#GET SWEPT IDIOT (affectionate)

[endangered-liaison]

MIRKESWEEP

Roleplaying has a habit of getting you to look up the more obscure parts of a world's lore. In a lot of fandoms there are whole wikis or communities, but in FFXIV you just hear one name when you have a lore question. "Sounsyy wrote about that!"

Sounsyy is a megastar and the work they do is invaluable and SO appreciated. Need to know about Aether? Sounsyy's got a masterpost. Need to know about a region that's a region that's mentioned four times? Sounsyy's got them all listed AND gives context for the surrounding areas.

That’s what I said on my twitter thread about it, but here I want to offer some further thoughts. Some anecdotes.

I play a nerdy arcanist born in a tiny Shroud village, and an ex-imperial whose family hails from near Thavnair - Corvos, specifically. Before 6.0, there was about three pieces of information total about Corvos. And Sounsyy had gathered them all, and provided enough of a picture of the place that I could work that into my character’s lore.

And when it comes to my arcanist, Wyda? Aether, magic, Shroud place names (and specifically Shroud place names referenced in OLD material, like 2.0 Leves or 1.x content). The differences between types of magic. That’s a LOT of information that is needed for actively roleplaying, or writing the backstory, of Hyrtwyda Eyhafrynwyn. A lot of information, found across dozens and dozens of questlines. There’s no ONE source that talks about aether in FFXIV - different details are revealed about it in different questlines. The only source that brings it all together is Sounsyy. And that’s incredible. It’s invaluable, and without them the community of this game would be a very different place.

Archival work isn’t usually thought of as transformative, but Sounsyy’s work truly has transformed the shape of FFXIV.

In case you’re reading this, in amongst what I hope is a huge outpouring of love from other people too: thank you, Sounsyy.

[doumadono]

I am your annoying lil friend, so I also jump in yet another time with yet another request... but since we are celebrating… LET'S DO THIS!

❛ missed my touch that much, did you? ❜ in form of a little fic with...

Kiribaku x fem!reader :3 bc why not!

I can just imagine our poor reader missing her two Pros while they are away on a mission or something like this. After coming back, they have to make up for time they were away :3

A sultry greeting - Bakugo x Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: oral (m receiving), unprotected & rough p in v, dirty talking, Bakugo & Kirishima are aged up 21+, f!reader, bukkake, dom!Bakugo, boys kissing at the end Synopsis: after a long mission, Kirishima and Bakugo return home, ready to make up for their absence to you A/N: kocham cię mocno! I hope you'll enjoy ♥

MASTERLIST

You stood at the window, gazing at the starlit sky, your thoughts consumed by the absence of Kirishima and Bakugo. They had been away on a critical mission for the past few weeks, leaving you to miss their touch and presence dearly. Every night felt colder without them, and you longed for the warmth of their embrace.

One evening, your heart skipped a beat as you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching the front door. Rushing down the stairs, you flung open the door and saw Kirishima and Bakugo standing there. Their smiles widened upon seeing you, and before you could say anything, Kirishima swept you into a tight hug, lifting you off your feet.

"Long time no see, princess," he greeted you with a tender kiss placed to your cheek.

"Kiri!" you giggled loudly and looked above his shoulder at Bakugo who was leaning casually against the wall, smirking. Your heart swelled with happiness. You didn't realize how much you had missed them until that moment.

After getting inside your shared apartment and having a first decent meal in a while, they told you about their adventures and the challenges they faced on the mission. You listened attentively, feeling a mix of pride and worry for their well-being. As the night went on, the conversation turned lighter, filled with laughter and teasing.

Finally, after the dishes were done, you found yourselves alone in the living room.

Kirishima and Bakugo exchanged a knowing glance, and then Kirishima took your hand, leading you to the couch. The atmosphere became charged with affection and desire.

"Let us make up for the time we were away," Kirishima said softly, brushing his lips against your temple.

A faint "yes" escaped your parted lips. As your fingers firmly gripped the collar of Kirishima's shirt, you drew him nearer, and with intense passion, your lips met in a fiery kiss. Your tongue eagerly explored the space between his parted lips, igniting a fervent connection between you both.

"Hey! You've got some nerve, being all cuddly and sweet with the fucking Red Riot, ignoring me while I'm here, too," Bakugo growled, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, approching the couch.

You laughed, knowing he was just needy. "You know I missed both of you equally, Katsuki. You're just as cuddly when you want to be."

His cheeks reddened slightly, but he didn't let his guard down. "Don't get any weird ideas, idiot. I'm not that soft."

Kirishima chuckled. "Come on, man, you are a little mushy at times."

Bakugo scowled at him. "Tch, whatever. I just missed her, that's all."

You leaned closer to him, smirking as you reached out and took his calloused hand in your palm. "Missed me and my touch that much, did you?"

He grumbled, trying to hide his smirk. "Shut up. It's not like I needed it or anything, dumbass."

But his actions spoke louder than his words. He took a seat on your left side and found every opportunity to steal kisses from you, his touch becoming more affectionate and possessive. Bakugo sometimes was yanking you out of Kirishima's arms, just to hold you a little longer in his strong arms.

Soon, you found yourself sitting on Bakugo's lap, leaning comfortably against his broad chest as he lovingly wrapped his arms around your waist. A low, affectionate growl escaped his throat, and you could feel his longing for you as he gently humped against you. Responding to his yearning, you pressed back into him and tilted your head, inviting the flurry of tender kisses that trailed along your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.

With each open-mouthed kiss, Katsuki's hands caressed your body, hidden under the delicate fabric of your silky nightdress. One hand found its place on your breast, while the other gently gripped your chin, tilting your head back so you could gaze up at him. Bakugo leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You instinctively parted your lips, allowing his tongue to take control of yours. His hand released its grip on your chin and joined his other hand in rubbing your breasts. As your nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric of your nightdress, his fingers immediately found them and tightened around them.

Kirishima sat right beside Bakugo, closely observing the scene while palming himself through his dark cargo pants that already grew too tight. "I'm here too, princess," he reminded as ne of his hands stealthily slipped beneath your nightgown and moved up your thigh. Kirishima chuckled abruptly, amused by the discovery that you weren't wearing any underwear as hi calloused index finger circled your clit lazily. "Oh, you little naughty shit."

Bakugo wasted no time in lifting the back hem of your nightdress, revealing your alluring ass that never failed to catch eyes. "You're such a naughty slut indeed, going without panties," he remarked while unzipping his pants. "Now, get rid of this tatter and on your knees."

As a compliant and dutiful girl, you adhered to Bakugo's order and gracefully vacated his lap. Positioning yourself before the couch, you began to undress sensually, swaying your hips in sync with the rhythm resonating in your mind, aiming to be as seductive as it was possible. As your nightdress cascaded to the floor, you gracefully sank to your knees.

Bakugo exchanged a glance with Kirishima, prompting them to stand up together. Subsequently, Kirishima proceeded to remove his shirt, and Bakugo followed suit. Soon, they shed their pants and boxers as well. Both men possessed impressive physiques, boasting well-built, toned arms and legs, accompanied by a sets of defined six-pack abs.

However, what truly captured your focus were their cocks. While they weren't fully erect, their impressiveness was still undeniable. You blushed.

"Oh, look, Kacchan," Kirishima mused, "our doll is blushing! Isn't she the cutest little girl?"

Bakugo nodded, running his tongue along his lower lip. "Indeed, she's an adorable fucking pet. I've trained her, after all, ha!"

You took their cocks in your palms and started pumping them. Soon, you leaned to Kirishima and slowly swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

Kirishima let out a low growl, quietly uttering a string of curses to himself.

You continued to massage the head of his cock with your tongue, and moved your hands down to his balls and fondled them while stroking Katsuki's shaft with your other hand. Soon yet you let go of Kacchan's cock to take proper care of Kirishima. You could feel Kirishima's cock start to slowly harden in your hand and it only encouraged you to take on more. As you took the tip into your mouth, you let out a low moan at the taste of his salty precum. It sent a shot of heat straight to your core as you continued to lavish him in your mouth.

Bakugo firmly grasped a handful of your hair, pulling your head back. "Tch, remember, there are two of us," he growled sharply.

You instantly wrapped your lips around Katsuki's tip and slid your mouth further down the throbbing shaft, your lips stretching as your hand shifted down to the base of his cock and slowly pumped it. As you bobbed your head up and down, your spit began trailing down his cock. You came up for air and used both of your hands to jerk his cock quickly, making sure the whole length was coated in your saliva before diving back in and bobbing your head vigorously.

In the meantime, Kirishima slowly caressed his shaft with his hand, grunting, slipping his other hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

"Fuck yeah, dumbass, sucking my fucking cock so good," Katsuki growled, slowly bucking his hips to facefuck you. He kept both hands on the back of your head, groaning each time he felt his cock press up against the back of your throat. Each time you gagged and moaned, he felt his self-control slipping even more. "Fuck yeah, cunt. That's it. Fuuuck!"

With a loud "pop" sound, you removed Bakugo from your mouth and shifted your focus to Kirishima. As you looked up at the red-haired man with your most innocent doe-eyes, you gracefully moved your head back and forth along his thick, already throbbing shaft.

"Yeah, such a good girl, just like that, keep doing those stuff with your sweet mouth," Eijiro growled, his eyes never left your beautiful face. He tightened his hold on your hair as you dug your nails into his thighs and forced your mouth forward, taking his full length in and holding your mouth down, gagging yourself. The feeling of your throat gripping his shaft and your lips kissing the base of his cock had his eyes rolling a little. "Fuck! M'gonna fucking cum!"

After a few seconds of this, you pulled back and sat on your knees, panting, appreciating your handiwork as you eagerly stroked Kirishima and Bakugo's cocks, smirking at them.

"Enjoying yourself, huh?!" Bakugo growled lowly and caught yur elbow, yanking you efortlessly up.He positioned you on the couch, on all fours, with your ass sticking up in the air as you rested your head on your arms that were gripping the back of the couch. He firmly gripped your hips and directed his rock-hard cock towards your dripping entrance, then eased into you with one powerful thrust. "Fuck you, bitch! So fucking tight!"

You gripped the back of the couch hard as Katsuki's cock pressed deeper into your needy cunt until his entire length was inside of you. He rapidly pulled back until just the tip was inside, then rammed it back into you, making you cry out his name. "Fuck, Katsuki!"

"Address me properly!" Bakugo snarled, smacking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint on the plush flesh.

"AH!" You moaned loudly. "S-sorry, Mr Dynamight!"

"That's fucking better, dumbass," Bakugo growled lowly, delivering few more smacks to your ass.

Eijiro positioned himself on his knees before you, his hands gently holding your hair as he moved closer, trusting himself into your mouth, which you willingly opened for him. As he pressed against your lips, your body inadvertently nudged back against Bakugo, leading to both of you emitting low grunts of surprise. "My good doll," Kirishima praised.

In response, Bakugo firmly grasped your wrists and pinned your arms behind your back, maintaining a raw, primal rhythm as he fucked you, shoving you forward on Kirishima's cock with each of his powerful thrusts.

Kirishima was letting loose all his pent up lust on your mouth, stroking your chin as he was slowly thrusting back and forth. "My good, little doll, just like that, suck daddy's cock like a good girl you are. That's it princess. Fuck you take us both so well. You're such a good girl."

You could tell they were getting closer. Their thrusts were growing erratic and their cocks felt like they were trying to pierce your insides.

As you attempted to speak, Eijiro withdrew himself from your mouth, asking, "What's on your mind, princess?"

"I want you both to cum on my face, pretty please?" After looking at Kirishima, you looked above your shoulder at Bakugo, making the most innocent eyes.

Bakugo let out a furious roar, but he still managed to nod as he withdrew his cock out of your abused cunt. "Switch, I want her mouth now," he commanded, casting a gaze at Kirishima.

Swiftly switching positions, you found yourself being taken from behind by Eijiro, while your mouth remained occupied by Katsuki's shaft.

"Oh my goodness, she's so tight!" Kirishima exclaimed cheerfully, gently rubbing your hips where Bakugo's touch had left some bruises earlier.

"Of course she fucking is, you idiot! We trained her diligently, after all!" Bakugo exclaimed, thrusting viciously into your mouth, gagging you with his throbbing length; the tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat with every thrust, making your eyes rolling back.

Bakugo, sensing he was approaching his peak, intensified his thrusts, gripping your head firmly. "Take it, take it, fucking cunt," he growled, relishing the sight of your teary eyes and saliva dripping down your chin.

You exerted maximum effort to pump your hand up and down on Katsuki's cock while sucking him off while trying to maintain your balance amidst the forceful thrusts delivered by Eijiro.

"Fuck, I'll fucking cum!" Kirishima reached around you and circled your clit with his index finger. "But I want you to cum on my cock first, princess, I know you can."

Kirishima's words triggered your orgasm, causing your insides to tighten around his shaft and your juices covered him in extreme wetness and slickness.

Both Kirishima and Bakugo withdrew.

You were nudged by Bakugo and managed to find find balance and kneel on your knees as the pair of men stood on both sides of you. You immediately reached out and started stroking their cocks furiously, using your juices and saliva as a lubricant to easily work their throbbing dicks. "Mm, yeah, suck Red Riot's cock, dumbass. Taste yourself on him, slut," ordered Bakugo.

"Yes, Mr Dynamight," you said before leaning over and engulfing Kirishima's cock between your lips, quickly bobbing your head up and down on him while using your hand to stroke whatever wasn't in your eager mouth.

"Holy shit!" Eijiro howled in pleasure as he gripped your hair. "She's about to make me fucking cum!"

Then, your focus shifted to Katsuki, and you teased his throbbing shaft with your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip until he got all riled up.

"That's it, bitch, suck my cock, suck it. Fuck, nngh!" Katsuki snarled, his head rolled back. "Fuck!!!! Cumming, cumming!!!"

The first rope of cum shot out and splattered across your face, followed by another that smacked you in the cheek and another that landed in your mouth as you sat there holding it wide open for Katsuki. His cum quickly sputtered out and you took the head between your swollen lips, sucking out what was left.

Just when you had finished enjoying your treat, your head was yanked away by your hair and you were forcibly turned to face Eijiro, who held his cock over your flushed face and stroked it as he came on you, groaning the whole time. Unlike Bakugo's load, which shot out in a couple of large spurts but died out pretty quick, Kirishima's cum came out in multiple, short bursts that painted your face. He used his hold on you to move your head around, making sure he got some of his cum on every inch of it. "Fuck, holy fucking shit!"

Suddenly, Bakugo firmly grasped Kirishima's chin, drawing him into a passionate and intense kiss. The kiss was electric, fueled by a combination of desire, and genuine affection. Their lips met with urgency, their breaths mingling as they explored each other with fervor. It was a passionate dance of tongues and lips, a display of raw emotion and connection. The intensity of the moment left them both breathless. Eijiro moaned in the heated kiss offered by Katsuki.

When Kirishima was done cumming, he released your head and you sat back on the floor, your back against the couch. Unable to contain your immense joy, you let a huge smile spread across your face, completely content with how your night had unfolded.

The two men collapsed onto the couch, each sitting on one side of you, and the trio panted heavily, still catching their breaths.

Kirishima rolled his head back, finding support against the back of the couch. "Damn, I'm so damn exhausted."

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Tch! Quit complaining like that, pussy boy. The night's still young, and we were gone for so long. We've got to make up for it now, you fucking idiot."

Kirishima let out a dark chuckle. "Yeah, I get it, I get it. Take it easy, man. So, how about another round?"

[cebwrites]

affection headcanons (Law, Zoro)

a/n: i’m revisiting this since it’s been roughly a year since i made my very first x reader post on this blog!! 🥳 i still stand by the old ones i wrote for mihawk and don’t have anything else to add for him so hawkeye’s idiot green son will have to fill in for him 💔

masc reader, they/he law word count: 1k

Law

Their affection, once earned, is quiet; Law is a lot more comfortable showing how much they care for you through their actions rather than words - making sure you’re eating right, subconsciously monitoring your wellbeing, and most of all - allowing you into their personal space

Don’t get him wrong, they still seclude themself away from the crew more than they should, seeking the comfort of being cooped away in their office for long hours of the day with only short breaks to eat or (attempt to) sleep, but these days they can’t seem to find the right rhythm unless he can hear your idle movement in the background

When they need proper alone time you acquiescence, and when you need to interact with the crew to prevent boredom, on occasion, Law will let you drag them out with you to socialize for a short while - and once they run out of batteries? You get to have his head resting on your shoulder, one hand on your captain’s thigh, or cuddle with their face buried in your chest 

Law doesn’t think themselves as a super affectionate person, and to a certain extent that’s very much true, but all it takes is a few months away from you, without your touch, without the steady thrum of your heartbeat in his ear and they’re a little worse for wear - they miss the physicality

It’s all internal, “where it should stay” they might add, but those close to Law pick up on their longing for you, the ache, how he might shy away from comfort even more to avoid any reminders of you even though that’s what they need the most

It’d be unfair to ask that you threw away your sedentary life to traverse stormy seas just so you’d be by their side though it luck would have that you were already among the Heart’s ranks, a quiet part of Law revels in that - it wants to be selfish, it wants to be possessive, that even if harm could come your way that it would be sure enough they would protect you no matter what

But of course Law would never admit to it, so they begrudgingly relent to Bepo’s “I can’t sleep alone tonight”s and Penguin and Shachi’s whining for just one more game of cards, knowing full well that this is more for themself than their beloved childhood friends and he appreciates them even more for making the effort for his stubborn ass

Or maybe they would, though only when you’ve long been swept away to the land of dreams, when Law’s insomnia gets the best of them and they’ve got nothing better to do than brush the hair out of your sleeping face and admit to every treacherous tender thought that they’ve ever had for or about you

How in the distant future, after swords have been sheathed and the call to adventure is just a faint hum in the wind, how if they were to ever build a life with someone - and prior to Dressrosa they never thought they would need to - you would be the man Law wanted to grow old with

Zoro

Contrary to popular belief and, well, how he looks (like a toxic male gum rat), Zoro has absolutely zero qualms with saying “I love you” to the people he cares about in his life, only cowards are afraid of emotion, after all

There’s no squirming or (warranted) uncertainty like with Law - just the firm, self-assured statement that he loves you and wants you to know that; frankly you’re a little taken aback and how easily he says it but maybe you shouldn’t be, considering just how affectionate his captain is with him and the rest of the crew

If you weren’t a Strawhat already well shucks, you’re an honorary one now because Zoro cares about you and Luffy loves you too!

You eat with him, you nap together, you train parallel to one another, your routines intertwine sooner than either of you realize and you both pick up habits around each other - the first thing you notice is that erratic sleeping schedule of his

It takes more time than you’d like to admit and an offhanded comment from Brook for the realization to dawn on you that Zoro stays up all night to protect his crew, his nakama; a little longer into your relationship when Zoro tells you about Kuina and the promise Wado holds, how she died in the night, you no longer tease your boyfriend about being able to fall asleep anywhere 

It’s not all bad though, having him nap during the day, you get to chat with Usopp or Franky while Zoro’s head dozes comfortably in your lap, unable to resist slumber especially when your fingers scratch through that layer of moss on his head just right and he pretty much only wakes up if there’s a loud enough explosion (on a good day with the Strawhats, there's one)

Bathing is a battle hard-won when it comes to Zoro, although with a few tips from the resident love-cook, you manage to get him in that bath at least more than once a week; nothing like the incentive of you being there too to sweeten the pot, right?

You coax him in with kisses, touches on his arm, then peel the hazardous material his clothes have become after a week on the ocean battling god knows what the seas throw at them 

From there you’re able to get him into a little bit of a routine; lure Zoro into the bathroom with promises of a “reward”, get handsy while you let him soap you down and vice versa, then soak in the tub after until Nami bangs on the door yelling at the both of you to quit using up the hot water

It’s a nice little system, and plus, hearing Zoro open up a little about his week in the same, raspy voice you get from him post-fuck in the tub with nothing between you is something you could very much get used to

[animentality]

Gortash is such a smiley lovestruck idiot at his own coronation when Durge shows up and I have to wonder. Is it because he’s just so happy to see them again after not realising what he had until it was gone that all bets are off and, pretence be damned, he’s not wasting a minute of this second chance pretending Durge doesn’t make him the happiest evil bastard alive? Or did he ever let himself be a smiley lovestruck idiot around Durge before losing them too? Like do you think there was ever a moment before Durge went missing where Gortash was holding their face close to his and trying to kiss them but he couldn’t because he just could not stop smiling like dumbass over how genuinely in love happy this freak of nature Bhaalspawn has him. Did Durge ever have to try and process this — to look back at this guy giving them the dopiest grin and have to try and understand that it’s for them? Because of them? They, the Dark Urge, scion of Bhaal, prince of murder, are the one making Enver Gortash smile like a fool? Making someone not miserable, but happy? Or, oh god, did Gortash ever reduce Durge to a smiley lovestruck idiot themself?? Both of them, having to pause in the middle of making out to just cling to each other and laugh (or god forbid, giggle) because they BOTH can’t stop smiling? These two crazy evil fucks both genuinely giving each other nerves and butterflies and joy? Like we know they made each other insane but how much of it showed on their faces? Just how embarrassing was this relationship?????

ANON, your message had me giggling and kicking up my feet.

I think Gortash is naturally affable and warm, but to the Dark Urge specifically, he is being HONESTLY affectionate. We know he swept Jannath off her feet and was disgusting with Franc Peartree, but he would've been absolutely vile with the Dark Urge.

I would like to imagine these two laughably evil bitches being gross and soft with one another, but I don't know. They were definitely rough fucking in the alley, but were they ever sweet?

Did they ever use pet names or giggle or be silly?

I sort of lean towards no...but I can imagine them quietly, in a dignified, solemn manner, hugging each other close.

Not daring to speak aloud that which is forbidden, but they know it, they keep it between themselves anyway.

Hmmmm...

But.

But you know...

The way he greets you isn't an act. He seems to not know if you do have your memories, so I think he just acts like that towards you normally. Which means maybe he and the Dark Urge WERE very touchy feely and nasty in public.

But there is a lot of potential in the idea that maybe he did know you probably had lost your memories.

And he was relieved, because he's getting his love back, but even better, they can start over.

He can be warmer with them than he ever was before. He can present this as the norm.

He's so happy to see you because it's been too long, because he didn't know what he had until he lost you, and he needs you to know how much you mattered to him, but he's also just, so exhilarated, by the idea of a fresh start.

