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erodasfishtacos · 12 days ago

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Swallow Your Pride ||CEO||

Prompt: YN has to borrow Harry’s car, she gets in an accident, and panics.

word count: 14k

warnings: car accident, angst, Harry is not a nice person to anyone but his wife and babies in this trope universe

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It didn’t make sense how insecure YN was.

Not at all.

Six months into their relationship and everything was great, scratch that, perfect.

YN couldn’t ask for a better significant other, Harry was quite literally the whole package - understanding, supportive, empathic, and loving in a way he wasn’t with anyone else.

She didn’t think that all this could be true, Harry had done absolutely nothing to show that he was putting on an act or appearance but YN had a hard time believing that someone like Harry would want someone like her.

Though Harry was constantly praising how intelligent, kind, beautiful she was - she never felt in his league, not compared to him, and it wasn’t just about the money.

But it had something to do with it.

On top of being one of the richest people in the world, he was heartbreakingly handsome and fit - his cut jaw, even if his face was almost always scowling he looked like he just walked off the cover of Vogue, and not to mention his body.

His biceps, his stomach, he had defined muscles that YN had even known exists like up under his armpits near his rib cage, ripples of toned muscle that came from dedication in the gym.

More importantly than that - he was terrifying brilliant, the fact that he created a multibillion dollar company out of his mum’s living room in mere years and now had the life he did now, that was from being intelligent to the point of genius.

YN just felt like she came to the table with little to nothing to offer in comparison.

She was still in college, massively in debt, working at a run down bar, and living in the cheapest accommodations she could find in London.

She would never call herself unattractive but when she got the inkling urge to google Harry and his past flings - well…it shot her confidence in the gutter because he was seen with gorgeous women who modeled and walked runway shows, a different kind of beauty that she couldn’t compare to.

None of this was fair to Harry because he made her feel like the most beautiful, intelligent person on this earth and she knew he was sincere but she couldn’t help but think that after their honeymoon phase…well he would realize that she wasn’t all that special, not compared to the other options.

When they were out, there were constantly women coming up to him, not shy about flirting and making suggestive comments while she was standing right next to him.

It didn’t matter if he bluntly told them to ‘fuck off’, it was always a hit to her already low self-confidence.

She likes to think that she hides it pretty well from Harry, he always got upset when she put herself down with negative thoughts and comments so she tried to bottle that up.

Harry and her had gotten in small arguements in the past six months but it was nothing ever than being a bit peeved with each other, he had a incredible amount of patience and understanding when it came to her, not to often actually getting irritated.

However, she wasn’t stupid, she saw how he could be to his employees, she say how he talked to random people on the street, to the girls hitting on him, sometimes to his own sister.

He wasn’t any of the characteristics that YN explained him as but the exact opposite - rude, impatient, unsympathetic, and easy to anger.

When she talks about the other shoe dropping, she can’t help but wonder if she’ll face the same wrath that others have - she didn’t know if she could handle the cold, uncaring, angry Harry that others got and how she would deal with it.

It just felt unrealistic that he could magically turn it off with her but not the other people in his life but he hadn’t once shown that side of himself to her, not even when he’s been cross with her attitude.

His temper scared her a bit, she thinks back to the first time she really saw it, and it still sticks in her mind.

1 & ½ into the relationship

It was a business dinner, one where a whole restaurant had been rented out to celebrate multiple new branches of Style Marketing & Co opening worldwide, expanding to four new countries.

YN had accepted the invitation because she knew Harry wanted her there, that as his partner, she would have to attend these business dinners and events to support him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, per se, it was more that she didn’t feel like she fit in - as a broke college student, she didn’t have extra money for dresses and shoes to wear to these things.

People weren’t wearing dresses from cheap online fast fashion websites, they were wearing designer brands like Gucci and Prada to somewhat casual dinners.

The suits Harry was showing up in, most of them had a Gucci label on the sleeve or the inside of the suit jacket, she couldn’t imagine how much they cost as she tried to pick from two dresses she got for thirty pounds each.

YN would make do with what she had because she sure as hell wasn’t going to mention this to Harry, she knows that he would automatically either take her to shop or try to hand her his credit card to buy herself whatever she wanted, and she hated accepting any help - no matter if the intention was good or not.

To mention it, that’s probaly what they fought over the most is YN’s stubbornness when it comes to accepting help or gifts - nothing frustrated Harry more than when he tries to be a good, supportive partner and she won’t let him.

It didn’t matter that Harry was worth billions, it was more about the principle.

She had never accepted help before and she never wanted Harry to think that she was using him for his money even though he assured her a million times he’s never thought that.

YN had shown up to the event in the nicer of the two dresses, it didn’t scream expensive but it was nice enough that it could pass for not being fast fashion - a simple black satin dress.

She had been worried that Harry wouldn’t like it or be embarassed that was what she chose to wear but when he knocked on her apartment door to pick her up and she opened the door - his eyes trailed down her body, pausing on her hips and chest then collarbones before meeting her eye with a cheeky glimmer.

“Fuckin’ hell, you look amazing,” He had groaned as he stepped forward, pressing his full body against hers as he tilted her chin up to bring their lips together - his hand coming to run along her belly and hips, massaging roughly as he licks at her, “Don’t even want to go to the party now, just want to get you in my bed.”

“Harry,” YN giggled as he hands moved to palm at her bum, gripping up her cheeks before letting them jiggle - he did that a couple times as he kisses her, “We’re going to be late.”

He lets out a spoiled sigh as he steps back, eyes moving over her one more time, “S’a bit unfair how gorgeous you are. How am I supposed to conduct business when you look like this.”

YN can feel her cheeks heat with a shyness, unsure to ever having someone compliment her in the way he does, “Okay charmer, you’re already getting my pants tonight.”

Harry’s smile fades a bit, eyes becoming more serious, his hand grabs her wrist as she turns to start down the hallway, “Hey, I’m not saying those things just to chat you up. I mean them.”

YN feels guilty she made him feel that way, quickly moving to kiss him again, “I know, i'm sorry that came out wrong. I’m not used to having someone compliment me like that. First time.”

“Better get used to it,” He grumbles boyishly, pinching at her lightly, “I don’t think I’m ever going to shut up about how pretty you are.”

The compliments that he gave her definitely boosted her self-esteem for the ride there, however when she walked into the dimly lit restraunt, she felt it plummet again not just because of the drop dead females that were already there but how they were staring at harry.

They were gazing at him openly, with glimmer in their eyes, and they weren’t even shy about it - the blatant openness of their attraction made YN know that it wasn’t just in her head.

Harry doesn’t notice or if he does notice, he doesn’t act like he does - his fingers are intertwined with YN’s as he guides them in, the typical stoney expression on his face.

YN doesn’t know if his employees have ever seen him smile.

Probably not as it seemed Harry’s mission to stay as professional and unemotional as possible at these events, she knows he didn’t enjoy them much either but it came with being a boss - he had to attend these things often.

Harry tries to keep YN included in the conversations as the dinner goes on but she doesn’t have much input on data governance plans or how to better track sales by unit which makes her appear more quiet than she usually is.

And she appreciates that Harry isn’t just ignoring her, constantly turning to whisper something sweet in her ear and his hand is glued to her thigh, rubbing circles in soft patterns or squeezing to remind her that he’s there.

She can’t help but feel the weight of the stares of some of the women, it was her first time at an official event as his girlfriend.

A jealous flare shoots up her spine at the thought of Harry bringing other women as his date before her, she wonders if these girls think she’s just another date that will disappear by the next event.

Which she does decide that she thinks is true because none of the women have shame in the way they smile widely, laugh a bit too much at something he said, compliment him on every occasion they can.

Overwhelming would be a good word to describe it, she’s had a few other boyfriends before Harry, some that weren’t too bad looking but she’d never had anyone be so upfront and blunt about their attraction to her partner.

She wondered if maybe it was a rich person thing she had been let in on because Harry didn’t seem surprised by the flirtatious behavior but he also didn’t acknowledge it all.

YN felt a bit foolish as she pushed her food around her plate, a wave of insecurity making her naseous and the beautiful prime rib in front of her unappetizing.

When she stands to go to the bathroom, Harry follows even though she insists he doesn’t need to but apparently has to go to which has them splitting off at the separate bathrooms.

YN has taken a few deep breaths to calm herself down, calm the nausea that is clawing up her throat because she loves Harry so much and she feels so out of place which is something she knows she just has to push past but tonight it’s hard.

She takes a bit longer than necessary in the bathroom, hoping that Harry would have just went back to the table but as she opens the bathroom door - he hears murmurs from around the corner which make her pause to listen because she could recognize Harry’s voice anywhere.

And even though she doesn’t know the name of the women, she recognized the raspy yet high pitched voice from the table, she was wearing a tight red dress and had been batting her eyelashes at Harry all night.

“Just, there’s- we can, in the bathroom,” Red dress is insisting from behind the wall, YN can’t see anything and so she moves forward a little, there’s a plant which blocks the view a little but makes it so she can peak without being spotted.

Red dress is attempting to corner Harry in the hallway, where he was most likely waiting for YN to come out, and she’s stalking towards him like a creeping predator.

“Why the fuck would I want to go in the bathroom with you?” Harry snaps at her without an inkling that he was interested in what she was, “I’m your boss, do you realize how inappropriate you’re being right now?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t looked at me, I know you have,” She’s undeterred as she continues to walk towards him, “I know I’m your type. I know the girls you fuck. Don’t act like I don’t know.”

“You don’t know shit,” Harry replies, his voice colder than she’s ever heard it, and her heart jumps when she watches Red Dress put her hands on his chest and massage at the skin, fingertips trying to sneak into the gap of his barely buttoned shirt.

Harry’s quick as he grips her wrists on his own, using the leverage he has to push her back, and she stumbles on her high heels, surprised that she was just denied like that.

“You can’t push me like that,” She huffs as she straightens out her dress.

“But you can put your disgusting fucking hands on me?” Harry bites out as shakes his head, “I have a girlfriend and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be fucking you. Don’t think so god damn highly of yourself, you’re fuckin’ pathetic, Leah.”

“You kissed me- at that Christmas party two years ago and no-now you act like I don’t even exist,” She accuses and YN can tell the girl is starting to get upset like she actually has feelings for Harry.

“You don’t exist to me,” Harry tells her simply, his eyes are dark but unemotional as he tells her, “I was drunk and you were all over me. It was convenient and nothing else. You’re not as pretty as you think you are.”

YN knows she shouldn’t feel bad for the girl because she had come onto Harry much too forcefully and Harry was her boyfriend but she couldn’t help the pang in her chest as Leah begin to cry more openly at his words.

Harry doesn’t soften up though.

“I just wanted you to give me a chance,” Leah sniffles as wipes her eyes fiercely but her bottom lip is wobbling as she stares at Harry who has his arms crossed and a unreadable expression on his face.

“I was never interested in you. It would have never happened. If I wanted to fuck you, I would have but I didn’t. Get the fuck over it,” Harry tells her without a care of how devastated the girl seems, “And if you try that shit again, I’m going to make sure you’re fired. Get a fucking grip of yourself.”

“You’re a goddamn dickhead,” Leah fires back at him.

“You have about five seconds to get the fuck out of my face before I fire you right now,” Harry warns her calmly, he looks down at his expensive watch to casually fix the band like he’s uninterested which he really seems to be with the whole interaction.

Leah acts like she’s going to start another round of arguements but with the threat of her job, it makes her finally stomp off as she’s reaching in a bag for a tissue.

YN tucks herself back around the wall for a minute, her mind was reeling with what she just saw and she really didn’t know how to process her emotions about it.

Instead of doing so, she gives herself another minute before she’s coming around the corner where Harry is still waiting with his back against the wall and when he sees her, a wide smile crosses his face.

“Darling,” He grins at her, the previous interaction didn’t show in his body language or face at all, “I can’t wait for this dinner to be over. I was thinkin’ we could take a dip in the pool?”

YN hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether she wants to bring up what she just witnessed - it was the issue of her coming onto him because he very obviously turned her down and wasn’t interested but the way he treated her in doing so.

It wasn’t necessarily wrong in the way that she did touch him without permission but the cruel manner in which he spoke to her without an ounce of empathy and coldness wracking through his body.

Again, did it concern her?

No, it wasn’t really her business.

But there was a bit of a inkling of anxiety, what if she fucks up, what if she does something he really doesn’t like?

Was she going to get that same unwavering coldness?

4 months in the relationship

The most he’s ever done while YN was annoyed at him over a stupid event he agreed they’d both attend interrupted her plans for them to just stay home and cuddle.

He’d still been slightly amused by her disgruntled disposition as she came out of his shower, hair in a towel, and one wrapped under her arms as she pointedly tossed her dress on his bed with a bit too much drama.

“I don’t want to go, Harry,” YN tells him with an edge in her tone.

“Then why did you agree when I asked you if you would a month ago?” Harry retorts back but there’s mirth in his eyes as he watches her pout and whine.

“I want to cuddle and watch Christmas movies, its three days before Christmas! Not go sit at some event where everyone jsut tries to kiss your ass all night,” She grumbles as begins to pat her hair with the towel to get the extra moisture out of it, “I’m not going.”

That seems to surprise Harry, eyebrows raising, “I want you to come with me. It’s why I asked you to come. We can come home after and watch all the movies you want.”

“Harry, I always go to these things. It’s the one time I don’t want to go-“

“You’re being a spoiled brat,” Harry sighs but it’s not that emotionless snap she heard that night in the hallway, there was exasperation in his tone, sure, but not what she was expecting, “I really want you to go.”

“And I don’t want to, Harry,” YN stays firm, she just wasn’t in the mood to go sit in a uptight hotel ballroom for six hours on a Friday night when she’s worked and had school all week, “I’m staying home.”

Harry’s definetly annoyed at this point but he simply replies, “Fine.”

“Fine?” YN checks because it’s not that she’s trying to rile him up but she’s desperately curious to see how he responds to her when he’s mad - so maybe she is metaphorically poking the bull.

“I said it’s fine,” He repeats slower, his jaw ticks the slightest and the grip on the hanger in his hand tightens but he’s turning around quickly and heading back into the closet.

YN’s watches him retreat, worried about what’s to come - maybe it’s because she remembers how toxic her parents fights where piled on with how Harry treats people when he’s angry that she expects the worse.

Because she’s not going, she pulls on comfy clothes before slipping into his massive bed and turning on the television as well as the fireplace to get in the Christmas mood.

Harry reappears from his walk-in closet a few minutes later in another one of his pristinely tailored suits, his hair still messy but more managed, and he’s clasping a watch on his wrist.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Harry tells her with a void of enthusiasm in his voice, his eyes tracing over her as she lays in his bed, “Call me if you need me. I love you.”

“Harry,” YN frowns because his goodbye was short and to the point, he didn’t come to give her a kiss as he headed towards the door, “Why are you mad at me?”

Harry stops for a moment to look back at her, “I’m frustrated because I pictured this evening with you. I only look forward to going to these things because you’re with me. You’re the only thing that makes them manageable. I get you don’t want to go but I wish you could just push through it for me.”

“I just don’t want to tonight, it’s not every one,” YN clarifies even though she knows he’s not stupid and knows that already - she was just exhausted and didn’t feel like moving for the next twelve to twenty-four hours let alone get dressed up and act interested in stuff she understood nothing about.

“I don’t get why we’re going back and forth,” Harry points out as his phone buzzes in his pocket, he ignores it, “I said it was fine, I told you I love you, and that I’d be back. I didn’t force you to come with me, YN. I’ll be home in a few hours and we can watch whatever movies you want, okay? I love you.”

He’s tenser than usual, his shoulders raised a bit higher but his voice is still a soft rasp, maybe a bit of sharpness but nothing that detectable, and his face isn’t hardened like when he’s mad at other people.

She realizes pretty quickly after he left that she was the one who was in the wrong, it was shitty of her to cancel last minute and then be upset that Harry had a reaction to it.

YN just hoped that when he came in the door that he wouldn’t be cross with her or see that coldness that she’s never experienced for herself cross over his face.

It’s about nine when he finally arrives home, YN had moved downstairs to the living room where she had Family Christmas Vacation playing and a cup of hot cocoa on the table beside her - cuddled up in a ridiculously expensive cashmere blanket.

“Hi,” YN says sheepishly when Harry appears in the doorway, his shoes already kicked off and he was undoing the buttons on his barely buttoned shirt, shucking off his suit jacket and placing it on the arm of the couch.

“Hi,” He murmurs back, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before looking back to unclasp the watch, pulling off a few of his heavier rings, and putting them in a small dish.

“I want to apologize,” YN admits as she grabs the remote, muting the movie as she sits up more from where she had been lounging.

“Yeah?” Harry hums as he watches her, she can’t tell what he’s thinking because his eyes aren’t dull, they’re glimmering and bright but he has a stoic expression like he’s trying to stand his ground, “For being a brat?”

And it’s playful, a smile finally cracking at the corner of his mouth, and fuck, it’s so beautiful.

YN can’t help the giggle that leaves her mouth as she watches him shrug off his dress shirt - he looked a bit obscene in just his tight trousers, his tattoos and rippling stomach leading into a pair of navy blue Gucci pants with a thin leather belt.

“Yes, for being a brat,” She laments but then sobers up to actually apologize, “For canceling last minute, that wasn’t right of me. I shouldn’t have questioned why you were mad because you had every right to be. I’m sorry.”

Harry’s walking over to her, sitting down next to her and sinking into the plush cushions, “Don’t have to apologize, pet. I love you,” and with that he’s pulling her onto his lap until she’s straddling his waist.

It can’t be that easy…

“But Harry,” YN continues because she’s just surprised that he’s not angry anymore because if the situation was reversed, she can admit that she would be annoyed when she got home still, “I really am sorry.”

“And you don’t have to be, okay? I get wanting to stay in. S’fine, darling. It just made me look forward to coming home more, knowing that you were all curled up in my clothes in my house,” Harry rasps and he seems so sincere that she can’t question it anymore, ducking down to kiss him, and in disbelief that he forgave her that easily.

The next morning as she reflected on it, as he made her pancakes in his briefs in kitchen, she realized that she needed to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, that she had to have more faith in her boyfriend that for some odd reason - he won’t treat her like the rest of the world, he won’t shut her out like he does with everyone else.

6 months into the relationship

That was two months ago, this is now, the same feeling is coming back with a vengeance - especially because what transpires is a pretty decent reason to not only get mad but possibly end a relationship.

YN’s stubbornness to be independent has only gotten better by a smidge, if any, and when she is putting the keys in the ignition of her fifteen year old car that she bought for only two thousand pounds of off Craigslist, the engine didn’t so much as turn.

There was no signal that the key had activated any type of triggers to start the car - the was no clicking or whirling, nor any lights on the dashboard, absolutely nothing.

“Are you kidding me,” YN groans as she uselessly turns the key a few more times like it will magically start up but is met with nothing as expected which makes her rest her forehead on the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

She knew that she had no money in her bank account to get the car towed, let alone take it to the mechanic and pay for whatever needs fixed - who knows it might not even be fixable and her affording a new car right now is laughable.

Literally anyone else in the world may consider this to be a good time to ask their billionaire significant other for funds to help with the fix or a new car but not YN.

It’s not like it doesn’t cross her mind, it would be the easiest fix, she knows Harry would take her out that day and purchase her any car that she wanted but she wasn’t using him for his money and just because he had an exorbitant amount of it didn’t mean that she was entitled to any of it.

YN felt like she didn’t get to this point in her life, of working so hard, just to rely on a man - maybe because she sees how much her grandma struggled because she got married and had kids instead of going to college or she sees her mum who relied on her father and that turned fucking south quick.

YN is frustrated with herself when she feels hot tears start to trickle down her face but she can’t do anything to make her car turn on, and the pub she works at isn’t too far.

