ve been better.”

Kana’s expression falters. Switching between you and your now healed wrist. She stays silent in the rest of your walk, but her stare is relentless. You try to ignore it, especially when you see Aqua in the distance, whom had to leave school early for work, and now was here with a bag of groceries to pick you both up. Ruby got a bad cold from the sudden shift in summer to fall weather, and Memcho was in home streaming a new game that just dropped. you see Aqua waving at you, so you hurry your steps so you could reach and tackle him into a hug, yet a hold on your wrist stops you, immediately giving you bitter flashbacks. Yet, the grip, is much softer, less violent than what you remember. Her hands are smoother, and her eyes are filled with much more concern. Aqua’s stare, on that bitter night, seemed more like bloodlust than anything. Seemed like he was holding back, like he was on the brink of a violent melt down. Kana’s was different. Much different. It made you stare at her with confused silence, an apprehension evident in your eyes.

“l-listen.” She looks away ashamed, tugging her hair back, an action she often does when she's under pressure. “ I-I know I’m the last person you’d like to hear this from…given my past crush on Aqua…but—“ you wanted to refute that, to assure her that you hold no grudge against her over such a thing- but your mouth stayed closed, memory lane holding you in a vice grip.

“something off. Something’s wrong. Aqua…he’s not acting like himself these days.” Kana stressed. “ I mean- he looks normal yeah- but please, think about it. why on earth would take you to a crowded, loud place after you were almost kidnapped? What’d he do if you suddenly got lost? Or you disappeared? Isn’t it weird for him to pick such a place?” her eyes suddenly widened. “a-and think about what you told me! about the stalker being a part of the staff, remember? I think you’re right, Y/n. you were absolutely right about that. And I think Aqua knows this too- but-“

-“you guys ok?”

Kana flinches, her face is by all means horrified, as is she’s seen a ghost. She quickly let’s go of your hand, and her expression shifts from horror to dismissive and bossy, a casual look for Aqua to receive from her.

Despite her face screaming horror merely a few moments ago, her voice is as relaxed as ever. “ Hm? What, can’t let us have a girl talk now?” she grumbles, starting to walk away and giving a light punch on Aqua’s shoulder. “ learn to be patient, Hoshino!”

Aqua mumbles an apology, even if it was obvious from his tone that he wasn’t much sincere about it. he doesn’t follow her, and you don’t either, too caught up with a doubtful heart and a mess of a mind. The whole atmosphere shifted too quicky- far too quickly for your mind to process and for your heart to feel. It’s like you’ve blinked once, a storm appeared and then when you blinked twice, it was the same sunny and rogue fall.

“hey, you ok?” Aqua’s voice barely registers in your head. Concerned, he places a hand on your shoulder, one which you flinch at, and he quickly disregards it. his slightly hurt stare breaks your heart.

“ah, sorry— Kana uh…she…” your bag suddenly felt heavy. Aqua’s blue eyes didn’t shine with the brilliance you’ve once perceived, rather, it seemed to be prying, looking deep inside your soul for any sort of suspicious activity. You gulped. “ um- she just told me some jerk in my class secretly liked me.” you try to laugh it off, try to act like it’s the truth. But you’ve never been the best actor, Aqua knows that very well.

“oh? alright then.” His voice reeks of layers. The relaxed tone is but a cover-up for something else entirely. Something you’re completely unsure of, and now, with the horrifying small dots clicking together one by one, something you’re completely and utterly horrified of.

‘but it can’t be true.’ Your heart reasoned. ‘at least, not entirely true. He may have have just wanted what’s best for you mentally. And he knew a sociable place was best!! Yeah…yeah. He knew. He was careful. He…he should’ve been careful. He is careful. He wouldn’t have taken you there in the first place if he wasn't certain nothing would happen.’ You listened, you listened wholeheartedly and calmed your own queries and worries. You look at Aqua apologetically, grabbing his hand and urging him to forget it and walk back home.

“you sure she hasn’t said anything…weird?”

Aqua’s hand squeezes yours, he’s waiting for reassurance.

“ No, she’s just worried for me, that’s all.” you squeezed back.

For whatever reason, the grip Aqua had on your hand felt a bit more tight after those words.

-----

Darkly lit room has become your norm for the night. Your eyes were too bothered by the laptop’s luminescent light to handle the lamps’ and your hands were too fixated on clicking away to even bother thinking about flipping a light switch.

The tune in your ears have become a bit repetitive, the song was almost near finish. Only a few more things, a few more polish, and you were set to publish. However, something was holding you back.

Art, in any form it is, always, in whatever ways, hurts the artist. By all means, any form of art is a fucking pain to perfect. Normal people often believe that the talent of ‘creation’ is gifted to people, handed on a silver platter with no hard-work whatsoever. Just like intelligence. Unfortunately or not, that is not the case. Even Da Vinci had his bad art days, even he started out bad, barely able to sketch anything but a stick figure. Art is like a sport. You must train it, understand it and fathom it to get to where you want to be. You must trip and fall and bleed till you ache, you must lose a few tournaments, all to reach the goal of satisfaction, the goal of improvement. One must truly love art if they want to continue it. it is why so many people find their skills being called ‘natural talent’ so offensive. There is no such thing as natural talent. There is only love in what one does, and that love is often mistaken for the latter.

There is only one way up in art. Practice. Which, upon first view, it seems quite easy, however, it’s actually, quite frankly, fucking painful.

