#i had the idea to make this from an ask i got last year asking me what my fav dramas are
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the styles' nanny: part two
Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.
Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry
Word-count: 10.2k
Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex
here’s part one!
A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!
—
I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.
I’ll see you soon,
Y/N
That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.
Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.
Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.
It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.
“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”
Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.
“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”
“Of course.”
As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.
But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.
He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.
He was ready to offer that to her.
—
Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.
And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.
“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”
Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.
She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.
Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.
“No.”
His eyebrow raised, “no?”
“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”
He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.
“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”
“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”
Concern warped his features.
“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”
She’d turned heads.
“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”
She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.
“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.
The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.
“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”
“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”
“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”
In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.
“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.
As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.
“Are you driving me to my apartment?”
And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.
“Where’s Jamie?”
He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”
“Oh.”
The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.
Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.
“Y/N, have some water.”
“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.
He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m tired.”
“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”
She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”
“Y/N.”
That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.
“Why’d you go out drinking again?”
“Wanted to.”
“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”
“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”
Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.
Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”
Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”
“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”
It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.
The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.
It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.
“You still there, baby?”
And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.
But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.
“Yeah.”
“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”
“No, I‘m not like you.”
“Ouch.”
Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.
“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”
His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”
And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.
“Yeah.”
“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”
Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.
“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”
She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”
Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.
“I know so.”
“Thank you.”
“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.
“You sure?”
“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”
And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?
For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.
“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.
She knew what.
“Nothing.”
“M’kay.”
“Stand up for me?”
Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.
As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.
“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”
He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.
“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.
He hummed, “I know.”
“But thank you.”
“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”
“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”
Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.
“Last time what?”
He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.
He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.
Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.
What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.
She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.
—
Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.
Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”
“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”
“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”
“Probably.”
Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.
“I—“
“Are you— oh, sorry.”
“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.
Harry smiled, “are you okay?”
“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“
Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”
“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”
Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.
“No go on, tell me.”
“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”
“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”
“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”
“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.
The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.
“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”
A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.
“Oh.”
He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.
“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.
There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.
“But you…”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t… because of yesterday?”
“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”
His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“
“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”
“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”
She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”
“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”
“Yes.”
Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”
“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”
“Enlighten me then.”
Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.
So she deflected.
“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“
“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”
“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."
Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.
“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”
“I don’t know.”
She almost laughed, “sure”
“Sweetheart—“
“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”
“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”
“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“
What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.
It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.
Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.
But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.
“Wait.”
His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”
“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.
He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.
“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”
She only nodded.
He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.
Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.
—
Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.
The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.
Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).
As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.
“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”
“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”
“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”
“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”
Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.
“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”
Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”
“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“
“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”
Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.
“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”
“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.
It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”
“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”
“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“
“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”
A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.
Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.
And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.
—
Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.
“Y/N—“
“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“
“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”
She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.
“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”
Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”
“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”
Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”
“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”
“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”
“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”
“Do you love her?”
Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.
Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.
Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.
“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”
Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.
Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.
When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.
“That’s… yeah. I get that.”
This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.
Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.
“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”
Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”
“Okay.”
A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”
“I’d like you to come.”
“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”
“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”
“I’m quitting. That’s it.”
“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“
“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”
She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.
Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.
And yet, he was determined to keep trying.
—
Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.
The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.
This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.
“So how flexible is time for you?”
“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”
“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”
“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”
This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.
That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.
“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”
Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”
“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”
“I don’t expect you to understand—“
“No. We’re not doing that.”
“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”
“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“
“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”
And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”
“For good reason.”
“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”
“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”
Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.
“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”
“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”
He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”
“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.
“Do you have another job lined up?“
“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”
“Where?”
“A cafe.”
“Where?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“Are you hired?”
She huffed, “no.”
“Where else?”
“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”
“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”
“No.”
“Financial help, maybe?”
Y/N groaned, “no.”
“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“
“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“
“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“
“Can we just— can we not?”
And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.
There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.
For now, he had to be okay with this.
—
Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.
She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.
He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.
But it hadn‘t been real, had it?
It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.
Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.
But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.
Wouldn‘t he?
He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.
And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.
She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.
“You okay?”
“Hm? Yes. Why?”
A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”
“What? No, I’m fine.”
God, she was feeling small under his gaze.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”
His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”
“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”
But she failed to move.
Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hm?”
“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”
Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“
“Last night you what?”
“I had… I had this dream and—“
She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.
“Is this okay?”
His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”
He hummed.
“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”
“It’s only seven.”
“Yeah.”
Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.
“Can you do my arms?”
“Of course, baby.”
She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.
And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.
“Is this okay?”
She nodded promptly, heart racing.
Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.
A love like his would feel so great.
“You look really beautiful, you know that?”
“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“Me neither.”
“You’re the one who keeps running.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.
“I’m scared to stay.”
He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”
“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“
“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”
Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”
“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”
“I doubt that,” he retorted.
“Past experiences have proven as much.”
He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”
Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”
“How easy it is to love you.”
Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.
“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”
Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.
And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.
When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.
—
A month later.
“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”
As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.
She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”
“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”
“You ready then?”
“Yes.”
Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.
“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”
Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.
“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”
“Yes, they still are.”
Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”
“You said that you don’t.”
“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”
Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”
“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”
“Who?”
Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.
He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.
When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.
“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”
The silence was short lived.
He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”
“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”
“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”
“Really?”
“I do.”
This stumped her.
And now it was her turn: “wow.”
Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.
“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”
She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.
“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“
“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“We’ve only been together—“
“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”
“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”
And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.
“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”
“Would he?”
“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”
“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.
“Then move in with us.”
A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”
“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”
“Harry!”
“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“
“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”
“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”
“I know that.”
“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”
“I need to make money somehow.”
“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”
“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”
“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“
Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”
“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”
“Sorry.”
Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”
Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”
Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t regret it."
He'd been right.
--
The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it
tags:
@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl @vikiii07
I hope I didn’t forget anyone!
#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles x you#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#harry styles materlist#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles x nanny#harry styles ceo#harry styles fanfic rec
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msby!atsumu x reader || w/c: 1.9k
ft. questionable methods of contacting the paparazzi.
[<- read intro][ch 2->]
Atsumu’s last elementary school report card— faithfully stored by his mother in a sturdy carton in her closet, along with her other important documents— has near perfect grades, and only one comment from his teacher.
Atsumu chooses to deal with matters, both academic and personal, in an independent and determined manner.
By the time middle school was over, Atsumu hadn’t changed; but the comment sure had.
Atsumu prefers not to ask for assistance even if he is having trouble with his work. I would like to see him asking for help or clarification when required.
Then in highschool, he’d learned how to bite back his pride enough to earn an approving ‘Atsumu is an active participant in his learning’ by the end of his third year.
And now look at him, asking strangers online for help without a second thought. Old Mrs. Yamada from Yako Middle School would be so proud.
Atsumu wonders how she’s doing. He idly types her name into the search bar, and immediately finds an obituary.
He blinks at the pixelated picture of her sweet, smiling, deceased face; and tries to decide if he should take this as a portent regarding the consequences of asking for help, or as a reminder of the relentless march of time.
Time, which you and Osamu were spending together at this very moment.
Atsumu has to resist the urge to bang his head against one of the lockers.
He tries his best not to think about it; but it’s early afternoon, he’s done with practice, the last one in the locker room, and unfortunately, has far too much time to not only think about it, but vividly picture it too. It’s like a goddamn movie in his mind, complete with subtitles.
(They’re hard coded in; because of course, he’s third wheeling so hard in this scenario, he had to resort to watching said movie on the shadiest of websites, battling the pop up ads telling him about the hot singles in his area— just to rub salt in the wound.)
It went like this: you and Osamu are baking a cake together. You tell Osamu he’s got flour on his face, giggling for some reason, and he asks where. So you point to your nose, and he smears some on your face with a grin. Barf.
Oh Osamu, you’re so much more fun than Atsumu, you say, all doe-eyed. Your subtitles are pink. The sweetest thing I’m allowed to make him is sugarless raisin bran cookies.