She normally may walk to save gas money but she lives in a bad part of town which means that walking to her job requires her to walk through all the other unsavory streets of her neighborhood.

It didn’t phase her much, she didn’t grow up in the safest area either, it more so made Harry worry - he really hated where she lived and he hated even more that she wouldn’t let him put her up in a nicer apartment.

There’s no other choice when she grabs her purse from the passenger seat and gets out of the car, locking it even if it's pointless, and beginning her trek to work.

Harry visited her every night that she worked if he didn’t have a work dinner, business meeting, or something that caused him to be out late after he left the office.

YN tries not to let her car worry her too much but she is still in her last semester of university and she’ll have to take a bus now because it’s too far to walk and the bus adds almost an hour onto her commute.

The anxiety about being car-less doesn’t fade much throughout the night of serving patrons, she’s not a chipper as she usually is, and just wants to be done for the night.

The pub closes at eleven on weekdays and she was on closing shift, Harry trails in around ten, still in his suit and as always, much too overdressed for the run-down establishment.

There’s not many people in the bar at this point, all the regulars who spent hours at the bar a day knew Harry by now so they didn’t get starstruck when they saw him but there were always a few people playing pool or sitting in a booth who would whisper when they realized who he was.

YN was distracted, didn’t see him walk in, has her back turned as she’s polishing a glass, and hyper focusing on trying to get a smudge out of it when she hears a smooth rasp that she’d be able to know anywhere, “Excuse me, darling. Can I get a rum and coke? Maybe a kiss?”

A smile automatically grazes her face, she can’t help it as she turns around and puts the glass down, “I don’t serve men who talk to me like that.”

“Oh no? What do you prefer, sweetheart? Baby? Or was it the kiss? I could go for a myriad of other different things, maybe your mouth on my -“ Harry is grinning widely as he watches YN flush with embarrassment as she shushes him with a stern look.

“You have no shame,” YN accuses as she pulls out a glass for his drink, scooping the ice.

“None,” Harry agrees, his dimples flashing deep in his cheeks, something she always loves to see, “But I would like my kiss.”

YN slides the drink across the bar to him, leaning over to quickly peck him, not wanting any of the other sleazy men at the bar to get any ideas or say anything creepy (even though Harry would correct them).

“Where’s your car?” Harry asks like he just remembers it was a question he had, he takes a sip and watches her as she continues to do little tasks to start to clean up for the night, “I didn’t see it anywhere on the street.”

It was street parking, usually YN was able to get a spot right near the front of the restaurant so she did not have a long walk to it at night when the bar closed and she forgot that Harry would catch onto that.

“It wouldn’t start when I was trying to leave for work. It did nothing when I turned the key in the ignition, I think that my engine died or it’s something big that needs to be fixed.”

“That car's old as dirt. It’s not worth it to put any money into it at this point. You need a new car,” Harry points out and logically, she knows he’s not wrong but he makes it seem so easy - it is easy for the man who has a multi-million pound car collection.

“Yeah, let me just go out tomorrow and get a brand new car,” YN’s tone is a bit sharper than she intended and the sarcasm was dripping through every word which made Harry’s smile falter slightly.

“Okay, let’s,” He challenges as he puts his drink down, “Our seven month anniversary is coming up in about two weeks. Let me buy you a new car to celebrate.”

“Harry,” YN warns as she knew how this was going to go down, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Harry replies as fire starts to flicker in his eyes, he wasn’t going to let this go, “Don’t help my girlfriend when I have the full capability of doing so? You don’t want a new car? Fine. Let me buy you a used one or pay to fix your car.”

“No,” YN shakes her head, her hands shaking with irritation as she tries to keep her attention by wiping down the glasses that just came out of the washer.

“It’s not an option, pet,” Harry tells her, he’s being firm in a way he only he when he wants his way and knows he’s right, stubborn meet stubborn, “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you that’s what we're doing. You’re not walking here and then back home at night. You have to get to school.”

“I’ve told you a million times, I’m not going to use you for money, Harry,” YN grits out because she knows this isn’t going to end well, most of the times she can push off Harry’s generosity with a little fight but she didn’t see them getting out of this one without a few scratches.

“You’re not using me. I’m trying to help you. You’re my girlfriend and I want to make sure you’re safe. You’ll be safer with a car,” Harry matched her energy now, putting his glass down and sitting back, arms crossed on his broad chest.

“I can’t ask you to buy me a car, that’s absurd,” YN doesn’t think he sees how mental that is, to just offer to buy someone a car, and maybe it’s because her bank account looks like the opposite of his but this isn’t an everyday event - people just don’t buy other people cars.

At least not in YN’s world.

Harry pulls his cellphone out of his inner jacket pocket and puts it on the bar, looking down at it pointedly before meeting YN’s frustrated stare, “Do I need to show you my bank accounts? Even just one of them? I make enough money in five minutes to buy you a brand new car. Would I not be an asshole if I didn’t offer? Plus, I want to buy you one. I’ve been wanting to since I’ve seen the shitty little sedan.”

That offends YN, she’s not going to lie, it’s why her voice is edged with annoyance when she says, “Don’t talk shit on my car. I had to work for nearly a year to afford it. I worked hard for that car and I don’t appreciate you saying that, Harry.”

Harry seems to understand what he said wasn’t nice by the guilt that flickers over his expression and he reaches out for her which a bit begrudgingly she steps forward and lets Harry take her hand.

“I’m sorry, you're right. I shouldn’t speak down about that. Please, baby. Let me do this for you. You know we’re going to be together, you know I’m going to marry you. All my money will be yours soon anyways. Just let me do this one thing right now,” Harry’s nearly begging, she knows how important it is that she’s safe, she knows how much he worries about her safety.

However, there is just something in her where she doesn’t allow herself to say yes to his offers despite all the good intentions behind the words, she knows that there are no strings attached but she just can’t accept any of it.

“Harry, I’m not letting you buy me a car or give me money to fix it. End of story,” YN’s voice is shakier than she’d prefer because she doesn’t know how she’s going to make it work but her pride was stupidly more important than transportation.

“Telling me ‘no’ isn’t an option,” Harry’s soft smile has completely disappeared, the dimples carved into his cheeks were gone, and his jawline was tight and sharp, “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re fuckin’ insane if you think I’m going to let you walk home from the pub at night or take three buses to get to university.”

“Harry,” YN tries again because it’s a losing battle, she’s going to start to give in either because she knows she actually needs help or because she doesn’t want this to start a fight, “I just-“

“Enough,” Harry says firmly, louder than his normal tone, a few patrons look over at them before quickly minding their own business again, it was the loudest he’s ever been with her.

“I’m not arguing anymore with you about it. You have until tomorrow before your shift to figure out how I’m going to help you. Whether it’s money to fix it, going to get a new car, taking one of the cars I already have.”

YN couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t startled by his harsh tone, the anger and irritation dripping into his features which she’d seen before but usually it was directed at everyone else but her, his patience was typically on a longer thread than this.

“Finish your shift,” Harry bites out, he pulls out his wallet and throws a hundred pounds down to cover his five pound drink before standing up, “I’ll be in a booth, finishing some work.”

YN watches as he grabs the black leather messenger bag he came in with that stores his laptop and makes his way to a booth in the far corner where no one would bother him and there was an outlet to plug in his computer.

He occasionally did work when he came into the pub, it was only when the establishment was so busy that YN didn’t have time to chat with him because she was too busy bartending or running food.

It was a clear message now due to the fact that she wasn’t busy, he didn’t want to interact with her right now because he was angry with her and it didn’t make her feel good.

Normally he’d be glancing up occasionally to meet her eye, giving her a cheeky smile or a wink but now she couldn’t catch his gaze because he kept his eyes strictly on the screen in front of him as he typed away.

This may be the first time that Harry has officially been mad at her.

The irrational side of her wants to throw a fit and tell him that it’s not fair that he’s mad, she’s allowed to turn down money and cars.

The logical side of her knows that Harry is trying to be a supportive partner who has the means to provide her help and that it’s only an offer out of kindness and love but nothing else - no strings attached if he would help her.

Those two polar opposite sides were fighting with each other right now because she didn’t know what to expect with Harry’s anger directed at her for once.

People slowly start to filter out of the pub as it gets closer to the eleven pm close time and by the time YN has the bar completely wiped down, glasses cleaned and put away, and garnishes cut for tomorrow - it’s just Harry and her left.

Harry tucks his laptop into his bag and slips out of the booth, he was breathtakingly beautiful even when he was tense with his lips tight together, a dent between his eyebrows, and frown lines lightly traced into the skin around his mouth from always scowling.

They’re silent as they walk to his car, parked right in front, the suicide doors swing up automatically when he presses the unlock button his fob and YN is getting into the passenger side.

As the engine purrs to life, smooth and barely audible, Harry’s adjusting the temperature on the touch screen and asks, “Am I taking you to your apartment or home?”

Home.

He never said my home, my house.

It was your apartment or home - like the slightest invitation that it could be hers too.

“Home,” YN decides because even though it might be better to have a bit of time apart if he’s truly upset with her, she doesn’t want to spend the whole night awake in her bed and wondering if he’s just contemplating their relationship.

She knows the fight isn’t that serious but her insecurity always creeps in during moments that she’s unsure or nervous.

Harry nods but doesn’t say anything else as he pulls away from the curb, his fingers are tight where they’re wrapped around the wheel and the normal hand that’s on her thigh is instead just resting limply on his own.

YN isn’t going to cry.

She’s not going to cry just because Harry’s a little upset with her.

It’s quiet for the first five minutes of the car ride and YN realizes that Harry has no intention of breaking the silence first, he doesn’t even look like he’s about to talk at any point.

“I’m sorry,” YN breathes out after a bated breath, “I shouldn’t have gotten that defensive with you. I know you’re just trying to be a good partner to me.”

Harry doesn’t look over at her but he sighs, broad shoulders slumping in relief as he murmurs, “You’ll let me buy you a car then?”

And that is not what YN was insinuating or hinting to at all.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” YN’s tone becomes sharp again because he misinterpreted her apology, “No, I’m not. I’m just apologizing for my reaction to your offer.”

The more relaxed look that had crossed Harry’s face disappears back into the same stoic expression she saw when they were leaving the bar when she looks over at him - she can see his jaw muscle twitch as he grits his teeth like he’s trying not to speak.

“I’m not accepting your apology. You don’t sound sorry,” Harry replies curtly, eyes directly on the road ahead, “I do not care if it means I buy you the cheapest car on the market. I’m not going to have my fuckin’ girlfriend walking alone at night in the city or struggle to get her education when I can help it. You’re not letting me take care of you which is what I am supposed to do as your significant other.”

“Boyfriends don’t just buy their girlfriends cars!” YN points out with a lift in her voice, a bit hysterical, and she throws her hands up in exasperation like it’s an obvious point.

“They do when they’re fucking billionaires!” Harry retorts but he’s loud enough now that he’s nearly yelling, making YN jump in her seat with the unexpected increase in volume in the small car, “They do when they can because they don’t want their girlfriend to have to suffer or have a harder life than they need to! But apparently you just like being fucking difficult!”

YN was at a loss of words, partly because she was surprised by how frustrated he is and partly because she knows he’s right - she knows that she’s being stubborn and that she’s being difficult, there’s an easy solution she isn’t taking it.

When YN doesn’t speak Harry continues, “I know where you come from. I know how much you’ve fought for what you have and that you don’t want to rely on anyone. If you can’t rely on the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you have fucking no one. I know you’re prideful, I am the most prideful bastard on this earth but if you can’t be vulnerable with me then I must be doing something wrong.”

That kickstarts YN to say something because she doesn’t want him to every think that her stubbornness is due to him or because he hasn’t been a good partner - that’s never ever something she wants him to ever feel because he’s the exact opposite - he’s so fucking wonderful.

“Harry, that’s not-“

“No,” Harry cuts her off, “I have nothing more that I want to talk about right now.”

YN has never been shut down like this by him, she has to try one more time, “Harry…”

He shakes his head though, hand coming up to pause her words, his voice is dead serious but softer, “I’m not talking about this anymore tonight. I want to go home and go to sleep.”

YN looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, and swallows a few times to choke back tears - she feels like a crybaby, she started the fight and now that Harry stood his ground with her, she feels like crumbling in on herself.

Even in his state of frustration with her now, he still wasn’t acting like the man she’d seen yelling at employees or turning down females who were trying to take him home - that wasn’t her Harry, she didn’t know the person who acted that way.

Her Harry was still right next to her in the car, it didn’t feel like the stranger with anger issues but it still hurt to see his guard up like he didn’t want to talk anymore because he didn’t want to risk showing emotion.

It’s not even another ten minutes to the house, pulling into the garage where there’s a fleet of other cars taunting her, and Harry’s cutting the engine quickly before the doors are folding back up.

They have such a routine of Harry’s hand on her thigh in the car, him intertwining their hands when they’re walking into his house, and neither happens.

Harry doesn’t make a move to hold her hand, instead he’s walking into the house without looking at her - already shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it carelessly on the kitchen island which was unlike him, kicking off his leather boots without a glance at where they land as he makes his way towards the staircase.

Normally, he would have kept all his clothes on until they were in his walk-in closet where he would meticulously put his shoes back in their spot and put the dirty clothes in one of his many hampers specific to certain items.

It’s no better when they’re upstairs because Harry is disappearing into the walk-in closet to change, coming out a minute later in a pair of grey joggers.

He has a shirt of his and a pair of sleep shorts she leaves at his house in his hand, along with a pair of underwear that she keeps a few in a drawer in the closet and hands it to her.

His face is blank when she mutters a “thanks.”

Only nodding at her before he’s getting into bed and opening a book that he had laying on his bedside table without glancing her way.

She showers quickly, scrubbing the scent of greasy food and cigarette smoke out of her hair and off her body with his expensive body wash before changing into the sleep clothes.

YN pads over to the opposite side of the bed but doesn’t slip underneath the covers yet, sitting cross-legged instead, and grasping her hands together, “Harry.”

Harry doesn’t look away from his book, flat as he responds, “Yes?”

“Why do you not want to talk to me right now?” YN hates how she sounds a bit whiny, needy.

“We tried to talk and we argued. We were going back and forth. I told you that a decision needs to be made by tomorrow night. I’m frustrated and I don’t want to fight even more than we have. I’m setting a boundary and I’m done talking about it for the night, I want to go to sleep,” Harry closes his book, placing it back on the table before he’s finally meeting her eyes albeit warily.

YN bites her bottom lip because she wants to keep talking about it but she also knows that the points he’s making are valid and she doesn’t want to be disrespectful by pushing him.

“Okay,” She agrees, feeling like a scolded child, and she doesn’t really know how to act so she gets underneath the plush comforter and pulls it nearly up to her chin, facing away from him, and burying her face in the pillow to avoid tears.

A few moments later, she can hear rustle as Harry moves to switch off his lamp and flood the room into darkness as lays down but she feels hands wrap around her waist until he brings her into his chest to spoon.

“Just because I’m frustrated doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Harry reminds her as he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck then her shoulder blade, “You’re stubborn and not listening but I’m so fuckin’ in love with you I can’t see straight.”

All the tension in YN’s body melts at his sweet words, sinking back further into his hold and putting her hands over hers where they’re laying on her tummy, “I’m so in love with you. It seems too good to be true sometimes, you’re so good to me.”

Harry continues to plant kisses along her skin, chuckling softly before murmuring, “I wish you could be inside my mind sometimes. I could show you all I want to do is care, protect, love you. Maybe it would make more sense to you why I do the things I do but since that’s not an option, you need to trust my intentions.”

“I’ll make a decision by tomorrow night,” YN finally agrees as she brings his hand up to kiss it, “When you pick me up tomorrow from work, I’ll tell you what I’ve decided.”

“Thank you, baby,” Harry sighs with relief, flooding his tone.

It makes YN feel guilty that she’s been stressing him out in the first place but now, she has to figure out how she’s going to fight her pride and put her relationship first.

YN luckily didn’t have class today which meant she could focus on homework as she relaxed at Harry’s house.

She had a shift from four to eleven at work but besides that, her day was free.

Harry was off to work before she even woke up but all she could think about was her decision on what she was going to do.

Harry was a CEO - he thrived on precision and being punctual which meant he wasn’t going to forget about the deadline he had set for her tonight.

She really is struggling to find the solution which is the middle ground of Harry helping her but not fully relying on him for his monetary contribution.

Nothing is clicking when she checks her bank account which has a hundred and thirty pounds to last her until tonight if she’s tipped well ( the only reason she has a hundred is because Harry tipped her that unreasonable amount).

YN’s halfway through a discussion board post when her phone begins to ring, the light twinkling song signaling that it’s her grandma calling her, and she answers right away, “Hi gran, everything okay?”

“A little birdie told me that you’re being a stubborn mule,” Rosemary chimes in her motherly tone, an lift of scolding and enough of it to make YN feel like she’s being told she’s bad.

YN loved that Harry and Rosemary had a great relationship.

She hated that they talked shit behind her back about her without any shame or secrecy.

Harry was using reinforcements, he knew that Rosemary would help give YN an extra push in the right direction if he couldn’t get her there on his own and he had definitely called her this morning to complain about her.

“Wonder who that would be,” YN replies with a huff.

“You should accept his help,” Rosemary tells her with no wavering in her words, “You know this is the man you’re going to marry. He just wants to help you.”

“You’re the one who taught me to work for everything I’ve got, don’t accept hand-outs, don’t-“

“Do not twist my words,” Her gran cuts in with a harshness, any lightness in her voice was gone with how stern she now was, “I have taught you to work hard, to not give up, and to not spend your life relying on people, that’s true.”

“I did not teach you not to accept help when needed from trusted people,” Rosemary reminds, “There were times that I couldn’t afford winter jackets for you and your sister despite how much I was working. Frank Jackson, down the road, offered to buy them and you think I wanted to accept the help? It wounded my pride that I couldn’t afford them myself but I said yes to his help because you being warm in the winter was more important than my damn pride.”

“Swallow your pride, YN,” Her gran tells her with conviction in her tone, “Your life partner offering you help doesn’t make you weak or not capable. This isn’t the time to dig your heels into the ground and put up a fight. Your pride isn't of any use if it destroys you in the end.”

YN respected her grandmother with everything in her, for the next few hours the words she spoke let spin and process through YN’s mind a million different ways before she finally makes her choice.

Harry had another business dinner that night as well as taking prospective clients to a theater show which meant he was pulling up to the pub right around the time her shift ended.

YN’s slipping into the passenger side with a small, unsure smile as Harry returns it cautiously, waiting for whatever she’s about to say.

It looks like he’s bracing himself for another round of arguments by the way he’s tense and uncomfortable.

“You called my gran,” YN pants out, a bit out of breath from the sharp chill in the air.

“I did,” Harry confirms, fingers tapping nervously on the wheel, “I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell her to call you. I asked her for advice on how to deal with….with your stubbornness.”

He has the decency to look sheepish as he admits it.

YN reaches over to take his hand, pulling it into her lap, and telling him, “I made a choice and I’m sorry that I have made this so difficult but I’m…I’m still learning to let you help and it’s hard.”

Harry brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, waiting for her to continue.

“I was thinking that I could maybe use one of your cars until I can save up enough to either repair mine or buy a new used car? That way you’re not spending any money and I can still try to pay for it myself.”

Harry studies her face for a moment, lips pursing as he thinks about what she just suggested, and he doesn’t look upset, just thoughtful, “I’ll agree to that but with one contingency. If in six months you still do not have the money, I can either give you the car you’ll be driving or I can buy you one.”

YN knows she won’t have the money in six months but maybe in six months she’ll feel more comfortable with him buying or giving her one and much to his surprise, she says, “Deal.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums as he leans over to console to kiss her, hand cupping her jaw, “I like when you let me spoil you, s’ my favorite thing in the world to do.”