Hence, calling you a sight for sore eyes.

Calling you his favorite assassin.

Calling you brilliant and a genius.

Saying you'll be good for each other.

Being like an inch off from seizing you into a hug or fucking you.

It's just- ARGH.

Your entire ask rattled in my brain and I had to stare at it for a bit. Sorry for the delay.

[cambion-companion]

Hey! It would be lovely if you could write an Aemond/stark or northern!reader that are in a arranged marriage but are two idiots in love, he may be with Alyss but realize that loves his wife and reader is also in love but to prideful and hurt to admit it (ending could be either happy or angsty)

Hi fam! I am SO sorry for the pain I am about to put you through. I decided to be true to the book as much as I could be, there aren't any happy endings with a Stark reader unfortunately

Part 2 is up!

Word count: 2,355

Angst | It gets spicy/not smut though | Aemond x Stark!Reader

I named this one.

And Winter Came

You had been happy at King’s Landing.  The happiest any Stark had ever been that far south.  The sun suited you, warming to your bones.  The food had been much to your liking, rich flavors melting on your tongue.  The pit of despair that had initially welled up in your chest upon hearing you were to be carted off to the capital to be wed in an arranged marriage with one of the Targaryen princes soon filled with an unexpected pleasure.

Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower had welcomed you to the Red Keep by throwing a small banquet in your honor and to the honor of your house. “It is not often we get a Stark gracing these halls, you are most welcome Lady Y/N.” Alicent had said, embracing you gently. “I am most happily surprised your lord father agreed to merge our two great houses.”

As were you, when they had received the raven from King’s Landing you had expected your father to read the request and toss it aside as he had done with countless other requests from the Targaryens.  However, this time your lord father had pondered over the missive and eventually came to you with the news you were to be wed to Prince Aemond of the house of the dragon.  Your pleas for him to reconsider had fallen on deaf ears.

The welcome dinner the royals had for you took place in a beautiful banquet hall. Alicent ushered you into the room, and with her arm linked thru yours, led you to the end of the oaken table where a young man with long silver hair had just stood at your arrival.  He was a head taller than you, lithe of body, and carried himself like a highly trained warrior, you noticed that right away.  Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the leather eyepatch adorning the left side of his face, as well as the pink scar that ran in a vertical line beneath it.

“This is my son Aemond, your betrothed.” Alicent introduced the two of you, and each in your turned dipped your head in greeting to the other. “Aemond, this is Lady Y/N Stark.  I will leave you two to get better aquainted.”

She swept away in her green gown, touching her son lightly on the shoulder as she passed him.  Aemond’s hair fell in strands of silky shimmering silver, his one eye the shade of beautiful lilac purple.  His face was angular, with a large nose, high cheekbones and curved lips.  He was handsome, you thought to yourself, not at all what you had expected from the tales told around the fires at Winterfell.

Aemond had been inspecting you as well, his eye flicked briefly up and down your form.  His thin mouth quirked slightly into the ghost of a smile, “Come, sit by me and be welcome Lady Y/N.  You have traveled quite a distance from your family’s seat in the North.”

You and he made small talk during the course of that dinner, and you quickly found conversing with the young prince to be very pleasant and intellectually stimulating.  Here was a man who could match you in wit and knowledge, you felt the freedom of being able to speak about the topics that had long fascinated you and Aemond would contribute with equal intelligence on the subject.

From that night onward, you two became inseparable, walking the corridors together, heads bent near one another as you spoke.  He would find you curled up in an armchair of the library, nose buried in one of the many dusty books, and with an affectionate touch of his hand on your cheek, he’d join you with a volume of his own.

One night, several months after you had first arrived at King’s Landing, there was a knock on your bedroom door.  You pulled on your nightrobe, and padded with bare feet to the door, opening it to reveal Aemond.  He was still dressed in his dark green leather jerkin and grey breeches.  The black boots he was wearing thudded on the stone floor of your chambers as he brushed passed you and into the room.

“Hello to you too, my prince.”  Your gaze was quizzical on him as you closed and latched the door once more.  “It’s hardly proper for you to be visiting my rooms so late at night.”

Aemond had seated himself on your sofa, pulling off his boots with a sigh. “I simply craved the company of my betrothed, surely that is no great sin.”  He held his hands out to you and you walked over to take them, allowing yourself to be pulled to sit beside him.  Aemond gently brushed a strand of hair off your forehead and tucked it behind your ear.  His eye flicked between your own eyes, taking in your every change in expression.  Heat rose to your cheeks at the intensity of his appraisal.

“Aemond, is something the matter?”  You managed to breathe out.

“I wish to show you something, as you are to be my wife.  It is important for me that I allow you to see me as I am.”  In the many weeks you had known the man, Aemond had never sounded nervous.  His hands were clammy in yours. “I wear this eyepatch for the sake of the ladies at court, what lies beneath has proven many times to be too much for their constitutions.”

A beat of silence fell between the two of you.  You let go of one of Aemond’s hands and slowly reached to his face, caressing the leather of his eyepatch uncertainly.

Aemond moved his head away from your touch, his lips pressed into a frown.  “I do not wish you to think me a monster, Y/N.”

“Aemond.” Your voice was halfway between chiding and sympathetic. “I would never think you a monster.”

He allowed your fingers to grab hold of his eyepatch and slowly lift it away and off of his head.  You took him in, your eyes drinking in every detail.  The sapphire he had placed inside the left eye socket shone dully, refracting the light from your sparking fireplace.  There was still glaring evidence of the trauma Aemond’s nephews had done to that side of his face, with just one unwise swipe of a knife. You could hear Aemond’s breath still in his chest as you took your time studying the puckered skin, the scarring, the vivid red line that would never fully heal.

You traced your fingers along the scar on his cheek, ending in cupping his cheek in your hand, tracing your thumb back and forth under his sapphire.  You looked long into his wide violet eye staring back into your upturned face. “You are beautiful, my love. Beautiful,” You said again at his sharp intake of breath, “and brave.”  Aemond had become still as stone, but you leaned forward and placed a kiss just below the scar on his cheek.  Another kiss you placed on his nose and another at the corner of his mouth.

“You will be my undoing.” Aemond groaned, finally moving to pull you into him.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, allowing him to cradle your own face in his hands.  Aemond traced your lips with his thumb, trailing his touch down to your chin where he held you softly.  “May I kiss you, Y/N?”

Your smile was all the answer he needed, tugging you closer with the fingers still gripping your chin, Aemond tilted his head and brought his lips down upon yours. The kiss began a gentle one, chaste even, but your hands gripping the fabric of his tunic spurred Aemond to deepen the embrace.  He traced his tongue along your bottom lip, and you opened to him, groaning softly as he explored your mouth.

Aemond guided you down until your back hit the cushions and he was leaning half his weight onto you.  Your hands moved up his back and buried themselves into his long silky hair, he had a lot of it, and you reveled in the feeling of it slipping thru your fingers.  Aemond let out a small sound as you tugged slightly on his hair, releasing your mouth from his kiss with a lewdly wet sound.  Silver strands tickled your neck and chest as he continued leaning over you, one of his knees pressed between your thighs.  With all the willpower you could muster you did not move your hips down upon his leg.  

“We should…”  Your voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

Aemond nodded, lifting himself off you and helping to pull you back up to a sitting position. “We should continue this at a later date.”

You giggled.

He looked down at you with such a smitten look of adoration it almost made your heart stop.  Aemond took your hand in his and placed a small kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I will take my leave, Y/N, before I give in fully to what I want to do with you.”

He stood, straightening his jerkin from where you grasping hands had wrinkled it. You remained seated, still recovering from the intensity of moments before. “Sleep well, Aemond.”

“Sleep well, my love.” He made to leave your chambers, stopping at your door Aemond turned a final time to face you. “And thank you.”  

After that night, the two of you had sought out the other’s company in private as often as you could manage it.  Aemond had even taken you to meet Vhagar miles outside the city limits, you had nearly fainted from the shock of seeing a dragon many times the size of Winterfell, but with Aemond’s steadying grip on your waist you had the courage to approach her.  Vhagar had even allowed you to touch her, the dragon’s scales feeling like the bark of an iron tree under your fingers. Aemond wanted you to ride her with him, but he stopped asking after you insisted, only half joking, your heart would actually stop in your chest and then he would have no one to marry.

It was only a few weeks before your wedding day tragedy struck.  King Viserys Targaryen, who you had met only the first night at King’s Landing, passed in his sleep.  Queen Alicent seemed convinced his dying wish was to make his firstborn son, Aegon, king instead of Rhaenyra Targaryen.  This meant civil war, and you knew it, and you believed Aemond knew it too.  His tension radiated off him in waves, and he became more withdrawn.  

Not two days after the whole of Westeros knew Aegon was now crowned King did the raven from Winterfell arrive.  Your lord father was making arrangements to bring you back home.  The Starks were pledging allegiance to the Blacks, to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.  It was perilous for you to remain at King’s Landing a moment longer and you were to meet your escort out of the city in secret and without a moment’s delay.

Your heart felt like a shard of ice had cut clean through it as your eyes took in the message from your home, from your father.

You could not marry Aemond.

Your betrothal had been broken and, though it was by no fault of your own, you felt very much the part of the traitor.  

Feeling sick with guilt and grief, you did your duty as the daughter of Lord Stark and fled the city that night.  You did not see Aemond before leaving, knowing if you sought him out, he would convince you to stay.  Whether out of love or device, and you would soon become a prisoner of war there. Either way you were a pawn in an uncaring chess match, and to an extent you recognized Aemond was too.

Upon your arrival back at Winterfell, your father announced you would instead be betrothed to one of Rhaenyra’s children after they grew into men.  You had wordlessly locked yourself in your cold chambers, the septas could barely coax you to eat the warm meals they brought you each day and most times the food went untouched at your table.

How you missed him, with every fiber of your being you ached for Aemond.  He must hate you now, knowing how you had betrayed him.  You would lie awake at night, staring up at the grey ceiling, wishing to hear the beat of dragon wings approach.  During winter storms you would often fool yourself into thinking you did hear Vhagar approaching, carrying Aemond to you with news they had won the war and you could now be wed.

Months passed and you continued to mourn, looking out the window at the bleak landscape surrounding the castle.  Never before had you felt a prisoner inside the walls of Winterfell, never before would you have thought you’d yearn for the warmth of King’s Landing.

Several months into your self appointed isolation, a Raven arrived for you from Harrenhal.  It was from Aemond.  You tore the letter open with shaking fingers, but with each line you read your stomach dropped further into despair.  You let the paper fall from your grip, fluttering to the floor, and you sunk slowly till you knelt upon your sheepskin rug.  

He was with another woman, some Alys Rivers, and had taken her as well as Harrenhal for his own.  His words, written in a tidy black scrawl, had been cutting.  Clearly his heart had hardened against you, and the personal hurt you had dealt at your departure from King’s Landing as well as the Starks declaring for the Blacks had solidified you as the enemy in Aemond’s mind.  He had called her “my Alys” in the missive, your stomach turned, and bile rose to the back of your throat.  With a sudden burst of feverish energy, you grabbed the parchment, balling it in your fist, and hurled it into the fire.  Unbidden tears streamed down your cheeks as you curled in upon yourself there on the ground, and there you remained until long after the sun had begun its ascent in the eastern sky.

[hstyleshoney]

Loves Me Loves Me Not - seven.

“It’s not that easy.” “It kind of is.” “It kind of isn’t. You wouldn’t understand.” “Try me.”

AU fake-dating, bartenderry // Harry is a bartender and new in town. A joke with her friends turns into reality after too much tequila, but nothing goes according to plan.

And she really, really hopes she hasn’t scared him off. 

word count: 16.2K // language, a little angsty, bad family relationships, a little fluffy 

🐶 Ficpage 💜 ask 🌼 masterlist

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Y/N woke up with a headache from hell, an overwhelming pain in her ankle, and her mouth so dry it left her tongue feeling like a piece of sandpaper. As soon as she opened her eyes, all the drinks she had consumed the night before rose in the back of her throat. She quickly shut her eyes again, holding her breath, hoping it would block the flood of nausea that rushed through her. 

Her whole body was desperate for water, but whatever force squeezing her skull together made it impossible for her to open her eyes again. She made a lousy attempt to blindly reach out and locate the bottle Harry had given her the night before. The fear of making any sudden moves, or even opening her eyes, made her completely immobile though. Because if she moved too fast or too much; the possibility of her being sick all over Harry’s bed was far too great. 

And that was something she definitely wanted to avoid.  

Especially after all of the events that had unfolded last night. He had already helped her too much. She couldn’t be sick in his bed. Not after he had agreed to go out with her friends, nearly ended up in a fight with Reece, offered to let her stay the night, and they almost kissed.

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as soon as the memory of their lips brushing flashed before her. 

She had almost kissed Harry last night. 

And the reminder of his stubble scratching against her chin alerted her of the lack of warmth next to her and made the silence surrounding her obnoxiously loud. 

Y/N forced herself to open her eyes again, to confirm her abrupt realization about the empty bed. She wasn’t sure what made her feel more nauseous - her raging hangover or the fact that Harry was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was wide open, the spot next to her cold and the room dreadfully calm. 

He was just… gone. 

Her already swirling head started spinning even more. Had she just ruined whatever chance she had of them being friends? He couldn’t be mad at her, could he? 

No, she tried to remind herself, he was as guilty as her of their almost-kiss. She ran a tired hand over her face. He couldn’t be mad at her. They were both drunk. At least she had been. 

But so much had happened last night, and Y/N’s muddled hungover brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend how she had ended up in his small bed again. 

Although, as she tried to move and sit up, the painful reminder of her embarrassing fall swept over her. She hissed in discomfort and moved the duvet out of the way to get a good look at her aching foot. 

”Fuck,” she mumbled to herself as she took in the sight of her swollen and bruised skin. Her ankle had doubled in size compared to what it normally looked like and a nasty purple-looking bruise was slowly spreading out across most of her heel. ”You’re a fucking idiot Y/N…” 

With a small groan, she let her head fall back to the pillow, wishing the bed would just swallow her whole and remove her from the surface of the earth. 

How could so much have gone wrong in just one night? It had to be some sort of record. 

Everything had started out so well. Reece had seemed jealous. He had asked her to be on his team. He had been close, making sure that she was always within arm’s reach, his hand clinging to her lower back and hips. It was the most affectionate she could remember him ever being. 

But then something switched and the night just went downhill from there. 

Harry and Reece sizing each other up had not been on her list of things that could go wrong. It hadn’t even crossed her mind. In her head, the worst-case scenario was Reece not acknowledging her at all. 

Or Harry being annoyed with her the whole night. 

Her biggest concern had been with herself and how she was going to act with Harry in front of Arlo.

She wished it could’ve stayed that way. It would’ve been a lot easier. 

Y/N wasn’t supposed to drink so much, but her nerves had simply gotten the best of her. Downing several shots of tequila seemed like a good idea at the time. The tension between the man of her dreams and her fake lover had been far too hostile for her poor heart to handle. 

Their visit to White Deer had ended with her embarrassing herself in front of the full-packed pub. It should’ve been the only thing weighing her down as she woke up in a crippling hangover. Yet, it was not the thing tormenting her fragile mind.

Because she certainly wasn’t supposed to almost kiss Harry. 

The mere memory of his warm breath on her face, his soft hand pushing a strand of her hair away, made her pathetic little brain nearly combust. No matter how hard she tried to remember how they had gotten themselves into that position - it didn’t make any sense. Had she made the first move? Or had he been the one to instigate it? Both explanations seemed as unlikely as the other. 

But then again, drunk Y/N didn’t always make the best or most reasonable decisions. It wouldn’t actually surprise her if she was the reason behind their almost-kiss. 

No wonder Harry had left. He had probably already filed a report against her for harassment and violation of his privacy. Her stomach twisted in distress, an overwhelming stir of regret washing over her. 

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, her mind and body were too busy wallowing in anguish and self-loath, before the sound of keys jingling outside the door suddenly overtook all of her senses. 

If Y/N had been able to, she would’ve made a quick escape and jumped out the window. But since her body was currently hanging on by a thin thread, trying to survive a hangover from hell and a sprained ankle, that wasn’t an option. 

All she could do was stay put, and watch as Harry slowly made his way back inside the flat. Their eyes met the moment he opened the door. The obnoxious silence she had found herself waking up to turned into an uncomfortable one instead. It was unclear which one was worse, but both undeniably made her nauseated state triple within her.  

He had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a simple white T-shirt, a mint green cardigan casually draped over his shoulder. A pair of black sunglasses sat on top of his head, pushing back his curls and stopping them from falling into his eyes. There was not a single trace of their night out on him. 

Harry, without a doubt, looked ten times better than how she felt.  

Fuck. 

”You’re awake,” he stated after a moment of silence. 

”Yeah…” she breathed out, her voice raspy and low. A lump immediately formed in her throat, pushing its way upward, and she quickly pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop whatever was trying to make its way out of her. Harry gave her a concerned look. She tried to give him a smile. ”Where were you?” 

Her stomach twisted in regret as soon as she let the question escape from her broken mind and out into the uncomfortable mood between them. 

”I just went for a little walk,” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and then held up the tote bag he was carrying. ”Stopped by the store briefly.” Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but the same lump instantly made itself present again. Harry tilted his head to the side, watching her closely as she tried to swallow it back down. ”How you’re feeling?” 

She took a shaky breath. 

”Not too good,” she admitted and focused on trying to breathe through her nose slowly. Whatever force controlling the universe had to have some sort of vendetta against her. Y/N was sure of it. If she ended up being sick in front of Harry, in his bed, it would surely end whatever friendship she had going on with him. 

And she would be on the next plane over to Svalbard as soon as she could move again. 

”How's your foot?” 

”Hurting,” she told him with another shaky breath. 

”I can imagine,” Harry hummed. He stood still for a brief moment before putting down the tote he was carrying next to the dresser, kicking his shoes off. ”Let me see.” 

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth and speak again, so she gave him a small nod, ignoring the the way it left the whole room spinning. 

Harry sat down next to her on the bed, gently lifting the duvet to expose her legs. She took the opportunity to pinch the bridge of her nose, praying and hoping that the small pressure would help her take her mind off of how fucking terrible she felt. 

When his fingers brushed against her ankle she couldn’t stop herself from flinching back in surprise, a low groan slipping out at the discomfort it caused. ”Sorry,” he mumbled and threw a small glance up at her, to make sure she was fine. 

”S’okay,” she replied quickly and nodded towards her foot again, letting him know he could continue what he was doing. 

Harry turned his attention back to her ankle but let his hands rest on top of his thighs. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he looked at the bruised skin with furrowed brows. 

Then he suddenly stood up again and walked over to his tote to retrieve something. The bed shook as he moved and Y/N was sure her soul left her body for a moment. She was not going to make it. 

”We need to wrap your foot,” he said, pulling out a lime-green silk scarf. ”This was the only thing I could find this early. You need to get some proper bandages later, but this will have to do for now.” He came back and sat down next to her. ”If it doesn’t get better in a couple of days, you should probably go see a doctor as well.” 

She wasn’t sure if it was the lump in her throat, still threatening to come up, that left her so speechless… 

Or the fact that he had gone out first thing in the morning to look for some bandages for her foot. 

His fingers were gentle as they wrapped around her ankle, carefully lifting it to put the green scarf underneath her foot. It hurt, but all she could really focus on was his soft touch. Anytime his fingers smoothly brushed against her skin Y/N could feel another part of her body erupt in goosebumps. 

The makeshift bandage was wrapped tightly around her ankle, instantly giving it some much-needed support. Harry never took his eyes off her foot as he worked on it, his tongue poking out in concentration, and Y/N felt like her body was on fire. 

Flashbacks of the night before pushed themselves to the front of her mind. He had been so close. A small tilt of her head and their lips would’ve met. 

Y/N contemplated asking him about it and seeing his reaction but quickly decided it would be a terrible idea. If she was to bring it up it had to be under better circumstances - not when she was already struggling to breathe properly. 

But Harry’s tender hands awakened something in her. Something she couldn’t put her finger on yet. It could, very possibly, still be the aggressive lump in her throat forcing its way up. ”I’ll give you a ride home,” Harry interrupted her wandering thoughts, making her head jerk back at the unexpected sound of his voice. ”Do you think you’ll be able to move?” 

”Yeah, I think so,” she replied slowly, attempting to once again force the lump back down. Unfortunately, it seemed like the lump had gathered more strength after being held back for so long. She covered her mouth with one of her hands. Y/N had lost the struggle. ”Actually, no, I - I think I might be sick.” 

Harry’s eyes widened as he took in her fragile condition. He moved fast, jumping to his feet, his arms wrapping around her as he hauled her out of bed. She didn’t even have time to think of the pain that spread through her foot and up her leg. 

It was astonishing how they actually made it to the bathroom in time. Most of it was just a blur, but she let her body fall into Harry’s as he dragged her to the toilet. He said something to her that she couldn’t understand, the buzzing in her ears was too loud. 

She had never felt more miserable or unattractive in her entire life. 

None of it mattered though, because as soon as she could see the toilet Y/N fell to her knees and unloaded yesterday’s mistakes into the bowl. She wanted to tell him to leave, that he couldn’t see her like that; a coughing sputtering mess. 

But the only thing coming out of her was the tequila from last night. 

So, instead of getting him to leave, he knelt down beside her and pulled her hair away from her face, holding it in a loose grip at the back of her neck. 

And Harry didn’t say anything either, but the comforting hand running up and down her back told her enough. He wasn’t going to leave her, and she accepted it. 

Even if it meant losing the small amount of dignity she had left. 

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”Oh Honey, what happened!?” 

Y/N glanced up to see her mum standing by the doorway leading to their kitchen, looking at her with big frantic eyes. The house was filled with the scent of freshly baked scones and Lizzie wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. Then her gaze averted over to Harry, who still had his arm wrapped around Y/N to offer his support. And she could see the worry in her mum’s eyes slowly turning into confusion. 

Once Y/N had felt stable enough to get up from the bathroom floor, and she was certain there was nothing left in her to come out, Harry had helped her back to his bed. He made sure she drank some water and gave her some ibuprofen before leaving her alone, full of shame, in his flat again. 

He simply told her to just get some rest while he went to get his car from where it was currently parked, so she wouldn’t have to walk too far on her injured foot. 