Yer damn right about that, Osamu replies (looking right at the camera, deadpan), Let’s get married just so we can not invite him to the wedding.
Okay, maybe Osamu wouldn’t go that far.
And maybe it wasn’t fair to hold the raisin bran cookies against you like that. He really did think they were chocolate chip; but in hindsight, it wouldn’t make much sense for his nutritionist to be giving those to him when he was supposed to be on a high-protein diet.
(Sue him, he thought you had enough of a soft spot for him to sneak him a treat.)
Atsumu sighs, and unlocks his phone again to pull up the post from last night. There are a few more replies— some calling it a fake story, a few asking for an update, and one person inexplicably telling him to go no contact with his brother.
Ridiculous. The whole idea was ridiculous; and surely msbygirlie (bless her) would eventually see through his half-assed attempt at disguising who he was.
His index finger hovers over the delete button.
And then his eyes land on that reply he’s been thinking about since last night.
well you don't have to talk to either of them... you said someone took the original photo. maybe they're still stalking?? ask them what they think?
It was insane. He’d be adding fuel to a fire that was dying down. It would drive the publicist crazy.
He wants to do it.
(Fuck, he’s going to do it.)
Atsumu Miya’s Guide to Finding and Trapping Your Local Paparazzi
Set a live trap in the location you expect your target to be.
“Shoyo,” Atsumu calls out, as he spots his wing spiker near the gymnasium exit, “ya free right now?”
Hinata comes to a halt with a little hop, somehow still full of energy despite the full training session. “More or less. Why?”
Why? Because Sakusa would scoff and walk away, stopping only to report his plan to Meian; and because Bokuto would accidentally blab and give him up, probably during a livestream. (She reprimanded them a lot, but really, it was him and Bokuto keeping the publicist employed.)
“I need yer help catching a pest. Want to take a walk with me?”
2. Bait the trap.
Atsumu stops abruptly at the crossroads. He snaps his head toward the convex mirror on the corner just in time to see a nondescript man, with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, ducking into the small general store just behind them. It’s quick— the doors are already propped open since it’s not quite warm enough to justify running the air conditioning.
Perfect.
Hinata nudges his elbow. “Why did we stop? Do you want something to drink?”
Atsumu takes a deep breath. “Do ya trust me, Shoyo?”
He looks perplexed at the question. It’s not an expression that’s often on Hinata’s face, so Atsumu takes a moment to appreciate the novelty.
Of course, it’s gone in a second; replaced with his natural enthusiasm. “Oh, did you want to practice at the park? I see, you wanted to bring me to a different environment because our rapport on the court was—”
Atsumu claps his hands over Hinata’s shoulders, lowering his voice. “If ya trust me, do exactly as I say. Go to the park. Got it? Do not follow me. Go straight to the park.”
“Aren’t you coming with—”
Atsumu fills his lungs with air, and firmly plants his feet on the ground.
(A quick glance in the mirror at the man with the baseball cap. Still there. Good.)
Forgive me, Shoyo.
“GOOD LUCK ON THE DATE!” he says as loudly as he can, before it's shouting.
Hinata goes red, sputtering. “Huh? Date?”
Atsumu claps his shoulders again, and gives him a subtle push. Hinata, still wide-eyed, stumbles along in the direction of the park, glancing back over his shoulder a few times.
3. Wait.
Atsumu jogs the long way around the block to get to the park.
It only takes five minutes of lurking behind a row of vending machines, and feeling a little sorry for Hinata who’s sort of nervously wringing his hands on a bench— he's the only other person in the park at this time on a school day— before the man in the baseball cap shows up.
A camera is slung casually around his neck. The recording light is taped over. He’s so fixated on Hinata, he doesn’t notice Atsumu as he saunters up the path towards the machines.
(Which, all things considered, was quite surprising— Atsumu is not a small man.)
“Hey,” Atsumu says, once Baseball Cap is close enough. “Long time, huh? Two things. One, give me your camera. I know it's recording. And two, I have a few questions.”
4. Dispose of your paparazzi responsibly and ethically.
Fifteen minutes later, Atsumu is no closer to the truth; and is considerably more irritated.
“What am I supposed ta do with that?”
“Is he going to hit me?” Baseball Cap anxiously asks Hinata, “Can you hold my camera if he’s going to hit me?”
“Atsumu wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Hinata assures him.
“I ain’t gonna hit ya, ya scrub! Don’t you go writin’ that up on yer damn blog next.” He pinches his nose, trying to calm himself. “I’m done with ya, go home. But wipe the memory card in front of me first.”
r/relationship_advice • 1 hour ago
u/fattytuna95
UPDATE: I want to ask out my twin brother's girlfriend.
I didn’t want to come back here again, but I don’t know what to do.
Like one of you suggested, I asked the guy who took the picture. You were right. He's been following them.
(Creepy as hell, to be honest, but he didn't seem like a bad dude. And he was pretty skinny. Guess being a privacy invading douche doesn't pay well. I think even my female colleague could take him down if she tried, so that's fine.)
What he told me is this: she stayed overnight at his place twice this week.
Now I know what you're thinking. It's a lost cause. Pack it up and move along. Right?
No.
Here's the thing— I was worried my brother was developing feelings for her, and I still am, but if they were already sleeping together he would have told me. There's something else going on here. I mean on top of the fake dating bullshit.
And for some reason, they're not telling me.
How do I find out what without telling them how I know?
↑ 65 ↓ •••
u/unicornpoodle • 4 minutes ago
wowww
dude, are you sure you want to keep going through with this? There's a lot of things you can unsee but walking in on your brother fucking your crush is probably not one of them...
(and you're a twin to boot! You'd see exactly what could've been. Now that'll mess you up!)
↑ 15 ↓ •••
u/fattytuna95 • 4 minutes ago
Shut up!!! I don't want to think about that!!!!!!
↑ 10 ↓ •••
u/guiltyassassin_ • 10 minutes ago
lol I was lowkey joking about asking the guy, didn't think you'd actually do it. good for you. but uh, I might be with poodle on this one. you don't want it to be true, sure. but maybe they just didn't tell you? so it wouldn't be awkward at work?
↑ 12 ↓ •••
u/fattytuna95 • 9 minutes ago
I shared a womb with the guy. I'm sure. You're an only child, aren't you?
↑ 12 ↓ •••
u/msbygirlie_13 • 5 minutes ago
This is exciting!! I don't agree with everyone else, I think you should get to the bottom of it!!! Like atsumu said in his volleyball monhtly interview in june '21, the game isn't over until the ball falls to the floor!!!!! the ball is NOT on the floor yet!
maybe you should go over to your brother's apartment and see if there's any evidence.and you should just show up. don't give him any time to clean it. you can do that right???
↑ 12 ↓ •••
u/fattytuna95 • 5 minutes ago
Hmm that could work actually. I've been there so much, I'll definitely notice if something's out of place.
↑ 10 ↓ •••
u/unicornpoodle • 3 minutes ago
are you saying this because you believe in it, or because you want more update posts? this shit is going to be hilarious
↑ 5 ↓ •••
u/msbygirlie_13 • just now
ofc I believe in everything atsumu says, omg!!! he's the best, fattytuna will agree with me.
↑ 1 ↓ •••
Osamu frowns at the cloudy night sky as he pulls the shutters down over Onigiri Miya's window. The moon is hidden, only a hazy hint behind the grey.
"Looks like rain," he comments, glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry I kept ya waitin'. We should've just done it another night."
Behind him, standing under the streetlight, you can already feel the tiny droplets drizzling on your face. But you shake your head. "I can just stay over again. We always end up losing track of time, and your place is closer to work than mine anyway."
The lock in Osamu's hand clatters against the corrugated metal. "Want ta move in and really sell it?"
You roll your eyes. "I would, but we're not a good match. We'd feed each other too much and end up gaining so much weight."