“I worry about when we will have kids, can you imagine how spoiled they-“ YN’s eyes widened at her admission, “I didn’t-I just.”

Harry cuts off her anxious blabbering with a sweet, honey smile on his face, kissing her once again and saying, “They’re going to be the most spoiled.”

The next morning, YN is still half-asleep when Harry drags her out of bed at six, and he’s already fully dressed about to leave for the day when he brings her into the garage.

He clicks a fob in his hand until a white Porsche’s headlights blink to signal it’s unlocked, that’s been parked front and center, and it was one of the newest cars in his collection.

“I want you to drive this one. It’s by far the easiest one in my collection to drive if you don’t have experience with luxury engines. It drives smoothly but operates just like most sedans,” Harry hands her the keys before he’s kissing her cheek in a rush, “I’m sorry, I’m already behind. Call me if you have any questions, I love you.”

“I love you,” YN says distractedly as she holds the key and looks at the car.

She can’t even stomach thinking about how much he paid for this and she’s going to have to drive it this morning to get to school.

She has driven a few of his cars in the past but it was always with him in the passenger seat but now this whole car was going to be her responsibility, she really shouldn’t be worried because she’s always been a safe driver.

YN decides she needs a few more hours of sleep before she builds up the courage to drive that thing.

The drive to school was fine, Harry wasn’t lying when he said it was a pretty easy car to use, and there weren't any super fancy buttons or paddles that she needed to push.

She wasn’t as tense when she was pulling onto the highway after her last class of the day, the fear of something happening had started to dissipate all together as she turned up her music and began to sing along to it - she could actually herself getting used to driving this thing.

YN had to stop at the grocery store to pick up a few things she wanted to make for dinner the next night when she didn’t have to work and so she turned down a different street than usual if she was going to Harry’s house.

It’s a residential road in one of the nicer neighborhoods.

She's noticed a car coming up the side road out of one of the housing plans but they have a stop sign where YN doesn’t.

As anyone would, it doesn't even track in her mind because they’re going to stop at their stop sign so YN doesn’t prepare herself to have to hit her brakes or try to swerve when the other sedan doesn’t stop.

YN lets out a surprised scream when realizes that the driver of the other car doesn’t yield to the stop sign which results in them hitting the passenger side door of the Porsche going at least fifteen miles per hour.

YN doesn’t have time to think before the airbags are deploying which are hitting her right in her mouth as she slams on her brakes until she comes to a full stop - her car now in the middle of the road where it’s been pushed by the other vehicle.

She’s so shaken by the extremely loud clash of the impact, the smokey smell emitting from the deployed airbags, and the burning pain on her chest where the seat belt seized up and did its job.

YN just sits in shock as the people from the other car, two men, rush out to open her door to make sure that she’s okay, and YN just feels stuck in her seat as she comprehends that she wrecked and the car was damaged.

Harry.

What the fuck was she going to do?

Her brain was in such confusion, anxiety, and trying to process the traumatic situation that she couldn’t think of what she should do.

The obvious option would have been to call Harry but her brain was telling her that he was going to be furious with her that she wrecked his car.

“Are you okay?”

“Miss?”

“Do we need to call an ambulance?”

YN finally snaps out of her stupor as she shakily unbuckles her seatbelt, wincing as it comes off her chest, and getting out of the driver’s seat to stand next to the two extremely worried men.

“I think…I think I’m okay,” YN mumbles as she takes a few steps, nothing feels broken and the only thing that hurts is her chin from the impact of the airbag and the friction burn on her chest, luckily her neck, back, and head didn't hurt at all.

“Thank god, we were so busy bullshiting we weren’t paying attention. We’re so so sorry,” The man apologizes as his eyes widen, realizing exactly what car he just hit, “Oh my god, this…shit.”

Like he just realized that his insurance is either going to go up or kick him off after hitting such an expensive car.

“Is this your car?” The passenger of the other car asks as they wait for authorities to show up.

“My boyfriend’s,” YN replies shortly, shakily.

“I hope he a nice guy, I’d break up with my girl if she even put a dent in a car this nice-“

The driver elbows his friend with a scolding look before trying to mend the situation, “He can’t be upset, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

It just sends her spiraling further.

It wasn’t long until the police showed up to file a report, offering both parties to be checked out at the hospital but both her and the other men declined.

They were nice, apologetic, and YN was too numb in the moment to be angry with them for being careless.

“Where would you like this towed?” The police officer asks as he jots information down on his notepad.

“Er, Jeffey’s?” YN fumbles out the first mechanic shop she can think of, the cheap one that does work on her car.

The cop laughs because he thinks she’s telling a joke but his smile disappears when he realizes that she’s not, “I can guarantee they don’t work on this type of car there. I would recommend sending it straight to the dealership.”

“Oh, um - okay, do that,” YN nods jerkily, her hands shaking and the cop goes back to his car to call for a tow.

The tow truck driver takes her along and drops her off at the dealership as well where she sits in an expensive leather chair as she waits for someone to come speak with her.

A man in a sharp suit with gelled hair and a confused look on his face walks over to her after about thirty minutes, “Hello, I’m Rich. I was expecting Mr. Styles?”

“Oh,” YN was stumbling over her words and at the time, she didn't realize that it makes her look suspicious and not like she’s a bit traumatized because she was just in an accident.

“I am his sales associate that he contacts when he’s purchasing a new Porsche,” Rich explains slowly.

Harry had a certain person for just buying Porsches?

That was a thing?

“I just sold him that car about a month ago.”

“I’m his girlfriend,” YN says weakly, she was trying to be professional but was coming off as flighty and nervous as her leg shook, “I’ll be paying for the repair.”

Why the fuck did she just say that?

“Alright,” Rich says easily enough, “Would you like to come back to my office so we can discuss what needs to be repaired? Our mechanic just emailed me the quote. Of course, we don’t know how much the other driver’s insurance will cover but most insurances won’t cover the full price of luxury repair but cover a percentage.”

Fuck.

YN walks back to the office with him, her college backpack still on her shoulder as she ignores the eyes following her with curiosity and suspicion all the way.

Rich hums as he clicks around on his computer, pulling up the quote, and tilting the screen to show her what he’s looking at, “As you can see, the passenger side front and back door will need replaced, the windshield is cracked in three places which will need change-“

He continues to rattle on about what needs to be fixed but all she can see is the estimated cost at the bottom of the document for the parts and labor without insurance coverage.

Fifty-five thousand dollars.

For a car.

To fix a car.

YN thinks she might throw up or pass out or both.

“YN? Are you alright?” Rich asks after he asks a question she doesn’t respond to.

“Yes,” But it's a whisper, she doesn’t know what to do, and everything is fuzzy as she says, “Um, you can just-. Fix the car and I’ll pay whatever isn’t covered by the insurance.”

The salesman doesn’t look convinced and instead offers her a kind smile, “I know you’ve been through quite a bit today. Why don’t you call me tomorrow once their insurance has contacted us and we can discuss?”

YN nods as she gets up, “That would….that would be better. Thank you for everything.”

And she feels like she’s basically running out of that dealership.

After she’s left, Rich picks up the phone, and dials a number right away but it’s rings and rings and rings.

“Hello, you’ve reached Harry Styles at Styles & Marketing Company. Leave me a message and I or my secretary will return it at the earliest convenience. Thank you.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s Rich from Hampstead Porsche….”

By the time she leaves the dealership, she’s cutting it close to her shift at the pub, and she doesn’t really have any other choice than to order an Uber that cuts into her already short funds.

When she gets into work, going to the bathroom to change into her work clothes, she removes the sweatshirt she was wearing, and hisses as she sees the burn on her chest - right between her breasts where the seatbelt had rested.

She has to be careful as she tugs her shirt on but whines when the soft fabric brushes the tender skin, it makes tears prick at the corner of her eyes and realizes her body is aching a bit more as the day wears on.

Her shift is long, feels like it drags on for nearly a century as she messes up on quite a few drink orders and pours the wrong liquor in a cocktail - all her mind could think about was that Harry would break up with her for getting in an accident in his car.

YN had made the mistake of looking in the folder that Rich had when he’d try to show her different estimates or what not, her eyes stumbling along the lines until she realized that Harry had paid nearly two hundred thousand pounds for the car.

She isn’t expecting Harry when he walks in around ten, he’s in more casual clothes because he had an earlier day at work, and blended in more to the crowd in some Nike jogging shorts and a hoodie.

YN can feel herself forcing an excited smile when Harry sits down at the relatively empty bar beside a few regulars who were already nursing their drink of choice.

“Hi darling,” Harry greets with a wide smile, the one when he’s actually happy, it makes his dimples pop and the crows feet near his eyes more prevalent, “Car run okay for you today? Any issues? It wasn’t park out front.”

“I parked it a few blocks away, the street was er…busy when I got here,” YN flat out lies and she feels awful for it already, like the truth was clawing up and out of her throat, making her nauseous and dizzy, “It was a nice drive. Smooth like you said.”

Harry doesn’t think anything of it, taking a swig of the rum and coke that she puts in front of him, “I’m glad you liked it. I’d really love to give you that car. I’m hoping you fall in love with it and don’t want to part with it.”

YN’s stomach is on the floor because fuck, he’s so sweet and genuine.

And right now, she feels like an asshole.

“Maybe,” YN shrugs noncommittally and Harry’s watching her, curiosity in his eyes as he smiles like he thinks she’s downplaying how much she actually likes the car.

“Just think about it, m’heart,” Harry hums and then he’s leaning over the counter, just like he always does, his hand comes to firmly grip her chin to pull her lips to his but a sharp ache shoots through YN’s body as it’s right where the airbag hit her.

YN flinches, instantly pulling away with a hiss, and Harry’s eyes widen in confusion at her reaction.

She fumbles before she says, “I’m at work. I can’t kiss you at work.”

“We kiss all the time while you’re working?” Harry responds with hurt laced in his tone, “You act like I just hurt you or something. I was just trying to show you some love.”

YN sighs as she mindlessly wipes the same spot on the bar, “I’m sorry, I know. I just-it’s just been a long day.”

Harry backs off, watching her carefully as she finished her shift but he’s trying to talk about things that will brighten her mood, trying to make her feel better.

It doesn’t work.

As they’re walking out after she locks the door, Harry backs her gently up against the brick wall, hands coming to her hips, and lips pushing against hers.

“I missed you so much today, my love. I was so relieved that you made a choice. So good to me.”

YN kisses him back for a moment, willing her mind to just forget about everything for a moment, and that’s easy to do when his tongue is teasing at hers and he smells like he just walked out of a Tom Ford advert.

But then his hand is coming to palm at one of her breasts which in turn makes her bra brush against the burn on her chest which has her pushing him off once again, making him step back with narrowed eyes.

“Not tonight, Harry. I just told you I didn’t have a good day,” YN snaps as she feels like she’s about to burst into tears any moment if she lets down her guard at all.

Poor Harry is absolutely lost as to what was going on with her tonight.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make it worse,” Harry puts his hand up in surrender, “What’s going on? It seems like more than just your professor being a dick. Did I do something? Are you mad at me for making you decide on transportation?”

“No,” YN groans, running a hand through her hair, “I’m not mad at you for anything, Harry. It’s not about any of that, okay? I’m just…I’m tired and I’m ready to go to bed.”

“I’ll walk you back to your car and then we can go to mine,” Harry says as he goes to intertwine their fingers but YN can’t let him do that because there is no car to walk towards.

“I forgot my laptop charger in the pub,” It wasn’t a lie but she also had a spare at home, “I really just feel like sleeping in my own bed tonight, Harry. I just need some time to myself, you know? It’s really been stressful these past few days and I’m not going to be any fun to be around.”

Harry's face drops in disappointment but he nods in understanding, if YN could feel any lower she would because Harry doesn’t deserve what she’s doing right now but it feels like she has dug a hole that she can’t get out of.

“Alright, are we still having dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” YN nods, hoping she can figure something out by then, which what the fuck was she going to do, “Go home, I know you’re tired. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry responds slowly as she pecks him, she knows that he wants to follow her back into the pub, walk her to his car but he also is trying to give her the space she’s requesting and so a bit hesitantly, he gets in his car and by the time YN’s back out of the pub, his car is gone.

Harry had been uneasy since last night when he went home alone.

He had called her nan, her sister to see if she had called them about anything that was wrong and both confirmed that she hadn’t which made him just so fucking confused to why she was acting like a nervous wreck last night.

Even though she said it wasn’t, he wondered if him getting frustrated the other night and demanding that she make a decision made her question their relationship or think he was controlling.

All the possibilities were running through his mind when he stepped into his office at seven in the morning, his office phone flashing red which meant he had voicemails.

The first two are from different departments within the company but the third one is from a number he doesn’t recognize.

“Hello, Mr. Styles. This is Rick from Hampstead Porsche. I was calling in regard to your recently purchased Porsche Panerama. Today it was towed into the shop after an accident and the female driver, YN LN, reported that she was your girlfriend. She approved the work to fix the damages and stated that she would pay the difference but we didn’t want to start work until we had a guarantee it would be paid and she didn’t give us a credit card. I understand that she was in an accident but she seemed nervous and jumpy. I wanted to confirm that she was indeed your girlfriend or if we need to contact police about the stolen vehicle. Please give me a call back at your earliest availability.”

“I knew it was something,” Harry hissed to himself as he ended the voicemail, standing up and walking right back out of his office, telling Dorothy to cancel everything on his schedule that day.

YN startles awake at the sound of her bedroom door being opened, she had been in such a deep sleep she never even heard her front door being unlocked, and when she startles awake, Harry is standing in the doorway in a dark navy suit and a scowl on his face.

“Are you out of you god damn fucking mind?” Harry seethes as he stays in the same spot, not moving anymore into the room, “Have you actually lost your fuckin’ mind?”

YN was taken aback by the anger in his voice, the rasp, and the fire in his eyes, his shoulders were broad and tenses, fist clenching at his sides like he wanted to wreck something.

“Harry, I’m so so sorry. I’ll pay you back,” YN begins to plead with hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she knew she was going to get caught, it was a matter of time.

“You’ll pay me back?” Harry scoffs as he looks at her in bewilderment, “You’ll pay me back?” He repeats in complete and utter disbelief.

“As long as it takes, I know I don’t have the money right but I’ll find a way to. I promise,” YN sniffles as she sits up, crawling closer towards the end of the bed.

“You think I give a fuck about the money?” Harry nearly roars, her neighbors can surely hear him and she was quiver where she was sat as he took a deep breathe to try to calm himself down, “You think I give one single fuck about the money or the fucking car, YN?”

YN doesn’t know what he means, her eyebrows knitting in confusion, “I…I didn’t mean to lie. I was just scared that you would be mad at me, break up with me.”

Harry laughs without humor as his bottom lip starts to quiver, almost like he’s about to cry, and YN is taken aback by it, “Do you not hear me? I don’t give a fuck about a car or about money. You could have been hurt and you didn’t tell me.”

And then it clicks for her.

He’s not upset about the wrecked car.

He was worried about her and only her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you,” YN whimpers as she looks down at her hands, “I thoug-I was so scatterbrained after the accident, I didn’t know what to tell you, and the guys at the scene said dumb stuff and I panicked.”

Harry finally takes a step forward but he doesn’t touch her, “Nothing means anything if I don’t have you. How could you possibly think that I would care about a car more than you?”

YN frowns because she didn’t think about it like that.

She knee walks closer until she can wrap her arms around Harry’s waist and bring him closer, pressing her face into his stomach as she speaks, “I don’t think that. I know, I know how much you love me. I just…fear took over. The thought of you not wanting me scared me so much that I acted irrationally. It’s not an excuse and I’m so sorry, H.”

He doesn't respond but YN feel’s his stomach tense and releases quickly, when she pulls back to glance up, she realizes that he’s crying - eyes red rimmed and he’s brushing away tears with his fist.

“Oh, Harry,” YN murmurs in surprise, she’s never seen him cry, and to see it for the first time was startling as he swallowed harshly to try to get himself to stop the onslaught of tears.

“I love you so much,” Harry chokes out as he looks at the wall, embarrassed so he’s not making eye contact, “I…I need to be there for you even if you think I’ll be mad. Nothing is more important to me than keeping you safe, baby. I don’t-“

Harry takes a shuddering breath before he continues, “I can’t live without you. I wouldn’t leave you, m’heart. I need you so much more than you need me.”

“That’s not true,” YN argues quietly as she reaches up to thumb away the falling tears, “It’s the other way around. I need you more than you need me.”

“It’s not,” Harry shakes his head adamantly, “I’ve never loved someone like I love you. Darling, you could wreck every single car I own and I would still worship the ground you walk on. I don’t care about money or cars when I have you. I did before but fuck, I don’t need anything but you. I’d give it all up.”

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes again because she doesn’t know how she can emphasize how sorry she is, “I’ll never lie like that again. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, I’ve already forgiven you,” Harry tells her as his tears finally come to a halt slowly, “I’m not mad at you but you can’t hide things from me like this ever again or I will be upset. I can’t imagine what you went through yesterday.”

And when Harry goes to kiss her, once again fingers come to her jaw, she flinches back with a whine to get out of his grasp.

“Are you hurt?” Harry demands urgently, eyes widened in concern, “You went and got checked out right?”

YN shakes her head sheepishly, “I felt okay after it happened. Just a bit sore, the airbag hit my chin and the seatbelt hurt me a little.”

She was definitely downplaying it.

“For fucks sake. I can’t believe you. Not getting checked out? Out of your damn mind,” He grunts as he’s gently trying tugging her shirt over her head, the burn was starting to scab and it appeared irritated, pink around the edges, and it looked as painful as it felt, “Baby.”

YN lets him examine the marks, his fingers dancing over her skin lightly, “It’s not bad,” She promises, “I’m just sore and the burn is the only thing that actually hurts bad.”

“We need to go get you checked out,” Harry moves away, beginning to dig through her drawers to find fresh clothes for her to put on, “Just to make sure that you’re okay. I want them to look at that, make sure it's clean and doesn’t get infected.”

YN wants to argue that she’s fine but she knows he’s right and she also wants to do it because she knows that it will calm his nerves as he helps her get dressed to go to the urgent care.

Everything was okay. Just like YN had thought, her jawbone was bruised and overall she was achy from the impact but there was no sign of concussion or serious injury.

Harry draws them a bath that night, helping her in as she winces as her body protests, the bath water hitting her chest making her squeak at the sting before getting situated.

“The car will be back next week for you to drive until then you can take my Audi,” Harry tells her as he massages the bottom of her feet, an amused smirk coming onto his face, “The other driver’s insurance only covers twenty-thousand in damages. Mind telling me how you were going to cover thirty five thousand pounds?”

YN pouts, splashing at him a bit, “I was freaked out, I don’t know!” But his fond expression makes her giggle, “I didn’t know what else to say at the moment.”

“I can’t wait until you have my last name, my bank account,” Harry tells her.

YN laughs again, “You know most men would never say that.”

“I can’t wait until you can’t push away my money because it will quite literally be your money too,” Harry smiles cockily as he pulls her a bit closer to move up to her calves.

“You’re too good to me,” YN shakes her head, pointing her toes until they dig into his stomach and make him pinch them in response, making her squirm and him chuckle.

“You’re going to be spoiled for the rest of your life whether you like it or not,” Harry informs her with a raised brow, “Always going to provide for you. M’going to be the best husband.”

“I know you are,” YN leans forward until their chest are pressed together, kissing him and when she tries to adjust so she can straddle his lap, she groans as her bones protest, “I may not be able to pay you back for the car in money but when I’m not as achy…”

“Are you suggesting sexual favors in lieu of money?” Harry questions as he helps her sit back down in a more comfortable position, “What kind of man do you think I am? You think I would accept that trade?”

YN can’t help but nudge his soft length with her foot, teasing.