Or rather, so he wouldn’t have to carry her too far. 

Because when she was finally feeling good enough to actually leave - they both realized that getting down the steep stairs was going to be twice as hard as getting up had been. 

In the end, Harry ended up giving her a piggyback ride. Of course, she tried to tell him she was fine and could make it on her own, but, in true Harry nature, he wouldn’t listen to her and told her to just let him carry her. 

After some struggle, she ended up on his back, holding onto him tightly as he carried her down the stairs and all the way to his car. His hair tickled her face as she rested her chin on the back of his shoulder. As they made it outside a gust of wind blew past them and she caught a whiff of his cologne, musky and fresh. 

He smelled lovely. 

As always. 

Y/N didn’t even want to think about how horrible she smelled next to him. 

Harry moved fast, with a tight grip on her legs, and her body bobbed with the large strides he was taking. She closed her eyes in hopes to ignore the nausea that slowly started creeping up on her again. 

She felt secure though. 

It was soothing in some ways, to let her body relax against his strong back and feel his muscles move under her. The warmth radiating from him sent an electrifying rush through her and caused the small knot in the pit of her stomach to ignite. 

Y/N could’ve fallen asleep right there, clinging onto him like a small koala, if Harry hadn’t gently tapped her leg to let her know they had reached his car. 

And she realized that it was the first time she actually saw his car, and she wasn’t sure what she had expected… maybe an old Toyota with worn-out seats and a rusty surface? She had no idea, but whatever she had imagined - it surely wasn’t a shiny Aston Martin sports car. While Y/N didn’t know a whole lot about cars, the car in front of her definitely looked like it was worth more than what she would even make in a year. 

Actually, it was probably worth more than what she had ever earned since she started working altogether. 

She instantly felt bad for making him drive her home in her miserable state, and for getting his fancy car dirty with the horrid stench of vomit oozing off of her. 

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve asked how he could afford such a fancy car working at White Deer, but her only aim was to survive the short car trip to her house. The bumpy ride made her feel sick all over again and she let her head fall against the side of the car, her eyes closed as she tried to control her breathing. It was far too hot in that car.

She could not be sick again. 

She refused to be sick again. 

Especially not in a car as expensive as the one she found herself in. 

They didn’t really speak, but Harry noticed her struggling to keep it together. He took his hand off the steering wheel, swiftly pushing a button on his side of the car, and the window next to her slowly went down. Fresh air hit her face as they sped down the crooked roads, and Y/N could feel her nausea gradually easing up. 

At least enough to make her confident she wouldn’t be sick all over the lavish interior. 

When they eventually pulled up outside her house Harry was quick to jump out and jog around the car to help her out. Y/N didn’t even bother trying to object that time and simply just let him give her another piggyback ride to get inside. 

Lizzie had met them in the hallway as he carefully dropped her to the floor again, her foot aching slightly as she accidentally put too much weight on it. 

”I’m fine, Mum,” Y/N groaned. ”I just had a little stumble last night.” 

”Are you hurt?” 

”Only my pride,” Y/N complained with a huff and noticed how Harry stifled a laugh, pulling at his lips carefully, hiding his two dimples behind his hand. Lizzie stayed quiet, cautiously observing the scene in front of her, to make sure Y/N was indeed fine and not in need of immediate care. 

When her mum eventually came to the conclusion that no ambulance needed to be called a cheeky smile fell over her thin lips. 

”And who is this Handsome Gentleman escorting my clumsy daughter home?” 

”Muuum,” Y/N sent her an embarrassed glare, feeling her cheeks getting hotter as Lizzie looked between them with a knowing look. ”This is Harry. He works at White Deer, he helped me last night and just drove me home.” 

”Harry, hm,” Lizzie hummed, and Y/N didn’t like the glimmer of delight she saw in her mum’s eye as she stepped forward to shake his hand. ”Well, I’m Lizzie, Y/N’s mother. Thank you for helping her and getting her home in one piece.” 

”Hello,” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and shook Lizzie’s hand with a steady grip. ”No need to thank me. I’m happy to help.” 

”Why don’t you come inside for a bit?” Lizzie suggested and Y/N looked at her mum with big eyes. ”I’ll go put the kettle on and you can have some tea with us. I just made some scones and the loaf of sourdough bread is done any minute now.” 

”No, that’s okay. I was just helping Y/N inside and-” 

”Oh, nonsense! Come sit down with us,” Lizzie interrupted quickly, shaking her head. ”It’s the least I can do for you after you took care of my daughter.” 

”Mum, I’m sure Harry has other things he needs to do. I’ve already taken up enough of his time today,” Y/N tried and watched as Pluto suddenly popped up behind her mum. The small poodle immediately noticed Y/N was home again and jumped up and down excitedly before running over. 

”Everyone has time for some scones,” Lizzie insisted with a small laugh and looked at Harry again. ”There is plenty of food and you’re more than welcome to have some.” 

As Lizzie spoke to Harry, Pluto realized they had company, his little tail wiggling happily as he jumped to greet Harry. 

And it wasn’t until Harry took a subtle step to the side, to stand behind Y/N a little bit more, that she remembered he wasn’t a big fan of dogs. She bent down to pull Pluto into her arms, scratching him behind his ear in an effort to calm him down and get him to leave Harry alone. 

A sharp pain shot through her ankle as she crouched down. But seeing Harry uncomfortable, trying to get away from the small poodle, was enough for her to ignore it. He had been so helpful to her all morning, it was the least she could do. 

”I don’t want to intrude,” Harry spoke slowly, keeping one eye on the dog in Y/N’s arms. 

”Don’t be silly,” Lizzie shook her head again. ”A friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine. You drink tea, right? Or do you want coffee?” 

”Tea is fine,” Harry nodded. ”Thank you.” 

When Lizzie disappeared around the corner, going back to the kitchen Y/N looked up at him with a soft smile. 

”He’s harmless you know,” she told him and nodded towards Pluto who was also looking up at Harry, his tail still wiggling in excitement. ”He won’t bite you.” 

”Mm, you say that now,” Harry muttered and kept a close eye on Pluto, just in case he’d escape Y/N’s arms and attack. ”I don’t trust dogs.”

”He just wants to say Hello,” Y/N continued and gave Pluto a small kiss on top of his head, still scratching him behind his ear. ”He’ll leave you alone after that.” 

When Harry didn’t speak or made any attempts to move, Y/N reached up and took his hand, gently tugging at his arm to get him down to her level. ”Just let him sniff you a little,” she instructed quietly and slowly brought Harry’s hand up to Pluto’s nose. ”There you go. He just wants to say hello,” she said and looked at her dog, her voice turning more high-pitched as she spoke again. ”Isn’t that right, Buddy? You just want a little attention.” 

Pluto let his wet nose sniffle all over his hand. Harry was tense next to her, barely moving a single muscle, and Y/N made sure to keep her hand over his, giving it a light squeeze to assure him everything was fine. 

Pluto pushed his head against his hand, silently demanding Harry to pet him. She threw a quick glance at the grumpy man next to her, a little anxious she was forcing him to do something he genuinely didn’t want to, but was happily surprised to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips again.  

Carefully she guided his hand to rest on top of Pluto’s head and told him to give him a small scratch behind his ear. The poodle let out a heavy sigh, happy to finally get the new human’s attention and affection. 

”He’s very soft,” Harry admitted quietly, his fingers running over Pluto's curly coat of hair in small timid circles.  

”I know!” Y/N beamed and felt a rush of excitement run through her. Her hand was still on top of his, and she could sense the tension in him slowly easing up, allowing his body to relax. 

She could understand why some people didn’t necessarily trust dogs. But her little Pluto was the kindest dog she had ever met. 

Granted, she was a bit biased, but he had been a gentle dog ever since they got him as a puppy. He was her best friend in a lot of ways, staying up with her all night when her swirling mind wouldn’t let her rest. Pluto was perhaps the only living being who had truly seen her at her worst. 

And Y/N just wanted people who met him to like him and feel the same comfort she did.  ”He gives the best cuddles.” 

”I’m sure he does,” Harry nodded, giving Pluto one final pat before he pulled his hand back and stood up again. The small dog looked at him, clearly disappointed with the abrupt stop to his cuddles, but didn’t push his luck. 

Instead, Pluto let out a low sneeze, shook his head, and just walked off. No longer interested in Harry and his unfamiliar scent. 

”See,” Y/N grinned up at him. ”I told you he’d leave you alone. He only wants some sniffs and some pats and he’s good for the rest of the day.” 

”Yeah, yeah,” Harry rolled his eyes and then held out his hand to her to help her stand up again. "I see where you get your stubbornness from now.” 

”Huh?” 

”Your mum,” he pointed out. ”Here I thought you were the only one in your family who was so demanding.” 

”Oh… Um, I mean, you don’t have to stay. She just wants to thank you, but I understand if you’re bu-”

”Ducky, I’m joking,” he interrupted her short rambling. 

”Right,” Y/N breathed out, feeling stupid. 

She wasn’t sure if it was still her pathetic brain that made her feel so dizzy, or if it was the strong arm that once again wrapped around her waist, supporting her as she limped across the hallway to the kitchen. ”Well, you’ll be glad you stayed. Once you have a bite of my mum’s sourdough you’ll never want to eat any other type of bread ever again.” 

Seeing Harry in her kitchen, talking and laughing with her mum, certainly didn’t help clear her foggy head. 

It all felt like a fever dream. 

The delicious smell of fresh bread that surrounded them made her mouth water. Yet, Y/N found herself struggling to actually eat anything. With every bite she took there was a dangerous churn in the pit of her stomach. Her sickness still looming over her, even if she felt a lot better than she did when she woke up that morning. 

It just wasn’t worth the humiliating task of trying to get to the toilet in time. 

Harry had already held her hair once that morning, and that was already one too many times. 

Instead, she sipped on her tea, nibbled on a single scone, and tried to understand if the scene in front of her was actually real or if she was still passed out on the floor in Harry’s bathroom. 

Because the Harry in front of her was a completely different version of him compared to what she had seen before. 

And even if he didn’t really share much about himself, Harry listened intently as her mum told him different stories from Y/N’s childhood and talked about the history of their small village town. He asked a couple of follow-up questions, laughing loudly when Lizzie told him about the time Y/N cut her own hair at the age of four. 

And how she later tried to run away from home when they told her she couldn’t glue it back on. 

Y/N didn’t have time to be embarrassed by the stories her mum was sharing though. She was too lost in her own clouded mind, trying to figure out who the man next to her was and if he had always been so ridiculously charming. 

An hour had passed when he announced he had to get back home. Lizzie made sure he got some scones and bread to take with him, giving him two small bags full of her homemade goods. 

Harry shot Y/N a teasing look when Lizzie told him she wouldn’t accept no for an answer. 

And when he eventually left and she watched the door close behind him, Y/N found herself feeling rather empty. 

”I like him,” her mum announced as soon as he was gone. She turned to face her daughter with a big smile on her lips and the same twinkle in her eyes as before. 

”You do?” 

”He’s lovely,” Lizzie continued as she started to clean the table, stacking their used plates on top of each other. 

”I- well, he-” Y/N fumbled with her words, not knowing how to respond. It felt weird to pretend in front of her mum, essentially lying, about her relationship with him. Although, as Lizzie’s words sank in, Y/N realized that agreeing wouldn’t actually be a lie at all. Because underneath his hard exterior, Harry was indeed lovely. ”Yeah.” 

”Am I wrong to assume he is the reason you’ve been so happy lately?” 

”What?” 

Lizzie laughed at the startled expression on her face, and Y/N was just happy her mum couldn’t see how fast her heart was beating. 

”You just seem like yourself again,” Lizzie said. ”You’re smiling more and doing more things. You’ve also spent the night at some mysterious bartender twice now.” Y/N opened her mouth to question how her mum could know she had stayed the night with him once before, but Lizzie explained before she got the chance. ”I ran into Arlo at the supermarket a while ago.” 

Of course. 

”Arlo is just… Arlo,” Y/N scoffed, feeling her cheeks getting a little hotter under her mum’s knowing eyes. 

”Is he wrong though?” 

”I…” 

”Honey, relax,” Lizzie said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder as she walked past on her way to the kitchen sink. ”I’m not interrogating you. I know dating nowadays is a lot more complicated than it was when I was young. I don’t need to know about all of these friendships with benefits type of-” 

”Mum, please stop,” she interrupted with a groan and put a hand up to get her to stop.

Lizzie laughed. 

”I’m just trying to say that I’m happy you’re doing more and hanging out with your friends again,” she told her softly. ”And Harry is definitely not too hard on the eyes is he? You’ve snatched yourself one handsome young man there.”

”Okay, well, this has been fun. But this is done now, I’m too hungover for this,” Y/N said and ran a hand through her tangled hair. 

The whole thing was making her far too uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much the topic of the conversation that made her feel that way, she had always been close to her mum and they could talk about most things. Her relationship with Harry was just… complicated. 

Y/N wasn’t even sure if they had any type of relationship, or if it was all fake. 

She tried to stand up and leave the kitchen but hissed at the pain that shot through her ankle, falling down to her chair again. Maybe she should’ve asked Harry to carry her to her bed before leaving. 

”God, you’re just like your brother sometimes,” Lizzie rolled her eyes, but the fond smile across her lips stayed intact. ”So bloody stubborn. Stay there - I’ll go see if I can find our old crutches in the garage.” 

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Harry was fucked. 

It had been over a week since he last saw Y/N, and no matter how hard he tried; he couldn’t get the silly girl out of his head.

He had let himself get carried away and allowed himself to get caught up in the moment, not realizing what he was actually doing until it was too late. He was supposed to tell Y/N he didn’t want to be part of her stupid scheme anymore, instead, he almost kissed her. 

And had tea with her mother. 

He was fucked. 

Everything reminded him of her. His bedsheets smelled like her, if he closed his eyes he could almost feel her hand in his hair and the warmth that spread through him as she pushed herself closer. It had been so long since he had last shared a bed with someone and actually felt something. 

As soon as he had gotten home from her house he had been overwhelmed by how empty the place he now called home was. 

How lonely he was. 

And the realization sent a flood of panic through him. 

Because he had been more than fine being on his own when he first arrived. He wanted to be left alone. 

It was why he chose the small village to start with. It was the only place he could remember being truly happy and content as a kid. No one would remember him or who he was. His grandma had gotten remarried before she moved to town to live with her new husband, taking the last name Burton. No one would be able to connect his name to hers. It was the perfect place to start over and live a quiet life - a clean slate. He could do whatever he wanted, and not care about anyone else. 

Then Y/N stumbled into his life and made herself a permanent spot in his already troubled head. With her stupid plan, captivating eyes, and adorable presence… he found himself wanting to keep her in his pocket forever and protect her from ever getting her heart broken. 

If only he could make her realize what a stupid prick Reece was. He would feel a lot better about breaking their deal if he knew she had come to her senses. Then he wouldn’t be the bad guy for letting her down, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting hurt. 

He was so fucking fucked. 

Therefore, when his phone alerted him of a new text later that night - he decided, for the first time since meeting her, to not reply. 

Y/N 11:39 pm 

thank you for helping me today grumpy… and last night. i appreciate it. my foot already feels a little bit better, so hopefully its just a light sprain. i'm never drinking again x 

He left her on ’read’ for the entire week, going into work with a tight knot in his stomach, fearing she’d show up at the pub and look at him with those big sad eyes. He’d crumble if she did. Just the thought of that happening was excruciating. 

But it was also why he knew he was making the right decision. 

If ignoring one text from her was making him feel so terrible - it was more than enough proof that he had let the chatty girl get too close. His guard was down and he couldn’t let that happen. 

Y/N had asked him for help to make another bloke fall in love with her. That was all it was, even if Reece was completely wrong for her. Harry was nothing but a pawn in her stupid scheme. He couldn’t let himself get lost again. People had told him what to do all his life, how to act, and what to say. Working as a bartender in the small town was the first real thing he had decided for himself. It was what he wanted to do, at least until he could figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life. 

He never should’ve agreed to help her in the first place. He was done doing things for other people and their benefit, and yet it was one of the first things he had gotten himself into. 

It had to stop. 

He needed to get back on track. 

But nothing was helping him to clear his mind. No matter where he went he was always reminded of her in some way. 

His normal running route was where the whole mess began, where he agreed he’d help her with her stupid plan. 

And all he could worry about as he went on his daily run was accidentally running into Y/N. Because even though she was injured and should be resting, she was stubborn enough to ignore her injured foot and go for a walk with Pluto. 

Maybe he should’ve found a new place to go for a run? 

White Deer was where he met her for the first time. 

And Tracy’s coffee shop, where she hid behind the counter, was just across the street from where he worked and lived. 

He craved the lush brownies from Pebble’s that she had gotten for them after spending their first night together.

Or perhaps, what he craved most, was to once again see the ecstatic smile she gave him as they walked to the small bakery. 

The toothbrush he had given her was still next to his in the bathroom. 

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have gone for a run around the same trails, tormenting himself with the possibility of potentially seeing her again. Because seeing her again, after ignoring her for a week, meant he would possibly have to see the disappointment the unanswered text had caused. 

As Harry got to know her better, he learned that Y/N was an expert at trying to hide how she was truly feeling, always trying to please the people around her, hoping no one would notice the discouraged look in her eyes. 

He did though. 

He had also learned how to read her, for better or for worse - Harry didn’t know yet. He just knew he didn’t like the way her shoulders slumped when someone dropped a comment about her ideas or made her feel like she was bothering them. 

And Harry really wasn’t sure he could handle being the reason the brightness in her eyes disappeared, even if it was only momentarily. 

It really made no sense for him to still go for a run so close to where she lived. 

Yet, he did. 

When he met her there the last time she had shown up with a runny nose and her hair an unruly mess. He had recognized her immediately as the girl who had tried to pay him for a date at the pub. 

Had he not been so taken aback by the dog running and jumping on him, he would’ve found it endearing how out of breath she was when she finally caught up to her furry little friend.

Logically, Harry knew the small poodle couldn’t really hurt him. 

But a bad experience with his neighbour’s dog, when he was six years old, had left him wary of all dogs. The ugly scar on his forearm, due to the bad stitches he had gotten, was enough to make him stay away from all dogs. 

Patrick had told him to stop being a baby and handle it like a man, despite being so young. It was just another thing he felt he needed to change to finally be accepted. It was easier to avoid all dogs rather than to learn how to deal with the stress and fear that came with them. 

Y/N had been so gentle with him though, when she told him to just give the small dog a little pat. She had looked at him with such a reassurance in her eyes, telling him it was okay. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so stupid and childish for being apprehensive of a small animal. 

Because it was silly, being afraid of a small dog at his age. But he really appreciated how she hadn’t made fun of him for it. 

Instead, she made him feel at ease. 

And it was another thing about her that had gotten under his skin. There really wasn’t a bad bone in her body. It was just something about her - he truly had never met someone with such a kind heart before. 

Admittedly, a stupid heart.

A heart that was going to break itself if it kept going along with what everyone else wanted; if it didn’t wake up and realize how stupid Reece was. 

”Fuck,” Harry exclaimed loudly to himself, stopping in the middle of the trail, panting heavily from running. A bird flew out from behind a tree, startled by his voice, and he closed his eyes. 

He had to get himself out of the scheme. 

He had to get away from Y/N. He wasn’t ready to have someone else hold his heart in their hands again. There was too much that could go wrong and he was yet to heal. There was no way he could allow himself to get into a position where not even the small town he grew up loving would be a safe place. 

No matter how awful the unanswered text in his phone made him feel. 

However, when he returned to his car and looked at his phone again, there was something else waiting for him. It pulled him right back into the dark hole he had slowly been working his way out of. 

For weeks his mail inbox had been empty. Not a single message. When he left London he deleted every single one of them, not wanting a reminder of anything related to his previous life or work. 

But now there was a small red circle, with a single digit letting him know someone had tried to reach him.  

The blood inside his veins turned to ice as he opened the app. There was only one person Harry knew of that preferred to contact people via email and he hadn’t heard from him since the day he left London. 

A large part of him told him to just delete the e-mail, but an even larger part of him couldn’t ignore it.  

With a deep breath, anxiety already creeping up on him, Harry decided to read it. 

Harry. 

I am reaching out to you to give you one last chance to get your act together and come back. You need to stop this foolishness. I don’t know what you think you will achieve by giving up on your responsibilities like this. I am deeply disappointed by your reckless actions. Your mother is very upset and so are your siblings. What kind of example do you think this sets for them? That it is okay to do as you please and ignore your responsibilities? To disrespect the people who made it possible for you to have the life you have? 

You have let everyone down. 

This whole thing reflects poorly on our entire family, on the empire my great-grandfather created long before you were born. Do you think he just got up and left whenever things didn’t go his way? I can tell you for a fact that he didn’t. He stayed, worked hard, and fought for it. What you have done is unacceptable. People are talking and you have brought embarrassment to both the family and the company. We are a well-established and highly respected corporation. Our employees are hard-working and ambitious. They fought for their positions. You have had an easy ride, I took you on board right after you finished university, trusting you to do a good job despite lacking the experience we demand from our new recruits.

Now, I look stupid. Our company looks stupid. Only the best get an opportunity to work for us and people kept telling me I couldn’t give you a job just because you are Denise’s son. And maybe they were right because you have made us look unprofessional, leaving your coworkers with all your workload as if they are not already working overtime to achieve their goals. If everyone just decided to not show up for work one day none of us would be as successful as we are. 

I expected so much more from you Harry. 

If it were up to me you would never set foot in our building again, but your mother has begged me to give you one last chance to come back. 

So here it is. 

I expect to see you back at the office on Monday, we can move forward and put this whole mess behind us. There will be some changes in your position, as I am sure you can understand, but we will discuss the details when you are back. 

I am positive you can fix things with Tamara as well if you just put some effort in. 

I really hope you will make the right decision. Think about your image. Think about your family. 

If you want to waste the opportunities handed to you and live a life with no self-respect - go ahead. But don’t come crawling back in a couple of months when your money is running out. The choice is yours. 

Kind Regards, 

Patrick Lovell. 

Harry read the e-mail over and over again, feeling his heart drop more each time he finished and let the words written by Patrick fully sink in. He felt empty, and yet at the same time, every little part of him felt like it was falling apart. He wanted to scream out in frustration, throw his phone out of the window and leave it in the woods. But despite the overwhelming need to let everything out, something held the profanities back. 