Which is what leads you to your current dilemma. The common ‘is this good enough? Am I good enough? Is my entire being even worthy of life?’ thought coursing through your very bones and blood like a marching band. You hate what you’re listening to, but you cannot bring yourself to delete. You’ve spent too much on this, your mind will start sobbing and breaking apart if you think of re-editing even one more line in the second verse. You’re losing your entire mind, and you’re questioning your very skills. Skills that you find to be utter useless flammable garbage. You’d say you want to die, but with what you’re creating, you’re certain that you’re not even worthy of such a sweet release—

“you look like a psychopath.” Aqua quickly takes off your headphones, leaving you to give him an offended look- as if he just insulted your pet and called them ugly. He does not falter. He looks at you with stern. “ if you don’t take a break, I'd have to call the ambulance. C’mon now, get up. “ your tired hands fly up to him for a fight, even if your body is as slow as a zombie’s.”No- Y/n stop trying to steal the headphone from me-“ he lifts his arms up as high as he can, earning a few rambles of ‘no’ from you. “trust me, you need one.”

“no, I need a good song.” Was all your energy-drink fueled mouth could spring out. “ I promised myself to not get up from this seat until I get this over with!”

“you’ve been sitting here for ten hours.”

“just one more.” You plead. “one more hour- hell even just thirty minutes and I promise I’ll go to bed.” You quickly look at yourself in the mirror and scowl. “and take a shower.”

Aqua’s expression reeks of worry, with a tinge bit of disappointment. He glances at the screen, his eyebrows even scrunching up more now. “this looks finished. Why on earth would you need one more hour?”

“how would you know it’s finished?” your tired, exhausted and sleep-needed voice made you sound annoyed, but it was a sincere question, one more laid around curiosity than malice.

“I’ve seen you work before. This format looks similar to your other finished products.” He speaks as if that was normal. As if he didn’t confess to the strangest action.

“hold on—“ even in your tired state, your mind caught on quick. “you watch me while I work?”

“yeah?” he questions, as if you’re the weird one for bringing that up. “always thought you looked cute focused. I couldn’t helped but glance at what you’re working on.”

You couldn’t help the giddiness you felt, the mental pressure to keep up a cool image was long gone with your doziness. Though- it’s never even there to begin with when you’re with Aqua- you feel awfully comfortable with him these days. To the point where you’re fine showing him the awful work state you’re in- with little to nothing attractive about you at the moment.

“god Aqua, you’re weird.” You laughed. “but..it’s a sweet kind of weird- still weird- but you’re the one doing it- so.. it’s..kind of like- since I like you so much, I find it lovely?” you didn’t even know what you were talking about anymore. Exhaustion was getting the best of you for sure. “ like- it’s also so reassuring- I mean-“ god, you really need sleep. Your bed is beckoning you to slumber. “ you always seem so normal and perfect. It’s nice to know even you have some weird qualities.”

“observing the one’s you love is weird?” was of course his question. oh god, you love him so much.

“I mean— in some people’s book, yeah. It’s weird.”

Aqua’s lips falter a bit. “..do you find it weird?”

Your mind, too sleep rendered to process the tonal shift, answers truthfully. “well— I guess for me it depends on the person— like- if it’s some stranger I’d be freaked out. but..it’s you. so, I find it really sweet,actually.”

Aqua’s posture relaxes, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He sighs, one of relief or drowsiness? You’re not sure. All you know is that he keeps gazing at you so softly, you wonder how lucky you’ve gotten at landing such a handsome blondie as your lover. You- the composer who reeks of hamburgers and syrup induced caffeine-

Aqua suddenly laughs. “You’re talking aloud, Y/n.” shit. Well, this is embarrassing. With a groan of shame, you hide your face and cringe, all while Aqua tries to convince you to get up for bed.

You’re unsure of how, your brain’s comprehension of the conversation all muddled, but you get coerced into falling asleep, Aqua’s smooth voice becoming your siren.

----

A café runs through chitter and chatter, the often small town with no crowds have become awfully occupied these past few days, each and every one of the people are classmates you’[ve know for years or people you’ve met in parties and hallways- all huddled up together in a small café known for serving tired and half-dead university students.

After years of ripping your hair out, biting your teeth and hating every second of the subject you had to study, you and your fellow classmates have finally graduate Tokyo Medical School and Dental University- a thing your parents constantly mention in every party they're in- speaking about how it’s always been your dream- even though it wasn’t- actually, it was their dream for you, and you, ever desperate to seek their love and approval, did everything in your power to appease them, all for them to boast about amongst your aunts.

You drink your tea-bag cheap tea, afraid of spending money with the tight budget you’re on. moreover, you never really liked the food quality served here anyway. The cake always seemed a bit too dry, and their milkshakes were always made with no quantity control- each serving becoming either too sweet or too solid to be called a milkshake.

In your haze of thoughts, your fingers tap on the table, your mind hazing to find a nice rhythm to go with the café’s ambiance, a certain song intro for all the slice of life stories that were made here. the song in your mind quickly vanishes with your friends, far away in the other side of the café start calling you to join them for a game of charades- with nothing better to do- and also- out of your own instincts in what you assume is a dream sequence completely out of your control- to real to be a dream- one could say- but it was also too far away from your own reality to be called a memory in your life- you get up from your seat, plastic cup still in hand as you make your way to the group, only to stumble upon a block on your road and fall head-first into the chest of an unknown man and his red sweater- a sweater of which, is now stained by your tea.

“oh shit shit! Shit I’m so sorry! Wait here- I’ll help you dry it-” you quickly grab tissues from the cashier counter and quickly trying to damage control the already ruined sweater, guilt now eating you up from the inside out. “god I’m so sorry- the whole sweater is ruined now-“

“it’s fine-“ the man, whom now you look up to see, is none other than Gorou Amamiya, the top student in your class known for his quiet attitude. “ I hated this sweater anyway.”