“You’re a hundred percent right, I would if the favors are coming from you,” Harry agrees as he wraps his hand around her ankle, “I think we have a deal, m’heart.”

#harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles writing #update #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #fanpic harry

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mythicalmaven · 10 months ago

Note

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected.

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening?

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling.

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more.

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him.

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

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kdh-tally · 22 days ago

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Hi! I have a request of a scenario where a reality tv show or something like that where it stars Huntrix & Saja boys for a challenge as it would be like an eating competition or anything related to food of where the groups have to finished the whole table of food that could feed a whole family.

As the Saja Boys would start eating their food as Huntrix would stare at the whole table filled with food as all three members, Rumi, Mira & Zoey haven’t eaten much busying themselves to the point where now looking at the food they tried control their urges of just scarfing it down like a beggar who hasn’t eaten food for like a whole month. So, being professional but still slightly a bit feral, all three would take a deep breath before they started to go full blown on just eating every food each on the table as they ate in a fast but normal pace eating all with ease as they would still try to look professional but still letting themselves go just go on a whole speed run of finishing the food at record time as the Saja Boys would look at them before being baffled and surprised as how slightly feral Huntrix were eating their food so quickly

(I just imagine like the reaction of all five members of Saja Boys would be like Jinu expression surprised and eyes widened while holding his food, Abby holding his utensils that held his food not moving just staring at the girls, Romance would drop his utensils and be like a victorian woman clutching his pearls as Baby is similar dropping his utensils, eyes blown wide with mouth agape as for mystery, he silently stare at the girls as he would look back at his food before slowly taking a bite)

Some time Later, Huntrix would finished their food from the whole table while The Saja Boys only ate like maybe half or like a thrid?

{Are you fine making this?}

K-STAGE IDOL MISSIONS [HUNTR/X VS SAJA BOYS] EP 1

Prompt : Huntrix and the Saja Boys compete in an eating competition. Everyone thinks the Saja Boys will win but Huntrix haven't eaten in a while...

Author's Note : As i write this i realised i could've added an "they ate" (as in ate DOWN) pun somewhere but i didn't.... Anyways!!! Its written in episode style because i decided anything request or post where the groups do something variety shows will be another episode lol. Had so much fun with this so enjoy!!!!!!

“EPISODE 1: K-STAGE IDOL MISSIONS” [THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON THE TWO GROUPS STANDING BEHIND A TABLE FILLED WITH FOOD] [Bright game show music fades under the hosts yelling into their microphones.]

“Welcome to Idol Missions!” the host grins, practically shouting into his microphone to hype up the audience. “The show where we get your favourite Idols to compete in the craziest challenges!”

“This week, we’re doing our most interesting mission yet, finishing an entire table’s worth of food… before the other team does!” he continued.

There were two teams, a dangerously overfilled table, absolutely no time limit, and a shiny trophy between both groups.

The camera panned across the glorious feast. Stacks of steaming dumplings, whole grilled fish, massive hot pots, three different towers of fried chicken, cold noodles in broth, skewers, rice mountains, full jjigae pots, fruit, mandu, japchae, tteokbokki, ribs, stews, side dishes, desserts that looked like they were summoned from a palace banquet, and a whole other table dedicated to western food.

Enough food to feed a small army or at least a large idol company. “Teams,” the host yelled, “are you ready?!”

The Saja Boys, already seated and rolling up sleeves like they were entering war, shouted a confident, “YES!” Naturally, everyone expected the Saja Boys to dominate. Abby had the appetite of three men, Romance could crush six milkshakes without flinching and Baby had once eaten six orders of spicy tteokbokki during a live stream.

And let’s be honest, Huntrix didn’t exactly look threatening. They were polished, pretty even. Too elegant and calm. That was until they saw the food.

The girls just stared.

And stared.

No one moved.

“Three… two… one… START!”

The Saja Boys immediately dig in, moving in sync like they had practiced for this moment in advance. Abby was already biting into a steak, demon teeth being very useful, Romance was clearing away all the sweet treats and Mystery was halfway into finishing the broth before the others could get it.

They were focused.

They were organized.

They were doing well.

But the camera wasn’t focused on them.

It was on Huntrix.

Still frozen.

Still wide-eyed.

Still not moving.

Because this was the first time in days the three of them had sat in front of real food. Like actual sit-down food that wasn’t a protein bar, instant ramen, or a lukewarm sandwich shoved into their hands between rehearsals.

They hadn’t even eaten that morning.

Too busy doing their hair. Too busy in wardrobe. Too busy fixing each other’s mic packs and running lines and laughing and walking onto this set thinking, We’ll be fine.

They were not fine.

And now there was food. Everywhere.

And their souls were slowly ascending from their bodies, because there was no way this was real.

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - RUMI] "I didn’t think it’d hit me that hard but like," the purple haired leader stared right into the camera, as though trying to convey her feelings to the viewers soul. "They had cheesy corndogs on the table. You don’t understand. I almost cried."

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - MIRA] "I was gonna pace myself. I really was. But then Zoey grabbed the chicken and I just blacked out." The pink haired girl crossed her legs, a ramen cup she had snagged from the table in hand as she spoke.

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - ZOEY] "We’re professionals. We know how to act in front of cameras." Zoey sat neatly. The video then cut to her completely feral, lips glazed in sauce, a chicken skewer in one hand and kimchi in the other.

"However,” she raised a hand to cover her sheepish smile, “I might have been a bit too hungry…”

–

Back on set, the girls took a collective breath.

Rumi lifted her chopsticks, Zoey cracked her knuckles and Mira tied her thick hair into a ponytail without saying a word. Then they moved.

They don’t speak. Don’t make a single sound. But the way their eyes darken as they locked onto the food? Yeah. The Saja Boys feel that energy shift instantly. They weren’t gonna win this.

Mira’s was already scooping in rice like it was air. Zoey had grabbed three chicken legs in one go and somehow made it look elegant. Rumi? She was eating like she was personally offended that the food dared sit there uneaten this long.

They're chewing at lightning speed but somehow not messy. They were clean, polished and basically possessed.

–

[CAMERA ON SAJA BOYS]

Jinu froze mid-bite, eyes wide, mouth open, utensils still in hand.

Romance dropped his chopsticks like he just got slapped by the Holy Spirit. “What—”

Abby didn’t even blink. He just stared, his fork lifted halfway to his mouth.

Baby’s jaw dropped. He’d seen the girls eat before but never like this…

Mystery stared in silence for a solid five seconds. Then slowly turned to look at his own plate. Then back at Huntrix. Then back to his food. Then slowly, he took a bite of his food, hoping he’d get more before the girls completely demolished everything.

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - BABY] "I—i didn’t know Rumi could… was that even chewing? She was inhaling the food." He looks off-camera, haunted by what he had seen. "She smiled while doing it too. I’m scared, honestly."

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - MYSTERY]

Mystery had his hand in his hair, pulling at it as though trying to stabilize himself. "I tried to reach for a dumpling but Zoey smacked it out of my plate with her chopsticks."

He stared at the floor for a bit more before looking at the camera, “She hissed at me.”

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - ROMANCE & ABBY] "Mira grabbed the hot pot in one hand. Like. Picked up the pot. I’m going to marry her. I have to. I can’t risk being on her bad side." Abby spoke as Romance attempted to calm his breathing behind him.

–

Fifteen minutes in, the host returned, his voice louder, clearly shocked.

“And… and Huntrix has cleared the entire table?!”

The camera cut to the Saja Boys, still working through half their dishes.

Huntrix sits back, breathless but glowing. Rumi had sauce on her sleeve, Mira was sipping a drink like she just had finished a simple workout and Zoey was innocently dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin like she didn’t just demolish three pounds of meat.

There was silence.

Then clapping.

Someone in the back yelled “Those are my girls!!” The three smiled as they recognized Bobby’s voice.

Jinu was literally fanning himself.

Abby finally finished the bite he’d paused on. “We lost.”

Baby was still staring.

Romance puts his spoon down and exhales. “I’m full just from watching.”

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - ZOEY] "I think it's pretty cool that we won and got to take home the trophy. But more importantly, I’m happy that I can go to bed tonight without dreaming of convenience store ramen." She sighed wistfully, patting her belly in content.

–

[CONFESSIONAL ROOM - MIRA] “They thought we’d be cute and dainty. Sucks to be them” The pink girl shrugged, takeaway bags stacked behind her. She wouldn’t admit it but she had saved some for her boys. “They forgot we’re performers and starving women."

–

[CONFESSIONAL CUT - RUMI & JINU (he snuck in)] She grinned slowly, teeth unusually sharp for a human… "I told them we were normal. I never said we were tame."

Jinu stared at her from behind the camera, surrounded by the remainder of both group members. “I have no more faith in you.” Rumi burst into laughter.

–

[ENDING CREDITS CUE!] A slo-mo montage of Saja Boys still trying to recover. Romance wiping his face with his shirt. Abby whispering, “I think I just fell in love again.” Jinu staring into space as Rumi pats his head. Zoey licking sauce from her fingers with no shame in the background. Mystery chewing slowly, still watching like they’re something out of a nature documentary.

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nebrasska-alasska · 1 month ago

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SONADOW EXCHANGE 2025 FIC REVEAL!!!

It's me again, international bestselling author Quan Millz Nebrasska here with yet another Sonadow fic to share with you all!!! It's been a week since I've posted it, but I am thrilled to finally share with you the work I created for the Sonadow Exchange 2025 event!!!

Couch Crashers, Bed Bashers - Chapter 1 - Nebrasska - Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

Down on his luck and struggling to get back on his feet, Shadow finds himself more or less a permanent resident on Rouge’s couch, an embarrassing and humiliating predicament for him to be in.

To make matters worse, however, when Shadow ends up locked out of Rouge’s apartment for the weekend, he is forced to crash on the couch of the last person he would ever want to seek help from:

Sonic the Hedgehog.

I had an absolute joy creating this work for @magicwhiskers29 ! Your prompt was so much fun, and the moment I saw you say that you liked the concept of Rouge and Shadow sharing an apartment, I kind of took it and ran with it. So thank you for the lovely inspiration!!!

Lastly, so many of you correctly guessed my work out of the bunch for the exchange, that I was actually super shocked XD I will be back soon with a list of people who successfully guessed the fic! But in the meantime, I hope you all enjoy!

#Couch Crashers Bed Bashers #sonadow #fanfiction #Nebrasska's Fics #Honestly I just need one person to get the Quan Millz reference please someone anyone help me #also tragic news: i think i'm starting to develop an artstyle with my shitty ms paint drawings :')

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lolightrealm · 9 days ago

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in the space between worlds.

꒰ a scaramouche x reader. ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ ۪ ݁ 𓈒

01 ⌇synopsis.

⠀⠀⠀〉 after weeks of grinding, you've finally reached the end of the last route in your otome game. you've maxed out your relationship with your favorite love interest and have collected every achievement; all that's left now is to play the final event and reach the games conclusion— except, you have no plan to do that at all.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ after witnessing the way the other love interests became shells of themselves after you finished their routes, you simply can't bare to watch your favourite character become a bland npc that's hardly anything like the person you've spent weeks romancing. you stall playing the final event everytime you log in no matter how many times the game prompts you. after about a week of this, it's almost as if the universe itself is fed up with your decision because you're struck down and killed on your way home to take your favorite character on yet another date. all is not lost, however, as rather than dying, you're given a second chance at life by becoming a part of the game itself.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ your excitement doesn't last long when you realize that rather than becoming the protagonist, or even the villainess, you're nothing more than a boring npc. the universe also has assigned conditions to your rebirth: in order to stay alive in this new world, you have one month to reach the conclusion of the game you had been avoiding without revealing yourself as the player. and the final catch? since you're no longer the protagonist, you have to romance your favorite character all over again.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ to make matters worse, your love interest— scaramouche —seems a bit self aware and is rather upset about the players refusal to finish his route. not to mention that your sudden disappearance has set the entire game off course with no protagonist to finish the story.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ just how how are you going to fix this mess?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

02 ⌇nina's notes.

⠀⠀⠀〉baby's first x reader everyone cheer??? i haven't written anything forever so!! inspired by this twitter post saw. art by aoma.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ongoing. isekai au. otome game au. strangers to lovers (kind of). love interest scara x player reader. many creative liberties taken with genshin's setting. meet ugly. slowburn romance.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ taglist > @agx3nl @chumbinhoeba ask to be added!

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

03 ⌇story index.

⠀⠀⠀〉 chapter 1 ( tba ).

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wanderer genshin impact #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #isekai au #genshin au

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no-nic · 3 months ago

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“This is so stupid.” Kakashi is starting to regret letting Obito borrow his worn copy of Icha Icha Paradise (Volume 1, first edition, signed by the author). “‘I love you’,” quotes Obito dramatically. “‘You are my stars and my Moon...’ What does that even mean? Is this the kind of thing you want to hear from me?” Ah, the ending of chapter five. “You know, sometimes when people like each other…” “You are my stars — someone else’s light and warmth, I can only see you at night?” “It’s a literary…” Kakashi figures his explanation could be received better by any random kamui block. There is a monologue going on. He only hopes Obito will not disturb their comfortable reading position. “You are my Moon — I want to put a strong genjutsu on you to fulfill my deepest fantasies?” Okay, that is potentially disturbing, coming from Obito. “To be fair, that isn’t what most people think…” “I thought there would be explicit scenes straight away, not this empty flowery stuff that goes nowhere!” Obito pokes one of the many offending pages. “They keep confessing over and over with slightly different words. It’s boring. How do you read this with a straight face?” Privately Kakashi has some criticisms of his own. This is after all Jiraiya’s second book, first in a new series. He could admit that some chapters stretched on, the romantic tension that is supposed to be building is more like running in circles around a point. Some of the vocabulary is questionable too… But right now Obito seems to be expecting an answer. And Kakashi knows exactly which string to play. This is war. “Does it make you feel good — hating on my favorite book?” he whines. Obito throws Icha Icha Paradise out of reach. He leans into Kakashi and brings his mouth very, very close to Kakashi’s ear. The warm breath tickles. Kakashi does not try to suppress the shiver that comes over him. “Maybe,” Obito murmurs in a suddenly deeper voice — the kind that would bring Kakashi to his knees hearing it from across a battlefield. “Do you know what else could make me feel good?”

prompt: i love you 💓

art with a side of worth surviving for; it can be even turned into a post-war #obito lives au, if i ever have the energy

pretending it's still day 5 of kakaobi week 2025 by @kkobweek

#no one knows au; when your kamui home has everything but good fiction

✨ icha icha paradise (volume 1) ✨

kakashi: your friend pein flattened the village. you know, where my apartment was. all my books were there. and i barely started rebuilding my collection when someone declared war. this is the only book i had on me. deal with it. obito: it was a rhetorical question. i never saw you read anything but icha icha. kakashi: …you saw me? wait, when? how often were you watching me? obito: kakashi: obito: can you now be angry about the fact that my friend pein flattened the author?

kakashi: how much stolen jewelry do you even have here? obito: not much, why? kakashi: these matching rings fit us both perfectly. and the sharingan red stones are spot on obito, who will forever deny sneaking into a certain someone’s room to measure their fingers in their sleep and then commissioning a perfect pair of wedding rings: obito: thanks. it was a lucky find among mountains of treasure. i kept only the best ones and pawned off the rest

#naruto #kkobweek2025 #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #kakaobi #obikaka #naruto fanart #no one knows au #naruto au #naruto fanfiction #nic art #thank gods kakashi reads vanilla stuff and not like. stalker romance. otherwise he would have some kind of expectations for obito's behavio

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mashtatosworld · 4 months ago

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your love is my favourite song (1)

summary: you're stepping into the music scene as a solo artist for the first time but when a mishap occurs, your boyfriend is there to support you through it.

a/n: a collab!! Zenny and I have a love child. We hope you enjoy!! Writing by @mashtatosworld and SMAU by @aizshallnotbefound <3

Part 2 will be posted on her account!

You were on your third cup of coffee, fourth playback of the bridge, and somewhere around the seventh time talking yourself out of severe self doubt.

This would be your first album as a solo artist.

Your producer leaned over the mixing board, gently adjusting a level. “That’s the one,” he said, nodding. “Feels clean. You wanna go again or are we locking it?”

You hesitated.

The song was good.

But… it was that song.

The one you and Jiyong wrote in that haze of inspiration weeks before his tour.

The one meant to be shared together, a moment in the album where it would be just the two of you, lyrically tethered in plain sight - only no one could know it was real.

Your management had said no.

Too complicated.

Too risky.

Too close.

With Jiyong on tour too, you both finally agreed that his verse should go to another artist even though the words were his.

You were still staring at the audio waves glowing across the screen when the door clicked open behind you.

You turned.

He was there.

Wearing a black hoodie, a crossbody slung over his shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, exhaustion written across every line of his face - but he was there.

“Jiyong?” you breathed, blinking. “What - how - I thought you were in Japan?”

“Oh, my flight got in early,” he said, voice rough from travel, fatigue, or both.

You played with the cord of your headphones. “We, um, we were just finishing the last song on the album.”

"Ah," He looked to Teddy with a smile. "Hey, Hyung."

"GD. Can't believe you're still standing. Did you come straight from your show?" He asked with raised brows.

“Yeah,” he nodded, dropping his bag onto the couch and falling into the space beside it with an exhausted sigh.

You moved your eyes back to the screen, bouncing your leg, more nervous than ever. Of course you had shared snippets of the album with your boyfriend, but he had yet to hear a full version.

And that was because you were scared.

Even though Jiyong was nothing but supportive, he was a master of music and perfectionism.

You'd seen him make artists repeat the same line twenty times until it was flawless.

So when Teddy pressed play and the sound of your voice filtered through the speakers, you tightly held onto the arm of your chair, waiting for him to waltz over, lean across the soundboard and begin working his effortless magic.

Except he remained where he sat, tapping his foot as he listened, nodding his head along to the beat as you and Teddy worked through the tempo and pitch.

Your eyes couldn't help but occasionally cast back to his silent form, just watching you, the corner of his lips tugged upwards.

Why wasn't he saying anything?

You sighed and turned back to the soundboard, asking Teddy to add another layer to the harmonies, all the while acutely aware of Jiyong's eyes on you.

Eventually, your producer stretched and exhaled with a nod. "I think we got it."

You looked at the screen, then turned to Jiyong.

He stared back at you with a gentle smile, his eyes tired but warm.

"Well?" you prompted.

He laughed, arms casually crossed over his stomach. "What?"

"Any notes?"

"I love it, y/n."

You looked to Teddy and he laughed too. "You heard it from the legend himself. I don't think we can get better praise than that."

You twisted your lips and shot Jiyong a sidewards glance.

Teddy saw this and stood with a groan. "Ah, I think it's time I take a break." he said, grabbing his phone and heading for the door. “Don’t touch anything, Hyung.”

“No promises,” Jiyong said, eyes locked on you the whole time.

Once the door clicked shut, you twisted in your seat and nodded to the empty one beside you.

"Ok, lay it on me then. What is it? Shall I re-record the final verse? Is it the bridge?"

Jiyong stood and slowly walked over, except he didn't sit down, instead, he chose to stand behind you. His arms rested on the arms of your chair, the curve of his cheek grazing yours.

Then, softly: “So… can I finally touch you now?”

You laughed as his lips met your jaw in a quick succession of kisses before he trailed them to your lips. They lingered there and you sighed into the kiss, feeling your anxieties dissolve.

You withdrew slightly to look at him.

His hair was disheveled and up close you could see the dark rings around his eyes. They weren't traces from wiped staged make-up, but sat sunken into his skin.

Gently, you ran the pad of your thumb over them. "Hi."

"Hi," he repeated softly. "Come here,"

He pulled you up from your seated position and into his arms, curling around you and rousing a soothing tranquility within you.