So instead, he sat in his car, just staring out into nothing for what felt like hours. The phone next to him felt like a threat. The blank screen stared back at him tauntingly, pulling him back down into the darkness. It had been reckless of him to just leave, he knew that much, and he probably wouldn’t have ever done such a thing had he worked somewhere else. His co-workers would be fine though, he made sure to finish up any loose ends before leaving. 

And to be frank, Harry didn’t really care about any of his old co-workers. They were all a bunch of twats. 

The only thing that really left an unsettling feeling in his stomach was the fact that his mother was upset. 

Or, at least, according to Patrick, she was. 

Harry wasn’t really sure his mother was capable of feeling upset over anything other than a failed botox injection. 

Their relationship was a tricky one. Harry knew she loved him, in her own way. His mother had worked hard to provide for them when he was a baby and had set him up with a comfortable life. He couldn’t remember much of their relationship before Patrick came into the picture, but she had done everything in her power to keep him safe and fed. Somewhere, between the expensive lunches and designer handbags, his mother had changed though. And it wasn’t until the twins were born that Harry really saw it. Or maybe he had just been too young to see it before. For many years he had dreamed about being an older brother. His classmates all had siblings and he wanted the same experience they did. As the years passed, and they all grew up, Harry realized how different the three of them were treated and the excitement quickly died down. While he was seen as the black sheep of the Lovell family; Leo and Millie were everyone’s darling angels. Denise was fully accepted into the family, having given Patrick two biological children. Harry was simply just the son of another man. A man with a much lower rank than any of the Lovells. 

There was no doubt that there was a disturbing hierarchy in the family. And it had taken him over two decades to realize that no matter how hard he tried he would never fully be part of it. 

He wasn’t a Lovell, and he didn’t want to be. It still didn’t stop the painful tug at his heart as he read the e-mail over one more time. No matter how many times he convinced himself he was better off alone - the truth of his loneliness hit him hard. 

His mind was still clouded in a thick fog as he eventually started his car back up and sped away from where he had stood parked for over an hour. There was a loud ringing noise in both his ears and he soon realised it was a bad idea to drive in his current state of mind.

The five stupid words that had haunted him all his life were the only thing he could focus on. 

“You have let everyone down”

Harry couldn’t breathe. 

Patrick’s words were slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs as they repeated themselves over and over again. He couldn’t escape them. He had been naive to think he could. All his life he had been told he wasn’t good enough, that he was a disappointment and ungrateful. It was stupid to think that would ever change. 

Then a familiar street sign caught his attention, and without really thinking, he took a left turn when he really should’ve just kept driving.

Harry was fucked. 

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Y/N had almost dozed off when she was jolted awake by a sharp knock on her door. 

She sat up groggily, looking around the room in confusion, her vision slightly blurry. The Netflix show she had been watching still playing quietly on the laptop next to her on the bed. Her eyelids felt heavy as she lifted her hand to rub the sleep away. 

Did she have a dream? Or had there actually been a knock on her door? 

Aside from the laptop playing her room was deadly quiet. Though, it was still bright outside so she couldn’t have been asleep for that long. She had spent most of the day in bed, just scrolling on her phone and binge-watching whatever show she could find. 

Actually, since she had stayed home from work because of her foot, it was what she had been doing for most of the week. Luckily, the injury was nothing but a light sprain and she had only been on crutches for a couple of days. 

Still, her mum told her to take the entire week off to rest it properly. Because standing up all day for work was not really an ideal situation to help her ankle heal. 

Instead, she had been in bed for pretty much the entire week, messing up her sleep schedule, sleeping in late, and staying up all night. 

The stupid, unanswered text she had sent Harry didn’t exactly help her go to bed at a reasonable time either. It left a thundering cloud above her head that she couldn’t quite shake off, no matter how hard she tried. 

And spending an entire week alone in her room, in bed, definitely didn’t do her any good when she was trying to reduce her overthinking. Every day that passed with her stuck in her room - the bigger and more lonely her bed felt. 

Rather than having the walls closing in on her the room somehow became a large hollow void. She was no good at being alone for so long. Sure, her mother was home, but the hole she was digging for herself kept her in bed. The quietness surrounding her awakened a lot of thoughts that had been buried deep for some time. 

The fact that she had almost kissed Harry, and had him basically carry her to the bathroom because she had to be sick, only for him to not reply to her message later, just added to her internal crisis.  

But before her mind could catch another train of thought to take her to the overthinking village - there was one more loud knock on her door. 

Y/N blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked over to the door, only then realizing that behind the curtain covering the big window stood a tall shadow. 

And judging by the broad shoulders and rigid posture - she knew exactly who the person on the other side was. 

“Shit,” she swore quietly to herself and slammed the lid to her laptop shut, jumping out of bed. There was a slight ache in her ankle as she landed a little too harshly on the floor. 

But she didn’t really have any time to worry about it, because a sense of panic flowed through her as she looked around the room. It was a mess in there.

Y/N swiftly gathered the clothes scattered across the floor and shoved them under her bed, along with the dirty plates of food she hadn’t been bothered to wash up. She threw a quick glance to the door to make sure he was still there, he was, and Y/N swore all the organs in her body just stopped worked. 

What the hell was he doing at her house? 

She hadn’t talked to him in over a week, and now he was right there. God, why did he have to show up when she hadn’t showered in days, only wearing her old ragged Barbie pyjamas and worn-out slippers!? 

More importantly; why couldn’t he have just responded to her text? Or at least have let her know beforehand that he was going to come over? 

There was another knock on the door and Y/N glanced at it with wide eyes. Maybe she could just ignore him and pretend she wasn’t in there. 

No. 

No, he had probably already talked to her mum who told him she was in there. 

She couldn’t ignore him. 

With a deep breath, hands flying to her hair in an attempt to flatten down the tousled mess it had turned into from laying in bed all day, Y/N staggered towards the door on light feet. 

And as she opened she was suddenly face to face with the green-eyed man who had been occupying her mind for most of the week. 

“Harry,” she breathed out the breath she had been holding. “Hi.” 

“Um, Hey,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Y’alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, cautiously letting her gaze fall over his features. Though he looked the same as he always did, the same stoic stance and sharp jawline - there was something different about the way his green eyes refused to meet hers. “What are you doing here?” The question slipped from her lips with ease, it didn’t really make any sense for him to show up at her place like that out of the blue.  

Unless… something was wrong. Her heart sank inside her chest as she took in the gloomy mood spread out across his face and the way he somehow looked smaller than she had ever seen him before. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?” 

Harry quickly shook his head, the muscles in his throat moving as he swallowed harshly before speaking up. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no everything is fine,” he started, his voice strained and brows furrowed. Y/N tilted her head to the side, trying to understand whether or not he was telling the truth.

When he left her house the previous weekend she had been embarrassed and confused. 

And when he didn’t reply later, Y/N simply took that as proof he no longer wanted anything to do with her. But seeing him now, outside her home with a defeated look on his face, a small seed of concern was planted in her belly - a gut feeling something was wrong slowly growing inside her. “I just wanted to… I - can I come in?” 

“What?” She blinked, too wrapped up in what was going on to form another reply at first. His nervous pout made his question repeat itself in her head though. “Oh! Yeah, of course.” 

Y/N stepped to the side to let him enter and found herself once again trying to fix her messy hair, hoping she didn’t look like a complete disaster. 

Although to be fair, he had probably already seen her at her worst when he held her hair as she was throwing up. “Sorry, it’s a bit messy in here. I didn’t expect any visitors,” she mumbled, feeling a little self-conscious, both of her own appearance and the room. 

Harry only hummed a low response, his shoulder bumping against hers lightly as he walked past her, looking around with curious eyes. Y/N closed the door again, pulling the curtains to the side to let some natural light come in and brighten up the dull room. 

The expanding void she had found herself in for the past week suddenly crept in on her within a few seconds. The four walls of the room were so much smaller with him inside. He was standing a good six feet away from her, and yet, she was wrapped up in his presence. The tiny ache inside her chest gradually eased, the loneliness fading, as a warmth spread around her at the mere sight of him.

She ran another hand through her hair, catching a strand to twirl around her fingers nervously as Harry took in her room and personal belongings. 

“It’s cozy,” he spoke eventually, still not looking directly at her. Instead, his eyes landed on the colorful posters that hung across the walls and the mess she had created during her week at home. “Very you.” 

“Thanks…” she mumbled and felt her cheeks flush as he spotted the large teddy bear in the corner of her bed. 

After 15 years, she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. It held too many memories. Her dad had gotten it for her when they went to Disneyland in Paris. Hugo had won a big Buzz Lightyear action figure and she got a small consolation prize in the form of a keychain shaped like the Cheshire cat - and she didn’t even like Alice in Wonderland. 

So, 10-year-old Y/N had thrown a fit, and after calming down her dad had slipped away for a moment, only to surprise her with the bear she had been eyeing earlier. Lizzie had scolded him for giving in to her hissy fit, but years later the bear still meant the world to her. No matter how childish it was - there was no way to get rid of it. 

But she really wished she had had time to stuff it away before letting him in. That and her pyjamas really didn’t help her feel less like a loser. 

“How’s your foot?” Harry asked then, cutting off the sweet memory playing in her head. He looked down at her feet with a worried glance

“It’s good,” she told him, her belly fluttering as she noticed the corner of his lips hinting at what could be a small smile. “Almost healed up now! I’m going back to work on Monday.” 

Whatever smile that was threatening to plaster itself across his face immediately dropped. Instead, Y/N swore she saw him flinch at the mention of her going back to work. 

She frowned. 

“Good. That’s good,” he nodded, his chest expanding as he inhaled a deep slow breath. Something was definitely wrong. Almost as if he could sense her picking up on his strange mood, his eyes fell down to her feet again. “Nice slippers.” 

Y/N followed his gaze down to what used to be a pair of fuzzy, purple slippers and curled her toes, trying to hide the sad excuse of footwear from him. The fuzzy fabric, once soft and fluffy, was coated in years of dust and dirt, and several threads had come undone and stuck out loosely around her foot. Underneath, a part of the sole had started to come off as well and it wouldn’t be long until it would come off completely and leave the slipper with a large hole. 

Harry tried to give her a teasing smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Y/N knew he was trying to distract her from asking any questions. 

“Yeah, well, they’re comfy,” she shrugged and gave him a small chuckle, trying her best to follow suit and make him less uncomfortable. “And my toes are always cold.” 

“Oh, I know,” Harry laughed lightly. “I’ve shared a bed with you.” And for a moment his mood seemed genuine and there was a light sparkle to his green eyes. 

Though, it was short-lived. 

Because as silence filled the space between them, a deep crinkle formed between his brows and he turned around, letting his back face her instead. He focused his attention on the small shelf on the wall, studying the pictures and various items displayed on it. The familiar tension in his shoulders was still apparent, at the same time, it was different from the usual tension that came with the grumpy man. 

It seemed painful almost. 

Y/N’s fingers itched to reach out and comfort the strained muscles in his back but found herself at a loss. Because despite having shared a bed with him twice, and being sick in front of him, it was still unclear whether or not they were actually friends. 

The unanswered text in her phone threw her off. 

Harry wasn’t the most talkative person - that was obvious from the first time she met him. But ever since exchanging numbers, he hadn’t ignored a single text message from her. It didn’t make sense why, after going through the trouble of helping her with her foot and taking her home, he would suddenly go quiet. 

And Y/N really didn’t want to push him by asking a bunch of personal questions again. He had opened up a little bit, and he did so on his own. She couldn’t risk him shutting the small window he had opened for her. 

It was just… she saw him as her friend. 

Even if he didn’t think they were. 

And if any of her other friends had shown up out of the blue, with the same painful tension controlling their bodies, she would’ve asked what was wrong and tried to help. 

“Harry,” she spoke softly and waited for a reaction - for him to turn around and face her again. He didn’t. “Are you sure everything is all right?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied instantly, his voice laced with a deep defensive tone, as he kept his eyes on the shelf in front of him. 

“Hm, okay…” Y/N hummed and gnawed on her lower lip, trying to figure out how to continue. “So, is there a reason for your little visit then?” It struck her then that, even if he had had tea with her mum the other day, it was the first time he was at her place. In her room. Which only reinforced her suspicions that something was wrong. He wouldn’t just show up without a reason. 

“I- not really.” 

“Oh.” 

“I was just out for a run nearby and thought I’d stop by since I was in the neighbourhood…” he trailed off and threw a glance at her over his shoulder, meeting her concerned gaze for only a moment, before turning back to whatever had captured his attention on the shelf. She watched as he reached over to pick something up, though she could not see what. ”To see how you were.” 

“Right,” Y/N nodded, a little taken aback by his strange behaviour. “Well, I’m good. Much better than the last time you saw me,” she let out a forced laugh, hoping it would lighten his mood. 

It did nothing and she sighed. 

Harry kept his focus on the item he had picked up, keeping himself busy by turning it over in his hands. 

It forced her to take a step forward, moving closer to him, and she noticed the small angel made from clay between his fingers. “Hugo made me that,” she told him then, smiling sadly. “I broke my elbow during his first semester at uni and he made me that for Christmas. Told me I needed a guardian angel to keep me safe.” 

“That’s very sweet,” Harry spoke lowly. 

“It is,” Y/N agreed, and found herself smiling at the bittersweet memory that flashed before her. “You know, I meant it when I said that I’m here for you. I know I was drunk, but you really can talk to me if something is bothering you, Harry,” she told him, raising her hand slowly to put on his shoulder, before stopping herself halfway and letting it fall to her side again. “I mean… I mean, we’re friends… right?” 

Despite having his back turned to her, Y/N could sense her own nerves spiralling out of control. It was such a simple question, childish even, but she knew that if he told her that they weren’t - she’d be hurt. After spending so many weeks talking to him, scheming, hanging out, and eventually opening up a little… Y/N couldn’t imagine them not being friends. 

Their whole relationship had started out with her offering to pay him to take her out (she still needed to do that part) and that first night she had had no intention of actually befriending the bartender who turned her down. 

Sure, it hadn’t taken her that long to realise that she perhaps wanted them to be friends. 

But now she was certain she needed them to be friends. 

A whole week had passed and they hadn’t talked, and it had already hurt her in more ways than she ever could’ve expected. 

Harry had gone from being her fake date to someone she considered to be a real friend. 

Or at least, he could be, if he let her.   

“I just…” Harry sighed, putting the small angel back on the shelf. “I heard from home and… I-I don’t know.” 

“Your mum?” Y/N held her breath as the question slipped past her lips. 

“Nah,” he shook his head and then turned around to face her. “Patrick.” 

“Oh,” she faltered, her heart sinking inside her chest as she took in the man standing before her.  The coat of sadness falling over him, his eyes glossy and hands clasped in front of himself, made her own eyes tear up. “What’d he say?” 

In a soft motion, she moved over to sit down on one of the chairs at the small table, gesturing towards the other chair, inviting him to sit down and keep the conversation going. 

“He wants me to come home,” he admitted after a moment of silence, eventually accepting her offer to sit down. His knee bumped into hers underneath the table, and the warmth inside her flared up once again. 

The only reason her body wasn’t fully engulfed by flames was the possibility of Harry returning to London. The thought alone left her mouth dry and she struggled to swallow the lump that immediately formed in her throat, though she tried her best to not let it show. 

“Well, that’s nice,” She said instead. “Isn’t it?” 

“Not really,” he muttered. 

“They probably just miss you,” she tried weakly, knowing she had already suggested that to him before and been turned down. 

“I doubt it,” he swallowed harshly, shaking his head, a curl falling down across his forehead and into his eyes. “I can’t go home.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t have a good relationship with them. It’s- It’s not like your family. You and your mum.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked warily. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Harry grumbled and let his head fall into his hands. Y/N stayed quiet, hoping the silence would let him gather his thoughts enough to continue talking to her. 

It was strange to see him so unassertive. It was so far from the Harry she had gotten to know, and maybe that was what made her feel extra protective over him at that moment. “They expect me to be someone I’m not… and I just can’t do it anymore. I’m so tired.” 

“Have you told them that?” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why not? I’m sure they’ll understand if you just explain how you’re feeling.” 

Harry laughed dryly, his head still in his hands, making sure to keep his face away from her eyes. 

“It’s not that easy.” 

“It kind of is,” Y/N frowned. 

“It kind of isn’t,” he repeated, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Try me,” she offered softly and, at last, she let her fingers dance across the table until she reached him. Harry flinched at her surprising touch and looked up at her with red eyes as she placed a comforting hand on his arm. 

Neither of them spoke or moved for a while after that. The frown on his face disclosing the internal conflict going on inside him about whether he should tell her what had truly driven him to her home or not. 

Y/N desperately wanted him to know that he was more than just a part of her stupid scheme. That he really could talk to her - she was there for him. 

When she woke up that morning she had made a list of the pros and cons of what could happen if she went over to White Deer on Monday during her lunch. 

Pros - she would see Harry again and hopefully come to the conclusion that she had been overthinking the unanswered text. Sometimes people didn’t reply and it didn’t have to mean anything. 

Cons - she would see Harry again and come to the conclusion that he was in fact avoiding her and wanted nothing more to do with her after she was sick all over his bathroom. 

The cons had outweighed the pros.

But she never could’ve imagined he’d show up at her home, and certainly not like this. 

If only she could put him in her pocket and keep him there forever, protect him from whatever demons he was running from. 

“Patrick comes from quite a wealthy family,” Harry spoke again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s such a different world. It’s all so… superficial… ever since my mother got married to him I’ve trying to get accepted into the family and… I’m never gonna be. No matter what I do - it’s never enough. I’m not enough. It’s- I’m never going to be a real part of that family.” 

Unaware of her actions, Y/N’s hand tightened on his arm, subconsciously squeezing every ounce of comfort she could muster out of her fingertips and into him. “If I told them I- they would just tell me to suck it up and move on.” 

“Have you tried?” 

“Mhm, didn’t change anything. When Leo and Millie were born I thought things would be different, that I wouldn’t be alone with all that pressure to be perfect, but they’ve had everything handed to them from the day they were born. I’ve been trying so hard to fit in with them. I turned into someone I didn’t- I don't want to be.”

“So… you left?” She asked carefully, the image of Tamara and her ring popped up again. Her whole body ached for him because it all just made so much sense. Just like that Harry made sense to her. Everything from his stern persona to the expensive car. 

The man, who she thought was just a naturally grumpy guy, had fought all his life to find his place in the world. To find acceptance. His family wouldn’t give it to him. The person he loved couldn’t give it to him. 

He was on his own. 

His guard was not up to keep anyone out, it was simply doing what a guard should do - keep him safe.

And now he had opened up another little crack in his shell, giving her another piece himself.

“Yeah,” he confirmed and leaned back in the chair, causing her hand to fall from his arm. Y/N started to reach for him again, but just like she had earlier, she stopped herself before she could touch him. 

He looked so tired; the dark circles underneath his eyes were a stark contrast against his otherwise washed-out skin. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed about getting with Reece, and forcing Harry to help her, Y/N would’ve seen the stress simmering within him. 

So far, Harry had done a whole lot more for her than she had for him. 

And she decided she needed to change that. 

“You know,” she began and eyed the long curls falling over his face. “You still haven’t used the free haircut I offered you. I could give you a trim now if you’re up for it?” 

“You really don’t have to,” he said. “I never expected anything from you.” 

“Well, I promised you a haircut,” she objected. “And I would feel really bad if you didn’t let me keep my word.” 

“Y/N, you-“ 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun for me!” And a good distraction for you hopefully, she thought. “I haven’t been to work all week. I’m feeling restless and your hair keeps falling into your eyes and it’s annoying me.” 

“Is your foot gonna be okay?” 

“My foot is fine! C’mon, please, I have everything I need here at home. You won’t even have to come into the salon and listen to Arlo and Margot’s bickering!” 

“That’s a pretty good deal,” he mused and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she saw his lips turning into a soft smile. 

“I know,” she bit her lip to stop her own grin from getting too big. “I promise you’ll thank me later! I’ve been dying to get my hands on your hair forever now, you have to let me give you a haircut. If not for yourself - you have to do it for me.” 

“You’ve been dying to get your hands on my hair?” Harry teased and her eyes widened. 

“Shut up.” 

✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄

It wasn’t until Harry sat in front of her, with the black cape covered in bleach fastened around his neck, that Y/N realised that she could hear her own heartbeat. The scissors were heavy in her hand. The silence within the four walls around them made her far too aware of every single movement her body made, especially with Harry taking up what felt like the entire room. 

His presence, sitting on the small stool waiting for her to make the first cut, sent an explosion of nerves from the pit of her stomach to the tip of her fingers. It had been over a decade since the first time she cut someone else’s hair, and even back then; she hadn’t been as nervous as she was standing behind Harry - the back of his strong shoulders lightly brushing against her midsection. 

“All right,” she said, more so to herself than him, and placed the scissors down on the tray next to them, not trusting herself and her sweaty palms just yet. “It’s no salon but I’ll try to give you the best non-salon-salon experience you’ve ever had.” 

She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing, quietly sending a distress signal to Little Y/N inside her head - begging her to reprogram her brain from the inside. 

Harry was a normal client. A normal client, whose existence was creating a wall of butterflies within her, but still just a normal client. She knew how to cut hair. Harry’s hair was no different. It was just hair. There was no need to be nervous. “Do you have any specific preferences?” 

“Not really,” he shrugged and turned his head around to glance back at her. “Not too short, I guess. You can do whatever though,” he paused for a second before continuing. “I trust you.” 

Little Y/N was swarmed by the butterflies then, preventing her from doing any kind of reprogramming on the brain. The butterflies decided to shock her, causing an eruption of goosebumps to spread over her body. 

“Okay, sure,” Y/N tried to smile and wiped her hands on the apron again. “I can definitely do that. I’ll just - I’ll cut your hair.” 

“That’s kind of the point of getting a haircut, yeah?” He said and pressed his lips together to stop a smug smirk. 

Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile in return, and snatched the spray bottle filled with water from the same tray the scissors were on, spraying him once right in the face. “Heey!”

A giggle escaped from her when she saw him pouting back at her, and that was enough to ease the irrational nerves in her belly. 

After instructing him to turn back around and sit up straight, she picked the bottle back up to get his brown locks saturated. A part of her regretted the offer to cut his hair at home since she could not give him the full treatment she would’ve been able to give him back at BLOOM. There was no way for her to wash his hair comfortably without a proper wash station, the spray bottle would have to do. But she would’ve loved to ladder up his hair with a good shampoo, a shampoo that wouldn’t completely dry out his strands, and run her fingers through it; giving his scalp a well-deserved massage to help him relax. 