You look at him with a rose brow. “ don’t you wear this everyday?”

He gazes away. “it was getting old, wanted to get a new one for a while now.”

“oh- then let me buy one for you! it’s the least I can do-“ your eyes widen up for a moment ands you take off your coat, giving it to a very confused Gorou. “Take this with you too, I heard it’s going to rain soon. This should keep you warm.”

“…thank you.” his voice was toned down, genuine sincerity within it. “ but you really don’t have to. I don’t mind rain.”

“and let the genius in our campus get a cold?” you scoffed. “there’s no way I’m letting that happen.”

“..I’m not a genius.” He looks away embarrassed. “I’m just good at studying.”

“if you were just good at studying, then you wouldn’t have been the top student in our class!” you give him a playful punch in the shoulder. “ stop selling yourself so short, Doctor Amayima.”

He gives an embarrassed scoff, hand going up to his face to hide his bashful smile. “please, just call me Gorou. “

----

You wake up to sniffles in the morning.

It’s small at first, barely even a whisper. Your mind easily disregarded them as a shifting of a bedsheet or shuffle of your kaito plushie. Then, it started getting slightly bit louder. Still, your hazy sleepy brain tried to think nothing of it, but then- it happened- the hiccup- the very same one of that unforgettable night rung through your ears, making your heartbeat peak with panic and your body jolt awake from no alarm beside it.

Your eyes shift in the night, cracks of dawn can barely be seen- but the specks of white on your windowsill assure you that it’s almost morning- and through all the empty cans and bundles of wires sits a sobbing Aqua, a headphone, your headphone, placed on his ears with the light of your laptop shining on them. His eyes, widened up and seeming hurt, were glued to the screen, unwavering in their stare. His brows kept furrowing from one position to another- either shocked or hurt. He looked just like the night you always fear to remember- although there is a stark difference. He looks much softer, his gaze more of a broken boy’s than a protective lover’s. the sligh horrified harshness he had in his eyes were gone here, leaving a gaze full of nostalgia and painful memories in it’s wake.

You shift out of the bed- now slowly awaking your conscious and clearing your throat- slowly trudging towards your boyfriend. You reach out for his shoulder, as gently as you ever could, but he quickly shook franticly and swiftly turned around to meet your gaze, horrified by being caught. “you scared me-“ he quickly muttered. Still overwhelmed, he slowly takes off his headphones and tries to rub the waterworks out of his eyes. He wouldn’t look at you, perhaps still afraid of you seeing him in such vulnerable states, so in a moment of confidence, you takes his hands away from his face and cup his cheek, drying his tears.

“you ok?” was your first question. he took some time analyzing your face before answering.

“…I’m fine.”

“then why were you crying?”

The question could’ve been a harsh slap to the back with how he reacted. It was a question he wasn’t content answering, it seemed. You grew concerned and self-conscious. “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—“

“your song,” he started, mind drifted somewhere else. “ it…well..” often, you wouldn’t see Aqua so lost in what to say. If he had nothing of noteworthy to speak of, he wouldn’t speak at all. but, you’re now well aqquinted with seeing Aqua act differently with you then how he does in the public eye. you wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up this habit from you, even. You wait for his reply as he collects his thoughts and takes a deep breath. “ ..it feels..nostalgic. have you..thought of somewhere-or something specific when writing this song?”

You’re taken aback, considering the question for a few seconds of hums before answering with a shrug. “I don’t know.” you huffed. “ honestly, most of my personal songs are just- thoughts and feelings that have been stuck in my head in a long time.” You give him a smile, your tone getting the slightest bit chipper as you try to ease the mood and distract him from whatever bad thought he has. “often, I get these tunes after a good night’s sleep. It’s like they come to me in dreams. “

To that, Aqua’s prolonged avoidance of eye-contact suddenly breaks. “dreams?” he repeated more to himself than you. “what kind, exactly?”

“Pervert.”

“Wait no I-“ his posture slouched as you snorted. “ you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“you brought this on to yourself!” you jokingly reasoned. “ and for your information- no. it was not a spicy dream.”

“Spicy? You call wet dreams spicy?”

You fall embarrassed. “Well- saying spicy makes it funnier!” you reasoned.

“ you’re embarrassed of saying wet dreams, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“then say it.”

“….”

This time, it was Aqua’s turn to snicker. To be amused thoroughly and hopefully enough- forget about his breakdown for a moment and calm his worries.

“how do you always leave me so tongue tied?” with crossed arms, you tried to change the subject.

“you’re easy to provoke, you always feel embarrassed over the littlest things.”

“not true.”

He gives you a doubtful stare, you scoff and falter.

“okay, maybe it’s slightly true. But you’re overexaggerating it.”

“you’re too insecure for your own good.” He speaks like a disappointed mentor, giving a glance at the monitor before looking back at you again.

“ well, the insecurity is what helps me succeed.”

He frowned, a posture of his shifting from the few moments of relaxation to one of slight frustration. “ or perhaps, it’s what’s holding you back all the time.”

“okay, first of all, ouch.” You sit down on the bed, your mind coming to the conclusion that there’ll most likely be no sleep for you tonight. “second, if I’m not satisfied with a song then what’s the point of releasing it? if I don’t like it, then obviously my fans won’t either.”