He chuckles. "Hey, at least I can appreciate raisin bran cookies. Ya won't catch me spittin' food outta my mouth."
You laugh at that. It wasn't his fault, you want to say, smiling fondly at the memory. He didn't realise I was joking about it being chocolate chip.
"Hey, Osamu?"
"Yeah?"
"Should we just tell him?"
now what could they be up to?
[my other fics->]
please leave a like/reblog/reply/send me an ask if you enjoyed! <3
divider @/cafekitsune
#atsumu miya x reader#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#haikyuu x reader#miya atsumu fluff#my fic
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civil war!bucky x fem!reader ( angst , fluff ) no use of y/n
based on the captain america: civil war post credits scene
a / n : english is not my first language so yeah 😭 also my request are open for mavel characters (especially bucky and steve)
You had doubted whether to go or not.
You had been up almost all night, the dark circles under your eyes spoke for themselves. You tried to get some sleep but it was impossible. You moved nervously in bed from side to side. After not finding a comfortable position, you got up and started walking around your room in an attempt to calm your nerves but the four walls were suffocating you.
Steve found you throwing up in the bathroom, on your knees, and with tears in your eyes. He held your forehead so you could let it all out and then wiped your mouth. Steve gave you enough time to recompose and when you were done, he sat on the bathroom floor with his back against the wall and let you lean against his chest while you sobbed. You should let him sleep, it had been a long day for everyone, your bodies were still aching from the fight and Steve had enough to worry about. But despite all that, Steve's strong arms held you tightly close to his body, as if he was trying to hold back the part of you that he knew would leave with Bucky.
Steve took you in his arms and carried you to the couch where he placed your head on his lap, wrapped you in a blanket, and caressed your hair until you fell asleep. When you woke up, Steve wasn't home.
You had doubted whether to go or not but in the end, you went because if you didn't, you would never forgive yourself.
—Hi.
—Hey —. Bucky let out all the air he'd been holding in, relieved to see you.
When Steve arrived and you weren't coming with him, Bucky couldn't help but feel bad. He knew it could happen and he didn't blame you for it. You had already lost him twice, you weren't going to take one more, you didn't deserve to go through that again. The idea of being away from you again did not appeal to him either.
Steve, on the other hand, wasn't surprised to see you. Last night you let it all out in the toilet and on his shirt, and you got some sleep, so he figured you would have regained your strength. Or at least you would pretend that you had, the thing was, that he knew you were coming. —I'll go and talk to King T'Challa —. He said and walked out, leaving you and Bucky alone.
You slowly approached the gurney where Bucky was sitting. The metal arm was gone and only the part attached to his shoulder remained. His wounds were treated and on his face, you could finally see a peaceful expression. His brows were not furrowed, his jaw was not clenched, instead he was showing you a sad little smile.
—How are you—? How are you doing?
—I'm good. I'm ready. How are you? —He asked back.
—I'm fine I guess.
After your answer there was silence.
Bucky knew you were lying because of your tone of voice. He was aware of your disagreement with his decision. Steve also had asked him many times if that was what he wanted but this was not about what he wanted or not. Now that he had reclaimed his ability to choose, he had to use it to do what was right, and what was right was to go back to sleep until there existed a way to free him completely from the Winter Soldier program.
—Buck, you know you don't have to do this.
He shook his head at your words. Of course you wouldn't stop trying.
—I can't trust my own mind. —You were going to complain again but he talked before you could. —And as much as I would like to make up for all the time we've lost, I have to do this. Until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody.
Now it was you shaking your head. For everybody but you. After all these years you had finally gotten him back, after thinking he was dead, after fighting your friends defending his innocence, you were going to lose him again.
Without saying a word you placed your hand on top of the one he had resting on his leg. The sad smile appeared on his lips again and he looked down at your hands. The touch of your fingers on his skin felt nothing like the human contact he had been experiencing these past few years. Your touch was gentle, your fingers rested on his hand delicately, as if you were afraid of breaking him. It was the first time in a while that anyone had cared about that. Bucky flipped his hand over to link your fingers together.
Using your free hand you lifted his chin and you not only made him look at you but also made his lips at the perfect height for you to kiss them. You pressed your lips against his, he squeezed your hand. Yours moved from his chin to rest on the side of his jaw, your thumb caressing his cheek. You didn't know how or when you started crying but you felt the hot tears slide down your cheeks until they mixed with the kiss. Bucky felt the salty taste and after a few seconds, he broke away from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours and let your hand go to cup your cheek and wipe your tears.
—You are making this very hard —. He mumbled against your mouth.
You kissed him again because it was either that or trying to convince him one last time not to do it. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, god, if only he had his two arms and could touch you and feel you the way he wanted. Bucky's lips gladly kissed you back one more time, until you both heard Steve fake coughing behind you.
You parted ways, already missing the feeling of his lips and hand on you. Steve came with two nurses and you knew that it was time. You felt your legs weakening but you could not break down in front of Bucky so you hugged yourself and hid yourself in Steve's chest. Your friend wrapped one of his arms around your body.
—She'll be fine. I'll take care of that.
Bucky pressed his lips together and nodded, thanking Steve.
—I'll wait for you —. You said and Bucky flashed you one last smile. He hadn't asked you to because he didn't want to be selfish but he was waiting for you to tell him so. Hearing you say that you’ll wait for him gave him the peace of mind he needed to breathe in the cold gas filling the cryostasis chamber.
#marvel#bucky barnes#winter soldier#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fluff#bucky angst#bucky smut#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#winter soldier fluff#winter soldier angst#winter soldier x you#winter solider x reader#sebastian stan#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#the avengers#avengers fluff#avengers fanfiction#marvel fluff#marvel angst#avengers x reader#marvel fanfiction#sebastian stan fluff#the falcon and the winter soldier
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One: “Thanks, I Hate You”
You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia.
CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole
WORD COUNT: 3.4k
MASTERLIST
“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”
“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”
“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”
“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”
Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team.
“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.
Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”
You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.”
Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”
“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.”
“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”
“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--”
“--most of the time.”
You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks. He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder.
Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.
It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently.
You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo.
The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway.
“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium. “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.”
The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary.
As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh.
“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”
“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”
Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”
You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.”
“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”
“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”
Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!”
There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side.
You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge.
“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”
“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!”
He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.”
“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”
You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”
“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room.
“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.”
You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”
Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”
He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”
You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline.
He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas.
However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki.
“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news.
“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”
“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.
“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner.
“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled.
“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.”
“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink.
“No,” you said firmly.
“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”
“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”
Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”
“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”
A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game.
“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.
“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone.
“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.”
“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.”
All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance.
“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!”
“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”
You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.
“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki.
Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.”
“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”
This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”
And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought. “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”
“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”
“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”
“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”
Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.
“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.”
He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”
Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…
This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano.
By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony.
Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”
“Die.”
Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”
“Please die.”
“That’s my girl.”
Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”
The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger.
Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening.
“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view.
The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”
“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”
“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”
You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically.
Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder.
“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”
You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism.
“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”
Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”
“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it.
“I’m hurt. Truly.”
You snickered. “Sure.”
“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”
“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth.
“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”
“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”
“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”
“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”
Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr @cabingrlandrandomcrap @kats72 @glitchquake @zippythewondersquirrel @ameliariddle @alexakeyloveloki @lovingchoices14
#loki#fanfiction#mcu#mcu loki#loki x reader#loki fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki/reader#loki smut#loki comedy#island fic#deserted island#alone with loki#enemies to lovers#Avenger!Loki#Avengers#Island AU#Smutty loki#island fever#thor#tony stark#natasha romanoff#bruce banner#steve rogers#sam wilson#captain america#rescue fic#deserted island trope#marvel loki
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You asked for Solangelo asks, so…. HEADCANONS GO!! Everything from little outings there went on, Nico meeting Naomi (assuming you HC her as alive), small things they do to annoy each other, angst, etc. literally anything!! Go wild!!
i am shaking like a feral animal with too much energy and no outlet omG
Will hurt his wrist once when he was younger, practicing archery with Lee. It was a delicate thing, the way Lee wrapped him up with an ace bandage and smiled at him. "You did good! It's okay." A golden smile that managed to stop Will's tears. He's older now. He can't remember the last time he hurt his wrist. He wears an ace bandage every day of his life. His siblings, the younger ones that weren't there to remember, question him. Will smiles and ruffles their hair "It's okay! Everythin's good, don't worry bout it." Some part of him wonders what Lee would think.