Though, not having a wash station didn’t actually stop her from doing so, she realized. 

With a slight tremble in her hands, she put the bottle down and buried her fingers into his thick curls, running them gingerly over his scalp, creating small circles as she reached the back of his neck. 

Harry let out a content sigh. 

Using her fingers to comb out any tangles in his hair, Y/N gradually moved her fingers across his scalp again, continuing the pattern of small circles. When she reached his temples she added a little pressure to her motions, gently pressing her thumbs into the skin by his hairline. “Mm, that feels nice,” Harry murmured, and a tingle tickled the insides of her tummy as she caught the low moan that followed. 

When it was time to pick up the scissors again Y/N held the sharp item in her hand with a lot more confidence than before.

The first cut came easy, starting at the base of his neck, and the split ends fell to the floor one by one. It wasn’t until she came to the top of his head that a little doubt started to seep through again, uncertain of how short to make his messy waves. While she had been honest when she told him it annoyed her to see his hair always falling into his eyes, the swirls of hair still looked very pretty falling down his forehead and she didn’t want to cut it too short. 

“Is two inches too much?” She hesitated. 

“Take off whatever you need to,” was all he replied. 

Y/N twirled a curl between her fingers, and even when she realized two inches would probably not be enough to remove all the damage, she found herself continuing to play with his damp hair. 

It was addicting. 

Especially as Harry let another low moan slip from his lips.  

As she continued to turn the locks around in her hand Y/N decided two inches would have to do, and she would simply force him to let her put a hair mask in his hair before he left. 

Said and done, she picked the scissors back up and started cutting off the rest of his damaged hair, leaving the top a little longer than the rest. 

He tried to argue with her that she didn’t need to put any kind of treatment on him. But she ran off, retrieving the small tube from her bathroom, before he could figure out how to get up without stepping in all of the hair around him.

“Don’t be a baby,” she joked. “You just have to keep it in for like 15 minutes and you can use my shower to rinse it out. Your hair will thank you! I promise.” 

“It’s really not necessary.” 

“I’m the professional here,” she argued. “Besides, you kind of smell from your run. A shower would do you good.” He didn’t actually, but she really wanted to moisturize the dry locks. “I still have the clothes you let me borrow, you can put them on when you’re done, and really feel your new look!” 

After putting the mask in his hair, as they waited for the timer to go off, Y/N started sweeping the floors to clean up all the hair. 

Harry sat quietly, just watching her, and she cursed herself for not changing out of her old pyjamas. The once neon-coloured shorts had turned into a dull murky pink, and the bows printed across them no longer looked like bows, having faded so much it left the shorts looking dirty instead. They were also far too short for her to wear around someone else. Her cheeks turned hot as she worried he could see her ill-fitting panties through the thin fabric. 

Although she thought, the childish t-shirt with a large photo of Barbie across the chest was probably worse. 

God, she really should’ve changed. 

But, just like the worn-out slippers, it was far too comfortable. The fabric was so soft it felt like air on her skin. A perfect set of clothes to wear when you were just planning to spend the whole day in bed. 

And rather than explaining her unreasonable compulsion to keep everything that reminded her of her childhood, she told him to follow her into the bathroom. 

Once in there, she pulled out her favourite shampoo and conditioner, ordering him to use both, before roaming through her drawers to find the right gel to help his curls transform. 

Then her phone rang, letting them know the 15 minutes were up, and after pulling out a towel for him, Y/N left him alone to do his thing. 

She fell on her bed with a heavy groan, using one of the pillows to silence the loud noise leaving her. Too many thoughts swimming around in her head to get a clear picture of what had just happened. 

If anyone had told her that morning that Harry would show up at her house, let her cut his hair and then take a shower in her bathroom - Y/N would’ve laughed them right in the face. 

Because what an absurd suggestion. Especially after not having talked to him for a week. Harry was not the type of person to casually show up anywhere, nevertheless, show up to see her. 

Although, he did bring her a brownie at work that one time... 

No! she immediately shut her brain down. Don’t start overthinking now. 

Harry had never even acknowledged the potential friendship between them.  Never confirming, nor denying, their deal had maybe developed into something else. 

For all she knew, he was counting down the days until she wouldn’t show up at White Deer to pester him into another brilliant scheme. 

But then, as soon as she heard the shower running from inside the bathroom, images of Harry getting undressed, water dripping down his tired body, breached her already shattered mind. 

The protective instinct to make him feel better had pushed away the unwanted feelings the unanswered text had left her with. She didn’t like not knowing how he was doing or how his day had been. Even if she was the one to usually text him first- he always replied. Always. 

Until last week, and maybe she wasn’t really ready to admit it yet, but she had genuinely missed him. 

The tingle in her stomach, as she had finally been in the same room as him again, caused a flood of mixed emotions to tear down every wall she had ever put up. 

And she didn’t know which one to hold onto to save herself from completely drowning. 

“Um, Y/N?” Harry’s voice interrupted. She lifted her head, the pillow falling down next to her, to see him peeking out from behind the bathroom door. “I have no idea what you want me to do with this gel.” 

“I told you. You have to like scrunch it into your hair - like this,” she scolded him as she sat up, using her right hand to demonstrate the technique she had explained to him earlier.

“How much?” 

“Hang on.” 

Without really thinking twice about it she was back on her feet and made her way back into the bathroom, pushing the door open and basically forcing him to let her in. 

It wasn’t until they were face to face again that she understood that she should’ve stayed put on the bed.

Because as she looked up at him, and she really did try her best to look up, it became painfully hard to ignore the fact that he stood before her with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. 

A couple drops of water fell from his freshly washed hair. Y/N struggled to not let her gaze follow them as they rolled down his chest, following the outlines of his muscles down the patch of hair below his belly button, until said drops were absorbed by the towel hanging loosely around him. “Ehm, you don’t- um, I didn’t- I- Here, I’ll do it for you.” 

She didn’t bother waiting for his reply and snatched the tube of gel out of his hands, needing something to distract herself from his naked body. 

It wasn’t until she had squirted a blob of the gel into her hand and rubbed them together that the flaw in her plan became apparent. To get the gel into his hair she had to get closer, and there was just no way to ignore the toned man in front of her when he was so close. 

The heat from his body captivated her like a moth to a flame, and it left her lightheaded as she let her fingers sink into the wet locks of his hair. Not a single coherent thought went through her head as she tried to hug his strands of hair into their natural wave pattern. She simply had no idea what she was doing, and it wasn’t until she felt his firm hand on her hip that Y/N caught onto the fact that she had lost her footing, stumbling slightly to the side. 

“Y’okay?” His deep voice shook the floor beneath her feet. 

“Mhm,” she hummed quickly, giving him a shaky smile. “Super.” 

“You sure?” Harry pressed, his hand still burning through the thin fabric of her stupid pyjama shorts. “Is your foot hurting?” 

“I’m fine!” Y/N snapped and pulled her hands close to her chest, imagining they would somehow help suppress the sound of her racing heart. “Sorry, um- I’m fine. I-I think that’s good now.” She had to get out of there.“I’ve got a hairdryer in the bottom of that cabinet.” 

Originally, she had planned to dry his hair herself, but her lungs needed air and the stuffy air inside the bathroom had sucked every ounce of oxygen out of her.  “Use it on low heat and, please, do not put it directly on your hair.” 

The sound of the whirring dryer felt miles away as she sat in her bed, just waiting for him to be done. No matter how hard she tried - she couldn’t get the image of wet shirtless Harry out of her mind. It was burned into her memory now, leaving her body to experience all kinds of emotions at once.  

In a desperate attempt to gather herself before Harry came back out, Y/N pulled her computer back onto her lap. She really, really could not allow herself to even begin trying to figure out what any of the conflicting emotions meant, not when he was right there on the other side of the wall. 

When Harry eventually emerged her racing heart had thankfully gone down to its normal rate. He ran a hand through his new hair, giving it a slight shake. 

It was the first real look she got of her work since her head had been elsewhere as soon as he sat down before her. It looked good. The matted waves already had a new life to them, a new shine. While the sides were much shorter, a thick strand fell down from the top of his head in a gorgeous soft-looking curl. 

Y/N couldn’t hold back a smile as she witnessed the new look. It brought a glow to all of him that hadn’t been there before. The shorter style showed off his prominent jawline even more and the familiar itch to run her fingers through it made another appearance.  

Harry stopped before he could reach her, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie timidly. 

“Do you like it?” She asked, chewing on the bottom of her lip, afraid he wouldn’t share her excitement. 

“I do, yeah,” he nodded but didn’t make any indications of moving from the spot he stood frozen. 

“I’m glad,” Y/N breathed out a small sigh of relief. “You look really nice.” 

“Thank you.” 

There was a glimmer behind the green as their eyes locked, leaving her heart to start another game of racing in her chest. Harry ran another hand through his hair, hopefully enjoying the unfamiliar softness of his strands, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed in a deep colour of pink. 

“You can take the gel home with you, and the other stuff too,” she offered softly. “I’ll just get some new ones from work on Monday.” 

He thanked her again and the boyish grin he gave her was perhaps the cutest thing she had ever seen, the corner of his eyes crinkled as his lips parted, showcasing a row of sparkling white teeth. In that short moment, he radiated a brightness, a genuine happiness, she didn’t know he had in him. 

The deep dimple on the side of his cheek was just the icing on the cake. It was enough to completely erase the empty void that had occupied the room for the last couple of days. 

She might’ve screwed herself over by giving him a haircut. 

“Can I join you?” Harry surprised her with his question and nodded to where she was still sitting on the bed.

“O-Of course.” 

It was a different experience having him slide down next to her in her own bed, compared to sharing the cramped twin-sized bed at his place. There was plenty of space for them to share, the mattress didn’t creak under their weight, and a sense of security embraced her as his shoulder pressed against hers. 

And despite the fact that he smelled exactly like how she would after a shower - it was the best thing she had ever experienced. 

“Thank you for this,” he told her then. “Truly.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off his appreciation. “I owe you for helping me with Reece and everything.” 

The mention of the blonde man’s name caused his body to stiffen next to hers and regret immediately soared through her as the mood between them shifted. “I’m just glad you like it,” she added, hoping to save the situation. “I’m also very happy you stopped by. I definitely needed the company. I was worried you had had enough of me after the last time we hung out… I know I annoy you.”  

“Never,” Harry assured her firmly. “It’s just… It’s been a lot. A lot to figure out.” 

Y/N hesitated before speaking again. 

“Are you gonna go back to London?” 

“I don’t know,” he said with a long sigh. 

“Do you want to?” 

“Not really.” 

“Well,” she began and turned her head so she could look him in the eyes again,  feeling the most confident that she had ever been as she prepared her next words. “Screw Patrick and whatever it is he wants you to do then.”

“I’m not so sure it’s that simple.” Harry tilted his head backward, staring up at the ceiling as he let her words sink in. 

“You’re allowed to live your life the way you want to, Harry,” she told him, surprising herself by reaching out and stroking the now shorter lock of hair away, letting her finger linger on his cheek for a moment. “They don’t get to decide what makes you happy. You do.” 

Harry turned to glance at her again, letting himself get a little lost in her touch as she felt him lean into her hand. It was a subtle move on his part, but Y/N didn’t miss it. How could she? When her whole body was filled with wild tremors from his enchanting gaze. 

“Just for the record,” Harry started, his voice no louder than a whisper, and caught her hand in his.  “We are friends, Ducky.” 

And all of a sudden, the stubble across his chin scratched against her face the same way it had the last time she found herself in bed with him. She had no idea how his face had gotten so close to hers. All of her sense had been preoccupied by the way his thumb gently caressed the skin by her knuckles. 

They might not have been drunk, but having him so close again left her head spinning more than tequila ever had. When his warm breath fawned out over her already parted lips, Y/N let her eyes fall shut - determined to not let him slip away from her a second time.

And then he was kissing her, softly at first, only giving her a small taste of himself, his lips grazing hers no more than a light summer breeze would. It didn’t stop the warmth that had been brewing in her belly from boiling over though. 

Her hand fell to the back of his neck and she pushed herself closer, afraid she’d lose the touch of his soft lips if she didn’t. 

It was all it took for him to circle his arm around her, gathering her against his hard chest. He groaned softly, low in his throat, as she clung to him. 

Whatever had held him back as he first took the plunge and let their lips meet in a gentle kiss was gone. His mouth explored hers like he had been starving for the past three months. 

And she kissed him back with the same eagerness, his hair curled around her fingers, now silky and smooth, drawing herself as close as she could. 

The taste of him on her tongue was intoxicating, a delicate whine leaving her when his touch found her skin under her stupid shirt. His fingers digging into her sides, keeping her as close as possible. 

She had been right to think a kiss between them would change everything.

She couldn’t get enough of him, and she knew, knew that she was lost. 

Forever lost in that kiss.

That was until she felt him pull away, heavy breaths mixing between them as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“It’s okay,” she said breathlessly, still keeping her eyes closed in an attempt to wrap her mind around what had just happened. 

“It’s not,” he grumbled, sliding his hands down from under her shirt, leaving the places he had touched feeling cold. Y/N fell back, and Harry took the opportunity to carefully shove her off him. “I have to go.” 

“What?” She blinked her eyes open and watched him scurry around the room to find his shoes and the clothes he had arrived in. “No, it’s- Harry you don’t have to go.” 

If she hadn’t been so stunned by the turn of events the kiss had taken - Y/N would’ve jumped up and blocked him from leaving. Unfortunately, her body was unable to move from where she was still sitting on the bed. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes to anywhere but her, his cheeks rosy and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

“Thank you for the haircut eh- we’ll - I’ll see you around.” 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Y/N felt herself getting swallowed by the hollow void once again. 

.

✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄

A/N:  I’M BACK!! and it was a long one!! As always I’m sorry it’s taken a while, but a lot has been going on in my life. My mum was sick for a bit and some other personal stuff. 

BUT!!! What a ride huh? A lot happened here and I’m dying to know what you all think! I think it’s safe to say Harry is a little scared and our little Ducky is definitely confused to say the least, and there is still much more to come!! I’ll be honest I’m a little scared too, to hear what you all thought of this part. I know there was a lot going on but it needed to happen and it didn’t make sense to split it up anymore than it already is. PLEASE drop a little comment with your thoughts, share and like (if you liked it hehe) 

Until next time, be safe and do things that make you happy<3

💏 TAGLIST: TAGLIST: @annesauriol  @boomitsallie1 @caramello-styles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @perfectywrong @behindmygreyeyes @carolina-kiwi  @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @inlikea-coolway @matildasatellite @duhstyles​ 

let me know if you want to be added<3 

[acapelladitty]

Monomania: Part 3

Summary - As the latest victim of Homelander's cruel and obsessive nature, Hughie Campbell finds himself playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a man who proves just how monstrous a hero can be.

(tw: unhealthy obsession, n-con, manipulation, abusive language/behaviours, forced oral/hj, mild violence)

Parts 1 & 2

"Oi, fuck off, Hughie. There's no way that happened."

Stopping dead in his tracks as he strode through the familiar hallways of Vought HQ, Homelander found himself straining his delicate hearing as he picked up the unmistakably smug and accented voice of William Butcher.

"You really are a fucking gimp." The voice continued, a bellied laugh quickly following the affectionate insult and something in how genuine it sounded sparked a twitch in Homelander's jaw - his stomach roiling with a feeling that a lesser man might call jealousy. Unwilling to contend with the possessive thought for the moment, he straightened his spine and turned the corner, almost walking into the man himself as he rounded the sharp turn.

"William!" Homelander greeted, venom hiding plainly across his tone as his lips stretched into a faux, welcoming grin. "I'm surprised to see you here." His eyes swept past the recognisable glare which William always afforded him to the even taller man standing just behind him - a cruel joy leaping into his chest as he met Hughie's eyes and watched the way that his eyes narrowed, and his hackles raised in an instant.

"And… Hughie, was it? Starlight's little,” he paused, “boyfriend?"

"Aww, you're famous, lad." William countered smoothly, his shoulders shifting to move in front of Hughie's body without thought as he subconsciously stood between the two, taking a moment to glance back at Hughie with a cocked smile. "Look, even the cunts up here know who you are. Remind me to get an autograph on my arse."

Fingers flexing against his gloves, the temptation to snap William’s fucking neck then and there was strong. Not only for the insult, but the way in which he thought he could, even unknowingly, interfere with his ongoing fun sparked a heated rage deep within his chest which surprised even him. Holding back the urge to lash out, Homelander instead settled his weight back on his heels as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, it was a pleasure as always.” Homelander bit out through gritted teeth. “But, places to be, heroic acts to fulfil. See you later, ladies." He smiled, the threat of violence unspoken but always present as he swept past the pair, ensuring to not spare an extra glance in Hughie's direction even as his familiar scent made his nose twitch in anticipation.

William was a wild card in his plans.

He was fond of Hughie, even an idiot could see that. The tight, defensive glare which burned from his skull when Hughie’s life was on the line and his rashness in trying to protect the man wasn’t well hidden. If William suspected anything of his little games then things would grow more complicated than he could be bothered with.

Turning to a new corridor as the two continued to leave, the last snippet of speech which Homelander picked up between the pair was Hughie telling Butcher to hold up in the lobby so he could use the bathroom. At the words, interest peaked in Homelander’s expression as his earlier irritation rose again to prick at his senses.

Perfect.

Oddly enough, Vought did not in fact monitor the bathrooms within the building with anything outside of smoke and carbon monoxide alarms. A fact which made it very easy to slip into the bathroom only a few moments after hearing the door click shut.

As silent as the grave, the small bathroom was empty save for the rhythmic beat of Hughie's heart. Another temptation rose unbidden in his mind, sordid visions of having Hughie on his knees as he swallowed him down making his mouth momentarily dry but again it was too risky to follow through on. Not on home turf. Not with Vought eyes everywhere. There was only so much he could get away with without scandal.

But, like this…

Homelander approached Hughie from behind as he started to fumble with his jeans, his throat humming away at some unknown tune. Hands acting in a flash of movement, his right slipped around to cover Hughie's mouth as his left pushed his lower back forward - pinning him roughly to the wall by the urinal.

A muffled cry of surprise was held in place by his fingers as Hughie's heartrate spiked, rushing his blood around his body in sheer panic as he found himself unable to move.

"Midnight." Homelander growled, enjoying the feeling of power as his fingers pressed into Hughie's spine, knowing that a single squeeze could turn the bones there to dust. "Your apartment. If you're not alone then I'll kill anyone else who's there after having some fun." He paused, tilting his head closer until his nose was practically brushing the thick curls which hung on the back of Hughie's head as he inhaled the woody scent of him deeply.

"And wear something nice, little Hughie. I like effort." Homelander added, allowing his semi-hard bulge to brush against Hughie's hip. "Makes me hard."

And with one final testing sniff of the fear which was beginning to tinge the air, he released his hands and slipped free of the bathroom quicker than the human eye could comprehend.

Zipping from the bathroom to one of the nearby supply closets, Homelander pressed his back gently to the thick wooden door. His cock twitched within his costume, feeling heavy and hard as it remained trapped by the thick fabric, and he rolled the palm of his heel across it, teasing himself with a sharp exhale.

Oh, yes.

He could wait until midnight.

x-x-x-x-x

As the clock ticked down, Homelander couldn't deny the genuine excitement that nipped at his senses. Tonight, he would take his little game to the next level and finally get what he really wanted. The foreplay was all fun but his little interaction with Hughie in the bathroom had only solidified his determination and tonight would prove that Hughie was the right choice. Someone who could give him what he needed.

Patting his pocket to ensure that his planned surprise was safely stowed away, fantasy ruled his thoughts as he took off on the short trip to Hughie's apartment. Images of Hughie, his blazing eyes piercing his own as he wrapped those long legs around his waist, roiled within his mind. Those thin fingers squeezing at his throat as growls, bestial as fuck, slipped free of his curled lips. Hatred and fear. Adrenaline thick in the air. His cock slipping between Hughie's lips as he stared down at him.

Groaning as his feet landed on the balcony once more, Homelander was already breathless, and he took a moment to collect himself before slipping through the door. Immediately, he sensed Hughie and followed his heartbeat to find him sitting on one of the shitty couches which littered his cheaply furnished living room.

Lips splitting into a grin, Homelander took in the dark t-shirt and jeans which housed Hughie’s delightfully lanky frame with a giddy joy.

"Low effort. Wow." He popped his lips on the final word. “Really pulled out all the stops for me.”

"Fuck you." A simple reply as Hughie stood to his full, impressive height - the tension across his shoulders was unmissable. "And fuck whatever this is. But you won't hurt anyone else."

"I don't want to hurt anyone else." Homelander lied.

"Just me. Is that it? Some kind of fucked up punishment for Annie or Butcher just because you can't get to them instead?" Thoughts running away with him, Hughie's voice raised an octave as he quickly grew defensive at his continued confusion with his own predicament. "I won't hurt them. Annie. Butcher. Whatever sick shit you're planning. I won't. You'd be better killing me now."

"It's you I want, little Hughie. And as a show of," Homelander ruffled his shoulders until a satisfying pop went through his neck, "good will for our new arrangement, I even brought you this."

Throwing the item in his pocket over to Hughie's chest, he watched as Hughie caught it and brought it to eye level in the dim lighting before continuing.

"Take it."

Gazing down at the vial of compound v with obvious uncertainty, Hughie could only manage out a soft. "What? Why?"

"Take. It."

"Why?"

"You don't want to find out what'll happen if you don't." Homelander smiled, a strained smirk which did nothing to hide his irritation at the delay. "Trust me, little Hughie, you'll need your strength if you want to stand a chance against me. Take it and then you can get me. You can have me."

That did it, and a desperate determination entered Hughie's features as he slammed the small vial of liquid back. It was a determination which made Homelander's gut clench as he sadistically looked forward to stripping it away from him piece by sorry piece.

Arousal aside, it was interesting to watch a human react to the compound. Hughie's heartbeat picked up in an instant, pacing so quickly that Homelander watched with open fascination as his limbs trembled and a thin sheen of sweat erupted on his forehead. His movements even became quicker, fingers clenching and unleashing so quickly that it would be difficult for normal eyes to pick them up.