He stays quiet for a moment, sitting in different positions on the computer chair, as if there’s a prick behind his back not letting him lean in and relax. His eyes were deep in inquisitive thought as he speaks once more. “ if it were any other song, I’d agree with you,” he looks right back at you now, with eyes shining with such vibrant sincerity you held back a shocked hum. “but this song? My god, Y/n, you need to post this now.”

“y-you sure? I mean- I think it needs a bit more polish-“

“no, no. don’t add anything else to it, right now, as it is, it’s one of the most heartfelt and genuine songs I’ve ever heard.” He looks back at the monitor, and in his mind, he echoes the song in his head, the little vocaloid voice singing the lyrics and tugging at his heartstrings. “ when I hear it…I feel awfully nostalgic. I feel at home. It’s like you wrote this from the heart.” He looks back at you so softly, you could feel your heart race from his gentle, ever so small smile. “this is the best song I’ve ever heard, love.”

“…even better than Ai’s star-fell sweetheart solo you always listen to?”

His eyes glow in sharp determination. “even better than her entire album.”

-------

To you, Aqua Hoshino was often like an old man- he acts as if he’s in his forties. He doesn’t partake in new video games, yet he knows an awful lot about the classics. He knows an insane amount of golden era 90s to 2000s singers, his whole playlist is either just the great idol Ai’s song or such songs in said categories, there is no in-between. He insists on putting wooden cup trays on the table, even if barely anyone uses them anymore- and to you, most amusing of all, he barely understands gen Z humor, the very generation he’s apart of. Often, you tell him that he may be young, but he has an old soul. He never really replies to that joke, but he doesn’t seem to be annoyed by it either. It was more of a ‘deep in thought’, one could say. Aqua looked like a charming prince to the media, a quiet man to his friends, and to you, he was a dork who takes his actions a bit too seriously, at time, but he had a heart of gold. All he wants is for his loved ones to live on happily, and all he does is to achieve that very goal. Even in acting, though he never tells you his true reasoning for sticking to the art, you assume he’s doing it just so B-Komachi can get more eyes on them. After all, the actor brother and idol sister dynamic is something fans would always spam about on the internet constantly. You found too many sibling having matching Hoshino profiles, too many to count. Aqua's kindness knows no bounds, and that’s one of the many things you love about him.

Which, is why the very situation you’re observing has got you stuck in a web of thoughts, each more confused than the other.

While excitingly watching your song slowly blow up to fame from one view to the next, your enjoyment quickly dies down when you see how tense Kana seems, staring at Aqua with a shaky figure. Wasn’t she with Ruby visiting the Hoshino household just now? They must’ve come back when you were distracted with your laptop- you didn’t even hear the door close. But now, with your mind out of the excitement, you could hear Ruby speak and ramble on with Memcho about the Ai-exclusive bunny plushies she’s brought back from her house, and how it’s shocking how long this whole apartment and stalker issue is going.

However, their conversation was of no matter to you right now. Your current concern was how horrified Kana kept looking at Aqua. she's now batting an eye towards you- not even a single glance- it’s as if she’s in a trance, and she hasn’t realized you were in the room as well.

Your boyfriend didn’t seem to notice the burning stare, too caught up in reading ‘The Picture of Dorian Grey’ to even become aware of Ruby and Kana’s arrival, or so you thought.

“love?” Aqua calls out to you, quickly placing the book on his lap. “ can you tell Ruby that we’re not ordering from that bakery tonight? I’d rather not have her pout and fight me about it. she listens to you easily.” His head quickly shifts to see Kana, as if he's just been aware of her presence. Yet, Kana seems more furious than before. “ oh! Kana, I thought you were with the others. “ he slightly tilts his head in curious confusion. “why are you so quiet? It’s unlike you.”

The aura of the room has shifted to one of hostility, and you found yourself involuntarily gulping. “Kana…” you grew concerned. “you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Kana’s eyes get a flash of sympathy- right before it cutting back to her neutral face and determined smile. “I’m fine, you go convince Ruby, or else she’ll already call and order that expensive shortcake. “

You felt bamboozled, like an actor who forgot their lines at a play. They were both hiding something from you, it was evident from their five star actor smiles. You felt suspicion grow within you, and in a fit of doubt and worry, you say ‘one second’ before typing on your computer. For them, they’re assuming that you’ve just closed your google tabs on the view count for your new video, however, you opened the recorder and let your computer sit turned on and it’s screen away from their view as you got up and left in a hurry.

You felt a prickling, sick bundle of needles crawl up your arms and back. worry and fear, all mixed into one bag of confusion. Something was going on, you’re unsure what it is, but you’ll maybe, with the recording you’ll have, you’ll finally understand why Kana seems much more hostile to Aqua than before, and why Aqua seemingly ignores her at every turn.

You only hope the batteries in your laptop doesn’t die too soon.

----

“it’s with a heavy heart that I’m announcing my departure with B-Komachi. I have decided to focus more on my acting career, but I’ll never forget all the love and support and lovely memories I made while being on this team. I hope you keep on supporting me!”

Crowds cheer and the backstage staff whisper to each other in surprise. All while you are left alone with your cheap tea-bag tea in a cup, looking at the screens and seeing Kana’s kind face as she bows down in respect to the fans. Her departure with the team is not surprising, she spoke about it months ago before the stalker situation even erupted. However, the timing felt odd to you. it’s been weeks since her private talk with Aqua, one which disastrously enough, your laptop apparantly didn’t record it at all. but you swore you turned the recorder on- you even double checked to see the red button blaring before leaving the living room. nevertheless, whatever it was, it was the breaking point for Kana, and right after it, in the night she told everyone at dinner that she’ll be renouncing her role in the team at their next concert.