Jiyong had always been someone you looked up to, a guiding light when you first debuted with your band, even when your relationship changed over the years.

You had both respected and feared his musical judgement.

Yet now, he had established himself as your supportive comfort, rather than mentor.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your hair, his hand gently trailing down your back. “So bad.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered, fingers fisting into his hoodie. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make your show in Tokyo. But I watched the whole thing on live stream.”

He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. “I understand Jagi." His smirk then turned teasing. “Want a private showing? I can give you a real performance later.”

You pushed him, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m in love,” he shrugged, quickly pulling you back. “Let me love you."

That made you go quiet. Your eyes softened. He noticed instantly.

“What?” he asked.

You hesitated, then looked up at him. “Will you be at my first show?”

The words came out smaller than you intended. Shy. Vulnerable. You bit your lip. “I know you’ve got your tour, and travel, and press - ”

“I’m going to be there,” he cut in, sure and solid like he always was when it came to you. “Don’t even question that.”

You exhaled, some invisible weight lifting off your chest. “It just feels weird. Going out there without the girls. Without Big Bang. Like I’m… alone.”

“You’re not,” he said, thumbing gently at your cheek. “We’re all gonna be there. Just… a little further back than you’re used to.”

You nodded, trying to picture the moment that sent panic down your spine.

Jiyong smiled softly. “You’re not stepping out of the shadows, baby. You are the light. They’re just finally seeing it.”

You buried your face in his hoodie again. “I love you.”

He held you tighter. “And I love you."

"Is the track really ok?" You mumble into his chest and you feel it vibrate with his laughter.

"Jagi! It's perfect. You're perfect. Stop doubting it. Now let's ask Teddy to wrap it up before I fall asleep on your shoulder.”

You smiled, the tension and fear crumbling away.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Liked by chaelincl , d_lable_official , xxxibgdrgn & 8,309,212 others

𝒀/𝒏 ✓ - 𝗬/𝗡 1𝘀𝘁 𝗔𝗹𝗯𝘂𝗺 Tour [𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬]

🔜 2017.09.19. (FRI) 5PM (KST)

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Chaelincl✓ - ❤️❤️‍🔥❤️

User_09 - THE PICS HELLO?? MY QUEEN

Y/n_lvr - youre so ethereal, cant wait for the album drop <3

2nE1_BB - AHHHHHHHHHH ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM

Na_rara - and the queen is back on her throne

user_SGSlvr - i hope i dont go bankrupt from all this but worth it

User_242 - need her in a way that would set humanity back a 1000 years

User_09 - GD LIKED HOLY–

User - buying all the merch the second it releases that would make my bank cry

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𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You were pacing in your heels, a bottle of water clutched too tightly in your hand, heart pounding louder than the music spilling from the stage monitors.

The last song was moments away.

One more song - your final performance of the night.

The song.

The one everyone had been waiting for.

The one that was supposed to end your debut solo stage with a bang.

And your feature still wasn’t here.

You looked at your assistant again, wide-eyed and breathless. “Where is Jiyong?”

“He’s coming! I swear - VIP section was a madhouse but he’s on his way!”

“Shit - ” You tugged at the hem of your outfit, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but your nerves were unraveling fast. “What am I supposed to do?! That verse isn’t even covered - he was supposed to - he - fuck!”

A soft hand pressed between your shoulder blades. “Yah, calm down.” CL’s voice was soothing but firm, grounding. She looked effortlessly cool, having just wrapped her feature with you two songs earlier. “You’re gonna be fine, baby.”

“No I’m not, Chae,” you snapped, voice cracking. “I’m about to go out there with half a song - ”

“You’re gonna go out there,” she said, smoothing down your hair, “and own that stage. No matter what. You’ve worked too hard for this night.”

You tried to nod, but your throat was closing up.

And then -

“Jagiya.”

His voice cut through the noise like a damn spotlight.

You turned, relief crashing into your chest so fast it nearly knocked you over.

Jiyong pushed through two stage crew members, still in his VIP lanyard and designer jacket, eyes sharp and locked on you.

He looked like he'd sprinted from the other side of the building -flushed, breathless, hair slightly mussed.

And the second he reached you, his arms were already around your waist, grounding you, his forehead brushing yours without shame.

You didn't care for the staff fluttering around you, the way their gazes widened and lingered. You just needed him.

“Baby,” you whispered, clutching him. “He didn’t show. He just - he bailed. I don’t know what to do.”

“She’s been freaking out,” CL added, arms crossed, looking equally frustrated. “That asshole didn’t even call. She's supposed to be on stage now.”

You felt Jiyong’s jaw tighten, his hand soothing along your back even as fury flickered in his eyes. “Fucking coward. Leaving you like that?” He looked down at you. “You don’t deserve this shit.”

“What do I do?” you whispered. “They’re waiting.”

“You go out there,” he said, calm but sure, thumbing under your eye to fix a bit of smudged liner. “And I’ll handle it.”

You blinked at him. “Ji - ”

“Ten seconds!” a crew member called, frantically waving.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

CL gave you a tight squeeze. “You’ve got this.”

You looked back at Jiyong one more time, and the way he was staring at you - unshaken, unwavering - made the panic ease just a little.

The lights dimmed.

Your name was being chanted.

You ran out, stage lights blinding, cheers deafening.

And you pushed through, no choice but to keep going.

You danced. You sang. You lost yourself in the high of it - and then it came.

The verse.

You turned your head - and there he was.

Stepping into the fog, bathed in spotlight, mic in hand like he’d been born to be on that stage.

Jiyong met your eyes, smirked - delivering the rap like it had always been his. As it was supposed to be.

Smooth. Confident. Dynamic.

The crowd screamed.

You moved in sync without planning, falling into the rhythm, your voices tangling perfectly.

And when the final beat dropped and the track ended, he stepped back again - giving you your moment - as CL strode back out to join you for the encore.

The three of you together. A full circle ending.

Your solo debut complete.

And somewhere offstage, the internet was already spiralling.

But all you could think about was Jiyong’s smile.

And how, even when the lights went down, he was still the one who showed up for you in the dark.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Liked by gossip_loverVIP , YG_familyupdates & 1,509,899 others

Koreadispatch - 2NE1's maknae, Y/N, made her solo debut tour “Scarlet Dreams”, in which BigBang’s very own, GDRAGON, made a surprise appearance on stage for the final song replacing the original featured artist. Fans have noticed their close interaction many times before, but this performance has only fuelled more suspicion of their long time rumoured off screen relationship. Are the two idols dating? If so, how long has this been going?

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User_lvstabi - do i wanna be them or be with them

bigbang_OT4 - omfg i absolutely hate dispatch for this, yeah ik they are one of the most popular artists of yg but invading their personal lives ? thats a low

User_188 - /@bigbang_OT4 - istg this is so true now i bet dispatch about to release paparazzi pics of them just existing

Userlalala - i absolutely SCREAMED when he came like omg??? Absolutely loved the show so much especially theirs

User_ishighhigh - their chemistry was to die for i swear

Userforverr - IT couple of yg

Userlvs_yn - intruding kpop artists personal lives is kind of idiotic but even if they are dating VIP’s and blackjacks will always support them <3

Userxbb8 - these rumours are hilarious i already thought it was obvious they are together

User_steve - their chemistry on stage and interviews are very obvious i swear. I keep rewatching 2ne1 and bigbang clips just to see them lol User991 - i lost my man and my girl to EACH OTHER View 10k more comments

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

hope you all enjoyed our collaboration piece! go to part 2 for more!

also im working on a new diva fic and a love triangle series... so those will be out soon!

love mash xxx

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen

#mashtatosworld #bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader

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piracytheorist · 5 months ago

Text

In Life, And in Death (1/11)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 4.1k for this chapter | 32.4k in total Rating: T Warnings: Temporary character death, graphic violence, horror imagery, body horror, mild gore, whump, language Cover art by @buf309

Summary: Anya is kidnapped, and Twilight is thrown into the horrors of a mysterious, deadly village. Forced and then choosing to survive its trials - physical and mental - he's brought to figure out who he truly is. (A Resident Evil Village fusion)

AO3

Author's Note: Probably my most insane fanfic project yet. After I successfully probed SOMEONE, aka @spencer-is-someone, into watching a Resident Evil Village gameplay, they fell in love with Ethan Winters but felt he went through too much in the game, prompting the idea "What if Loid went through all that stuff instead". And well, 32 thousand words later, here I am, inflicting this literal horror upon y'all.

I made a post about it, and the absolutely wonderful @buf309 went and made this amazing cover art, and I literally couldn't be more thankful for that. I was so amazed when I saw the first draft sketch that I went like I'M GONNA WAIT TILL IT'S READY TO POST THE FIC. Seriously, words cannot describe how grateful I am, I sincerely hope the fic feels satisfying enough for the work you've done <3

If you know how the Resident Evil Village story goes, this is pretty much the same... yes, in all of its "parts-in-jars" glory (if you know you know, if you don't you will soon), just with Twilight taking the place of Ethan Winters. There will be a few changes from the original story to fit Twilight's character, some to facilitate the adaptation from game narrative to fanfic narrative, some to fit my own tastes, and an actually hopeful ending because we were all left heartbroken after the ending of RE Village so might as well pour some healing juice to put our hearts back together same way Ethan puts his limbs back together and hope for the best.

Do take note of the warnings, please. There is one part of the story I actually had chills while writing (yes, that part for those of you who know, it will be slightly changed but the essence will be the same) and it is based on the story of a horror/survival game, so make sure you're okay to read something as intense as this.

The story is written in full, though I'm still doing small bits of editing here and there. I don't have a posting schedule, but I'm thinking of updating twice a week, or once if I see the editing is taking longer. Chapter titles are taken from track titles of the game's original soundtrack.

So yeah, long intro over, take not of the warnings, I hope you enjoy if you read on!

Chapter 1: Bloodthirsty

“Anya, don’t sit so close to the TV,” Loid said, not looking up from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He wouldn’t doubt that she hadn’t even heard him, let alone acknowledged his request.

He picked up a handful of minced meat to mould into a burger steak, deciding to give her another reminder in two minutes from now. Yor had just left to walk Bond, so it was only his direction she had to follow – and she was starting to make clear whose directions she preferred to follow nowadays.

He placed the burger on the pan as his body tensed. A split second later, the door burst open.

He jumped through the opening between the kitchen and the living room, but even that seemed a pointless blessing as thick smoke quickly covered the apartment.

He rushed through it to grab Anya, who trembled against him, but he didn’t have the time to move away from the shots.

Two silenced shots, piercing through his clothes and reaching into the skin of his back.

No blood. But they were pinching his skin, and he immediately felt groggy…

He dropped to his side, unable to move as figures approached him. One of them took Anya.

“PAPA!” she screamed at him.

He feebly raised his hand. “Wait,” was the only thing he could say, before his hand dropped.

More figures approached him, and then his vision went dark.

Focus, Twilight.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Don’t alert the enemy yet.

He held his breath for a moment.

He was somewhere cold, outside.

He could feel something soft but freezing underneath him. Snow?

His hair didn’t feel wet, so he mustn’t have been lying there long.

It was quiet. He could only hear distant sounds of wind and crows flying somewhere close.

He couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, so he decided to open one single eye to check.

But then both his eyes shot wide open.

In front of him stood a magnificent gothic mansion. It could be a mansion, or it could be a damn castle. It was surrounded by a thick wall, like a fortress.

He sat up. He was indeed lying on the snow, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

He had apparently been placed on the castle’s garden. Right in the middle of the winter, it was only decorated by a few naked trees as well as three scarecrows.

Those didn’t seem to do their job well enough, he thought, as crows still flew around, some even sitting on them.

He got up, checking himself for injuries. He couldn’t feel any pain or any indication of pierced skin. How had they drugged him?

It was then he realized he was now wearing his jacket.

Had they dressed him for the cold? While taking off his apron and the gloves he wore while preparing food?

What the hell?

Where even was this place?

Why was he brought here?

Where was Anya?

His attention was drawn back to the apparently useless scarecrows, and a chill ran down his spine – unrelated to the cold – when he noticed something eerie about them.

Carefully, he took a few steps towards them.

His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to notice.

Those weren’t plain scarecrows.

Those were actual, human bodies hanging on wooden crosses.

His breath finally came out shaky, forming a cloud.

What the hell was this place?

Unable to quell his curiosity, he stepped closer, trying to notice for any details on the bodies, in case he recognized them.

All three seemed to be men, of ages between thirty and fifty, and they couldn’t have been dead for longer than a week or so. The cold might have preserved their bodies, but exposure to the outside would do as much more damage.

He couldn’t recognize any of their faces – or what was left of them.

Well, he didn’t even know where he was, how far away from Berlint or even in Ostania for that matter.

He clenched his hands into fists and turned around, looking around the walls surrounding the castle.

There was a huge metal door blocking the path outside. No climbing the wall; it was too smooth and covered in even more slippery ice. Climbing the trees wouldn’t give him enough height to swing himself out.

Which meant, his only way of getting answers was through the castle.

He must have been placed there for a reason, after all, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have already done so.

He reached the entrance, and the door swung open easily.

The entrance hall was as luxuriously decorated as the outside hinted at. A lush burgundy carpet went up the few steps, leading to a wall where a painting of three young women hung.

The door closed behind him, and he didn’t miss the definitive clang as metal bars started descending right in front of it.

He turned, and for a few seconds he weighed his options.

He could break the door quickly enough before the bars descended too low, and slip outside.

But then again, they obviously wanted him in there, and again, it didn’t seem that killing him was their priority.

He faced forward, ignoring the sound of the bars trapping him in there.

He might as well play their game.

He walked to the painting. Underneath it was an inscription that wrote “Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra.”

Which one was which?

The women on the painting didn’t seem too different from each other. The painting itself didn’t seem all too enlightening, either; it looked like any common Romantic-style oil painting.

Well, it wasn’t going to give him any answers, would it?

He turned around, walking down a corridor and out into another, larger hall. He noticed how warm the whole building was, despite the freezing weather outside and the apparently old construction of the place.

This hall had hanging, lit candles all over the walls, though they couldn’t be the source of the heating. The lighting was low, but lucky for him, he’d been trained enough in low lighting for that not to be an issue.

He jerked back at the sound of a swarm of flies coming his way, then he sensed someone’s presence.

Flies, he could handle.

But then the flies started gathering together, and within seconds they morphed into three women, dressed in black hooded cloaks.

“Wha—?” he whispered.

“Looking for Anya?” a voice said, and he assumed it’d come from one of the women. Who had just formed from flies.

The absurdity of his situation almost made him forget that she had just mentioned Anya.

Which meant they probably knew where she was.

However, he was too shocked by the sight that he couldn’t move when one of the women, all of whom were cackling, approached him and pushed him backwards.

She swung the scythe she held in her hand, and he pulled his legs away just before she could bury it in his calf.

“Oh, he’s feisty!” the woman said with a wide smile.

Her arm then almost zapped through the air, and his left leg was exploding in pain before he could even register the movement.

He yelped in pain as she leaned closer to him and took a long sniff.

Her mouth and jaw were covered in blood, though her blond hair looked pristine clean.

“Mmm, man-blood,” she said.

She then leaned back and started dragging him, by the scythe embedded in his leg, as he still lay helplessly on the ground.

She was too fast. He flailed around, trying to grab at anything they passed by to make her stop, even though that would mean the scythe would rip his entire leg open, but then another woman reached his other side and buried her scythe in his right leg.

He threw his head back, biting down another yell of pain.

Could he just have one moment?!

The women dragged him down another corridor and into what he quickly realized was a bedroom. They removed their scythes, and he quickly reached to assess the damage, when he heard the blond woman say “Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” as she pointed at him with her hand.

“You are so kind to me, daughters,” came a voice of a woman who sounded older than them.

Older, and bigger.

She was sitting on a massive chair, holding an equally massive glass of red wine. She took a sip from it, then stood up and turned to him, saying, “Now, lets take a look at him.”

He raised his head to look at her.

And then raised it higher.

She had the build of a muscular woman, with curves proportionate to her height, which must have been about three meters tall. She wore a black wide-brimmed hat over her chin-length black hair, and a long white dress that reached down to her feet, though she moved comfortably in it.

“Well, well. Loid Forger,” she said. “Came looking for your daughter, I presume?”

He sat there, frozen.

They knew who he was – or at least pretended to be? And they knew Anya was also taken?

She walked closer to him, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “For you to think you can waltz right in here—let’s see how special you are,” she nearly purred.

She threw her hands up in a sign for something, and two of the younger women said “Yes, mother,” as they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

His first thought was that he was standing up surprisingly well for just having had two scythes ran through his legs.

His second thought was terror as one woman grabbed his hand, and the other produced a very sharp-looking knife.

Before he could jerk back, she sliced his palm open.

He bit back a grunt; it wasn’t a deep cut, but it would be annoying…

His last thought trailed off as the tall woman reached down, grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips… and started sucking.

Now he really was frozen in terror.

What the hell was this nightmare?

The woman pulled her head back, licking at her lips with a blood-soaked tongue.

She threw his hand away. “Hmm,” she said. “Still fresh, but only barely.”

He wrapped his hand into a fist, keeping it close to his chest.

“Then let’s devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” one of the women said, handing a handkerchief to her.

“But I’m the one who captured him!” the blond woman protested.

“Now, now, daughters,” the tall woman said, patting at her lips with the handkerchief. “First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later, well, there will be enough for everyone.” She threw the handkerchief aside, smiling down at him. “Put him up!”

The young women surrounded him, and though he struggled, they were too strong for him as they put heavy manacles on his wrists.

A thick build, but he could break out of them with little effort.

But then, they secured a chain to them, and the chain started going up. He was lifted off his feet, and started grunting as the full force of his weight fell on his wrists.

Don’t say anything. Don’t let them take a hold of any weaknesses.

He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice from making any sounds as they headed out of the room. The tall woman had to bend to get through that door, and one of the young women – the second one who had stabbed his leg – bent down and picked up the discarded handkerchief, smelling the blood on it and laughing, as she followed them.

Breathing hard, he looked up at the manacles.

The pain was intense but manageable, though he already felt the tingling of numbness in his fingers. By his calculations, he had about fifteen or so minutes before cut blood circulation would start causing permanent damage.

Escape, first. Then you can freak out.

He grabbed the chain and dragged his body up. Though his legs were still bleeding, he brought them up so he could hold the chain between his feet.

He was gasping by the time he managed that, but at least he had less pain on his hands and a better view of the manacles.

They were old and rusty, but seemed to have a fairly standard locking mechanism. Bringing his body closer, he fished the lockpick out from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

Biting his lip, he worked through the lock of the right manacle. Just as it opened, his feet slipped from the chain and dropped down, causing all of his weight to drop onto his injured left hand.

The pain knocked the air out of his lungs.

Think! Think! Pull yourself together!

Taking in a laboured breath, he looked back up.

The lockpick had slipped from his hand and was now too far down for him to get it. His right hand was free, but he didn’t have any other options left.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free hand around his left thumb, and with a sharp pull, he dislocated it.

As his other hand was coated in blood from the cut, his wrist slipped through the manacle as soon as his thumb wasn’t in the way.

He dropped to the ground clumsily, not managing to balance his landing.

Wheezing, he looked at his left hand.

Bleeding, and a dislocated thumb.

He gave himself ten seconds.

Ten seconds to wonder where the hell he had gotten himself into, what that tall woman even was, standing at three meters tall and drinking blood, and what her “daughters” were, emerging from flies and also participating in… blood drinking? Cannibalism?

Ten seconds, and he was back to himself.

Focus, Twilight.

He looked at his legs – they were still bleeding, but he felt confident he could stand on them. Though those scythes looked sharp, they must have split a tendon or two apart.