Little Hughie was all juiced up and Homelander held back a grunt as something unexpected joined the growing scent of sweat and adrenaline in the air.

Arousal.

Arousal which was definitely not his own.

In an instant and clearly hoping to catch him off-guard, Hughie lunged for him and Homelander laughed breathily as the sudden force knocked them both to the floor in a pile of thrashing limbs. Hughie's carpets were in rough shape, the stink of some cheap cleaning power making Homelander's noise twitch but he ignored it in favour of focusing on the welcomed heat which now pinned him to the floor.

Hughie's movements were a mess, the fresh power coursing through his veins making him jerky and uncontrolled. Almost animalistic in his unrestrained aggression as he straddled Homelander's waist.

"See. Now you have me. What next?" Homelander asked, his hips rolling despite himself as he ground himself into Hughie’s ass.

"Going to," Hughie panted and his fingers looped around Homelander's neck, "kill you."

"Really?" Homelander tutted, one hand wrapping around Hughie's hands to prevent any actual strangulation while the other dropped to Hughie's hip, fingers squeezing at the flesh there roughly enough to ensure some wicked bruising. "Do you think that's what's going to happen here?"

"Fuck. You." Hughie growled, some strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead with the effort of his movements.

"Maybe." Eyes dilating at the prospect, Homelander gave a mocking chuckle as he considered it. "But not tonight, little Hughie. Tonight, you're going to touch me."

"You're disgusting."

"And if you don't then I'll have to find someone else to do it. Maybe sweet Annie. I hear she's good with her mouth."

Pain, sharp and delicious, ricocheted through his jaw as Hughie's fist connected with his face. The sensation sparked a bloodlust which made his cock twitch and his tongue flick against his slack lips as he took in Hughie's furious gaze. The hand which had been pressing into Hughie's hips dropped, instead grasping messily at the seam of his costume as he struggled to pull the fabric down to free his cock.

Feeling the struggle as his gaze dipped to watch, revulsion twisted Hughie's features but with it came a hateful acceptance as he released Homelander's neck and instead slipped his ass back far enough to allow Homelander to slide his costume down far enough to allow his cock to spring free – the length immediately jutting proudly as it brushed his lower stomach.

Silence reigned for a moment, awaiting the break that would be the point of no return and Homelander gnashed his teeth impatiently as he snapped his hand around Hughie's wrist, forcing his hand onto his aching cock. The relief was immediate as the heat from Hughie's palm seemed to scorch the sensitive skin of his cock, giving him something concrete and cruel to focus on as his other hand slipped around Hughie's thigh, fingers digging in to his jeans.

Hughie's grip tightened painfully and Homelander unleashed a strangled gasped as Hughie’s fingers moved almost experimentally across his length - the bottom of his fist brushing the smattering of blonde pubic hair which lined the base of his cock.

"You're disgusting." Hughie spat, his anger and humiliation at being forced to pleasure a man he saw as a monster making his eyes flash and teeth bare themselves like an animal. "And this is fucked. It’s sick."

"But you're so good at it." Homelander countered with a throaty purr as his hips helped to thrust his cock into the hand jerking him off. "Look at how good you're doing it. Like you were made t-"

"You're a real fucking monster and I want to hear you admit it."

"Yeah, I'm a monster." Homelander gasped out, the words garbled and unclear as his breath caught in his throat due to Hughie's fingers brushing the ultra-sensitive ridge where his cockhead met the shaft. Hughie’s hand was dry and rough, almost irritating in how little it cared for his pleasure, and that dismissal made his head feel light as he allowed the rawness of the sensation to claw across his aching groin.

As though sensing his enjoyment, Hughie released his cock long enough to land a rough punch to his jaw, the blow forcing his head to the side once more as colour bloomed high in his cheeks at the rough contact.

"Say it right.”

"I'm a monster."

This time, the words were more of a whine as Homelander canted his hips against Hughie's ass - wordlessly begging for his hand again. True disgust rolled across Hughie's face as he reluctantly obliged, his fingers dropping to Homelander's cock once more to catch his aching length in a grip that would have been unbearably painful for a regular man.

"You're pathetic and cruel." Hughie continued, every snapped word matched by his hand as he twisted his wrist with each velvety jerk. "You're fucking sick. Insane."

Pinned to the floor and so fucking hard that he felt his cock was going to explode, Homelander could only whimper out weak agreements as his fingers clawed at Hughie's shoulders.

Pathetic.

Cruel.

Monster.

"Yes." Homelander agreed, repeating the word like a mantra as he chased his release. The tight band of arousal in his groin felt ready to snap, and his blurred eyes met Hughie's as he grunted out his pleasure.

There, buried beneath the hatred and disgust, lay a twisted satisfaction which made his balls tighten and his cock spasm; thin ropes of his release coating both his cock and the hand which continued to pump him through his orgasm. Hughie’s rough grip refused to relent, as though determined to force him to feel every touch and it prolonged the obscene line of pleasure and pain which his spasming cock was enduring.

Hughie liked hurting him.

Liked hitting him and humiliating him.

Little Hughie enjoyed hurting him in a way that he understood far too well and that was enough for him to know he had made the right choice.

His.

Distracted as he were, Homelander almost didn't notice when Hughie released his cock until thin fingers were pushing at his lips with a brutal insistence. Drained from his orgasm, he opened his mouth as prompted and was immediately met with the taste of his own release as Hughie thrust his cum-soaked fingers deeply into his mouth.

It was unexpected and so fucking hot that Homelander couldn't stop his tongue from wrapping around the thin fingers as the salty tang of his mess clouded his senses further. Turned out Hughie had more in him that he could have suspected, and he played his part well as his rage and humiliation channelled into a very decent handjob.

Maybe he did deserve a reward and a cruel idea alit in Homelander's mind, something he suspected would solidify Hughie as his own and put an end to any dipshit ideas that he had any control between them.

Knocking Hughie to his back with one swift push, Homelander didn't give him a moment to breathe before his shaky hands were fumbling messily at Hughie's jeans until he had enough purchase to pull Hughie's cock free of his boxers.

A part of Homelander, the part that was still firmly rooted in the sickness of reality, knew that Hughie was only hard because of the adrenaline of the compound v; his cock responding to the fact that his heart was attempting to beat itself out of his chest. But an even deeper part of him understood that the darkness he saw reflected in Hughie was truly relishing the chance to punish him, to make him suffer for his 'wrongs', and that part of him would always make sure that he was ready to hurt him in the way that he wanted.

Fuck, he needed to taste him.

The saltiness of his own release was still harsh against his tongue and the pure need to wash it away with something even more twisted gnawed at his chest. It was too difficult to ignore, not that he tried, and he slid his body down Hughie's in an almost serpentine motion until he was able to kneel with his face coming to a halt between Hughie's outstretched legs.

Keeping a grip on Hughie's cock, Homelander marvelled for a moment at how long is felt in his palm. Longer than his own for sure but not quite as thick, and where his cock was ringed by a halo of pristine golden pubes, Hughie opted for a more closely shaven look with his pubic hair being dark and stubbled across the base of his cock.

"N-no!" Hughie stuttered, bravado fleeing him as he looked down his own body and realised what was going to happen. The horror washing across his face was as pretty as a picture and Homelander tilted his head to take it in better. "This isn't- you can't fucking do that."

"Can't? I can do anything I want. I'm the fucking Homelander."

And with that, Homelander strengthened his grip on Hughie's cock as he closed his lips over the head, his tongue quickly darting forward to wrap around and taste the new experience while his eyes marvelled at the aroused nausea which crossed Hughie’s features at the explicit act he was being made to endure.

Lacking experience, Homelander knew that his head skills were a mess as he tried to imitate the many people who had blown him over the years. His hand pumped gently across the base of Hughie's length, conscious of his vast strength, as his lips sucked at the head - knowing how sensitive his own was and how it was likely that Hughie would be the same.

A sharp pain in his scalp made him grunt as Hughie's fingers tugged at his hair, weakly attempting to pull him free of his cock as a series of gasping pleas and refusals broke free of his stuttering lips.

"What's that, little Hughie? Speak up. Kinda busy down here." Homelander darted his eyes between Hughie's face and the cock which now lay only an inch from his lips, coated by his own saliva and wickedly hard despite its owners’ protestations.

"Please, don't. Don't make me do it."

"I'm not making you do anything. I mean, look what you did for me. I'm just returning the favour. If you don't like me doing it then-"

Homelander’s gloved finger trailed along the tip of Hughie's cock, gathering a little of the pre-cum which was leaking from his tip. Bringing it to his lips, he made a loud popping noise with his finger as he licked it up with a cruel smile.

"-why the fuck are you as wet as a slut?

"You fucker!" Hughie hissed, his eyes glistening with a frustrated moisture as his body betrayed him. "Bastard! You knew what the compound v would do! You fucking knew! This isn't- I don't want this!"

Homelander hummed in quiet disagreement, sucking Hughie's cock between his lips once more as he kept him pinned to the floor by his hips. The scent of Hughie, the natural musk which seemed to haunt the man, invaded his senses and he sighed out in satisfaction as Hughie's cock gave a very definite twitch in his mouth and he knew that the inevitable was approaching.

With a strangled noise, a mild sob which could easily be mistaken for a groan, Hughie came and victory clawed around Homelander's heart as his unwanted release flooded his mouth. Ropes of cum coated his tongue and he swallowed them down greedily, making a show of his win by refusing to let up on his torments - continuing to lick and tease away at Hughie's cock until his struggles grew more desperate as overstimulation quickly set in.

Taking pity on his defeated prey, Homelander released him. In a few sharp movements, Hughie was gone from him in a flash - his body backing off across the carpet until his back struck the nearby wall. His softening cock hung free of his jeans, the tip of it glistening with his release and Homelander's spit and the expression on his face was so beautifully broken that Homelander remained on his stomach for a moment to admire it.

"Not so 'little' Hughie then." Homelander purred, sadistic joy at how perfectly his evening had gone making him chatty. "If I'd know that then maybe I would have set us up quicker than this. I think I'll blame William and his pointless vendetta."

"Leave-" Hughie muttered out, his voice hollowed, "just leave me alone."

Rising to his knees, Homelander followed Hughie's path towards the wall as he crawled towards him, only coming to a pause right in front of his prone frame. From here, the visible tremble of Hughie’s limbs as his arms wrapped around his knees was clear and Homelander almost felt a tendril of pity for him.

"Can't. Sorry." Homelander confessed, not truly feeling very sorry at all. "But I think we both know you're not mad at me. Nope. You're pissed that you came and that you liked making me come."

Whatever protests Hughie had went killed in the crib by Homelander placing one gloved finger over his lips.

"I saw it and if you lie it'll just make me angry."

"Why the compound v?" Hughie asked, the question catching Homelander off guard as his bleary eyes caught his own. "Why bother? It doesn't make a difference. Didn’t work."

"Despite what you think, little Hughie, I don't want you to break too easily. The compound v keeps things,” he hesitated to think of the best word to use, “interesting."

"Why me?"

His cock softened and sated, Homelander took a moment to tuck it away back into his costume as he fixed himself up fully.

"Because I can." Was his easy reply as he stood to his feet and ruffled his hand in Hughie's hair like stroking a well-behaved pup. "And because you've been a pain in my ass for too long. C'mon little Hughie, don’t be so glum, it'll be a ride and I'll always make sure that you get yours as much as I get mine."

That thought, more than anything else, seemed to be the straw that broke the camels’ back as a dry retch caught in the back of Hughie's throat and his unfocused eyes dropped to the floor.

Moving towards the kitchen to return to his easy escape route on the balcony, Homelander stopped long enough to throw one last dig at his new favourite toy.

"And remember, not a word to anyone about our little bouts of fun. I don’t share my things well."

With that, Homelander took off once more, diving into the night sky with a satisfied smile which those who knew him best shudder to understand as being one born of sadistic delight.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - March 5th

I’m going to be incredibly busy over the next few weeks so how many stories I read will be less than normal--hopefully it’ll even out some in April. In the meantime, enjoy this week’s recs and be sure to give a comment/kudos for your fic authors! 

~*~

***Covered in Lines by royal_chandler

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

The Sea is Calling by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday)

The storm took everything from Steve and left him empty and alone.

Tony has been swept away on the rough tides, taken from everything and everyone he loves.

The sea takes and takes and takes and gives nothing back.

adjustment period by mistymountainking

Tony and Steve have been together for a while now. They love each other a truly sickening amount. Unfortunately, Tony's issues have issues.

only a kiss by mistymountainking

Tony wouldn’t be the first to admit it—he wouldn’t be the third or the fifth or the fiftieth, even—but he’s a very physically affectionate person. For a man who doesn’t like being handed things, he loves using his hands to show his fondness for others. He has his little touches, arm pats, shoulder squeezes, handshakes; hugs are almost exclusively reserved for Rhodey and Pepper (Happy, Steve’s learned, isn’t a hugger), but no one is exempt from being kissed when the mood strikes Tony Stark.

No one except Steve, apparently.

a moment in the sun by mistymountainking

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

***

a prompt fill for an anon on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony + Tony designing prosthetics for wounded vets

breathe with me by mistymountainking

“If footage from my sweet sixteen made it into this lineup, we’re watching all three Die Hards."

It’s Wednesday, and Wednesday means movie night at the mansion.

***

a prompt fill for lovingcookiemonsterblog on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony + "You're not worth it."

we'll hold each other (soon) by mistymountainking

Moments after the bright blue light of Tony’s arc reactor goes dark, Steve knows what he has to do.

 ***

written as a prompt fill for anon on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony post-Endgame fix-it fic.

tomorrow can wait (come whatever) by mistymountainking

The picture isn’t damning, Steve reminds himself. They aren’t engaged. They aren’t dating. They’re just friends. The pose is damning enough, but he’d be an idiot if he didn’t admit, at least to himself, that it’s his face that sells it. His face is why The Picture™ has been the #1 trending thing on Twitter for going on twelve hours, and why Clint whistled Wagner’s bridal chorus at him when they walked back into the tower last night.

He looks like he’s in love. Which is fair, because he is. With Tony.

His fiancé.

***

Steve and Tony are photographed mid-battle, which is par for the course. By the time they get home, the whole world thinks they're engaged, which is...not. But it's not a big deal—they'll figure things out eventually.

Excuses, excuses by S_Horne

“It was just that last lecture, the one on Wednesday,” Steve started, plucking his notebook off the top of his book pile and flicking through it. “I left feeling a little confused. I understood it all, but it wasn’t my favourite one. Do we have to write the paper on that topic, or can I focus on something else?”

Tony laughed as he pushed his chair backwards and stood. “That,” he said as he rounded the desk, “has got to be the worst excuse you’ve come up with yet. And I’m including the time that you came to tell me that the lights had been left on in my classroom.”

***a rose by any other name by meidui

“Just Steve,” he says quickly, softly, and his voice is music to Tony’s ears. “Please call me Steve.”

Tony can’t help but stare as it occurs to him that he should have prepared a proper greeting. What on earth is someone so young and pretty doing in an engagement like this?

-

There are a lot of things about Steve that make this arrangement easier than Tony thought it would be, but then there are a lot of things about him that complicate it, too.

flight risk by meidui

Tony is discharged from the hospital on his birthday, a beautiful May afternoon. The kind of sunshine that warms you up forever.

Mine by tinystark616

Steve doesn't have a problem with the fact that Tony likes to have one-night stands. It's none of his business. That is, until he has to witness Tony making out with Thor right in front of him.

tony's stickers of love by ArabellaAM

When Tony prints a couple of "Tony Stark Approved" stickers as a joke, the last thing he expects is to end up covering Steve's heart with them.

What if I Were To by blue_jack

“I know I said you could pick my next PA, but this is ridiculous.”

I Hear the Winter's Leave by thistlethorns

The thing is, Tony genuinely didn't know he had a soulmate.

time cannot replace by SailorChibi

When Steve is told that he has amnesia and has forgotten the past three years, naturally the first thing he does is call his boyfriend, Tony.

A Common Guttersnipe by betheflame 

When Steve Rogers walks down the runway, Tony Stark stops breathing. He must have this man as a client - he can make him the biggest movie star the world has ever known.

And then they meet, and Steve opens his mouth, and that accent nearly kills Tony. He makes Steve a bet - in six months, he can make even Anna Wintour think that Steve graduated from Phillips Exeter, and in return, Steve will let Tony sign him as a client.

Steve takes the bet, thinking he has nothing to loose.

And then he learns that the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain, that he could have danced all night, and that the world will still run without Tony Stark, but goddamn if he wants it to.

The Space Stone by TheDrow

Steve returns to put the Tesseract back… except its not as easy as he originally thought. And there’s someone in the past that he’s actively trying to avoid…

[bbutterflies]

all my fics! 💕

my ao3

organized by ship and then chronologically with most recent works on top. I tag everything related to my fics with their title! if you search my blog for the fic name any updates/art/etc I've posted should come up 💕

(there's so many I thought maybe it's time to put these under a cut so my page isn't overwhelmed with this post, you can see them all with brief summaries below!)

Adrino - multichapter

Everything I've wanted (wip) 13k/4 of 12 chapters After Nino kisses a stranger in a bar who turns out to be Adrien Agreste, he gets swept up in the media storm and agrees to fake date him until things calm down. Except neither of them plan on developing real feelings. Fake dating, idiots (affectionate) to lovers, lots of mutual pining.

If I hold you too close (wip) 51k/15 of 21 chapters Adrien gave up his Miraculous in the chaos of the end of season 5, leaving him in London for years and Nino taking his place with the ring. Lots of angst and comfort as Adrien tries to come home again and reconnect with everyone he'd left behind.

Chemistry with him 52k/30 chapters Written for Ninovember 2023! Super fluffy Adrino meet cute in chemistry class, learning to love each other along the way.

The moment I knew (I'd no choice but to love you) 36k/12 chapters It's totally possible to pretend to date your best friend and not fall in love, right? Fake dating with plenty of fluff and mutual pining.

promise me forever 62k/23 chapters Adrino-focused, mostly fluff, they're in love and domestic and happy, college-aged au

I'll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious) 31k/7 chapters Adrino-focused, post Hawkmoth defeat with a hefty dose of angst/comfort, mutual pining, and identity reveal

Adrino - oneshots

love you in the dark 5k words Friends with benefits except it's tragic. Emotional hurt (a lot of it)/comfort.

Love you snow much 1k words Ice skating date and some fluffy winter fun.

Not much of a cat person 3.2k words Adrien is trying to catch a stray cat outside his apartment, and gets his (really cute) neighbor's help.

The memories we (don't) make 3.4k words Adrino except they're drunk and they make out (a lot) and that's, like, totally normal. For sure. Definitely.

ways to say I love you 600 words Adrino where Adrien purrs. That's it <3

Falling into place 2.6k words You know when you're queer and a teenager and in love with your best friend? That but it's Adrino

Lovesquare

fine line 5k words What happens if you try to be someone you're not on a superhero scale? Loveybug/Catwalker angst

Meant to be and Intertwined 45k/14 chapters and 21k/9 chapters Lovesquare college au with different heroes, where Marinette and Adrien still find each other; and a few post-story drabbles

I'd fall in love with you a thousand times 52k/13 chapters Lovesquare memory loss au post Hawkmoth defeat, falling in love again

Out of Step 41k/8 chapters Lovesquare kwami swap au with some angst/comfort thrown in

[taizi]

walk with open hands

tmnt 2k12 pairing: mikey & renet, mikey & splinter word count: 8k title borrowed from somewhere by run river north

read on ao3

x

Mikey’s nowhere near as smart as Donnie, he’s not a tactical genius like Leo, but he’s not an idiot, either. He’s seen enough Saturday night sci-fi to know the dangers of this wild, reckless, they’d-ground-you-for-three-years-if-they-knew idea. 

When Renet—sweet, spirited, scatterbrained Renet—accidentally left one of her clocks behind, Mikey should have said something. He should have called out to her before she bounced back through that portal into Null Time. 

He definitely shouldn’t have swept the clock off the table and into his belt without saying a word. 

Raph is the only one in the room who catches the flicker of movement, because he’s standing at just the right distance, eyes pointed at just the right angle. He flicks a glance at Mikey, and… well, maybe this distance that’s grown between them since sensei died is a good thing, after all. A month ago, Raph would have read him like a book and called him out on whatever suspicious thing his expression gave away. This version of Raph looks at this version of Mikey for a few seconds and then looks away. Which is a good thing. 

Renet waves a cheerful goodbye to his brothers, blows an affectionate kiss to Mikey because they’re besties, and Mikey beams back at her like he didn’t just do something bad. The stolen device in Mikey’s belt feels white-hot, like it’s going to burn clear through the leather in a minute. There’s still time—there’s still a minute, then a few seconds, then an instant where he could say “hey, actually—” 

He doesn’t. She leaves. His brothers drift away to their respective corners of the lair. Donnie half-heartedly scoots Mikey out of his lab. Mikey goes to his room, and closes the door, and leans back against it. 

Then he slides all the way to the floor, bringing up his knees, and takes the clock out. In the shelter of his curled limbs, it glows a faint gold. It feels warm, like a friend. He winds its long chain around his finger idly. 

“This is a stupid idea,” Mikey tells it in confidence.

The thing is. The thing is, Mikey’s scared. The lair—his home, his always-home—has become someplace unfamiliar and unsafe. His brothers are inching into strangers. Everything about Mikey’s life that made it warm and good must have belonged to sensei, because without him, it’s all different. 

He found Leo crying in the dojo this morning. He didn’t mean to. He can’t get it out of his head. The sound of his big brother’s choked silence, the sight of his shaking shoulders and his hands pressed over his face like he could force all the anguish back down if he tried hard enough. 

Raph is spending more and more time somewhere, anywhere else. Donnie keeps skipping meals, rarely leaving the lab unless Casey or April drag him out. And Leo is crying when there’s no one around to see. 

If Mikey can fix it… if he can change things back… it would be worth all the trouble he’s going to get into for trying in the first place.

He closes his fingers around the clock. Welp. No time like the present. 

“Hah,” he says to himself. He feels a little blurry and wet and wobbly, but he still musters up a smile. “I’ve already got the jokes! Let’s see if I’ve got the moves.”

This thing doesn’t exactly come with an instruction manual, but Mikey’s always been more of a hands-on learner. And Renet talks about her work all the time, in the off-handed, confident way any other master of their craft might.  