Will is actually good at many things. Healing and medicine is his main focus, but that's because it's the only thing he thinks he's good at. Many demigods, many of Will's siblings, have one specific thing that they excel at. Which is why Will feels so horrible that he's not good at anything. He is though, he's just too thickheaded to realize that. He sings well, maybe not as good as his siblings or his mom or whoever else, but he's got a good campfire/lullaby voice. Soothing and warm, crackles like a fire or a candle light. Calming, always skewed by a smile. If he could only hear himself...
Will gets tattoos for every patient he doesn't save. At first, the idea had come up to him because he couldn't stop thinking about it. The feeling of blood wouldn't wash off his hands, every time he closed his eyes he could see that strain in their face... He needed to do something about it. Then it became something to help him remember. New campers come every year, and they don't know the stories of those that passed before them. It feels unfair, to let those people's memories fade. So for each patient he can't save, Will gets a singular black line tattooed on his forearm.
Will is very good at volleyball. I have nothing else to say about that. (well, maybe I do. I like to think that Nico sits off by the sides of the court, a step in "water boy" for Will's team. He gets so distracted, though, he may as well not even have the title. Kayla and Austin tease Will about his "cheerleader")
Will uses petnames and nicknames like it's the only thing he knows. Kiddo, sweetheart, hun. Tacked on to the end of every sentence. It's not anything big when he starts coming up with nicknames for Nico, that's just how Will is. Nico, however, doesn't understand nicknames. He doesn't know how they're supposed to be used, when it's appropriate and when it's not, how close you have to be to a person to use a nickname. It's a big deal, the first day Nico calls Will "sunshine." Not a teasing statement, like it normally is, but tied on to the end of a sentence. Nico stutters over the word, his cheeks flushed red. Will stops what he's doing to stare at Nico, slack-jawed.
Nico doesn't like to sing. He doesn't like to talk, really. His voice is raspy, he can imagine it grating on the ears of those he speaks to. It makes him nervous. Will loves Nico's voice. Nico doesn't ramble much but, oh, when he does... Sometimes Will asks Nico specific questions that he knows to get a rise out of the boy, just to hear him talk
Nico was very nervous to meet Naomi. Will loved his mom (mama, he calls her) very very much, that was obvious to everyone. With more time to relax, Nico tries to dig up memories from his past. He doesn't remember everything, but he does remember how much he loved his mother. How beautiful she was, in her fine dresses, perched on a chair watching her children. She was a proper woman, manners were a necessity, etiquette was too. In some was, Sally Jackson reminded Nico of his own mother. A knowing smile, the tilt of her head when she spoke to you. But other than that, she was so different. Nico doesn't know how to act around Naomi. He had already asked Will on a date, had already come out to the whole camp, before Will suggests going to Texas for a few days. It brings Nico a bit of peace, knowing that he'll have the chance to ask Naomi for her permission to date her son. But it terrified him regardless. The conflicting emotions gave him a headache. Will thought it was sweet that he cared so much.
Contrary to popular belief, Nico does not cuss. He has a very vivid memory of his youth, messing with Bianca and saying very specific words just to annoy her. His mother had heard and made him wash his mouth out with soap. Percy cusses, casually enough, but never in front of an authoritative figure. Nico frowns at him when he does, and Percy laughs. Jason doesn't cuss, but he uses just about every filler word known to man. Reyna doesn't cuss, but she doesn't have to. The change in her tone, her composure, is scary enough on it's own. Hazel doesn't cuss. At least, not until she's angry. She has the foulest mouth Nico has ever heard. Will cusses like it's no bodies business. Strings of foul words in a southern drawl yelled as someone walks into the infirmary on Will's day off. Nico gasps the first time he hears Will speak like this.
ugh and there's more in my brain but i feel like i've already said too much so here you go!
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“A new recruit? What do we would need a newbie for?”
“Soap, there's no use questioning it,the decision has been made months ago.Now quit bothering me.” Price is truly annoyed. Ever since he broke the news to his team,Soap has not stopped asking about why, when, how and for what reason this new teammate will arrive to the taskforce.
“Okay,Okay,I get it at least tell us where they’re from,I mean we need to work with them at the very best of our abilities and-“
“Johnny”
Finally, freedom and peace arrived in the menacing form of Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. Never, in his years of work had Price thought that peace and Ghost would occur in the same sentence within his thoughts. As he stood just a few meters away from his office,and the peaceful moments that he’d get by just getting through that door, Gaz came from behind.
“Captain,outside is -“
“what time is it Gaz?” Price asked in the most nice and calmest tone he could muster. Inside his chest panic rose, as he reminded himself of today's date. The recruit is coming today at exactly 16:15 pm
“Its 16:13, sir”
“Thanks Kyle, I need all of you to go. To your bunks,or the main hall,or somewhere else. Now.”
“Why?” again, Sergeant soap thought it was a good idea to talk again and so to break the last straw of his captain’s calmness.
“Ghost make sure this nuisance doesn’t get in my way with his stupid mouth today again, or he’ll gets to experience a whole week of outside recruitment training.Understood?”
With that Price turned on his heel and out of the sight of his teammates
“Fucking bloody muppets” he mutters as he made his way outside
“Great job, Soap.Now what?”
“I know we’re all thinking the same. So, Gaz , even if you don’t want to say it, Im going to say it.We’re going to follow him, obviously.”
Soap looked to his brothers, expecting a quick response,but none came.A minute of silence followed.
“Soap,no”
“C’mon L.t, I know you give more fucks about this as you let on,so if nobody’s going to stop me,I’ll be following my Captain.”
With that he to turned in a over dramatic way just as Price did three minutes ago, and got to follow his captain way outside.
“This godforsaken scottish bastard.A’right ill better follow him and get him back before the captain does, if anyone asks for me tell’em i’m dead or drunk. Thanks sergeant Garrick.”
And so Gaz now stood alone in front of his superiors office door , neither knowing how to react to the oder given or the situation that had just occurred, while he simply wanted to inform his captain of the helicopter sighted near the base. So, he decided, he will do as told by both his Lieutenant and Captain Price, staying right where he was and tell anyone who asked that the Captain is on his Period,Ghost is drunk and Sergeant McTavish turned feral.
A rather peaceful start for them, Garrick thought.
In the helicopter, a young man looked down at his wrist, the watch showing exactly 16:14.
In exactly one minute the helicopter should land,he’d get off his seat, take his duffel bag and backpack, depart the helicopter and meet the Task force 141, under command by the British army and the CIA. He would meet his new colleagues and captain, staying with them for a exactly three months before He would be seated in this exact position, back to his home country and comrades.in exactly 45 seconds he would be on time, he thought, in 46 he would be late.
He hated being late, he despised the thought of being where he was supposed to be even a millisecond late.He knew how much could change within a single minute or even second. His time out in the fields made it even mir obvious to him, how important it was to be accountable, accurate and quick. He dreaded the thought of being late, as he knew, the seconds one waste, may be the last of anothers life
How long are thirty seconds really?
He looked down at his watch, he laughed.
It was a quick moment of bitter happiness filled by empty thoughts.
29…28….27
The Helicopter landing and the small ruckus of the helicopter as it touched the ground was the only thing he felt.
16:15 exactly on time, Second.
#call of duty#original character#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#tf 141#fanfic#should i continue?#ghost mw2#cod mw2#cod#I may need a title if i continue this
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No One Can Know... (5/?)