At the corner of the room stood a vanity table, and on top of it, along with various cosmetics, lay a small green bottle with a cross on the label.

He stood up carefully, glad that his legs weren’t trembling. He picked up the bottle, carefully reading the label.

Medical alcohol.

Not one to trust this place that much, he opened the lid, and sure enough, it smelled like ethyl alcohol.

He sat down with a grunt, pulling his right trouser up. He didn’t have any clean gauze, so his only option was to pour liquid right over the wound.

He braced himself for the sting of pain, but instead, the liquid brought a cool, numbing sensation.

And then, right in front of his eyes, his wound closed then disappeared completely.

He stared at it.

Ten more seconds.

What the hell.

He looked at the bottle again. Medical alcohol, it said. It smelled like it too.

He looked back at his leg, raising his other trouser where the other wound still stood.

What the hell?!

Uncertain, he poured a little less liquid over that wound.

The wound immediately stopped bleeding as new skin seemed to form, though it didn’t heal completely.

He let out a breath. If he were honest with himself, this wasn’t really the weirdest thing to happen in the last few minutes, was it?

He turned to his mangled hand. Just how much could that liquid heal?

He poured an equal dosage to it, and was still surprised to see his thumb painlessly slide into its place, as well as the cut close completely.

Well, at least it could be useful.

He didn’t have time to worry over the supernatural. He had to get out of there, and find out where Anya was.

He took the path of unlocked doors, as he didn’t want to waste time and noise trying to break the lock of every locked door he found. Breaking the windows wouldn’t lead him anywhere – each one was sealed shut, and though he wasn’t averse to turning into a hooligan for the sake of escaping, the entire castle seemed to be surrounded by that wall.

He needed to get to a higher floor, but the safest and most silent path led him to the basement, where he found himself walking along piles and piles of dead bodies.

He had to hold his breath as he passed them by; apparently the occupants of the castle had the habit of feasting on the blood of humans, and did it so often that the amount of bodies was too big to act as decoration for their garden.

It was all men, however. As young as twenty-three, from what he could gather with a quick look.

The fly-women seemed to be confident enough in their hunting that they didn’t take away the handgun from one of the more fresh bodies. Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a police officer, a soldier, or a man aware of what he’d been dealing with, but it didn’t matter to him. He undid the holster, as gently as he could out of respect of the deceased man, and he put it on under his jacket.

He checked the magazine. Ten bullets out of sixteen.

He looked at the man. Had he shot those first six bullets right before he was killed?

The man had a shoulder bag on him, and inside was a box of bullets, a total of forty. He slid that too over his own shoulder.

He kept the safety on the gun on, but held it in his hand. He picked up a hunting knife from one of the other bodies and walked on.

As the bodies thinned out, he found a lone skeletal figure draped in a plain canvas cloak. The limbs stood out, bare, emaciated, and rotting. While other bodies were in a similar state of decomposition, they were fully clothed, at most with a few rips in their clothes. This one was the only one so bare.

And it was holding a scythe in its hand, old and rusty in comparison to the women’s scythes, but still sharp enough to do harm.

He approached it carefully, keeping both hands on the gun.

He thanked his training for that, as the figure moved when he passed right by it.

He yelped in shock, moving away from it and raising his gun at it.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t move!”

The creature, whatever that was, didn’t seem like it listened let alone register his words. It stood up, hunched over, then lunged at him with the scythe.

Not finding any alternatives, he shot right at its head.

The creature jerked back as a screech left its mouth.

Twilight held his breath.

His blood froze when he saw it still stand on its legs and try to swing at him again.

He shot again. He was perfectly certain the bullet got through its head.

Yet the creature moved again.

And he shot again.

Only now did the creature finally drop to its knees, but it was still screeching and growling.

Desperate, Twilight took the knife and drove it through the creature’s skull, three times, until he felt it stop moving.

It collapsed on the floor.

Hell knew if it would rise again. It was supposed to be dead already, wasn’t it?

He turned around and ran.

There were more creatures on the way. Some he slashed at with the knife, some he shot at, some he simply ran away from. A few managed to nick him with their scythes, and if he were honest, he was more worried about infections than the injuries themselves.

As he found a quiet corner, he pulled out the alcohol – or whatever that was. It seemed to work on the nicks too, making them close quickly and painlessly.

He supported himself on the wall, forcing his breath to calm down.

He had to get out. Now.

Holding the gun tight to his hand, he moved to leave, but then a buzzing and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Hmm. Warm, bright, red blood.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew it was the blond woman.

He made a run for it as flies swarmed around him, until he found a staircase going up, reaching into what looked like a kitchen area.

“Where are you going, little one?”

The woman appeared right in front of him, cutting off his path. She was smiling at him, surrounded by flies, her face still stained with blood.

“I just want to find Anya,” he managed.

“Aw,” she said. She then pushed him back and he fell on the ground. She lay over him, reaching at his neck and biting.

Yelling, he took the gun and fired twice at her stomach.

She reached up, laughing as fresh blood ran from her lips.

He shot at her head.

“Your bullets cannot harm m—”

Her voice cut off when another of his shots passed through her and hit the window behind her.

The glass cracked, and it quickly shattered as a cold gust of wind blew into the room.

The gust threw the woman’s hood off her head. Twilight tightened his hold on the gun when he spotted a massive, fleshy scar on her temple, a bald spot from her long hair.

The woman shrieked, then growled. Her skin, already pale as it was, seemed to start cracking and turn grey. She looked at her hands, still gasping in pain, and then turned to him, yelling, “You stupid man-thing!”

His mind finally picked up the pace. The cold made her weak?

He stood up, raising his gun at her.

“How dare you bare your teeth at us!” she shouted, then lunged at him with her scythe.

He managed to block her attack, pushing her back, and he shot at her face.

She groaned, still standing, but she said, “What? My body—it’s breaking…”

He kept his gun up. “Just let me go,” he said.

A wild rumble came from her mouth as she turned to attack him again. She reached him, and he could only block her at the last moment, his arms taking the full blow of her scythe. “Give up!” she said, reaching back for another swing of her weapon.

He shot twice at her head, and she yelled again.

The flies seemed to drop in numbers, and her skin cracked more and more. He barely managed to avoid two more of her attacks, and then she fell on him, ready to bite his head off, he supposed in the split second it took him to kick her off of him.

He shot two more times.

“This can’t be,” she said, weakly now, her body swaying.

“Let me go!” he repeated, taking two steps back.

She screamed and reached back with her scythe, and he shot again.

And then a sizzling sound came from her body, as she started swinging wildly, not reaching anything. She groaned and groaned, and her body transformed.

It seemed to calcify into gravel, as she slowly stopped moving, her hand still up in a pose of attack.

And then it broke down.

Whatever it was, it cracked into small pieces, and what started as the form of a woman was now a pile of something on the ground.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back on the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.

His hands were trembling, his feet felt like water.

What the hell was all that?

Were was he?

Why was he brought here?

And where was Anya?

What were those creatures…?

He closed his eyes. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds to freak out.

He just had to get out. Find Anya and…

He opened his eyes, his throat tensing.

Did he really have to find her?

As far as he was concerned, right now she was a liability to him. He had to prioritize his safety first.

It wasn’t like there were piles of bodies of dead girls around, was it?

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood back up. The woman had managed to hurt him a little, but the healing liquid was in short supply and he could handle those injuries up to a point.

The woman. Who was now a pile of ash.

Calm down, Twilight. Get yourself in order and find a way out.

The castle proved massive, and he couldn’t find any viable exit paths even as he seemed to reach what looked like hallways reaching into bedrooms.

Then, a mournful scream sounded from a floor below.

“What have you done to my daughter?!”

His blood chilled. If the “daughter” had been that vicious, he didn’t want to face whatever her mother had in store for him.

#piracytheorist writes #Spy x Family #sxf ff #sxf fanfiction #ilaid #lmao that's a funny acronym #I SHOULDN'T BE POSTING SO LATE BUT I'M ACTUALLY A LITTLE EXCITED LOL #sxf fanfic

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shadamyheadcanons · 1 month ago

Text

Total Recall

For the 2025 Shadamy week prompt: Forgotten. Kindly beta’d by the lovely @shadowsfascination.

Shadow wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with amnesia and finds that a vaguely familiar pink hedgehog took him in, promising to take care of him until he remembers everything. He keeps a journal while he’s there so he can at least remember some things over time. 5.8K words.

Cross-posted on AO3.

Day 1

I woke up this morning with a splitting headache, a bump on my head, and not a single memory of how it happened...or who I was. Who anyone was. I must’ve grunted in pain, because a pink hedgehog dashed into the room to check on me. She was fretting and worrying over me, but I couldn’t really focus.

She introduced herself as Amy and said we were friends, but I don’t know. She feels more important than that, somehow. She must mean something else to me. Whatever it is, it must be positive, because I instantly felt better once I saw her. Safer.

Amy promised she’d take care of me until I got my memories back, and she gave me this journal so I could write things down as I remembered them. When I asked her why she’s helping me, she said she’s always there when a friend needs her. She also mentioned she felt guilty, but she wouldn’t tell me why.

Day 2

The stabbing pain in my head this morning was just as bad as yesterday, maybe worse. I couldn’t even leave bed, so she fed me soup and pet my head for a while. It felt...nice. I kind of want to fib and tell her I need to stay in bed more often, but the idea of lying to her makes me feel sick for some reason.

Day 3

I tried walking around the house today, but I was too dizzy to make it far. Luckily, Amy was there to help guide me to a seat in her kitchen, and she talked to me while we ate lunch, telling stories about all our friends. A couple of names sounded vaguely familiar, but the details escaped me. She didn’t seem to mind.

When I asked if looking after me was a nuisance, Amy instantly denied it, saying it’s nice to have someone else around for a change. Apparently, she used to live with her friend Cream, but then Cream moved back in with her mother, leaving Amy by herself.

It looked like she was trying really hard not to look sad. I wonder if she’s lonely. Maybe I’m lonely, too.

I told her I liked being with her here so far, and she looked really happy. I think I’ll mention that more often.

Day 5

I remembered something today. She was playing music while she made us breakfast. I recognized the chords, the words, the tone...I spoke some of the words, then sang a few lines as the lyrics came to me.

Amy was thrilled. She instantly perked up and started talking a mile a minute about the band—Hot Honey, she called them—and how she’d brought me to a concert with her, how much fun we’d had together, how much I liked it. She played song after song of theirs, excitedly chattering away.

But I didn’t understand. I told her that although I recognized the songs, I didn’t like them.

I wish I hadn’t done that. She went quiet and looked really sad.

I wanted to make her feel better, so I admitted that although I didn’t really like the songs, they felt meaningful. Important. She smiled a little.

She hasn’t played Hot Honey since then.

It was grating. It was sappy.

But I kind of miss it anyway.

Day 6

Not too much happened today. My head’s been feeling better and I can walk now, so Amy said we can go out tomorrow.

I noticed she had blankets and a pillow set up in another room, so I asked if she always slept there. She said it was just temporary, that she usually sleeps in the bed I’m using. She told me she was fine sleeping there and it wasn’t a problem, but I don’t know. It looks uncomfortable to me. I told her there was probably enough room for both of us in the bed if we slept close enough, but her face went bright red, and she got all flustered and said no.

Not sure what that’s about, but I kind of want to see her do it again.

Day 7

I’m apparently a fan of flowers, so she took me out to a public garden today. She must be right, because I remembered all of their names—lilacs, azaleas, rhododendrons, magnolias. It’s weird what my brain hangs onto; little facts are fine, but whenever I try to think of details about people or my past, it’s like there’s this weird bubble in the back of my head stopping me. If I try to push it, I get this sense of wrongness, like I’m snooping somewhere I shouldn’t be.

But flowers are easy. I even told her scraps I remembered about their supposed “symbolism,” whatever that means, and she looked happier and happier the more I shared. Memories came back in bits and pieces: times when I’d seen each flower for the first time, the books I’ve scoured to learn more, the feeling of soil passing through my fingers, and the joy of raising my own flowers and watching them bloom. Upon remembering I had a garden myself, I immediately stopped and asked Amy about it. Luckily, she’d asked a friend of hers, Silver, to look after it while I was under the weather. She really does think of everything.

Halfway through, she spotted some bright yellow daffodils and gasped. She brightened up and told me I gave her a bouquet of them once to cheer her up. I can’t remember doing that, but the smile on her face was warm and familiar. If she always looks that way when she gets flowers, I’ll have to get them for her more often.

At the end, she lamented that it was too early in the year for lavender, saying those were my favorites. But I don’t think they actually are. They aren’t right now, at least. I pointed to a patch of roses we’d already passed and said those were my favorites, especially the red ones. She looked confused, but then she smiled again and told me she loved them, too, and that “Rose” is her last name.

It suits her.

On a whim, I asked if I could call her that, and her eyes widened. She smiled shyly and agreed. Her cheeks were pink.

Rosy, even.

Day 9

Today, Rose introduced me to two of her friends, a fox with two tails and an...echidna? I think that’s what he’s called...named Tails and Knuckles.

Two people named after body parts. Not exactly creative, but it does make me wonder where my name came from. What am I a shadow of? I tried to think back, but all it gave me was an unsettling sensation in the back of my mind: a gentle voice, followed by a stabbing pain.

I decided the answer could wait.

I’m not sure why Knuckles was there. It seems like Rose doesn’t always have a reason for bringing people over, she just does it. He mostly lounged around and pestered me about what I did and didn’t remember and seemed disappointed with how little I knew. But when I called Rose by her last name, he lit up and started hounding me about her instead—how “close” we were, how much I liked her, how long I was staying with her—smirking obnoxiously the whole way through. Rose eventually got him to back off.

Tails asked about my headaches. How frequent they are, what triggers them, that kind of thing. He talked to me about amnesia, too, saying this kind usually only persists for a couple weeks in Mobians and my memories will probably be back soon. The others seemed relieved, but I’m not sure how to feel about it.

After checking on my health, Tails showed that he’d brought a two-wheeled vehicle with him, saying he’d been in the process of tuning it up when my...incident happened. He encouraged me to take a seat and start it up, explaining that I’d been built with what he calls “vehicular intuition,” so I’d know how to ride it even without my memories. He’s awfully smart for a kid. Smarter than Knuckles, at least.

At first, I didn’t recognize it. The striking jet black and sharp angles called out to me faintly, but it wasn’t until I sat down on the seat and started up the engine that it clicked.

Powerful sensations and images flashed behind my eyes—wind whipping through my quills, scenery blurring past, the growl of the bike beneath me, the simple joy and freedom of it all—and my heart pounded.

My bike. Mine.

I almost shed a tear. I’ve missed it that much. Luckily, I regained focus in time to blink it back. I think I’d be okay if Rose saw me cry, but the other two? Not a chance.

After they left, Rose begged me to take her on a ride with me, and I immediately said yes. She’s a difficult person to say no to.

The familiar thrill of racing returned to me, but the feeling of someone clinging to me was fresh. I don’t think I’ve ever given Rose a ride before. I’ve been missing out. The way she held me made my chest feel warm and light, and whenever I sped up or turned a tight corner, she’d let out a cute little squeak.

I kept driving her around until the sun set. Once I brought her home, she finally explained why she’s been feeling guilty about my amnesia. She said I was helping her build a new addition on her house and she accidentally knocked me on the head with a hammer. Said she felt awful, should have been more careful, all of that. I didn’t like seeing her so unhappy, so I hugged her and told her it was alright, and she calmed down.

To be honest, I bet there’s more to the story than that. Tails mentioned I’m supposed to be some kind of “Ultimate Life Form,” so I highly doubt a sweet, silly, petite girl could knock me out with a hammer, especially by accident. She’s probably being too hard on herself for something. She does that a lot.

But she does have a hammer she keeps by the door, this giant yellow and red thing. Just looking at it does make my head hurt.

Day 11

Rose invited over an obnoxious blue hedgehog this afternoon—Sonic, I think? He wouldn’t shut up and kept sprinting around making dumb jokes, saying he ‘would race me if I were feeling better.’

As if I’d need to be at full power to beat that buffoon in a race.

Rose seems...fond of him. She has terrible taste. I didn’t tell her that.

She asked me if I remembered anything about him, and I told her that she must have hit me pretty hard if I managed to forget someone that annoying. I thought she’d be upset, but she laughed instead and said that some things never change.

Day 14

Today

Day 15

Yesterday I

Day 16

Rose and I went to a city two days ago called Westport Westopolis to run a few errands. While we were there, we ran into a man in a military uniform with two differently colored eyes. He started to snap at me about my “extended vacation.” Rose got mad and stepped between us, maybe to defend me, but I couldn’t hear what she said to him because I caught sight of a weird logo on his chest that spelled out “G.U.N.”

It felt like my head was splitting in two.

Unsettling, terrifying noises ricocheted in my mind—panicked voices, pleading, screams—ending with a deafening bang.

I don’t know what that sound was, but it made my stomach turn.

After the bang, my vision went black, and my legs gave out. I don’t remember hitting the floor, though. Maybe Rose caught me. She did say she carried me home, and I’ve never caught her in a lie. She must be stronger than she looks. I couldn’t even leave bed until today, so I’m sure I was no help.

I think something bad happened to me, and I’m scared of finding out what it was. Is it possible to just bring back the good memories? Am I wrong to want that?

I hope I never run into G.U.N. again.

Day 17

Rose thought we could use a nice day off after what happened, so she brought me to the city park with some food and a blanket so we could eat outside on the grass. She said it’s called a “picnic.” The word wasn’t familiar, not even a little. Rose got really sad when I said so. She thinks I’d probably never been on one, even before I lost my memories. She immediately turned determined, scrounged up some food—bread, strawberry jam, peanut butter, chips—and brought me to the city park.

I don’t think this will help me regain any memories, but I don’t mind. She’s cute when she gets all determined like this. Are all female hedgehogs as pretty as she is? I asked her, but she told me to stop embarrassing her. She was as red as the strawberry jam.

I figured Rose would find us a table somewhere, but instead, she spread out the blanket right on the grass. We were halfway through our meal when Rose’s friend Cream hopped over to us with a small blue creature in tow who she calls “Cheese.” She let me hold him. He has an odd texture, warm and soft but jiggly. Not sure what to make of that, but it’s comforting somehow. A few other Chao stopped by, too. They’re clingy, but I like them.

The afternoon passed with no discussion of who I used to be; Rose, Cream, Cheese...all they cared about was who I am now. The temperature and breeze were relaxing, and it was nice to see them laughing and enjoying the comfortable weather. Their voices and the natural sounds of the park were gentle. I would’ve gladly spent all day there.

Rose once told me I’d promised her years ago that I’d keep everyone safe, that I’d made it my life’s mission to protect the Earth and everyone on it. I think I’m starting to understand why.

Day 20

We went grocery shopping in some square today—Station Square, I think it’s called. She had a pretty long list. She’s going to teach me how to make cupcakes. It’s another one of those things I know I’ve never done before. Is she still avoiding my past because of what happened with the commander, or is she just as reluctant to dredge up my memories as I am?

Taking a look at the list, I recognized enough items that I’m sure I could have dashed around the store and cut the time in half; I’ve experimented with my strength and speed here and there, and they’re both returning to me. Even as I thought of it, though, I lost all desire to rush. If I ran, I wouldn’t get to walk by her side. I’d miss the cute way her nose wrinkles when she’s comparing prices. I wouldn’t have gotten to reach the cake mix she was too short for and enjoy the smile it earned me.

Maybe you don’t need a reason to spend time with someone. Maybe the right person is worth it all on their own.

Day 25

Today, Rouge and Omega stopped by. I don’t remember everything about them, but their names are the only ones I’ve known right off the bat so far, and I felt better having them here.

Before they came in, Rose poked her head out the door and whispered something to them about not mentioning “missions” around me right now, and every so often, she or Rouge would steer the topic away from something. Omega didn’t like that very much. They cut him off when he started mentioning something about target practice, and his internal motors made this disgruntled rumbling noise.