Most of it, she said recently, like, ninety-nine point nine percent of it, is all heart. It’s magic, not science. Anyone halfway familiar with the mystic arts could probably puzzle it out! 

He thinks he can see what she means now. With his eyes closed, and the room all still and silent around him, the clock’s quiet ticking takes on a different tone. Mikey can hear it in his mind, on that inner plane he glimpsed sometimes during meditation when he was a child, the one he became familiar with during his vision quest. His brothers’ qi signatures all live there, safe and tucked away and precious. Things make sense there, effortlessly, in a way Mikey has never been able to explain out loud.

The clock finds a little nook for itself in that plane and settles down and stretches out, like Icky when she’s getting comfy in a new bowl. It doesn’t actually speak or anything, because it’s a clock—but it’s alive in a different way, and radiates a sense of approval. Sort of like it’s saying Okay, yeah. You’ll do.

The faint warmth in Mikey’s hands burns a little hotter, building into a packed heat, and just when Mikey thinks he’s going to have to drop it, everything around him disappears. 

 #

“Remember boys!” Renet says, bubbly and excited, clapping her hands together. “Time marches on its stomach! Let’s go!”

Her voice comes out of nowhere. With a jolt, Mikey hops to his feet. He’s not in his bedroom anymore. He’s—back in the lab. They’re all back in the lab. Only there’s another version of himself standing across the room, sandwiched between his brothers, watching with wide eyes as Renet opens up a bright portal to the past. 

He remembers this. This is one of the first trips they ever took with her, that time with the dinosaurs, when her scepter got lost in a lake and they were attacked by Utrom scientists and Raphael adopted baby Pepperoni. This happened barely a year ago. 

It worked, Mikey thinks, too stunned to feel any particular way about it. And then year-ago-Raph turns his head and Mikey ducks behind a metal tool cabinet on pure reflex. 

“What?” Leo says. He’s so bright and light on his feet. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them in the future. He’s still got some childhood left in his eyes. 

“Thought I heard something,” Raph replies. He shrugs, unbothered. “Well, are we goin’ or what? Move it, Fearless, or I’ll move it for you.”

“That doesn’t make sen—hey, woah, don’t push me in!”

“I don’t get it,” the other Mikey pipes up. It’s so weird. Mikey remembers this exact conversation, and now he’s looking at it from the outside. The other Mikey looks up at Donnie and says, “How does time march on its stomach?”

“She meant ‘an army marches on its stomach’,” Donnie replies, tapping at his phone. “It’s an old proverb about the importance of being prepared.”

“How is that a proverb about that?” Other Mikey complains. “Smart people are just making this stuff up. Don’t even try to deny it Doctor Dee.”

Donnie laughs like it was surprised out of him. He glances away from his phone to tilt a crooked grin Other Mikey’s way. “If it’s a smart-people conspiracy, you must be in on it with me.”

They’re still ribbing each other as they follow their brothers through the magic window. They used to be best friends. It used to be so easy. Back then Mikey didn’t know to hang onto those little moments—he didn’t know they were something he could lose.

He stays where he is until the room is empty and the portal is closed. And then he lets out a big breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and throws both his hands in the air, and shouts, “YES!”

For the first time in weeks, he feels energized, like he grasped a livewire. Maybe there’s some electricity left in his veins after all. He looks down at the clock and feels good. Feels like he’s got a real shot at this. 

The clock gives him its best impression of a smile. It seems to be asking Where to next?

Well, obviously, they’re going back to the worst night of Mikey’s entire life. Where else?

 # 

The worst night of Mikey’s entire life is one he can recall in perfect vivid detail, 4K resolution and surround sound, down to the tangy taste of metal in his mouth and the feeling of sweat and tacky blood cooling on his skin in the brisk night air.

He usually keeps that memory shut up in a box and shoved down in the back of his brain, because it’s safer than thinking about it constantly and hurting all the time, like his big brothers do. 

The clock is hanging around his neck by its chain, so it doesn’t burn his hands, but his hands still get hot. He flaps them a bit, trying to cool them down, and that’s when he notices little streaks of gold that cut through the green skin on his palms and wrists. 

Okay, well. That can’t be a good thing. He’ll circle back to it later. 

Up ahead, he sees his dad. Mikey’s heart flies into his throat and stays there. It takes an impressive amount of self-control he didn’t even know he had not to immediately give himself away.

Splinter has discovered the two trails outside the Mutanimals’ place. They’re about to split up, and Leo doesn’t like it at all, but Splinter is adamant. The approaching sirens are swelling louder and louder and there isn’t time to argue.

Mikey watches from behind a crumbling wall of the destroyed hideout as the Other Mikey climbs into the Shellraiser with Donnie and Leatherhead, and then Leo reluctantly follows. The tail lights blaze through the dark and the tank roars away.

Mikey waits until Splinter’s group has gone about half a city block before he scrambles out of hiding and rushes after them. He only barely remembers to yank the clock from around his neck and cram it into his belt before his family—his past-family—is stopping in their tracks and staring at him. 

“Michelangelo?” Splinter says. His voice is stern, but leaning towards surprise rather than anger. Mikey doesn’t want him to get angry, and he shuffles frantically through his brain for a good way to explain why he’s here instead of where he’s supposed to be. It takes an extra second, because now he’s full of a painful, complicated feeling that came from hearing his dad say his name. 

“Um, uh, Renet showed up! Right there in my seat! You know how she portals in out of nowhere?” Mikey says quickly. Renet is always down for shenanigans, she’d back him up no questions asked if anyone tried to cross-check his story. Maybe less-so when she discovers that he stole from her, but frankly those are future problems for future Mikeys. “She said she wanted to help. And since she’s extra firepower, Leo sent me after you guys.”

He tries for a smile, but it feels tight and weird. He’s thrumming with nervous energy, but tonight of all nights, that isn’t so out of place. April’s fierce expression softens, and Raph and Casey both gravitate closer to him without seeming to realize they’ve done it. 

Splinter pauses and studies Mikey for a moment that feels daring with all the flashing lights and police sirens approaching, probably only a few streets away by now. Then the old master sighs, and says, “Very well.” The steel in his brown eyes gentles. “Try not to run ahead, Michelangelo.” 

“You betcha!” Mikey says, throwing in a salute for good measure. His family all huff out their own versions of tired amusement, and Splinter turns to lead the way forward. 

Mikey is usually very proud of his ability to draw smiles out of dark and unhappy times, but he barely feels the warmth of the accomplishment now. His mind is racing. 

When he lived this moment for real, he was on Coney Island with his twin and their big brother and his favorite alligator, dodging ballistic carousel missiles and doing his best not to get skewered by any of the grown-up mutants who hated his family so much they were willing to throw in with an actual comic book supervillain just to hurt them. 

Mikey had been plenty occupied, and his worry for the rest of his clan was a quiet, simmering, back-of-the-mind thing. He was still stupid enough back then to believe that the good guys always win at the end of the story. Even when Bebop and Rocksteady took off, and April Facetimed Donnie with panic in her voice, and it was immediately clear their two groups had been split up on purpose—Mikey was worried, but he wasn’t afraid. 

He should have been afraid. 

To make up for it, he’s really scared now.

No one really talks about this night—not to Mikey, anyway. He overheard April telling Leo the details in a hoarse, grief-stricken voice, some early gray morning at the North Hampton farmhouse a few days after the funeral. That’s the only reason Mikey knows what to expect as they stop on top of a brownstone building, and Splinter points up at the roof of the Wolf Hotel, where he can sense the Shredder is lurking. 

Okay, Mikey, he thinks, his heart in his throat. This is it. How are we feeling, clock?

The clock doesn’t answer, ticking quietly in the back of his mind. Mikey chooses to take that as a good sign.

As they’re racing up the stairs of the hotel, Mikey does a double-take around the seventh floor and clocks how April and Casey are both struggling to keep up. Well, of course they are. Mutagen aside, Mikey and his brothers have more than ten years of ninjutsu training under their belts. Their cardio is next-level. 

It’s weird that no one else has offered to help his human siblings. Or—maybe someone did last time and Mikey’s presence here has messed things up. Okay! He’ll just fix it!

“Oh, whoops!” Mikey says, his voice bouncing around in the metal stairwell. He slides down the handrail back to the last landing and lands in a neat crouch. “Here, sis, hop on. Doesn’t make sense to start a boss battle with a status effect on one of our tanks!”

April blinks and then her face lights up with a smile. She accepts the offer of turtle-back ride cheerfully, winding her wiry-muscled arms around his shoulders without fuss. Casey says, “Um, what the hell? I call favoritism!”

“You didn’t already know April was my favorite?” Mikey asks judgmentally. April giggles beside his ear and Casey makes an offended squawking sound. Mikey can feel Splinter’s attention pointed towards him, so the second April is secure, he starts up the stairs again at full ninja-speed. He laps Raphael, who gives him a sidelong look that Mikey doesn’t have time to decipher. 

Mikey catches up to Splinter and Slash by the next floor, and Splinter doesn’t scold him. He hears Raph say, “Here, idiot,” somewhere behind and below him, and presumably the angry-cat noise that follows is because Raph scooped Casey off his feet into a princess carry. 

Good, Mikey thinks, optimism rising inside him like a little balloon. Now everyone will face the Shredder fighting-fit. By the time they spill out onto the rooftop, April is brimming with energy, and Casey and Raph are feeding off each other like a closed circuit of crazy, reckless, do-or-die team spirit, and Slash looks ready to kill for any single one of them. 

When the Shredder arrives, twisted and ugly and barely even human anymore, Mikey hopes that he’s stacked the cards enough in their favor to make a difference. 

Twenty minutes later, he watches the gauntlet punch through Splinter’s chest, and he realizes he didn’t make any difference at all.

It’s the worst night of his entire life, in 4k resolution and surround sound, and now he’ll get to relive it from this brand new angle, too. 

Mikey fumbles for the clock. He tries to leave before Leo starts screaming, but he doesn’t quite make it. 

 #

The clock takes him back to the lair. It’s instantly familiar, instantly comforting, if not quite the same home Mikey left at the beginning of his trip. This lair looks the way it did before it was destroyed in the Kraang invasion, so he must have jumped even further into the past this time.

Mikey is pacing before he’s even aware he’s moving in the first place. His hands are still glowing and now they’re kind of sore, the kind of soreness that lingers like a footprint after muscle cramps. His whole body is trembling. On autopilot, he picks up a hoodie draped over the back of a chair and tugs it on with clumsy, mechanical yanks, but that doesn’t stop him from shaking. 

His mind is busy and buzzing and he can’t think. He’s trying really really hard not to think, because if he does, he’ll think about—

“Michelangelo?” 

Mikey’s head snaps up like a rubber band, so fast it hurts his neck. His father is standing in the doorway, whole and unharmed and strong. He tilts his head, taking in the probably dumb way Mikey is just standing there staring up at him. 

He’s alive. In this moment, in this memory, he’s alive. But just a minute ago he was dying, he was choking on blood and then he was gone, and no matter how many times Mikey cried for him he didn’t come back. 

Mikey’s chest feels like it’s closing around all his squishy insides like a fist. It’s really hard to breathe in a way that isn’t just desperate gulping gasps for air, so he holds his breath. It’s a good and useful thing that aquatic turtles can do it for a long time. 

“I thought you and your brothers had left already,” the rat says mildly.

“We did? I mean, uh, yeah, we did,” Mikey says. He watches Splinter’s expression tighten in tiny inscrutable ways, and knows he didn’t do a very good job of sounding normal. So he clears his throat and finds a lopsided smile and tries again. “I just had to come back for something.”

“I see.” 

Splinter regards him for a moment and then crosses that last handful of steps to meet him. Mikey plucks anxiously at the long sleeves of the oversized hoodie, double-checking that his glowing hands are covered. 

If his father finds anything strange about it, he doesn’t say. He just reaches out and fixes the hood where it’s bunched up behind Mikey’s head, lightly tugs at the lines of the sweater so that they lay straight, then lets his hands rest there on Mikey’s shoulders.

It’s enough on its own to make Mikey’s eyes all wet.

“Were you cold, my son? The weather is changing. Perhaps you and your brothers shouldn’t leave without an extra layer until winter is past. You know how I worry.”

It’s such a dad thing to worry about. Leo makes sure they wake up and do chores and come home when they’re supposed to, and Raph guards against bad dreams and real dangers, and Donnie plays doctor and mediator and everything in between, and Mikey can’t do much so he can at least cover all the meals, but…

But no one worries about the weather when they go outside. No one worries about whether or not they get cold. 

Without thinking, Mikey lunges forward and crashes into his father’s chest, using every ounce of his ninja strength in a desperate bid to hold onto him. Splinter doesn’t even stagger and his surprise only lasts a second or two. His hands land gently on Mikey’s carapace and the back of his head and he lets Mikey cling to him like they have all the time in the world.

But they don’t. It’s not fair.

If Mikey was better—if he was faster or stronger or braver or smarter—if he’d given Leo the clock instead, if he’d asked Donnie for help—

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, papa.”

Splinter goes absolutely still. Then he firmly disentangles himself from Mikey’s octopus arms and kneels down in front of him so they’re almost eye-to-eye. 

“You never need to apologize to me, Michelangelo,” he says with a seriousness that feels out-of-place in the moment. “Not ever. It is my pride and my privilege to be your father. All the sleepless nights and frustrations that come with raising four teenage boys, well—I would not trade a moment of it. Not for all the riches in the world.”

Mikey doesn’t know how that could be true. He doesn’t know how to have this conversation. He presses in until he can hide his face against the furred ruff of sensei’s neck and sensei lets him hide there. 

It’s the safest Mikey’s felt in a million years and he doesn’t ever want to go anywhere else ever again. 

“Besides,” Splinter says, his voice warm and rumbling beneath Mikey’s ear, “the good so far outweighs the bad that it really isn’t even worth talking about.” 

The clock is getting hot against Mikey’s plastron, where it’s hidden beneath the hoodie. He leans away from sensei before he can feel the glow of it. He knows it’s time to leave now. 

It’s just. He isn’t ready. He doesn’t know what to do. He needs help—he needs Donnie’s big brain and Raph’s bold, unflinching faith and Leo’s steady certainty—he needs Splinter to guide him, to tell him what to do. 

He wants to warn him. He wants to tell sensei everything, he wants to say that one night they’ll be on the roof of a hotel downtown and they’ll think it’s all over, but it won’t be. The Shredder will attack Splinter from behind like a coward and Splinter will die and nothing will ever be the same again. 

Mikey wants to say all of that. But the clock’s presence in his mind leans against that thought heavily, like a warning. Mikey knows, without knowing how he knows, that it’s a bad idea. 

Splinter stands, folding his hands in his sleeves and regarding Mikey fondly. “Now,” he says, “go after your brothers. They’d be lost without you.” 

His eyes crinkle with silent laughter. Mikey thinks that if he had any idea how completely wrong he was, that joke would be even funnier. 

Still, Mikey smiles up at him, and forces his fingers to let go of his dad’s favorite maroon robe. He takes a few backwards steps and waves once. Splinter has a wrinkle on his forehead that looks like concern, and he lifts a hand—maybe to return the wave, maybe to call him back—

Mikey spins on his heel and runs out of the station as fast as he can. 

He isn’t going after his brothers, not yet. He’ll catch up to them eventually—he always does. For now, the clock ticks patiently in his head, waiting for him to pick a door. 

 # 

Mikey tries everything. He starts from a dozen different places, a dozen different ways, and he never manages to change the ending. Splinter dies, right in front of him, again and again and again and again. 

Sometimes it happens from far away. Mikey gets cut down and kicked off the roof, and the only thing that saves his life is April’s telepathy, or Slash’s quick grab, or the chain of Mikey’s own kusarigama wrapped around the railing of the fire escape, and as he’s trying to pull himself back up his father’s body falls past him. 

Sometimes it happens when Mikey is rushing in to help. He can’t watch Raphael get hurt without it stirring his heart into a frenzy, so when Raph piles in to hold the Shredder back, Mikey is always right beside him. And then he’s close enough that when Splinter is killed, the blood sprays onto Mikey's skin, warm and sticky and horrible. 

He remembers a conversation he had with Renet once, when she told him, in an uncharacteristically grave tone, that ‘time protects itself.’  

“It’s the whole paradox thing,” she’d told him earnestly. “Say you’re going to try to change the past. Whatever you’re going to do—whatever changes you try to make—according to the linear passage of time, you’d have done it already. So that future-you wouldn’t have any reason to time-travel in the first place. It’s pretty tricky like that.”

“So you’d have to change things in a way that doesn’t actually change things?” Mikey had asked her, uncomprehending. “That doesn’t make sense. Your job is way too hard. You should quit and come be a ninja with me.”

Renet laughed, all sweet and fizzy like a shaken-up can of soda, and changed the subject. Mikey only remembers that conversation because he remembers everything.

Now he wishes his past-self had asked her about two-hundred more questions. He wants more than anything to find Renet and beg for her help, but he doesn’t think the clock can take him into Null Time. 

Time protects itself. It’s pulling them inexorably toward that fated outcome, and all of Mikey’s bouncing around and making a mess and watching his father die on some demented looped reel isn’t going to derail this steady onward march of things. 

Still, he tries. He tries and tries and tries. 

The last attempt is the most desperate. He lures his younger self away and knocks him out and takes his place outside the hideout. It’s not even that difficult to do in all the chaos of the fire and the building coming down. When Leo argues against Splinter sending him away, Mikey is right there with him, arguing the same thing. 

“Please, sensei,” Mikey says plaintively, and it comes out of his mouth as this awful, wretched thing, and all his siblings react to it the same way. Their heads all turn in his direction like sniffer dogs trying to scent out what the hell could have made him sound like that. 

He doesn’t look at any of them. He looks up at his dad and says, “I have a bad feeling, sensei. Please take Leo.”

Splinter tends to trust in Mikey’s intuition. He always talks about it like it’s more than just good luck and quick reflexes. Or maybe he’s just unwilling to argue with him when he looks ready to start bawling at any second. He nods Leo back toward the hotel group, and Casey parts from it to join the Coney Island party instead, and Mikey’s stomach does something dizzy and acrobatic beneath his shell. 

Leo will be able to do this, Mikey thinks, lightheaded with relief as he stumbles into the Shellraiser, avoiding the pointed stare Donnie’s grilling into the side of his head. Leo can do anything. 

Leo dies instead. 

His body falls in place of Splinter’s, hitting the ground with a wet, meaty thud. Mikey can’t breathe even though he’s gasping and gasping in air, and his heart is beating hard enough that he can feel it in his eyes, a weird, off-kilter rhythm, and he’s shaking so bad that time shakes apart around him. 

 # 

The clock takes him to a beautiful green field. 

There’s a chuckling river, and a far-away rice paddy, and a very particular kind of early-morning sunshine you only find in the springtime. Everything is fresh and crisp and on just the right side of chilly. The air smells like smoke and fresh steamed rice and greenery. 

He knows this place. This is where he and his brothers first met Miss Shen, what feels like a lifetime ago. Rural Japan, somewhere in the countryside, where the Hamato estate sprawls comfortably at the foot of the hills. 

Mikey thinks he could sink into the rich earth like a plant. He could put roots down right in this exact spot and be happy forever. If he were a little plant, his arms wouldn’t hurt so much. He could just drink rain and sun and not worry about anything ever again. 

“Oh, my,” someone says behind him. They approached without a sound, even though the wet grass should have given them away. “A visitor from the river.”

Mikey’s heart knows who it is before his brain catches up. He whirls around, almost stumbling, and finds himself looking up into the face that he’s seen in the photo on the shrine back home almost every day. 

His father, tall and broad-shouldered and unburdened because he hasn’t lived through any of his horrors yet. Baffled by the strange creature he just encountered on his property, but not at all suspicious of it. Mikey goes through a weird internal struggle, because half of his entire body and soul wants to be soothed by his sensei’s presence. The other half isn’t quite sure that this is his sensei—not quite. 

“Well, this isn’t the strangest dream I’ve ever had, to be honest,” the man says. His voice is instantly disarming. He’s smiling, as if talking turtles aren’t anything to write home about. “Are you a mountain spirit, little one?”

“Uh—um, yes,” Mikey says. He folds his hands, the way he’s seen Splinter do a thousand times, when he was explaining something tricky about morning training, or listening to his kids bicker at the breakfast table with limitless patience in his eyes. “I’m a, um, kappa spirit. I have a message for you. Listen up!”

Splinter—Hamato Yoshi, actually—a person who doesn’t know Mikey, who certainly doesn’t love him, who has no reason to hear him out—surprises him by kneeling properly and inclining his head. His human face isn’t familiar to Mikey at all, so maybe it always looks soft and fond like that. 

“Please lend me your wisdom,” he says solemnly. There’s a pleasant lilt to his tone that might be playful. 

“Right,” Mikey replies. “Sure.”

He fidgets for a second, probably ruining whatever credibility he had as a wise spirit of anything. There’s a sickly feeling in his stomach, like it’s flipping around in there. He’s a little dizzy. His hands hurt. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know why he ended up here. He went way too far.

He wants his dad. He wants his dad to be alive. But looking at the man in front of him now, he thinks he wants his dad to be happy. Even if that means he never loses Miss Shen and Miwa and he never leaves Japan. He’d be better off that way, wouldn’t he? Who would choose a half-life hidden underground over this beautiful rolling countryside? Who would choose an unwanted mutation and unasked for children over sunshine and freedom and everything that comes with being human and belonging somewhere? 

Mikey’s hands shake. The clock’s presence in his mind tries to comfort in its simple, animal way, but it isn’t enough. 

He never really thought about it before—that sensei might actually choose something else over his sons. Maybe Mikey and his siblings were always Splinter’s first priority just because his other first priorities were already gone. Maybe Splinter would be way better off if he never ever had a chance to be Splinter in the first place.

But. He has to go to New York. He has to go into that pet store. He has to bump into the ooze. He has to. Mikey can’t imagine a world where his brothers don’t exist. His mind stutters at the very threshold of that idea. It can’t go a step farther than that initial, frightening what if— before it recoils instantly. 

Maybe Mikey is actually very selfish. Maybe his first priority is screwed up, too.

He thinks it might have been really stupid of him to try to fix anything after all. 

“Spirit?” Yoshi asks politely. His brow has a wrinkle in the middle that Mikey would call worry, if this human had any reason to worry about him. 

“Actually, I don’t have any wisdom,” Mikey says. “I’m the wrong turtle for that.” His eyes prickle. He refuses to cry.