Word Count: 2,526 Words
Rating: Mature (SMUT)
Chapter 5
"I want your love, and I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love and all your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance"
- Lady Gaga
_________________________________________________
“Better to come here now then.”
Lucifer was right. Alastor had already put things off longer than was prudent for them and it might be best that tonight was not a night that they spent at the hotel.
Maybe this was a mistake... He thought.
Not that Lucifer hadn’t proven that he was fully capable of handling Alastor; but would he be prepared for Alastor at his absolute worst?
Alastor had not been entirely honest with Lucifer; refraining from offering up the fact that he had chosen avoidance - had forcibly made himself celibate - for the past 7 years. This, of course, was creating a large problem to him now. He had hoped to pay the consequence of denying his body a natural need it required under...different circumstances; perhaps at some time when the stakes weren't set quite so high with very few options to consider.
He had withheld this information knowing that Lucifer would inevitably want to know the reason why; and Alastor – quite simply – had no interest in discussing it.
Alastor was feeling uncomfortable.
Two days had passed since his visit to Lucifer’s and he was very nearly fully into his rut now. He had stubbornly pushed off contacting the angel for as long as was possible but it was getting harder and harder to maintain his composure.
During the daytime, he threw himself into tasks throughout the hotel; performing maintenance and small renovations where he could; helping Charlie in formulating a strong argument for redemption by researching terminology and definitions that would best accommodate her proposals; exchanging preliminary ideas with Vaggie on possible preparations for fortifying the hotel should the need require it; helping the other residents with small and meaningless chores or errands. He no longer slept and he spent the nights drinking and making efforts in dulling the edge to his urges.
Despite the distraction and despite him trying to deal with the arousals himself...he wasn't accomplishing much in assuaging his symptoms. Alastor's body was betraying him and he did not care for it. He felt overheated; a cold sweat constantly at his back. He had to take measures in concealing spontaneous erections and felt like every nerve on his body was a live wire just ready to ignite. His antlers were even weighing heavier on his head and he knew he couldn't ignore the implications of this much longer.
When he got to Lucifer's, he felt a frazzled mess. Lucifer took one look at him and knew - despite all of the arrogant antics, despite all of the careful planning - Alastor was not handling his rut well. He was too...maniac and too on-edge. His ears too straight and twitchy, his eyes and smile too wide...
"Have you eaten?" Lucifer asked him, inviting him inside. "You look like you could maybe use some food..." and maybe some sleep...
"No, I have not...I -" He was trying to remember when he last ate...not today. "I suppose I should."
"Shrimp and grits sound okay?" Lucifer asked him, walking toward the kitchen.
Alastor paused; tilting his head.
"I asked Charlie, alright." Lucifer told him. "I explained to her that you and I had important matters to discuss regarding information from Carmilla's extermination meetings she conducts with the Overlords tonight and I asked her what you might like to eat. She said you liked Cajun, so Cajun I made."
Alastor just stared at him; giving him a hard look.
“Won’t your daughter be wondering at the strangeness of our…nightly meeting?” He asked.
“Hardly.” Lucifer told him turning and continuing down the corridor. “She knows that you’re nocturnal and that I’m an insomniac. Honestly; she’s just thrilled that we don’t have any foreseeable plans in murdering each other.”
“I’d rather you didn’t go out of your way to make special accommodations for me.”
"I have an interest in knowing people, Alastor. I'm sure you've seen that trait in Charlie, as well. Don't be so surprised and don’t be so skeptical."
Flicking one ear; Alastor followed him to the kitchen.
"Also, you might hate the dinner. Who knows. I never said I was a good cook."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Following their meal, Lucifer noted that Alastor still seemed...out of sorts. They had engaged in quiet conversation that was pleasant enough but the man just seemed too...nervous and distant. Whatever expectations Lucifer had with tonight; this wasn't it.
Maybe this isn't the best solution...
With the food gone and dishes put away; there was nothing left for it...
"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower." Lucifer said; standing up to stretch. "Care to join me?"
"A shower sounds....nice, actually."
The bathroom was unlike anything Alastor had seen; dead or alive. It was incredibly spacious and immaculately kept...
The shower was a large walk-in with multiple waterflow heads. Lucifer unabashedly stripped himself naked; setting his clothes aside. Walking across the tiles; he flipped on the knobs of two of the heads before stepping underneath the streaming water of one.
Alastor paused; watching him. He expected Lucifer to start in on some form of leud comments...make an attempt at some or dirty talk; or hungrily – curiously even - watch him as he undressed; but the angel was paying him absolutely no mind.
Sighing; Alastor slipped out of his suit jacket.
Fully naked, he stepped into the shower with Lucifer; going to the second shower head that was beside him. Alastor stood underneath the jet; feeling the heated water soothe the static nervous energy he had stored in his body. He waited for Lucifer to turn toward him; to approach; to look at him and begin touching him but...he never did. Lucifer stood under his own steaming jet of water, eyes closed and head tilted as he showered; almost seemingly having forgotten that Alastor was even there. Alastor tweaked an ear, then closing his eyes he turned his face into the spray of water; feeling it thrum against his antlers, cascading across his lowered ears and through his hair.
Lucifer watched Alastor from the corner of his eye. He had noted a hint of some sort of cologne when Alastor stepped into the shower with him but now...now that Alastor was under the water the smell was pungent. It was a heavy but earthy odor; something akin to the smell of pine trees and rain or the soft tones of a woodfire smoke. Lucifer breathed the scent in deeply; his pupils gently dilated, his heart rate jumped, and his mouth began to water...all at once he was suddenly very much aroused and he immediately realized that he was smelling and breathing in the concentrated pheromones of Alastor's musk. Lucifer couldn't help but stare at him now, feeling a powerful urge now to approach the red deer demon; to feel and to touch...to give and to take.
He saw the water washing across Alastor’s upturned face; ringlets, splashes and streams of it curling and twisting all down across his body. He briefly noted that Alastor was covered in scars; a sharp flickering of red and then he saw that Alastor also possessed a rather soft-and-delicate-looking deer tail. Lucifer wondered at the amount of secrets Alastor must be willing to sacrifice to see these deals he had made done…
Lucifer’s erection was openly jutting upwards but…he held back. Watching Alastor closely; he somehow knew that he wasn't ready to be touched yet.
What hell it must be…he thought…to be someone who cared so little for physical intimacy - to have it forced upon them by their own biological need. Lucifer couldn't fathom it but he saw the discomfort; the detachment that Alastor was experiencing from it. It reminded Lucifer of one of his episodes that he had sometimes when he-
Wait.
Hold on.
Lucifer shook his head; blinking water from his eyes as he concentrated, looking much more closely at Alastor now.
Was Alastor...experiencing some episode of post-traumatic distress?
Lucifer focused; assessing all of the signs and he saw it, realizing…
“I’d rather not discuss it…”
Suddenly; all of it made sense.
Lucifer had wondered how Alastor – a sinner Cervidae demon that had been in Hell for as long as he had – had not yet come to terms with the matter of his occurring and re-occurring mating cycles.
Something had to have happened…
Fuck…
Lucifer rubbed his face; of course, this had to be even more complicated.
He thought briefly again about what both Lilith and Alastor had said…about how Alastor had actually killed demons before when he –
Then, Lucifer remembered what he himself had told Alastor:
“…it wasn’t for the intentions that they had thought…”
Alastor was still standing under the shower head next to his; eyes closed, face tilted up, smile fixed to his face. His body was rigid; tension never leaving his body.
Lucifer sighed.
“Hey, Al…”
Alastor’s eyes opened; he turned his head, ears lifting, looking at Lucifer now – somehow expressionless despite the ever-present grin.
“Come here; I-I’d like you to touch me.”
Alastor’s ears straightened; processing for a moment…
Then, reaching out – Alastor turned the knob to his shower head; turning off the spray of water. He went to Lucifer; stepping into the falling water and looking down at the angel. Reaching out again; he found the knob – turning it. Heat flared across Lucifer’s skin; turning his pale skin a rosy pink.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Lucifer hissed.