Something in your gut churned that night, your mind kept questioning every word that came out of her mouth, even Aqua’s support to her seemed somewhat off. Something was wrong, something has happened, and when in that night, you’ve privately asked Aqua what was their talk about, he pat your head and told you that there’s nothing to worry about. She was merely speaking about a new role coming up, and she has wanted him to partake in that series with her.

Liar.

Your tea was getting cold, and the bitter peach-scented taste you’ve often enjoyed tastes like absolute garbage now. It’s as if you’re missing an important clue- a key point in all this mess, a key that is buried deep within your psyche with all the other bad memories your mind never wishes to revisit.

“you ok there?” Aqua’s voice startled you.

“ how long were you standing there?” you joked, now leaving the cold tea on the table.

“not long, I was talking but you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“oh, sorry…I was just thinking.”

“about what?”

“nothing much.” You lied. “ I’m just really going to miss Kana.”

“We all will. “ he puts his hand on your shoulder. “ but this is best for her. She never liked Idol work that much anyway.”

“…I guess you’re right.” you didn’t continue further, leaving an awkward tension to engulf the room.

“..are you still mad about my talk with Kana?” Aqua’s face, though still in neutral form, has it’s frown deepen a bit. “I told you, there’s nothing to worry about. We just talked about an upcoming show.” He gives you a conflicted stare. “would I ever lie to you?”

“..no.” you think so, at least. Or rather- you hoped so. You held his hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. “don’t worry, I trust you. I’m just sad about her leaving, honest.” Your heart feels stabbed, your conscious berates you for lying to him like this. yet you remain quiet as you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

You’re too far into your thoughts to see something in his eyes shift- the often light star pupil of his becoming slightly grey for one split second.

“…right.”

------

“you sure you don’t need me to look for it?” Ms.Saitou stops the car as she looks at you. “ you really don’t have to go all the way yourself, you can just give me a description of what to find.”

“no no there’s no need really- I’ve already bothered you enough with driving me here.” you take off your seatbelt, giving a glance at the house belonged to your boyfriend’s family. “I’m sure I’ll find it by myself, it’s not the first time I was here.” that’s a lie, you’ve actually never visited Aqua’s house, your meet up spots were always the apartment or the grocery store next to both of your schools.

“sweetie, I'm a little worried about you being there all alone. I can just look for it later when my meeting's over-“ oh boy, though Ms.Saitou’s kindness was endearing, you really need to go there alone so you can investigate properly. It’s time to pull up the shame card.

“u-uh..Ms.Saitou- the item in praticualr..is um..” you tried your best to look flustered, avoiding her gaze and fidgeting with your fingers, your posture lowering a bit as an act of embarrassment. “well…you know.”

Fortunately, it seemed to have worked, since her eyes widened and she cleared her throat, a sheepish smile on her face as she looks away. “I see…well, carry on then. If you need someone to pick you up later I’m always one call away.”

“right, thank you.” you get out of the car, trudging your way to the house with an extra set of keys that were given to you. Yet before you open the door, a car honk stops you at your tracks. You look back at Saitou, whom still has the sheepish smile on her.

“and..uh, well I’m not sure if it’s been told to you yet, but please make sure to have protection at all times!”

You could feel the shame and cringe flood you- quickly giving her a strained smile and thanking her for the tip. Well, at least she cares. But, that is not your actual goal for coming here; nor did you and Aqua ever go that far anyway.

Your main goal is to find the truth- more specifically the truth on what Kana was speaking about. If your suspicions are true, Kana’s worry for you and the stalker and her conversation with Aqua are connected- and their conversation was nothing about the show- rather, perhaps, about an item or clue that Kana found within the Hoshino household while visiting it with Ruby. It’s just a hunch, but it’s a hunch you can’t possibly ignore anymore. Your doubts and worries have now overflown, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll negatively affect your relationship with Aqua. and for what it’s worth, you’re sure your worries are for naught, and it’s just your overthinking and anxiety being a douchebag to you.

The house is untouched, almost spotless. The only thing showing any signs of people living here in the past months is the bottle of alcohol on the counter, and the few coats lasying on a couch here and there. it’s obvious that Saitou loves alone her, with Aqua even starting to live in the apartment in spending more of his time in your room rather than his.

You scan the place, looking through cupboards and drawers for any sing of something suspicious. Yet find nothing of that sort. With a sigh, you decide that it’s best to go into Aqua’s room first.

His room was clad in walls of blue, a poster of Ai Hoshino right atop of his wall, making you smile a bit at his fanboy heart. The room had only a few things, a closet, a desk with books and his bed, a blue circular carpet on the ground and of course, a window with blue satin curtains on it to fit the atmosphere. On his walls you could see some small little scribbles and drawings he and Ruby must've left when they were children, the books on his table were all sorts of acting ones, and on the shelf on top of his table there was a collection of tapes, all old classic movies he often ranted to you about when you were both pulling all-nighters with a walk to the park. You take a step in, though your morality fought with you about the breaking of trust and privacy and the consequences that’ll come with it , Kana’s horrified eyes couldn’t leave your mind, her shaky voice echoed through your head and you instinctively searched his closet for any kind of clues.

Yet, there was nothing.

You take a few steps back,

*clack*

You falter. You look down at your feet. You kick the ground.

*clack!*

You quickly slide the carpet away, and on the wooden ground, you see a plank that is ever-so-slightly off-color with the others. you take it out, and what you see leaves seeds of fear in you to brew. A black box, you take it out and see there’s a lock with a password on it. shit.