I get the feeling Rouge and Omega—and me, by extension—don’t visit Rose. Rouge didn’t know where the bathroom was, and Omega was analyzing the house’s structural integrity like he’s never been here. I can apparently teleport when I’m at full strength, so distance isn’t an issue, and she clearly needs the company, so why don’t we visit her?

Rouge apologized for not checking up on me sooner, saying they’d been really busy. Whichever “missions” they’re going on must be stressful; Omega was grumpy, and there were bags under Rouge’s eyes. I told them to look out for themselves.

When Rose stepped out to bring in the cupcakes we’d made together, Rouge asked me about her—whether I felt comfortable here, if I wanted to stay somewhere else, all that. I told her I was happy here with her. When I called her “Rose,” though, Rouge stopped. She didn’t respond like Knuckles had. She and Omega exchanged a nervous glance. I asked what was wrong, but they both stalled out. Rouge just said that I was welcome to come back to live with them anytime, especially if I “needed some distance” after I got my memories back. Rose came back with the cupcakes before I could ask what she meant.

Distance from what? From Rose? Why? I like her. I like her smile. I like her cooking. I like how she laughs, even if I don’t always understand why. I like the warm feeling I get when she holds my hand to lead me places. I like hearing her hum when we’re doing chores around her house. I like how she says my name. She puts an extra...something into it that no one else does.

What miserable version of me would want to avoid her? What was I afraid of?

Day 31

It’s been a month now, and I think I need to talk to Rose.

The longer this goes on, the less and less I want to know about whatever darkness is lurking in my past. Every time I think back, all I feel is pain and dread, and I can’t help but wonder if I was ever as happy as I am now. I like the world I live in. I’m not sure I always did.

It feels like almost everyone wants to pull me backwards, but I’m tired of looking back. Why can’t I move forwards instead? Why can’t this be me?

Rose has put in so much time, so much effort into helping me regain my memories, but if anyone will accept my decision, it’ll be her.

I’ll tell her tomorrow.

Day 32

I did it. I told her...and she accepts me!

She said she’d noticed how nervous I was about it, and she understood why. She even told me she loved me—every version of me—memories or not, and that she’d be happy to let me stay here no matter what I choose to do about my amnesia!

But...something odd happened. I can’t explain it, but she said this one phrase that echoed in my mind, and my brain...lurched, as if something was settling into place. She said, “I don’t care what you choose, Shadow. I want to give you a chance to be happy!”

My head’s been spinning ever since. Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.

I don’t know how I’ll break the news to everyone else, but with Rose by my side, I’m sure I can do it.

This is who I am.

Shadow sat on the edge of his bed—Amy’s bed—feeling his muscles shake. His jaw clenched harder with each cheesy, embarrassing, lovestruck journal entry his ignorant self had written over the past month.

The immense weight of his agonizing past had lifted for scarcely a moment, allowing him just enough room to drop his guard...and let her in.

And by the time he’d awoken that morning, the entire world had crashed down on his head once more. Raw and honest and unforgiving, leaving him broken like a neglectful Atlas.

His fingers tightened, wrinkling the pages, and his chest clenched. All the years I spent keeping my distance, and she breaks it all down in an instant. And as if that weren’t enough...

Vivid images of the massacre flashed behind his eyes, the gruesome tragedy that had taken everything from him.

Shadow’s heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing grew rough and unstable. His eyes went wide and his expression strained as he stared at nothing, but no tears dared fall.

Energetic footsteps, heavier than expected for a silly, petite hedgehog, bounded around the corner. Amy poked her head in. “Shadow, do you want—”

Shadow choked and threw the journal aside, feeling his face shift into that of a cornered animal. “A-Amy—!”

At the mention of her first name, Amy gasped, and her brow wrinkled in concern. “Shadow? Are you...”

He tore his gaze away.

Shadow heard Amy’s footsteps grow closer, and the bed sank next to him. Her hand hovered for a moment, then rested on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Her light reached out to him. He panted and tried to pull away as he always had, only to fall even further.

The ARK.

Gerald.

MARIA.

Amy wrapped her arms around his shoulders, desperate yet reassuring. “Shadow, it’s okay! You’ll be alright! I’m here.”

Shadow clenched his jaw until it hurt, and he grasped the sheets on either side of him. He could see Amy’s expression pinch out of the corner of his eye, and she rubbed his back. “Is there anything I can do?”

He met her gaze. Try as he might, Shadow couldn’t lock out her warmth, not the way he could just a month ago. He stared for a long moment at the woman he loved—the one he could never have because she was so enamored with someone else—and he sighed. Shadow looked down and shut his eyes. “Take out your hammer.”

A baffled noise escaped Amy’s throat, but she summoned it. “Um...okay...?”

Shadow took the hammer from her hands and held it to his forehead. “Right here. Just...”

After a moment of silent confusion, Amy gasped and ripped the hammer from his hands, throwing it aside. “SHADOW! That’s not funny!” There was a pause, and then her vitriol faded. “Shadow...?”

He felt the tears hit his knees before he even knew he was crying. “Take it back,” he croaked, voice cracking. “Take it all back.”

“Oh, Shadow.” Pain was evident in Amy’s voice, too, and she wrapped her arms around him fully, gentler this time. “I know it’s hard. You’ll be okay.”

“I was h-happy...for once...” he managed through shuddering breaths.

“Shh...it’s alright.”

Shadow turned in Amy’s hold and clung to her, letting himself break down in the arms of the only person left who was allowed to see his tears. He wept for Maria. He wept for Gerald, flawed though he was. He wept for the Shadow of yesterday who’d never known pain or loss or inhibitions, and he wept for the innocence he’d lost yet again.

Brainwashing, amnesia, time travel, and now I almost forgot all over again...only to remember every time. How many times will I be forced to lose them?

Shadow wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, mourning pain both old and new. Amy didn’t falter, not even after his breathing slowed and his muscles stilled.

At last, he lifted his head, vision bleary and head aching. Amy was gazing up at him, eyes watery with tears she’d shed on his behalf. “I’m so sorry!”

Shadow pulled back, baffled, but he held onto one of her hands. “Why?”

“Because I’m the reason you got amnesia in the first place!” she insisted. “I feel awful.”

Shadow was shaking his head even before she finished. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Amy glanced back at the hammer she’d left on the ground, then shot him an incredulous look.

“...Not on purpose,” Shadow added.

Amy groaned and hid her face. “You told me to use a regular hammer, but I got impatient and used mine!”

“In your defense, it was faster.”

“But you told me to be careful!”

“I got in the way,” he fibbed.

Amy yanked at her quills and scrunched her eyes shut. “I should’ve just done the job myself! If only I’d—”

“Amy.”

She peeked her eyes open a crack. Shadow threaded his fingers with hers and pulled them away from her quills. “Stop trying to make me blame you. It’s not going to work.”

Amy stared up at him and sniffled, but she remained silent.

“You’ve been taking care of me. Feeding me. Housing me. Helping me. Making me happy. And it worked.”

As he said that, though, he felt his face fall. It worked...just not forever.

Amy squeezed his hand. “I don’t know everything you’ve been through, and I know it can’t be easy, but you have good memories, too,” she insisted. “Whenever I hear you talk about Maria, it never sounds like you regret meeting her.”

“Of course I don’t!”

Amy jumped, so he averted his gaze and quieted down. “I would never regret meeting her. I couldn’t. Not for a second.”

Amy nodded, encouraged. “And think of all the adventures you’ve been on! Think of your friends! What about Rouge and Omega?”

Shadow’s chest warmed, then instantly tightened. “They’ve been covering for me. All this time. That’s why they were so exhausted.”

“Huh?”

“They’ve been keeping Team Dark going without me this entire time. How much longer would they have kept doing that? A month? Two months? Forever?” All so I could keep playing house with you, happy and ignorant?

I nearly threw away everything we’ve been through together.

The thought repulsed him.

“Because you would have done the same for them,” Amy countered, learning forward to get a better look at his face. “You’re kind. You’re dedicated. And if this had happened to either one of them, you wouldn’t have hesitated for a second.”

There was silence for a moment. Shadow just stared, sensing she had more to say.

Amy’s lower lip trembled. She held on for a few moments before blurting out, “You shouldn’t have been here in the first place!”

“What?!”

“No, no!” Amy spluttered, holding her hands up defensively. “I mean you shouldn’t have been there the day I...” She glanced back at her hammer and cringed.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “You were putting another wing on your house, and no one else would help. Of course I showed up.”

Amy scratched the back of her head and looked down at her feet. “Ah...not quite.”

Shadow’s ears perked up.

Amy bit her lip. “See, I actually...didn’t ask anyone else,” she murmured. “I had it handled. I could have called Tails if I needed help with construction, and I could have asked Knuckles if I needed more strength...but I didn’t. I can do all that by myself.”

With anyone else, Shadow would have snapped in irritation. He kept his tone gentle. “Why did you ask me?”

Amy looked up at him, fidgeting with her fingers. “Promise you won’t get mad at me, okay?”

Shadow nodded. I don’t think I could if I tried.

She paused, then let her head drop, resigned. “Because I wanted to get to know you better.”

Shadow’s heart pounded. “Really?”

Amy nodded, peeking up at him shyly out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve wanted to get to know you since we talked on the ARK, but you’ve always kept your distance. I could never get close.”

Shadow’s heart ached. I never meant to hurt you. He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat.

Amy twiddled her thumbs in her lap. “But I knew one thing that would work. No matter how busy you are, you’ve always found time to help me. Every single time I’ve asked you for help, you’ve been there.”

Memories of Amy’s voice drifted into his head.

“Thank you so much for coming with me to this concert, Shadow. I never could have gone alone. It’s so much better with you here!”

“Ah, Shadow, I’m so glad you’re here! Cream went into this weird-looking castle, and she hasn’t come back out! Will you go in there with me to look for her?”

“Shadow, please help us! Give them a chance to be happy!”

She’s right. I really will do anything for her.

“Shadow!”

He didn’t know he was grasping at his chest until Amy threaded her fingers with his. Her voice pulled him out of his stupor. “I’m sorry! I know it was wrong. It’s just...you’re so sweet, and brave, and kind...and you don’t hear that often enough. I wanted to know more. I—”

Shadow stalled out as she rambled, at a loss for words. His heart fluttered.

Does she...?

Every word died in his throat. Instead, he grasped her hand with both of his and held it to his chest, letting her feel his racing heartbeat. Her ranting immediately stopped, and one solitary tear faltered, nearly falling from her eye. A voice from fifty years ago, quieter than Amy’s but clear, floated in from the back of Shadow’s mind.

“You have a big heart! It may be difficult for you to express it, but I know that deep down you really do care. About me. About everyone! What you do is what defines you. I know you’re having a hard time finding answers, but I’m certain you will one day. Then, you’ll find even more people you can trust.”

Shadow found his voice at last. “I really wish you could have met her.”

Amy’s confusion lasted for only a moment before melting away, but she remained silent.

He brushed away the tear she’d almost shed, breathed in deeply, and let it out. “She would have loved you almost as much as I do.”

Amy’s eyes bugged out. Shadow slid his hand onto her cheek, making his intentions clear. He waited for a few terrifying seconds that felt like years, praying he hadn’t misinterpreted.

Finally, Amy glanced at his lips...and leaned in to meet him.

Her lips were warm and soft, and Shadow’s eyes fell shut at the pleasant sensation. His motions were tentative from nerves and inexperience, just as hers were, and he lingered for only a few seconds before pulling back. Amy leaned in to follow him, apparently just as reluctant to end the contact, and he pressed their foreheads together to stay close. Her breath tickled his lips, and a shy smile spread across her face. He couldn’t hold back a small grin of his own.

“So does this mean you’ll forgive me?” Amy asked, hesitant but hopeful.

Shadow scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully. “The girl I’ve had a soft spot for since the beginning resorted to subterfuge to spend more time with me, then pampered me for a month? I’ll live.”

Any last trace of hesitation vanished from Amy’s face, leaving behind cheeks dusted pink. Shadow tilted her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before aiming a smile her way. “Thank you, Amy.”

“Ah—”

She snapped her mouth shut. He raised a brow. “Hm?”

Amy pursed her lips, deliberating, and then her expression turned sheepish. “You know...you can keep calling me ‘Rose,’ if you want...” Her eyes shot open. “I mean—you don’t have to, but...”

Shadow perked up. “I can?”

Her smile was small and secretive. “It’s...nice. No one else calls me that, so...it feels special when you do.”

Shadow smirked roguishly. “No problem. ‘Rose’ it is.”

A happy little noise escaped Amy’s throat, and he knew even before looking that her tail was wagging. As he kept looking around her room, though, Shadow’s stomach churned with nerves once more. “So...I know I’ve recovered by now, but...is your offer from last night still valid?”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

Shadow tugged absently at the blanket underneath him. “I know you’re lonely, and I’ve found a lot of happiness here. More than anywhere else.” He squeezed his eyes shut, ignored the way his stomach flipped, and met her eyes. “I don’t want to leave.”

Amy’s face barely had time to light up before he was pulled into an enthusiastic embrace. “Of course I want you to stay!”

Shadow choked from her strong hug, then laughed and quieted down when she loosened up. He listened patiently, happy just to hear her rant excitedly about all the new ideas she had for the house.

At last, she retreated, showing the exhilarated, post-rant expression he knew most were never patient enough to see.

Their loss.

Shadow ruffled her quills. “In that case, you’d better have supplies ready when I get back.”

Amy frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shadow stood up and adjusted his gloves. “I really do need to talk to Rouge and Omega, but if I’m moving in, then you’ll need that extra wing on your house more than ever.” He smirked down at Amy. “And it’s been established that you can’t handle that yourself, right?”

Amy leapt to her feet and gave a grumpy pout, cheeks puffing out in irritation. “That wasn’t—! Oh, you—!” He chuckled, and she crossed her arms. A few seconds later, though, she stood up straight and snickered. “Are you sure about that? You’re not just going to ask me to sleep in the same bed with you again~?”

Amy giggled, clearly expecting him to get flustered just as she had. Shadow raised a brow.

There’s nothing you can say that’s more embarrassing than that journal.

Shadow snaked an arm around her waist and cradled the back of her head, showing his own smirk when her eyes shot open. He pulled her close, closer than before, and pressed their lips together. He lingered longer this time, deepening the kiss and feeding more passion into it. He tilted his head and lightly scratched her scalp. Inexperience be damned, he kept going even as her fingers dug into his biceps, only pulling back when she whined quietly against his lips.

Shadow broke contact, unable to hold back a smug smile at her wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He leaned up to whisper in her ear.

“Not yet.”

Amy squeaked quietly. He released her and stepped back, unable to hold back a lighthearted laugh. She briefly stumbled, face even redder than before, and he felt his smile turn more genuine.

“I’ll see you later, Rose.”

She held a hand up to try and hide her face, but her bashful smile showed through. “O-okay.”

He took a moment to enjoy the sight before teleporting away.

I never want to forget this day.

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #shadowxamyweek2025 #shadowxamyweek #placeholder title was “get bonked idiot”#my friends nearly convinced me to make that the actual title #peer pressure is real kids

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wolkentage · 6 days ago

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The scream I made when I saw today's @simblr-story-question-of-the-day prompt "The circle of life" because I had the idea for this edit prior but it fits the theme so well! (Let's ignore the fact it says infant to elder in the prompt, okay?)

Anyways, I mentioned earlier this week that I'm tempted to start a story about ballet. I initally wanted it to be unrelated to my main story but after giving it some thought, I decided to turn it into a prequel instead! En Pointe will take place 22 years prior to the events of The Infected and focuses on Alexander's and Avery's final year in highschool.

Going forward my goal is to post at least 3 story parts of The Infected and 1 story part of En Pointe a month starting september! 🤍

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims community #show us your sims #simblr #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 edit #sims 4 aesthetic #sims 4 story #sims 4 stories #oc: Alexander #ssqotd #simblr story question of the day

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liwinly · 5 months ago

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( ౨ৎ ) ──────── UP!

MELODiES AND MEMORiES ── prompt 12 / / ni-ki x fem!reader .:. g. fluff , bestfriends to lovers ..: w. skinship ( hand holding , hugging ) 𓂃 wc. ~ 1000 ;. lily's note. made this for mei or @miukidoll <3 (I told you it's nothing scary) hope you like it 🫶 btw I'll try to post chapter 1 of fooled hearts next week!!!

It was a usual Saturday afternoon. You were sitting on the grassy field at the park, waiting for Ni-ki. It was a thing you two always did, hanging out and having fun. Ni-ki, your best friend since you could remember, had promised to meet you after he finished his practice session for his school soccer team. He always had a smile that made everything feel better, and even though you had known him for so long, it always made your heart skip when you saw him.

You looked at your phone, tapping your foot impatiently. He was taking forever today, and you just wanted to have fun with him. That was the thing with Ni-ki—he could always make even the simplest things fun, and today, you had a new idea for something to do. You’d been thinking a lot about it, and it made your cheeks turn red just imagining it. But you didn’t want to mess up what you had with him. What if he didn’t feel the same way?

A sudden voice broke your thoughts.

“Y/N! Sorry I’m late!” Ni-ki called out as he jogged over, waving his hand.

You smiled at him, your worries melting away the moment his eyes met yours. “It’s okay, you’re not that late,” you said, though you knew you were lying. You were just glad to see him.

“Good. So what are we doing today?” Ni-ki asked, plopping down next to you. He sat so close, his shoulder brushing against yours. You didn’t mind, though. You actually kind of liked it.

“Well, I thought we could play that silly game you like,” you said, referring to the one where you two would make up random rules and try not to laugh.

Ni-ki grinned. “I’m in!” He slapped your back playfully, and the impact made you giggle. “But first, I need a snack.”

You laughed and pulled out a bag of chips you had been snacking on earlier. “Here, I brought these.”

Ni-ki took the bag with a grin. “You always think ahead, huh?” he said, popping a chip into his mouth.

You shrugged. “I know you too well.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, eating chips and chatting about random things. The wind picked up, and the sun was starting to set, casting a warm, orange glow over everything. You both sat back and just enjoyed the moment, your bodies leaning against the tree that was shading you. Ni-ki’s presence was always calming, like everything was right when he was around. But today, you couldn’t help but feel something more when he laughed or smiled at you. It felt like there was more than just friendship between you two. But you didn’t know if you should tell him.

The game you played together was always goofy. It was just a way for you two to laugh and forget about everything else. Ni-ki was always full of energy, even when he was tired from soccer practice. It didn’t matter how many people were around or how embarrassing it got, Ni-ki would always be willing to make a fool of himself for your sake.

As you were trying not to laugh at his ridiculous dance moves, Ni-ki suddenly grabbed your hand.

“Hey, no laughing at me!” he said, his face serious but the spark in his eyes showing he was joking.

You stared at his hand in yours. It was warm, his fingers wrapped around yours in a way that felt...different. Your heart started to beat a little faster, and you wondered if maybe he felt it too.

“Ni-ki…” you whispered, your voice coming out a little quieter than usual.

He looked at you, his expression softening. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You had always been close, always known each other inside and out. So why did this moment feel so different? You glanced at your intertwined fingers and then back up at his face.

“I don’t know... I just... I don’t know what’s happening,” you stammered. Your face turned red as you realized how silly you sounded.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling. “You’re acting weird,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You didn’t know what to say next, but it felt like everything in the air had shifted. Ni-ki leaned his shoulder against yours, a gentle touch that made your skin tingle.

“You know,” he started, his voice quieter now. “I like hanging out with you, Y/N. Like, really like it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I like it too…”

Ni-ki looked at you then, his gaze intense but kind. “I mean, like, a lot. More than just friends. You’re always so cheerful and fun, and I don’t know... it makes me feel like I can be myself. Like... it’s different when I’m with you.”