Alastor huffed; a small smirk touching his face. Turning, he put his back to the streaming jet of hot water; facing Lucifer. Steam began to rapidly fill the shower; heat radiating around them.
Alastor waited; still anticipating Lucifer to reach out – touch him; grab him; grip him; smother him…
Lucifer lifted his hands; palms open and held to the side.
“Per our agreement…” He said, softly.
Alastor’s eyes widened; understanding.
“I won’t touch you.” Lucifer told him. “Not until you want me to.”
Alastor’s breathing changed; the base to his antlers were becoming more full, more points erupting and curling upward.
“Don’t hold back.” Lucifer told him.
Layers of tension left Alastor as he moved himself closer to Lucifer; his upper body leaning down and over the angel.
He took Lucifer’s face between clawed hands; tilting his head and pressing his mouth to his. Alastor kissed him and Lucifer kept his hands raised and away. Alastor pressed himself closer; completely blocking the spray of water coming from the shower head and Lucifer was grateful for the added heat that was filling the room in a foggy humid blanket.
Still kissing him; Alastor’s hands left the angel’s face and began exploring his body. Clawed fingers traced stimulating patterns all along Lucifer’s wet neck, chest, shoulders and stomach. Lucifer shuddered; groaning softly into Alastor’s mouth. Unlike Alastor; Lucifer craved to touch and craved being touched…now finding himself coming out of a rather lengthy dry spell – maybe not years worth, but still – his body was terribly touch deprived and every contact Alastor made with him was bracing to him. Keeping his hands away – he clenched his fists at the urge to reach out and touch Alastor.
Alastor pulled his head back; breaking the kiss. His fingers curled around Lucifer’s chin; his eyes wide and dilating.
“Put your hands on my shoulders.” He breathed.
Unclenching his fists; Lucifer did as he was instructed. Alastor waited for him to rest his hands on either side; pausing as if assessing himself - deciding whether he would find the contact acceptable.
Nodding; he leant back in – pressing his lips back again to Lucifer’s – his own clawed hands finding and gripping the smaller man’s waist; palms resting on each hip.
Lucifer let his hands rest – still - at Alastor’s shoulders; neither moving them to touch and explore Alastor like he ached to do nor to grip and pull him closer. Alastor gave a soft growl and Lucifer took it as an approving sound as the demon coaxed their mouths open; sliding his tongue between parted lips – he twisted and flicked it with and against Lucifer’s forked one.
More and more of the unease was leaving Alastor’s body…making room for a new kind of tension. Lucifer felt Alastor grip his hips tighter; his developing erection pressing into the King’s belly. Disengaging himself from Lucifer’s mouth; Alastor pressed his forehead to Lucifer’s; his breathing heavy.
“You may touch me now.” Alastor told him.
Slowly; Lucifer leaned in – touching his lips to Alastor’s collar bone and sliding his hands down across Alastor’s arms and his chest. Alastor groaned; sinking into the touch and Lucifer knew that he would no longer have to take such pangs to be so cautious. He nipped and licked at Alastor’s skin; his tongue tracing across the raised and jagged scars that crisscrossed his chest. Clawed fingers dragging soft red marks; everywhere they went.
Lifting a hand from a hip; Alastor found Lucifer’s length. He palmed and stroked the King; feeling the firming of muscle in his hand. Lucifer sucked in a breath; hands involuntarily gripping tightly at Alastor’s arms. Lucifer quickly released his sudden grip; but Alastor only chuckled lowly at the response he had elicited in him.
“Turn around, my King.” Alastor told him lowly.
Turning; Lucifer felt Alastor’s hands grip his shoulders – pulling him against him so that Lucifer could feel the sinner’s erection pressing sharply into his back. Alastor adjusted himself; then possessively wrapped an arm around Lucifer’s torso; holding him firmly to him as he leant himself over – reaching down to take the swollen and aching member into his grip again. He pressed himself tightly against the angel; his own fully erect penis sliding up and down Lucifer’s wet back as he moved his hips – pumping the King in his hand.
Lucifer bent himself back against Alastor; his hips quivering into jutting as he felt himself quickly approaching a climax. His clawed fingers dug into the wet and slick skin of Alastor’s forearm; wrapped tightly across his chest. Alastor’s face was pressed tightly into the side of Lucifer’s neck; growling and gasping as both their movements stimulated him into an ever-deepening arousal.
Alastor’s grip tightened and Lucifer knew he was lost. His hips jutted sharply; and he felt himself release into Alastor’s hand; cum slipping between fingers and washing away in the cascade of water around them. Alastor let him go; and Lucifer shakily stood – his back still to Alastor.
A soft flickering of the lights and a soft buzzing of something static made Lucifer turn. Alastor was standing behind him; his penis curved tightly upward, a hand covering his face – his eyes were wide, red and flaring crazily behind spread fingers. His smile maniac and stretched too wide. His ears were erratically twitching in sharp movements; the fur on them standing sharply on end. The lights began to strobe; going out briefly before flickering back in again. Shadows were creeping into corners; crawling across walls – slowly consuming the room. Alastor’s antlers where branching and stretching dramatically overhead; the points lengthening and twisting around themselves in a beautifully chilling way. Alastor’s musk pervaded the room; hanging heavy in the thickening steam that surrounded them.
“Somewhere else…” Alastor was saying; his widening eyes seeing nothing. “I’m…”
And the room went dark.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#alastor#fanfiction#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#my fanfic#no one can know...#no once can know... fanfic#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#alastor and lucifer#alastor x lucifer#lucifer x alastor#hazbin hotel lucifer#radioapple#lucifer hazbin hotel#appleradio#the radio demon#demon alastor#alastor in rut#dark alastor
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Do you think there's a chance a streaming service will pick ncis:h? I've signed the petition but do we dare to hope? I'm tired of this happening all the time. I just dont understand. It was doing fine in ratings and it's a part of a franchise that keeps getting more spin offs? How that makes sense? Do you know the ratings compared with the others ncis shows? Sorry im asking you but im not from usa and i have no idea how american netwoks work. So sad rn.
okay SO i am also not from the us but have done this dance before sooooo:
1) from what i’ve heard, they were planning to move either another ncis show (i think sydney?) or another cbs show to paramount plus - which they now are no longer doing. in theory yes, this opens up the possibility for ncishi to move over there; in practice, i’m not holding my breath, as typically that negotiation would happen before a cancellation announcement
2) how does it make sense? the honest answer is that it doesn’t. like, it really doesn’t. it’s been holding steady at sixth of 14 cbs shows in the ratings (which is a brilliant number, ensures it’s profitable, and is also impressive for a procedural that’s still relatively new). it’s been beating a LOT of other crime procedurals in viewership and viewer retention, and reviewers have been singing its praises. i think this is why it feels so much as if it’s because they just view this show as less valuable (socially and economically) than their usual white guy cop shows; it’s very difficult to argue that your profitable, successful show is too expensive when you’re flying cast and crews across - or, potentially, internationally to - australia, to continue a less-highly-rated show with no issue.