You first try Aqua’s birthday, nothing of note happens. Then, you try Ruby's. still nothing. You try his mother’s, that doesn’t do anything either. You try even his Idol’s date of birth and death, it still keeps itself locked. With a sigh, you think for a new answer, and quickly, a creepy thought comes up in your mind.

Slowly, you put your birthday in.

The lock opens..

Ooooook you’re not sure if you have to find this romantic or scary, perhaps both? Nonetheless, you open the box with a panic, and what you see is a collection of burner phones and notepads.

You first take out the notepads, opening them and having your heart drop at the sight of a schedule. Your schedule, from day in and day out. whom you’ve met, whom you’ve passed and even which café’s and shops you’ve visited. All dating back to the third day you've joined Strawberry productions, and most importantly, all in Aqua’s clean handwriting.

You can feel your stomach churning in horror, a bundle of gasps and swears stuck down in your throat. You take a deep breath, even if it doesn’t do anything to calm your panicked heart. You open another notepad, seeing that it contains specific things about you, from your favorite color to favorite food, and even to what clothing stores you prefer buying clothes at. Holy shit, how did he even knew that one? You could’ve sworn you’ve never spoken about such things- even with B-Komachi. Unless he had an eye on your laptop screen on breaks, seeing which shopping websites you had open.

Your heart was breaking, piece by piece, little by little, with every more notepad you’ve opened and more information you’ve seen revolved around you, you can feel your perception of Aqua change. Aqua Hoshino, the man you love. The kind boy who puts on a façade of prince charming just so appease people, but is a dead-panned dork at heart, or maybe- that’s not who he is either. Perhaps he's been playing a game with you all this time as well. using you for his won means- maybe the same means on why he's still in acting. God, you fool. You utter fool. How could you think that a romantic kiss in the rain would fix anything, how could you even think that Aqua’s actions were even the slightest bit normal?

You take a look at the phones, and as you turn them on and put in your birthday as the password, you could only pray with shaky hands that they’re not what you assume they are. The phone turns on, only one contact is in the phone. It’s your number. Fuck.fuck fuck fuck fuck. In shock, with a shaky hesitant thump, you click the messages. the image of you crying, the very image that has been sent to you lays within there. you scroll up, realizing through your new tears that he is the very same stalker who messaged you that night. He is the stalker who haunted your nightmares, the one who constantly made you feel on edge and that you were about to die. Aqua Hoshino, the one who saved you that very night, was also the one who put you in danger. You couldn’t help it, you throw the phone on the ground and started sobbing, your heart couldn't handle the pain and your mind was messing with you by replaying sweet memories, seeing them slowly rot and become sour. Everything he has done, everything you have lost, it was all apart of some sick plan, for a goal completely unknown to you.

Shit shit- you need to call the police, you need to tell someone about this- you need to-

A prickling, cold, familiar sensation runs through you. eyes were watching you. you quickly turn around. But it’s too late, Aqua, with eyes as cold as ice, holds a heavy metal pan and looks at you with disappointment. As if he found you with a broken vase.

“this will be quick, love.”

Before you could run away, your quickly grabbed and hit in the head. A pang searing through you as you fall down, vision slowly getting more blurry by the second, a sympathetic Aqua soothing your head as your pain worsens and you fall to sleep.

---

Gorou Amayima was a simple man, with a simple dream.

Though, most of his dreams were fabricated and influenced by his want of approval from his guardians, he knows that deep down, he too wants to find true love and settle down with a family. After all, with the kind of grades and money he now possesses, he’s certain that he can live a simple , lovely life in a family of four, maybe even five if you include the pets. Yet, there was always one problems. There was no one out there that he loved so much, and he was sure there was no one out there that loved a normal guy like him. how could one have a ,loving family or a peaceful life for that matter, without love in there to begin with? Yes, Gorou Amayima’s dreams were nothing but impossible, so he quickly discarded such fantasies and focused on his studies instead.

That is, until he met you.

One accident with a sweater led to a friendship through summer- and that friendship has led to him realizing how much you both have in common, and how to him, you were endearing, you were interesting, you were lovable.

Sure, you had your faults just like anyone else did- yet, those faults of yours only made you more beautiful to his eyes, more real. He couldn’t help but fall for you, couldn’t help but feel energized whenever you were around. Your jokes, your laugh and even your frowns and pouts, each of them were ingrained in his mind and he would find himself doodling your face in his notebook more times than one.

You were always there for him, always hyped him up and were his cheerleader when he felt the most insecure. And when you finally started dating, the support never stopped. You moved in with him in Miyazaki, even if you could’ve easily found a good job in somewhere more busy like Tokyo. Everything was perfect, and for once- after years of ignoring his own needs and dreams- he genuinely considered marrying you, and then having a family with you. perhaps, you could even adopt a few kids who were abandoned in the hospital, giving them the love they deserve. Maybe even, you could finally get into your love for music, you could take piano classes from the old man in the neighborhood. Everything would go smoothly, everything felt right. for once, Gorou felt satisfied with his dull life.

However, like all good things, this one had to come to an end as well.

The biker gang was always a problem around here, he’s heard from past rumours and whispers that they often come to this place to lay low, and the police force around here isn’t strong enough to take them down. He knew they were big trouble, and he’s always warned you to not go outside without him or someone else alongside you, not until they leave. But oh, you were persistent. You kept persisting that your small trip to the shop in a busier city a few miles away won’t take long-and that nothing would happen to you, why would they even care about you?