You felt your cheeks grow even warmer. “Me too, Ni-ki. I feel like... I feel like I can tell you anything. You make me feel happy.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and before you could say anything else, he suddenly pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t anything crazy—just a simple, warm hug—but it made your heart race like crazy.

“You make me happy too,” he whispered into your hair.

You stood there, your heart beating loudly in your chest as you hugged him back. His arms felt strong and comforting around you, and for a moment, you didn’t care about anything else. The world could have been falling apart, and you would’ve still been okay as long as he was holding you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Ni-ki pulled back, his hands still resting on your shoulders. He smiled at you again, and this time, it felt like the smile you had always been waiting for.

“Y/N, I think... I think I like you more than just a friend,” he said, his voice soft and unsure but sincere.

Your heart fluttered. "I like you too, Ni-ki," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Ni-ki grinned. "So, are we finally on the same page?"

You nodded, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. "I think we are."

As you sat back down, still holding his hand, you knew this was just the beginning of something new. No more wondering, no more holding back — just the two of you, rising up together.

── .✦ @woniefication @sugarikiz @slayyuna @amoressb @irasvr @miukidoll

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erodasfishtacos · 17 days ago

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|| (Not) Just Tonight || part I

prompt: yn knows she shouldn’t, it will lead to more hurt, digging up things that she’s worked so hard on surpresssing

word count: 5.4k

warning: angst

part one

an:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

This will be updated this month.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (2-5kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 375 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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you can check it out HERE

YOU CAN GET 70% YOUR FIRST MONTH OF MEMBERSHIP!

first FIFTEEN to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month!

++ 6 months into their relationship ++

It was hard to do just about anything with Harry.

Sometimes YN wonders if Harry put a hex on her because she was no better than a teenage boy when it came to the levels of horniness that her boyfriend had her on.

If it was one of those days, YN would admittedly be no better than a man in the way she would check Harry out - stare at his hands for too long, imagine the way they tuck up into her perfectly or how puffy his lips where, how could they felt when they wrapped around her clit-

It was always at the most inconvenient times, just like now when they were at his Christmas party, Harry had hosted for his three private practices in a beautiful ballroom at a hotel in the heart of Seattle.

Harry was wearing a tuxedo, that hugged every curve of his lean body, his hair was lush and fluffy, clean shaven face, and it wasn’t even just that.

It was the way he held himself as he talked to all of his employees and their significant others, a lowball glass in his hand, and a serious expression on his face.

He didn’t smile in public, not with his employees or cohorts, he was always serious and unbreakable - he shut down as he went into professional mode.

It did something to YN to know that she had him like no one else did, that she got his dimpley smiles or his rough, more sharp laughs that came when he thought something was extremely funny.

She got his soft murmurs, sweet words, and so many things that felt like a gift becuase he didn’t give them to anyone else but her, it was all hers.

It wasn’t only that.

People wanted him.

Men and women alike.

It was obvious that they were either looking at him in admiration for everything he achieved or their eyes were glazed over because they wanted to fuck him.

YN wasn’t bothered by it, she understood it.

She was currently the latter, she wanted to fuck him.

And it was an inopportune time, in all honesty because he was the host of this event, everybody wanted their chance to talk to him.

There were little circles around him, eyes darting over for the opportunity to grab his attention when the people he was currently talking to were done.

YN was sitting at the bar, sipping on her espresso martini, and fully just drooling over him - watching as he owned the entire space, as he held himself with more self-assured confidence than she could ever imagine having, and not to mention he had been a vicious tease right before they had left.

He had an amazing reaction to the dress she had decided to wear, enough that even in his tuxedo, dropped to his knees, and pushed the expensive fabric up her legs.

Harry had reverently sponged kisses from right above her knees to the line of her seamless thong, his fingertip catching in the guesset to tug them aside.

“Don’t know if I should let you out, looking this good,” Harry had murmured against the crease of her thigh, his mouth so fucking close to where she needed it but not quite there, “Maybe I should cancel the whole event. I think they would understand if they saw what you looked like right now. No one would blame me for staying home and getting my cock in you, right baby?”

Since being with Harry, her self-confidence has never been better.

He spoke so elquotenly with such knowledge and insight that there was no doubt that everything that came out of his mouth was carefully thought through and crafted.

No one but her knew what a filthy mouth he had.

He quite literally couldn’t shut up when they were doing anything sexual, more talkative than he normally is, and every single thing that came out of his mouth was an ego-booster.

YN never had to doubt that Harry found her desirable and wanted her in every way possible, he made that well known every single time they were together.

”Please,” YN had whispered, hand moving down to the nape of his neck and squeezing tightly, the sight of him in a tuxedo on his knees for her was other worldly.

”Please, what?” Harry had hummed, his breath ghosting over her folds, his lips merely brushing the smooth-shaven skin there with intention.

Everything he did was with intention and a clear purpose.

Or at least that’s what she used to believe.

”Use your mouth,” YN had demanded breathless, never as well spoken as him in these situations.

Unlike him, her words got garbled and disorganized when she was turned on, usually unable to construct any reasonable thoughts together, and Harry teased her endlessly about it.

Harry leans forward, giving her the most chaste kiss on the seam of her glistening folds, his fingertips gripping her thighs, digging into the meat there.

“Silly girl,” Harry had cooed fondly, YN knew that tone, and it meant that she was going to absolutely be left hanging for the entire night without relief, “We don’t have time for that, darling. I have a whole party to host. The world doesn’t revolve around how needy your cunt is for me.”

YN pouts as he readjust her underwear, letting her dress fall back down as he stands up, she is irritated as she always is when she’s teased like this but it fades quickly.

It is like it didn’t even exsist because as soon as he is on his feet again, he is pulling her into his chest, lips pressing to her temple as he whispers, “I love you more

anything, you know that? My favorite thing on this earth.”

Harry was quirky in that way, he could be mean (teasingly) and saw some of the most obscene things but he always felt the need to balance it out.

Couldn’t talk like that for more than a few minutes before he’s reminding her how much he loves her, how she’s the only one for him, and how he couldn’t imagine his life with anyone else - that was just a few of the hundreds of things he would tell her.

YN finishes her martini, a bit more spontaneity coursing through her veins than normal as she watches Harry, her thighs involuntary clenching together.

Harry looked so good, she’d been craving him all day, and now it was all the she could think about - her whole life focused and anchored in to this man, the desire that she had that was reaching a boiling point.

Every few minutes, Harry would search the room for YN to make sure she was okay and having a good time, their eyes meeting and he would give her the slightest smile before his face went back to the perfectly crafted serious expression again.

YN had walked around with him in the beginning but she could only stand for so long in her high heels and she could only hear so much medical jargon before she needed a drink.

YN had enough, she couldn’t wait until the end of the night, and with that, she slips of her bar stool and heads directly towards him.

It’s a bit rude when she inserts herself with a sickeningly sweet smile, the man who had finally gotten his chance with Harry wasn’t thrilled that it was interrupted.

”The catering director has a question for you, in the kitchen,” YN lies smoothly, leaning in when Harry’s arm automatically snakes around her waist, hand resting on her lower back.

”Excuse me,” Harry nods at the men before guiding YN away, a bit of an annoyed look crosses his face, “I don’t know how many times I have to review the scheule with these people. How hard is it to figure out when the salad should be served before the soup?”

YN has to bite her lip to taper down a smile, her heart was racing because she has never in her life been this…wild, maybe for some it wasn’t as crazy as she thought it was.

However, she had never craved someone so deeply, not enough that she felt the need to pull them from an event they were hosting to seek her own selfish relief.

YN allows him to walk them back towards the kitchen, snickering at the agitation because that’s the way he got when anything was an inconvenience to him.

When YN wraps her fingers around his wrist, tugging him at the last minute away from the entrance to the kitchen, and down towards another hallway - confusion crosses his face.

YN reaches for the first door that was marked conference room, trying to handle, and to her relief it was open as she leads him inside.

”Darling, I don’t-“ Harry starts to say, for being so intelligence, he could sometimes be just as oblivious as he wasn’t catching on to her yet.

YN shuts the door, flicking on the lights, and walking back over to him with purpose, taking his face in her hands, and roughly smearing their lips together.

And something about the way that Harry is so quick on the uptake suddenly, knocking her hands away from his face to instead do the same to her.

He doesn’t question it, matching her energy as he walks her backwards, his hands coming to the hem of the dress, and there’s something about the rush of it all that makes it hotter.

Harry’s hiking her up onto the polished oak of the conference table, hands finding the waistband of her underwear to pull them roughly down.

YN was blinking up at him, a bit starry eyed as she admired how pretty he was, lipstick smeared across his bottom lip from the film of a mauve that was on her lips, and he’s focused on tugging off her underwear.

But he must sense that she’s staring at him because after a moment, he looks up and he just…he just give her the most private, most breathtaking smile.

And she had already known that she was in love with him and that she loved him more deeply than. she ever had anyone before but for some reason, when he stopped and smiled at her.

It was then, in that moment, that she realized that Harry was truly the only person for her and the only person that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

+++ current day +++

YN is ushered into the backseat of the Uber with Harry’s hand giving her bum a pat to get into the car, it was devestating how it felt normal.

In the back of her head, she tries to remeber all the reasons that she broke up with him.

She had been the one to end it which is hard to even admit because she was and is still so desperately in love with this man that she really thought that nothing would have torn them apart.

It made her angry at him because he was the reason that they broke up, he was the reason that she had to break up with him because he was stubborn and sometimes too selfish.

YN imagined her whole life with him and there was resentment that he had ripped that out from under her and only wanted to make things better when it was too late.

It had always been Harry’s MO, to be reactive instead of proactive, never changing or apologizing until the fight had already happened or he’d made a mistake that couldn’t be ignored.

And that was when he would apologize.

In the beginning of their relationship, Harry really struggled to take accountability and realize that sometimes he was the issue which came with long, drawn out arguments.

Over time of them being together, he was growing and adapting, more ready to be the first with an apology rolling off the tongue and an admittance of guilt when he was wrong.

As Harry sits next to her, their shoulders brushing, the scent of his cologne that he never changed, it was always the smokey oak and vanilla of a Chanel bottle.

YN’s chest felt ripped open because she had just spent the last six months suppressing everything about Harry, everything that she loved, everything she knew that she wouldn’t find in another partner.

Just for tonight, she tries remind herself.

But it was impossible to only slightly open the wound, once it was cut again, it was all starting to sluggishly seep out, and all YN could do was try to ground herself to the here and now.

Harry’s lips on the thin skin behind her ear, pressing kisses to the the spot that never failed to make her shiver, goosebumps breaking out along her arms.

Her thighs were uncomfortably wet, a feeling she used to be familiar with but now was foreign once again because he was the only one who could illicit such a response from her.

Harry’s hand is too high on her thigh to be appropriate in such close proximity to the driver, his lips were persistent and he was leaving a mark on the spot he was giving attention to.

YN’s phone chimes from where it was sticking out of her purse, when she sees Victoria’s name, she grabs it, just to make sure that she was okay.

Harry blinks at the screen for a moment, huffing out a laugh as he flippantly says, “Ignore it,” before his lips are going back to their mission.

YN’s heart sinks a little when she reads the text that was on a banner across her screen.

Victoria: I think Harry’s super into me. I just think he didn’t want to be obvious in front of Mitch. I could tell if we were alone, he would have totally taken me back to his place.

YN rereads it with a furrowed brow, how did she get that message from Harry’s behavior?

Harry snorts out a laugh as he reads it over her shoulder, “Don’t know how I could have been any clearer with her that I didn’t want that. I’m telling you that girl is so self-absorbed that she can’t see past her own tits.”

YN sighs, even though Harry is absolutely not wrong, it still makes her feel like a piece of shit that her friend is so excited for an opportunity with the man of her dreams and YN is the one in the Uber to go back home with him.

In YN’s defense, if Victoria was a true friend who actually cared about what was going on in YN’s life than she would have known about Harry but she didn’t care.

She wasn’t there for YN when she needed her the most and YN always made excuses for her because she didn’t want to believe that her best friend was truly so shallow and unconcerned.

”When we were sitting at dinner and I realized Victoria was your roommate, the awful one, it made so much sense. She truly is as bad as you described her,” Harry moves his hand back down, squeezing her knee, and clearly seeing that the mood has changed.

The thing is, YN never purposefully described Victoria as awful to Harry, she didn’t even realize that she had done that because a lot of the time she ws just stating facts about what Victoria did or said, and in turn, Harry had made his own opinions.

It’s why a month prior to the breakup, YN had officially told Victoria that she wouldn’t be signing on the lease renewal because she was moving in with Harry.

Harry wanted her out of that house, knew that Victoria wasn’t good to her, and plus, he had been wanting YN to move with him for as long as they were dating.

Another text chimes through.

Victoria: Mitch seems more into me than you too. Don’t know why, not really my type. But I’ll try not to lead him on so that you can have him. I think if you were more friendly, flirty - you wouldn’t have such a hard time getting guys.

”Fuck her,” Harry rumbles as he reads the message, “Who the fuck does she think she is? The fact that she thinks so highly of herself is fuckin’ rich.”

YN locks her phone, tossing it back in her purse because she has Harry sitting next to her, wanting her, and not jut wanting to have sex with her but he wants to spend his life with her.

It was the first time that YN truly had something over Victoria, that YN had won even though it really wasn’t a competition, and it was much more than any of that.

YN looks at Harry, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile because it’s all comical, “You want me.”

Harry smiles too, it’s soft and intimate, his thumb coming to tug at her bottom lip, “More than anything.”

”You only want to be with me,” YN states confidently, feeling that old fuel start her fire again, he just made her feel so empowered, so wanted, so loved.

”Only woman I want to spend my life with,” Harry agrees, easy as anything, and the expression on his face was just so…open and vunerable.

And all of this was too fucking deep because they’re skating around the elephant in the room, the damage that has yet to be repaired.

For the last six months, YN felt like it was unrepairable, that nothing Harry could do or say would fix what was done, or that they could be what they were.

But after seeing him after such a long time, after not going a day without thinking about him and missing him, missing everything about him, about them as a couple.

This all felt just a bit more fixable, that there might be some way to manage to glue all the broken pieces back together because she hadn’t gotten over Harry and he hadn’t gotten over her either.

But YN can’t touch what’s broken tonight, it will compeltely cut her open, and she won’t be able to do anything but lay in bed and cry.

Just for tonight, she can keep the bandaid over the wound.

”S’funny that Victoria thinks that she could even compare to you,” Harry’s lips are close to her ear, hand still squeezing at her lightly, “Not when the only woman who’s ever fuckin’ wrecked me was sitting across from me at dinner. I can’t even think of anyone else because they wouldn’t fucking compare to you. You’re fuckin’ made for me, my perfect girl. Since day one, huh? Knew it was the right match.”

”Victoria’s pretty,” YN prompts because she’s fishing for compliments, he knows she is, and he’s compeltely willing to clamp down on the bait.

Harry shrugs noncommittally, “Pretty is nothing in comparison to you. I couldn’t stop staring at you all dinner. I never forgot how beautiful you were but seeing in person after six months was like a punch to the gut, remembering how fucking easy you’ve always taken my breath away.”

Then why did you act the way you did?

YN’s inner dialouge argues back but she tapers down, stores it back in the dark dank place she’d kept it for all these months to ignore it.

”I miss you,” YN lets it slip, with a wobble in her voice, and a frustration at herself for not keeping the strong, put-together mask on but it was hard, “I’m still so mad at you, Harry.”

Harry’s smile fades quickly, hurt crossing his face before he looks down at his hand on her knee, “You deserve to never forgive me.”

YN is a bit taken aback by his words because she’d never heard him be so open and vulnerable.

After she left the hospital that day, she refused to talk to him or to discuss what happened.

It was radio silent on her end, not responding to any of the multiple ways that Harry tried to reach out to her, and they’d never talked about the events of that time.

YN never gave him the chance to apologize.

YN felt like shit, she had worked for the last eight hours, sitting alone in her apartment with no human interaction - just numbers and spreadsheets.

Victoria could care less that her whole world had crumbled all around her.

How YN went from never being home to never leaving unless it was absolutely necessary.

YN had never felt a depression like this.

It had been almost three weeks.

When there’s a knock on the door, YN assumes Victoria had locked herself out which wasn’t unusual, and so as she opens it, she’s already about to scold her.

“If you forget your keys one more time-“ YN cuts herself off mid-sentence because it’s not her roommate but rather Harry standing there.

He looks exhausted, more run down than she’d ever seen him with heavy, purplish bags under his eyes - still in his scrubs that he normally changed out of.

“Baby, I -“

“Don’t,” YN hisses at him, anger filling her body as she grips the door handle tightly, “Don’t you dare fucking call me that.”

“I-“ Harry stumbles like he’d forgotten everything he was going to say which was completely unlike him, “Just please, talk to me. I can’t fucking live without you. I need you, just, I can make this okay.”

YN lets out a dull laugh, lip snarled, “How would you make this better, Harry? No amount of money you throw at this could fix it. Nothing will change it. You had so many chances.”

Harry starts to sniffle, his eyes welling up as he blinks up at the ceiling, “I thought that what I was doing was right. I thought I was setting up our future. I could give you whatever you want, you wouldn’t have to work, you could have all the babies you -“

YN twitches with the anger shredding through every fiber of her being, “Don’t. Do not bring that up.”

Harry’s face is as open as its ever been, devastated and raw as he looks like he just wants to reach out and tug her into his arms, and make all of this disappear.

The fucked up thing is that YN wants that too.

“I…I can’t talk to you right now,” YN sounds robotic as she puts distance between them, emotionally and physically, “You disregarded your opportunities. I can’t do this. You’re making everything worse.”

YN had shut the door on him before he could respond, sobbing until her chest hurt, and proceeding to not leave her bed for the next two days.

+++

One of the reasons she avoided it was because she didn’t know whether he would apologize, at the time that all of this happened, he was so shut off, so distant some of the times that she didn’t always feel like she knew where he was at.

”I want to forgive you,” YN bites down hard on her lip to avoid it from trembling, tears threatening to spill, and the emotional rollercoaster was completely whispliash at this point, “I just don’t know how.”

Harry swallows harshly, nodding as he brings her hand up to kiss her palm, “I understand. I can’t explain how incredibly sorry I am. I’ve been…in therapy.”

YN’s ears perk up at that.

She used to beg, plead with Harry that he go talk to someone to work on how he would shut down, shut her out when he was struggling, and focus his whole life into work - losing himself in it.

He would always have a rebuttal.

‘I don’t have the time.’

‘It’s just how I am. No one can change those things about me.’

‘Just because you don’t like my coping skills, doesn’t mean that they’re not effective and work for me.’

“You are?” YN is a bit of disbelief, head tilted as she watches him watch her, gauging her reactions.

“The day after you broke up with me. I…I thought about everything you’d been trying to communicate with me since the beginning. How I wasn’t vulnerable enough with you, open enough, how I prioritized work, all of it. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t think I needed to work on it because I thought you…you were a sure thing and that was fucking stupid of me.”

“I’ve been going every week for the past six months,” Harry mumbles sheepishly, glancing away, “I know my words weren’t going to mean shit to you so I figured the only way I could show you I was bettering myself for you was through actions.”

“You’ve…been doing it for me?” YN asks as she squeezes Harry’s hand, like a lifeline.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, running his hand through his hair, “Yeah. I’ve been doing everything for you these past six months. It never stopped after you left, just in the mere glimmer that you’d take me back.”

“You love me,” YN murmurs, she knew he did but sometimes it just really hit her.

Harry runs his fingertips across her temple, down the side of her face, “I love you.”

Just for tonight, YN tries to remind herself as they pull into his driveway.

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