3) as far as ratings go - ncis hawai’i episodes were pulling in as many as 10 million viewers last year (s2 e10 came in with 10.5 mil, as per variety telecast viewership reports) which has it going toe to toe with the core ncis (seems to pull approx. 8-10mil per episode, via hollywood reporter). for the 18-49 demographic across us series, ncis hawaii is ranking at #13 of #21 as per tvseriesfinale.com - this is significantly above ncis sydney (renewed, #15), and elsbeth (#19, renewed), two other cbs shows, one of which in particular is incredibly expensive. crucially, ncishi has actually increased its viewership, which is VERY difficult to do on a year to year basis. its up by 4.18% among 18 to 49 year olds - for comparison the core NCIS is down 0.83% and fbi international - a competing show - is down by 3.73%. bear in mind that even a single percentage point represents hundreds of thousands of viewers.
i also want to point out that ranking at #13 isn’t strictly representative of viewer numbers, it’s about percentage of viewers that are within that core age bracket. the neighbourhood is ranking at #6, but only pulling in 4.8 million viewers - ncishi is at #13, and pulling in 5.2 million. ncishi pulls in over half a million more viewers than four shows ranked above it in that chart.
so essentially - it doesn’t make sense. from any perspective. it doesn’t make sense from a business perspective (ncis sydney is more expensive to produce and brings in approx. 200k less viewers than ncishi, and ncishi crew had already agreed to a shortened, budget-restrained final season), it doesn’t make sense for a ratings perspective (it continues to outperform many of cbs’ own shows, including ones that have been renewed), it doesn’t make sense from a social perspective (people are loving it, even outside of our fandom spaces).
objectively, it’s a really, really bad move by cbs. i also thought being part of a franchise would be a kind of safety net - fool me once, i guess. all the evidence suggests that they just don’t care enough about ncishi, especially when they’ve got their bullshit white guy ncis origins show, a young sheldon spinoff (?? who asked?) and a plethora of other cookie-cutter shows they can just keep going with. and we can make a pretty educated guess as to why, when the main things that set ncishi apart from the other ncis shows are its diversity and character dynamics
(edit: it was pointed out that people aren’t being flown to sydney from the us, which is true, and bad phrasing on my part - but many are flown across australia at seemingly similar costs to mainland us/hawai’i flights, and i believe not all of the leads are based in australia either, so i’ve updated that bit for clarity. apologies!)
#ncis hawaii#i hope this helps ppl understand a little more!#it’s bullshit. like it’s such unbelievable blatant bullshit#ncis hawai’i
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literally wanna dieeeee I realized belatedly that not only was down bad written for me due to being an alien abduction metaphor song but it perfectly describes my situation w/my ex who dumped me 3 days into our second vacation in his country
#but yknow thats what i get for dating a fucking man last year when i absolutely knew better. i was in a low place & the idea of being#whisked away from europe was an escape for me . we got along really well but the second i showed any emotional weakness he couldnt handle i#oh but he sent a bunch of messages begging me to come back when i was on the plane fleeing to my sisters london flat! lol!!!#i didnt tell you guys about any of this on my old blog when it was happening bc i just knew itd invite a flood of#''why were you even dating a man'' messages. yeah im aware. it was stupid & yet another result of my inability to purge myself of the#desire to be in a relationship my homophobic father wouldnt hate me for. and i didnt think any woman would want me . im over it now#fuck my abusive father fuck men in general im so over the internalized homophobia. ive always preferred women why should i have to#supress that to make my fuckface hypocrite father happy. i only rly care bc i love my half brother & want to be in his life which means#i have to appease dad. but at what goddamn cost#why did i say from europe in that earlier tag. i meant TO europe...im from the us#anyways. what a shit show situation that was. i have never felt so betrayed by anyone except for my dad himself#oh i didnt even mention the worst part yet. when i texted from london asking if our friendship was over too (god. so cringe) he then went#into this spiel about how actually what he said earlier when he was asking me to come back#(that it had been a stupid impulse & biggest mistake of his life) was a lie & it had been a long time coming#IF IT WAS A LONG TIME COMING WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME FLY ACROSS THR ATLANTIC FUCKING OCEAN 3 DAYS AGO FOR YOU#and said hed tell me the reasons but ''didnt want to hurt me''#i have so much hatred in my heart for this man to this day when i really think about the mind games he was playing. unreal.#and he KNEW i already had massive trust issues
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my therapist really saved me….
#tw abuse // tw sa#i can’t sleep bc i keep thinking about this.#like i probably would’ve not been here if it weren’t for her#i started seeing her january of 2023… my life has changed entirely since then and she was definitely the one who got the ball rolling#literally so much has changed since then and it’s all because of her#i was so dissociated during our first few sessions#thanks to her i was able to get diagnosed and medicated for adhd. i was able to realize i was in an abusive situation and plan a way out#i was able to focus on myself and my healing and she’s helped me reframe so much of my negative thinking#i was able to process a lot of emotions and become a better version of myself with each session#she’s truly incredible.#i remember the first comment she made about the relationship had been ‘’so it’s like there’s an imbalance of control in the relationship’’#i had put my partners on such a high pedestal that i had no idea they could be doing anything wrong#and i asked her what she meant and she said ‘from what you’ve been describing it’s sounds like a strict parents and child type of dynamic’#she told me they didn’t need to understand why i wanted to leave and they didn’t need to make that decision. if that’s what was going to be#best for me the only thing i could do is let them know my reasoning and simply leave. i didn’t need their permission.’’#i remember being so confused at that realization bc like… i had been putting their emotions over mine the whole time i had forgotten simply#doing what’s best for me was an option… l#ever since then i’ve been putting myself first and it’s been a steady uphill from rock bottom… i’ve made an incredible amount of progress#when i first started with her getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen was incredibly difficult and took all my strength.#yesterday i conquered a mountain!!!!!!! i hiked all the way to the top!!!!! :D#me a year ago thought it was going to take me years and years to recover. as soon as i left i made leaps of progress#im incredibly proud of myself and grateful for her. and my reiki lady she’s also been a great great help.#the silver lining is i realized who really matters. and the relationships i cared about deepened.#my sweet virgo friend was the one who was always like ‘THATS A GROWN ASS MAN WHO CANT UNDERSTAND BASIC CONSENT???’#LMFAO i would be like ‘but he has trauma and bla bla bla’ she looked me dead in the eyes and said#’jess you said with your last boyfriend that you would never make excuses for a man who was hurting you again. stop defending him.’#she’s really a gem and i treasure her with my life. i hope she knows i love her. she’s family at this point#she’s also literally saved my life before (like deadass called 911 for help)#im glad i had the support system i had. that was a rough situation with so many layers and im glad i got through it#my 22nd year of life was by far the worst of my life and i don’t ever want to put myself in that situation again. im glad i learned.