You convinced him, he couldn’t say no to your pout, he let you go that day, and soon enough, as the rain fell and police lights blared the red and blue lights all over the road scene, a murder, a robbery-gone-wrong, with the gang member in question fleeing with all the money that was left in your purse- which was not much to begin with- since you spent most of it on a red sweater, a sweater with the very same color and shape as the one he’s met you the first day with. And bittersweetly enough, a handwritten note by you on that sweater, congratulating the anniversary of the day you met, the anniversary of your graduation. The world has become bleak once more, the dreams he had crushed and the love of his life gone because he failed to protect them, he failed to save you from this fate.

He thought that was the end of it, that your relationship was perhaps meant to end in a bitter tragedy.

Yet, it seems like gods above have given him a second chance, a second life to mend things with you.

A simple scroll around youtube, a simple search for some nice songs and inspirations for his role has led to him to hear a familiar tune- one you’d always hum while cooking- he froze for a moment, checking the playlist’s sources and finding your channel, a new artist on youtube making songs with vocaloids- he first thought nothing of it. but curiosity got the better of him. you were quite social on your platforms, though the information on your personal life was scattered- he knew from your business email you live somewhere near the same state he does- and soon enough, he got into work. He was unsure of why he was so desperate to see you, an artist he knows nothing about, yet their tunes awfully familiar. but anytime he thought of the songs, he could only see vivid memories of certain days with his past lover, the one that didn’t deserve the tragedy that has struck them.

His heart almost stopped when he first saw you

It was at first appalling- horrifying even, with no change in your appearance whatsoever- merely younger and in the same age as him as Aqua Hoshino- walking down the streets up to Strawberry Productions, a curious and nervous gleam in your eyes, the same gleam you had when you first met in that small café. It’s you, it’s really you. you have been reborn again, just like he was. but from what he realized during the interview, it seems like unlike Ruby and him, you don’t remember a single thing about your past. It’s no matter, because the truth was no obvious to him. the very reason of his rebirth and his chance in this world- was all so you two could have the life you’ve both always wanted, the life you've always deserved, unshackled by the expectations of legal guardians and others, able to do what you love, and be away from the dangers of the world. He just had to make sure that no harm ever comes to you, that in this life, you will live alongside him, and you’d grew old together. He'd do anything to keep you safe this time, and no amount of pouting or pleads from you could ever stop him from such a goal.

He wont let you die this time.

---

Cold. Thirsty. Hungry.

Those are your first upon waking up. your mind is in a complete haze, you feel like you’re in a crazy dream. Your body isn’t responding to you, every nerve slowly waking up one by one, yet not quick enough. Your vision comes back, and you find yourself in an abandoned hospital, one awfully familiar, yet you can’t pinpoint where you’ve seen it before. A tuft of blonde hair makes your body shake in fear.

“stay away from me!” you quickly scream, legs scrambling to crawl away, yet you find your hands tied behind your back, chained to a metal poll in on the wall. Aqua hisses at the shout, looking at you in a scolding manner.

“there’s no need to scream, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“bullshit!” you retort. “you’ve been lying to me all this time! You’re just fucking using me for some crazy scheme that involves your acting, aren’t you?”

Aqua’s eyes widened, in a horrifying manner that leaves his star pupil pitch black and his firsts clenched. He looks art you with gritted teeth, furrowed brows indicating maddening disbelief. “ Y/n,” he says your name in such a passionate manner, you could feel bitterness form in your tongue. “ surely, you’re not that dense. You’re smarter than this,” his expression shifts from shocked to hurt. “ you know me better than this. you know I’d never do such a thing. Not to you.”

His voice his shaky. He’s genuinely hurt by your words. You could only look at him in disbelief. “ I love you. I did this all for you. you wouldn’t mind me keeping an eye on you if it meant just wanting to know you more, would you?”

“Aqua, you weren’t ‘keeping an eye’ on me. you were stalking me.”

“but it brought us closer, hasn’t it?” he gives a loving smile, a fond and real one, as if he believe his own delusional words. “without that situation, you and I wouldn’t have gotten so close. You wouldn’t have opened up to me so easily.”

“so that’s it? you fucking stalked me and made me think I was going to get kidnapped just so I’d talk to you more?”

He’s quiet, only giving you a knowing look. The gears in your head turn and your heart drops.

“oh god…you did it because you wanted me to fall for you?”

“it worked, hadn’t it?”

“oh my god.” You cried. You banged your head to the wall. the dread you were feeling, all the lovely moments in your head flashing in your mind, all of them were leaving you to despair. “oh my fucking god- Aqua. this is insane. You’re being insane!”

“doll, do you really think you’d fall for me in normal circumstances?” he crouches down, palming your cheek and caressing it. the touch feels horrible on your skin, yet as you try to steer it away, he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “ I know you. and I knew you’d be too introverted to ever fall or speak to me that quickly. You’re mindful of who to trust. It’s what's so endearing about you, but it’s also the thing that was holding us back.” he gives a solemn look. “trust me, when we both would’ve realized the spark, it would’ve been far too late.” He goes back to caressing your cheek again, all while you remain horrified and silent at his rambles. “that’s why I needed to take matters into my own hands, I needed to make sure that you’re safe and sound, and the only way to do that was to make a fake disruption that would guarantee your safety if any real disruptions do happen.” He feels his finger becomes wet, and he now sees the little tears that were almost overflowing your eyes. He coos as he rubs them away, you’re too scared to move, afraid that his grip on your face may become harsher to the point of break the bones on your skull. “love, there’s no need to cry. I only did this because I love you. I never meant for it to scar you as much as it did.”

You couldn’t help but sob now, fully knowing that he’s too far back in his delusions to listen to any of your reasonings. “please Y/n, don’t cry. This situation is only temporary.”

“w-what do you mean?”

“Well, when I’ve finally convinced you that I’m just doing what’s best for you, then, I’ll let you free from the ropes. I just need to make sure that you won’t hurt me or tell anyone about this.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” you sobbed. “This is not normal, Aqua. none of this is. Please, you need to let me go- I-“

He quickly puts both hands on your head, steering you to look deep in his eyes, obviously hurt by your sobs and screams of plead. “Don’t you understand?! Y/n…” he shakes, as if he’s about to cry too, trying to calm down his breathing as he firmly holds your head in place, and you couldn’t help but feel scared, terrified of the boy in front of you. “…please, don’t make this harder than it should be. I’m only doing this for your own good. I'm doing this because I love you. I don’t know how much clearer do I need to make this.” his voice shakes, drops of tears now staining your clothes. “ please, don't hate me. don’t be afraid of me. just love me like you always did.” His voice breaks. “please— just forget whatever you saw in my room- or at least know that I’ve done it all with the intention of keeping you safe when real danger does come.”

“w-what if this real danger is all in your head? Aqua- be reasonable-please. Who on earth would want to kill me of all people?” to that, something in his eyes shift. He becomes delusional, his eyes look almost static, he's lost in thoughts you couldn’t comprehend.

“….you’d be surprised on the amount of cruel people out there.” he mumbled, none of his words making sense to you at the moment. “…I’ve seen you die once, I won’t let it happen again.”

“w-what in the world are you talking about? I-I’m alive right now, aren't I? see? I’m safe, a-and I'm okay- so you can let me go now. Aqua, please, let me go.”

He only seemed to be listening to half of your words, mumbling to himself a bit. he smiled at you, looked at you as if you were the most precious object he could’ve ever obtained. “Yeah, Yeah. you’re safe now. Safe because I intervened rather than staying back. I wouldn’t make that mistake again, I swore to always protect you, I’m not planning to break that promise twice.”

“what?” arguing felt completely hopeless. You really didn’t know what to do anymore but sob. He coos at you once more, hugging you so tight as the rope around your wrists stung.

“don’t worry Y/n…I’ll set you free from the ropes when the time is right.” he holds you closer. “ when you finally give in.”

You gasped, crying out and trembling from fear, the very source of them hugging and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as if he isn’t a monster, as if he’s not the evil queen who tricked you into biting the apple. He is no prince charming, and he is no bad boy. He’s a psychopath whose delusional with the world around him, thinking that he is doing the right thing, when he's only making your worst nightmares come true. His kisses, now all over your face as an act of worship, feel cold and bitter, his hugs feel too tight and his words make you dread.

All this time, you thought you knew Aqua Hoshino to a T. but in fact, even around you, he was putting on a mask, and playing the part that would charm you most. Only to hit you in the head at curtain call and bring you to an unknown, abandoned hospital, to worship and love.

"I promise, you'll feel great here." his eyes quickly shine in slight amusement, he seemed to remember a key information. "oh, and don't worry about someone worrying about you being lost. I'm sure you know this by now, but the stalker case was never confirm to end, so with your disappearance, it'll be opened once more, and right before it, a certain gang member kept persisting to take you home, remember?"

you couldn't help but gasp, shock coursing through you as you can't do anything but cry and listen to his scheme as he holds you. holy shit, holy fuck. is as if he's planned every little thing from the very start- even Kana's suspicion towards him could've been planned for all you know.

"let it all out of your system, darling." he smiled, dark and victorious, knowing fully well he's won a game you didn't even know the rules of, let alone know that you were playing it. " don't worry, you'll feel way better after a good rest. " his head tilts up to the dirty walls, humming deep in thought. "Say, you wouldn't mind some decoration around here, would you? maybe I'll even buy you some books if you behave well enough. any sort of technology is out of the question though. can't have you contacting someone from outside now, can I?"

your mind was too hazed out to respond, only wishing that this was all a cruel and wicked dream.

----

A/n:

hi hi!!!! if you're readers from my other fics, yes hello I'm alive lmao. if you're new here, welcome! I hope you all enjoyed my writing!!! honestly, this is my first yandere fic. so I'm not sure how well it'll be perceived. there are certainly better fics out there, but I hadn't seen much content on yandere Aqua before writing this, so I decided to experiment a bit! low and behold, this oneshot took much MUCH longer than expected. I genuinely thought this would be 7 to 13k words tops, yet here we are. this is officially the longest chapter and oneshot I've ever wrote. oh! and also for the ending, well, I wanted to leave it a bit open, so you can choose whatever ending you'd like for reader's story. I have a few suggestions myself, one with reader escaping, or Kana saving them and kicking Aqua's ass like the girlboss she is- or perhaps, if you're looking for a sad one, maybe reader becoming completely brainwashed and utterly convinced by Aqua's words, maybe even being convinced to replace Kana in the team. nevertheless, the ending is up to you, if you want you can share your endings with me in the comments! it's always a complete and utter joy for me to read them!! <3333

now if you'll excuse me, I'll go break my back on school projects all while continuing to write for my silly fics, have a great week everyone!!!!

#Oshi no Ko #aqua hoshino #aquamarine Hoshino x reader #aqumarine hoshino #aqua hoshino x reader #oshi no ko x reader #onk x reader #onk aqua x reader #yandere aqua hoshino x reader #yandere aqua x reader #yandere x reader #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #yandere aquamarine hoshino x reader

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