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currently sick i forgot to add this to the last ask but your art, to me, is indicative of the beauty you seenin the world and i think it sso fucking amazing how much you see and appreciate. your brain is gigantic and wrinkled like a pug. u are amazing
advbsghf like a pug 😭 thank u this is so nice. i dont always respond to nice asks bc Im not sure what to say so i just keep them like letters lol but i get very romantic about a lot of stuff (especially when my mental health is being normal) and I'm rly glad that comes across in my art
#i do read and appreciate all the asks i get i love them a lot#the stuff ppl send me is genuienly very meaningful to me i just don't know how to respond to it#im not great at forming thoughts and feelings into words lol I'm like this irl too#and i dont want to reply to a very heartfelt ask with just 'thank you' or something like that#ive been doing better with new meds i got and its rly relieving to be able to be romantic about stuff#when i get depressed its hard to do that bc everything is warped and i get this idea that the world and everyone is evil#ive found myself drawing a lot of the more cutesy positive art when i had depressive periods#for the last few years. bc before i would often do the spookier kind of art when feeling that way#as a sort of venting of those emotions#(not that i only make that art when depressed btw. it just obv draws from negative emotions)#but more lately its kind of flipped. where id draw this romantic art while depressed as a sort of escapism#and would only draw the spookier more negative art when in a good mental place where I could engage w those emotions in a fun way#if that makes sense#kinda like how sometimes you need to listen to sad music when you're sad but sometimes you need distraction#and how you might only want to watch a really heavy movie if youre in a good headspace
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i’ll have y’all know that i’ve been researching raven creatures and i’m about to go stupid go crazy and add this lady to the blog when i get back
#i’ve had her concept in my brain for years now but i never followed through with fleshing her out#but the time has come B))#i spoke about her last night BUT i decided she’s gonna be something called a valravn#which yes was in senua’s sacrifice but he was a lil different from the danish myth#which is a raven who becomes this scary creature with intelligence and whatnot who can take a human form#but only after eating a child’s heart/blood#i might scrub that from her origin? and make it anyone’s heart just bc it doesn’t suit her moral code#but we’ll see!#her name’s gonna be branwen/bronwyn bc it means fair raven and that tickles her#with how obvious it is asdfg#i wrote about her personality in the tags of a post if you wanna see#i just love the idea of a creature character who is rightly intimidating but you can befriend her#if you’re cool and aren’t annoying/are forgive-ably annoying#she’s actually a lot more patient and chill than folks think bc she encourages spooky tales so she#can have her privacy tbh#but you want her to kill some guy?? she’s got you man don’t even bother with the details#she doesn’t need them if you really braved scary woods and risked meeting a foul monster to ask#her for a favor :’ )#moral code is strictly according to what she thinks is good and bad and not what is typically perceived#as good and bad#i’m rambling i know but i’m excited okay :’ ))))#get ready to ramble | ooc
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guess who gets to have chipotle today
#it’s me!!!! the last time i had it was my birthday in april#and i keep asking if we could have it and the answer is always no and then. a couple weeks ago when i was at work#my dad and sister had chipotle without me. and that made me real sad#but today i get to have chipotle!!!! im so excited#chipotle and red robin are my two favorite restaurants not counting [redacted pizza restaurant] where i work#and i have a secret kids menu hack that gets me super cheap food at red robin but it’s expensive for the rest of my family#so we don’t go there often. chipotle on the other hand is still a special treat but it’s a more equal special treat#where everyone can feel like they’re getting their moneys worth and im always in the mood for it#and so im really glad we’re doing it today. i love chipotle so much#we’re just gonna go order takeout and then eat it at home but that’s better than sitting in the restaurant with lights and loud people#so this is the most ideal meal possible. my dad went a couple weeks not really feeding us anything but this is the second day this week#that we’re getting food as a family. i guess he’s doing that cause my mom and little sister are almost home so he’s making the most of the#last week. other things he’s taking advantage of being able to do: smoke weed cause he thinks i don’t know the smell so i won’t know#i do know i just don’t want to be confrontational about it. we’ve almost made it through this entire time with no fights and im really proud#so im not gonna mess it up calling him out on something like that. for vague context i live in a state where it is a crime. but i don’t#really care from that standpoint it’s just. idk i just wish that when he’s supposed to be a responsible adult he would keep his wits up#like. my mom told me once that when i was growing up she would smoke weed before she hung out with me and my sister so that she would be#in the right headspace. she would smoke weed so that she’d be more childish and fun to play with#which i guess i appreciate the goddamned effort but it didn’t work because as long as you still have power over somebody#any superficial idea of equality isn’t going to do anything. three year old me did not cry less when my mom got mad at me if she had been#high when she was taking care of me earlier. that is not how that works. so anyway i guess it’s a sore spot#he’s only smoked once the past couple weeks and now he is again today i could smell it when i went to the basement to do my laundry#and it’s just not a great vibe. hang on i heard the dryer song from far away im gonna go move my laundry#anyway this is actually a happy post because i get chipotle so um. sorry for all the weed talk i got distracted#drug cw#ok i’ll see you guys later i have to move my laundry and then im getting dinner!!!! very excited#me. my post. mine.#delete later
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I love my degree I love my department I love my uni
#killing and biting and screaming#if I have to do one more thing ever again I’m gonna lose it I can’t wait for may I can’t wait for may#I had a very nice chat with a phd student today who confirmed everything I’ve been thinking from a different perspective#and let me tell you. vindication is nice.#I’m so close to things being bearable but to get there I have to make it through The Horrors. there are so many horrors#okay the one thing has happened someone’s asking me to read an email that’s it I’m done forever#I will keep going even though I’m gonna have to claw my way through. bc unfortunately I have responsibilities#such as ‘run this dumb club’ and ‘give this dumb presentation’ and ‘email these dumb supervisors’#and my friend is being so fucking annoying abt how we like the same supervisors and is complaining abt me going for similar people#oh people are fucking upstairs that’s fun love to hear it#anyway I’m literally sending her people to talk to and she’s complaining that I like the sound of this person she brings up.#sorry dude im not applying to shit I don’t like to save your ego#anyway I can’t wait to get out of this city maybe I’ll move somewhere else when I graduate and spend the year there#phd student earlier was suggesting places to go to get research assistant jobs#oh my god she was also talking abt how biology is so nepotistic it’s all abt the people you know#and then I go talk to the friend again whose dad has a fancy research job and she’s LITERALLY CITING HIM IN HER PRESENTATION#HE OFFERED TO GET HER A JOB AT DEFRA. HES GIVEN HER THE IDEAS FOR HER LAST TWO PROJECTS.#PEOPLE KEEP THINKING ITS CUTE AND COOL AND SHIT THAT SHES GETTING STUFF FROM HER DAD AND I WANT TO SCREAM#LAST YEAR SOMEONE TOLD HER SHE SHOULD PUBLISH THIS ANALYSIS SHE DID OF DATA SHE GOT FROM HER DAD. BC NOBODY ELSE HAS DONE ANYTHING WITH IT.#I’m gonna have to live with her next year#murder. murder#why did saving as draft give everything double tags will that show up when I post#weird.#I am being soooooo normal abt everything I can function so good sleep deprived#okay it’s fine. I’m gonna. finish eating. wash up. call home. write presentation. read this guy’s thing so I can email him. hockey?#very ambitious but if I get some things done that’s fine#luke.txt
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Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀
she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader
contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz
notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.
“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.
“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”
shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”
“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.
utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.
“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.
intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”
“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.
“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.
utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.
“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.
“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.
utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”
from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.
“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.
with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.
bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.
“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.
“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”
“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.
a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.
“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.
“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.
during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.
“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.
“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”
you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.
“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.
you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.
“that’s what love does to a man.”
“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”
satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.
“how much?”
“excuse me?”
“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.
you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.
shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”
suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”
“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.
she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”
you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.
trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”
“i’m buying you that dress.”
“o-okay.”
half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.
perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.
it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.
as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.
breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"
his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.
“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”
gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.
"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.
the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.
“what?”
“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”
“oh.”
silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.
satoru can only watch, entranced.
“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.
satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.
but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.
his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.
you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.
"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.
“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.
you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”
“great, it’s a date!”
good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.
maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#this is me coping bc of the leaks
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Sometimes I'm on here and y'all make posts that just make me go, "you are very young and would benefit from learning something about our culture in the last hundred years".
Yes, people are upset by trans and enby people, because their lives are entirely structured around the different roles of men and women, and the idea that men and women are fundamentally different and inherently suited to their traditional roles. Like, that shouldn't be a big realization. That was a major part of western culture until quite recently, and still is for a great many people. We attack their basic worldview by existing as ourselves. Obviously they're wrong, but that doesn't change the emotion of the situation.
Yes, conservative cis people act like marriage is a chore. For most of history, and certainly US colonial history, marriage was a social and economic necessity that created a working partnership. Attraction was certainly a hoped-for element but not strictly required, and love was a bonus, possibly even a bit suspect as a motivation. It was still like this when my grandparents married. I know couples today who are separated but married for financial reasons. We're not talking about the distant past. Marriage has been many things through the years, and "an equal partnership based on love" is a very recent iteration. Of course our culture is littered with artifacts of the older way. The older way was like...yesterday. Today.
Yes, Grandma has trouble at the grocery store checkout. When she was a kid they had rotary phones and radios, and you paid for everything with cash. She grew up in a culture that taught that childhood was for learning and adulthood was for doing, and now the world is asking her to learn a bunch of new things that basically sound like magic, and she's not even sure she can, and she's not at all sure it's an improvement (and she's got a point, though she might not know it).
There's just....a real lack of perspective. I dunno, watch some documentaries about the fifties. Read some historical novels. Go to the local Victorian house tour.
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