“Okay,” Yoshi says carefully. “Your message, then?”

It sounds like they’re in the dojo, and he’s trying to coax stubborn Raphael into stumbling upon the answer to his own question. Guiding patiently, a hand outstretched, as steady as a stone. The foundation of Mikey’s whole world. It all shook apart without him. 

At least Yoshi thinks this is a dream. Let him think that. He’ll forget all about it by tomorrow, so Mikey can tell him what he’s been aching to tell him ever since that very first second after he died. 

“Um—I just wanted to—to say,” Mikey chokes out, hands curled into tight fists despite the gnawing pain. “That I’m sorry. For, um—for being noisy. For always interrupting you during lessons and goofing off and—and for all the times I didn’t listen. I should’ve been good. I’m really sorry.”

Yoshi half-rises, alarm pinching the corners of his mouth. His hands lift from his knees as though he’d catch this whole mess and hold it for Mikey if he knew how. He’s such a kind person, even for a complete stranger’s sake. 

The clock starts to burn hot. Those golden cracks creep a little higher up Mikey’s arms. He knows he’s about to leave. He just doesn’t know where he’s going to wind up next, if he’ll get another chance after this. It’s getting harder to navigate. 

“Spirit?” Yoshi is fully on his feet now. He seems to be holding himself back. Mikey can’t quite make him out through the haze of pain and magic. That doesn’t seem fair. “Are you—what is happening? Can I help you, little one?”

Mikey grins, even though it hurts, even though everything is heat and light and grief. Hamato Yoshi doesn’t know him, but Mikey still got to see his dad one more time. That’s worth smiling about.

“Nope,” he says, borrowing a brightness he doesn’t really feel. Speaking is a struggle, but these words are so monumentally important that Mikey fights for each one. “I made the mess so I’ll clean it up. Thanks, though. Thank you. For—all of it. For raising us and teaching us and—and caring about us every s-single day, even—even when we didn’t make it easy. Thank you, papa. Love you.”

Yoshi lurches forward just as the clock sweeps Mikey away. 

 #

He lands someplace dark. He lets out a strangled sound, the impossible white-hot pain in his arms punching the breath out of him. 

A light comes on. It blinds him. A frantic voice spills out beside him, shouting his name, calling for help. Mikey knows the voice but he can’t place it. There’s a flash of blue somewhere above him that tugs at recognition but his brain is too full of fire to decipher pesky things like that. He can’t think. Everything hurts, everything burns.

Are we staying here? the clock seems to ask him, mildly interested in a polite way. 

Do we have to? Mikey wonders drunkenly. 

Of course not. We can go anywhere. Forward or back?

Mikey thinks the choice should maybe be a little bit harder than it actually is. He thinks, really, it comes down to a simple question—who do his brothers need more? Who can they really, really not live without?

So it’s actually pretty easy to decide. 

 # 

This time, he lands on the roof of the hotel again, and his limbs all collapse underneath him instantly, folding like rice paper. It’s as good a spot as any—tucked away behind the wall of the rooftop exit door, out of sight. 

Splinter is the only one who hears his clumsy arrival, head swiveling in his direction immediately, ears upright.

The rat glances toward Raph and April, clocking where they stand safely on the other side of the roof, before he approaches Mikey’s hiding place swiftly. He must think it’s a trap—a Foot soldier, or another one of Shredder’s mutant goons—and he isn’t going to let his guard down so easily, not with two of his children behind him. 

But all of that super cool ninja master attitude flies out sensei’s expression the second he rounds the corner and lays eyes on Mikey’s sorry-looking self. 

“What?” he says faintly, sounding like the breath was punched out of him. Then, “Michelangelo?”

“Hi, sensei,” Mikey manages. It’s only partly a wheeze. 

He thinks he would really really love a hug right about now. But his hands hang limp at his sides. Every twitch of his fingers causes a fresh bolt of agony to sprint up his arms. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to move just yet. He doesn’t know if he wants to test it. 

The clock is silent where it hangs against his plastron. Its tiny ticking-voice isn’t talking anymore. The seconds crawl, one after another, much slower than makes sense. Time is on his side, but he doesn’t have much of it. 

Splinter is staring at him with an expression Mikey has never seen on him before. He looks horrified, fur bristling and whiskers slicked back, hands half-raised in an aborted reach. He’s frozen in place, as if he was carved from stone during an awful nightmare. 

“What have you done?” Splinter whispers, a well of anguish in his voice. His eyes track the golden cracks in Mikey’s arms like they’re causing him physical pain. “What is this?”

“Fixing it,” Mikey asserts. He hopes he sounds strong and certain. He thinks maybe it came out all slurred and stupid actually.

He wobbles for a millisecond and that’s all it takes for Splinter to dive across the distance between them, wrapping his arms carefully around Mikey’s body. 

Oh. Hug. Finally. Mikey sinks into it. 

“Don’t be afraid, my son.” Splinter is the one who sounds afraid, and he also sounds like he’s doing his best not to sound afraid. He’s holding Mikey like he used to when Mikey was really small and easier to hold. “I will use the healing hands. You will be just fine. Stay here with me.”

“Mmhm,” Mikey says, forcing his eyes to stay open, staring hard at the rooftop parapet from over his father’s shoulder.

This is the only chance Mikey has. This brief window when all eyes have turned away. His family thinks they’ve won. The Shellraiser is approaching with a roar down at street level. Somewhere behind them, out of sight, April and Raphael are talking in hoarse, exhausted, tentatively relieved voices. 

He knows that this is the moment everything goes wrong. In a handful of seconds, the Shredder is going to appear again, over the side of that parapet, and he’s going to tear a hole in Mikey’s family. He’s a monster made of hatred and cruelty and he doesn’t care that Splinter’s children still need him. 

Mikey can’t understand it—that festering, resentful, black hole kind of a life. He can’t imagine not caring. Mikey cares so much that sometimes he feels like he’s going to break under the weight of it all. Sometimes he doesn’t know where the caring ends and the rest of himself begins. Even when it would be a whole lot easier not to. Even when it hurts. He just can’t help it. 

He digs his ruined hands into Splinter’s robes, clutching tight. It hurts so much it almost doesn’t hurt at all, like his body isn’t able to keep processing the constant input and just gives up on the whole idea. 

Any moment now. Any moment now. 

April says, “Wait where is—”

And Raph calls out a frightened, “Dad?”

And Leo shouts from down on the street, because Leo is the one catches things right before they happen, before anyone else does, and that’s when the Shredder hauls his bulk back up onto the roof. That’s when he lifts his spiked gauntlet, arm drawn all the way back to deliver the killing blow.

That’s when Mikey moves.

He’s always been the fastest of the four. He always springs into motion before his brain has finished putting the whole picture together, because his sixth sense is a lot louder than logic, so he listens to it first. 

And now he flings absolutely everything he has in his belt, every smoke bomb and flash grenade and firecracker and mean-spirited little toy Donnie helped him dream up in the lab, back when they still spent time together, and it creates a field of absolute chaos and zero visibility.

It gives him a chance to throw his body to the side, dragging his father with him. The Shredder still takes his shot, blindly. One of the claws of his gauntlet tears through Splinter’s sleeve and cuts into the meat of Mikey’s shoulder, but no one dies. 

There’s blood and a torn sleeve left behind. Mikey’s siblings let out wounded cries. They must think that Mikey’s explosion was part of the Shredder’s attack. The sound draws even more tension into Splinter’s body, torn now between the danger Mikey is in and the danger everyone else is in, caught between his children. 

He can’t go. He can’t go. This will only work if he stays. Mikey doesn’t think he’ll get another try. 

April knocks the Shredder off the roof for a final time, and Casey is probably waiting on the street to crush his body in the garbage truck, and everything else is going to play out exactly the way it did before. Hopefully. Mikey doesn’t know. He’s not going to stick around to find out. 

One more trip, he tells the clock. He’s delirious, maybe. He feels removed from his body, like everything going on with it is happening to someone else entirely. All that matters is his father, breathing, and Mikey’s grip on his robes, and their ticket home. I’m bringing a plus-one. Sorry we didn’t RSVP.

The clock laughs brightly. Mikey’s glad it has a sense of humor or this whole trip would have been a nightmare.

 # 

He wakes up somewhere else. Someone is screaming. Oh, wait, that’s him. 

There are hands on him, trying to coax him from the tight ball he’s curled into. 

People are talking all around him, a cacophony of voices, all of them precious and familiar. One stands out above the rest. 

“Mikey—Mikey, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re—you’re okay, you’re gonna be just fine.”

That’s Leo. Hot tears leak from the corners of Mikey’s eyes. Someone wipes them away before they get very far. Leo’s alive. 

Leo’s voice is trembling, but he talks to Mikey anyway. He must be so confused but he’s following Splinter’s firm directions without hesitation, and soon their combined qi is rushing through Mikey’s meridians, flooding his lower dantian, healing and healing and healing him. It feels like his body is full of light and air and nothing hurts. 

He almost doesn’t remember how it feels not to hurt. 

Hands beneath his shoulders and knees lift him up, and he’s held against a warm, solid chest, and then placed down someplace soft. A bed, he thinks, and a moment later a blanket is drawn up over him as if to prove him right. 

Mikey’s head flops to the side, hooded eyes struggling to track the movement. 

Careful fingers touch his face, turning it back onto the pillow properly, and Donnie’s voice says, “No, don’t. Don’t move around, Angie. All you need to do right now is rest.”

Mikey wants to believe him, but his twin sounds frightened and choked up, and it makes Mikey feel restless in turn. His whole body feels like one big overcooked noodle, but if Tello needs him, he will definitely figure out how to noodle his way up to help.

“Nuh-uh, none of that,” Raph interjects sharply. The mattress dips a little bit as he sits on the edge of it. “You even think about moving an inch and I’m breaking both your legs.” But he’s holding one of Mikey’s hands with both of his own, so he probably doesn’t mean it. His words come tripping out of his mouth in a nervous, fast-paced way that’s unlike himself, like he’s desperate to fill up the silence where Mikey’s chatter should be. “You have so much explaining to do, kid. Like—where’d you find this hoodie, anyway? I lost it years ago.”

“Jesus, Raph,” Leo says without heat. He leans in and presses his forehead against Mikey’s, the rarest of gestures. All of the fight goes out of Mikey like water down a drain. All his brothers are here and even if Mikey didn’t accomplish anything else, at least he didn’t lose them. Leo tells him, “Donnie’s right, Mikey. Just rest. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re all okay and we all love you so much.”

Then Splinter’s voice tells him, “Sleep, little one. All is well. I am here.”

Oh, then it must be true, Mikey thinks, and falls through velvet waves of darkness into deep, dreamless sleep.

 # 

Grounded doesn’t even begin to cover what Mikey is. It’ll be a cold day in hell before he’s allowed to leave the lair by himself ever again, but he still gets visitors. 

“Aha!” Renet says brightly, scooping the clock off the nightstand. “Pesky little thing. Ooh, this one’s going to be nothing but trouble now.” She gives it a little warning shake. It sits quietly in her hand, ticking innocently away like there’s nothing special about it, thank you very much. “I think you might be a bad influence, Mike.”

Mikey fidgets, plucking at the bandages on his fingers restlessly. He’s given and received a lot of apologies in the last couple of days, but this is the one he’s been dreading the most. 

“I’m really, really sorry, Nettie,” he tells her, staring at his blanket-covered knees. “I shouldn’t have taken it from you. I took advantage of you and—all you ever do is help us out, and I totally betrayed your trust, and—you’re my friend, but I still—”

“Mike,” she cuts him off, soft and oddly gentle. She puts her human hand over his three-fingered one and squeezes warmly. “I left it behind on purpose.”

He whips his head up to stare at her. She smiles back, her brown eyes all wet. 

“I’m not allowed to tamper with the timeline,” she explains. “It’s dangerous even for a master Timester, and—well, you’ve seen how I tend to mess things up. It couldn’t be me. But I thought you might be able to figure something out.”

“I mess everything up, too,” Mikey says plainly. Unlike his calm, composed friend, he’s crying in earnest, and he can’t even lift his hands to wipe his face. He doesn’t understand this conversation. He was expecting her to yell at him. The absence of her well-deserved anger has him reeling. “I mean—out of all of my siblings—I’m the last one you should have trusted.”

“What are you talking about?” Renet laughs. “It had to be you. You were the one who took the chance. You were the one who tried.” She lets go of his hand but only so she can lean in and wrap her arms around him. He leans against her, buries his face in her shoulder, and she holds him while he shakes with sobs. “It was scary. It hurt. But you did it anyway. You were amazing.”

A quiet sound in the doorway has Mikey lifting his eyes, peeking past Renet’s curtain of hair. Splinter is standing there, a whole entire miracle in his second-favorite robe.

“Oops! Lecture time,” Renet says, peeling away from Mikey and abandoning him to his fate. “I’ll come by later, okay? It’s been real, baby seal!” She gives him the hang-loose gesture and bows sweetly to Splinter and then disappears in a neat little twirl of white and gold light, proving that she’s literally the coolest person Mikey knows. 

“She’s a good friend to you,” Splinter says as he steps inside the lab. “She really believes in you.”

“Probably more than she should,” Mikey agrees, wiping his eyes.

“As much as you deserve,” his father counters neatly, settling in the chair beside the bed. “I’m glad to have you to myself for a moment. Your brothers have finally worried themselves to sleep.” He puts his hand in Mikey’s, because he’s not stupid, and he’s cottoned on to how desperate his children are for proof that he’s living and breathing. He’s much freer with his hugs than he used to be. “I am in a fair amount of trouble,” he admits after a minute. 

“Huh?” 

“Leo scolded me quite a bit,” Splinter says mildly. “It was rather vicious. He had a lot to say.”

“No he didn’t,” Mikey blurts, wide-eyed. “Leo?”

“He was right to. I put too much on his shoulders. I forget, sometimes, that he’s still a child.” Splinter looks very old all of a sudden, weary and worn out. But his eyes are the same warm brown they’ve always been, and after a moment he smiles. “I will endeavor to remember it from now on. Even if it means embarrassing him in front of his friends.”

Secretly, Mikey thinks Leo embarrasses himself enough as it is, but he keeps that to himself. 

Splinter’s eyes fall on Mikey’s bandaged arms. His mouth thins into a severe line. 

“We will need to discuss these choices you made. Risking yourself like you did, nearly breaking your brothers’ hearts, dabbling in dangerous mystic arts you don’t fully understand, all to bring a foolish old man back from the dead.” Mikey’s head sinks lower with each word, until he’s nearly tucked it all the way inside his shell. Splinter pauses, then adds, “You said some things in your sleep that concern me. We will address them as a family, when you’re well.”

Oh that’s just instant relief. Future problems for future Mikeys. In that case he hopes his arms take ages to heal. He doesn’t need hands to out-ninja his brothers any day.

He offers Splinter a bright smile, his usual get-out-of-jail-free card. The serious expression on Splinter’s face relents. He shifts in the chair so that it’s easier to bring his other arm up over Mikey’s pillow, stroking the dome of his head with the pad of his thumb, the way he did when all the turtles were very little and had trouble falling asleep. 

“You know, I had a dream once, when I was a young man,” he says in a quiet, storyteller tone. “In the meadow behind my family’s estate, I met a river spirit. It was young and seemed to be in pain, but it smiled at me with such warmth, and thanked me for things I hadn’t done. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but I never forgot it.”

Mikey hums. Something about that dream feels familiar. Maybe he had one like it before. 

His father’s hand on his forehead is a warm weight, infinitely soothing. Mikey’s eyelids are getting too heavy to keep open. 

“I never forgot you,” Splinter says. “And I love you, too, Michelangelo.”

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

More Than A Feeling, 04

pairing: eddie munson X fem!reader

fic summary: life only gets harder for y/n wheeler when she develops a friendship with the town freak, eddie munson. as one of the most popular girls at school she should absolutely not be associating with the likes of eddie but she couldn’t help but feel more herself when he's around. what will happen when she finds herself struggling with the expectations put on her by her friends, catching feelings for the local freak, and finding herself swept up in the latest town mystery?

chapter warnings: brief mention of smoking

chapter word count: 2.1k

song of the day: hip to be square, huey lewis & the news

chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, more coming soon...

read on ao3 here | masterlist | playlist

Chapter 4

When Monday rolled around Jason drove you and Chrissy to school again. He spent the entire drive talking about this weekend away he had planned with Chrissy. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just a cabin out in the woods for some ‘indoor camping’ as Jason had put it.

He seemed really excited about it and so did Chrissy, although you had no idea how she managed to convince her parents to agree to it. Jason must have worked his charm again. Mr and Mrs Cunningham had always had a soft spot for him, although you never really understood why.

“It’ll just be me and Chrissy this time,” Jason said with a smile, resting his hand affectionately on Chrissy’s knee, “but next time you should come along Wheeler. Bring Harrington or something, you guys hang out right?”

“Steve? We’re not- ” you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Yeah, we’re just friends.”

“Really? Well then, maybe think about asking Chance out or something, you know he has this huge crush on you.”

“Jason!” Chrissy playfully pushed her boyfriend’s arm before turning back to look at you, “We weren’t supposed to say anything but Chance has been waiting for the right time to ask you out.”

You didn’t know what to say, although it wasn’t a secret that Chance had been flirting with you a lot recently. It made sense that Jason’s best friend would have a thing for you. Jason and Chrissy were the two most popular people at school so everyone had been expecting you and Chance — their best friends — to get together too.

It was such a stereotype it made you roll your eyes but it wasn’t like he was a bad guy. Sure he was an idiot like Jason sometimes but for the most part, he was actually pretty sweet, you just didn’t really see him that way.

“I don’t know, I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment.”

Jason parked the car and pulled the keys out, turning to you as he opened the door to get out. “Come on y/n, give him a chance.”

Getting out of the car with a hum you looked around, spotting Eddie as he got out of his van. Your eyes met and he smiled, giving you a little wave before heading across the parking lot towards the school.

“I just- I don’t know Jason, I don’t want to get his hopes up if I’m not ready to commit to that kind of thing.”

He sighed, “Just think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, y/n. Give Chance a chance,” Chrissy giggled.

You closed the car door and nodded, thinking that maybe you should put yourself out there a little. You hadn’t dated anyone since you were a freshman so maybe it was time to give it another go.

Your fight against the Upsidedown was over and your life was finally getting on track again. Everyone always said it was best to date in your high school years, to enjoy your time before you’d be too busy at college. You only had a little while left before graduation so maybe dating again wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

By lunch you were sitting with your friends, talking to Chrissy and Chance. Now that you knew he was hoping to ask you out you were a little more nervous around him, although you couldn’t tell if the nerves were because you wanted him to ask you or because you didn’t. Still, that didn’t stop you from chatting with him about things. Basketball and stuff, nothing that particularly interested you.

When you finished your food you glanced over to where Eddie usually sat, noticing that he wasn’t there that day either. So, you got up to go and find him, remembering that he was probably out by the bench in the woods if he wasn’t sitting with his friends.

Well, you were going to go and find him until Chrissy got up and excused herself, saying she needed the toilet before rushing off towards the bathroom. You were worried at how abruptly she got up and ran off so, after exchanging a concerned look with Jason, you quickly went after her.

“Chrissy?” you asked, walking into the girls’ toilets. 

“Chrissy?” you repeated.

Still, there was no reply but you heard what sounded like someone being sick so you walked up to the stall and knocked. “Chris? You okay?”

She spewed some more before responding with a shaky voice, “Yeah- I-I’m fine, y/n.”

You waited outside for a moment, not wanting to rush her out. When she finally opened the stall door you followed her over to the sinks, placing your hand against her arm as she washed her hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re not feeling well you should go see the nurse or something.”

She simply shook her head. “No. I’m fine y/n, really.”

Without letting you speak more she headed for the door, though she didn’t stop you when you followed after her. You didn’t ask about it again, you just kept an eye on her until the end of lunch to make sure she was really okay. She livened up again not long after you got back to your table which put you at ease a little since she didn’t seem to be feeling unwell anymore. Maybe she just needed to get it out of her system, you thought.

You didn’t get to see Eddie at lunch that day but you had more important things to do, and you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s not like you had to hang out with him all the time, or even have a conversation with him every day. Although you would have been lying if you said you weren’t even a little disappointed that you hadn’t even gotten a proper chance to say hi.

The next day was much the same. You hadn’t had time to speak to him, although you had briefly exchanged a smile when you spotted him in the hallway on your way to class.

You thought you wouldn’t be able to speak to him at all until you bumped into him at the end of the day. You’d almost walked into each other as you came around the same corner of the corridor from different directions.

“Wheeler,” he exclaimed with a smile.

“Eddie, hey.” You grinned back at him, happy to have finally been able to actually speak with him.

He looked along the hallway for a moment before locking eyes with you again. “Do you want to come over to mine after class tomorrow? We could, you know, hang out or something? Maybe watch a movie, smoke some pot, whatever you wanna do really.”

Your smile widened and, with a nod of your head, you accepted his offer. “Sure, that sounds fun. I’d love to.”

“Great! Well, I’ve gotta go. Corroded Coffin is playing at the hideout tonight but I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You didn’t know why but for some reason you were looking forward to hanging out with Eddie again more than you’d ever really looked forward to hanging out with your friends on the basketball team or the cheer squad. Well, other than Chrissy that is. In fact, you had had more fun in your last few encounters with him than you had had with your friends in months.

When the time for Jason to pick you up in the morning came you were eager to get to school, hoping the day would pass by quickly.

“Oh, I won’t be coming home with you guys today. I have plans so another friend will be picking me up,” you mentioned as you got out of the car.

Chrissy tilted her head and asked, “You’re going out? It’s not a date, is it? With Chance maybe?”

“No, it isn’t a date. He hasn’t worked up the courage to ask me out yet anyway. I’m just running some errands with a friend, that’s all.”

You saw Jason narrow his eyes at you but you brushed it off and headed to class.

You could have sworn time always passed slower when you had something to look forward to. By the time the bell rang for lunch you had already felt like you’d been sitting in a classroom all day, it was agonising.

As usual, your group were sitting around the table but you grew somewhat concerned when everyone started acting weird as you approached. You thought something bad had happened until Chance stood up and walked over to you.

His eyes didn’t quite meet yours when he stopped in front of you and took a deep breath. “Hey y/n.”

“Uh, hi.” You glanced over to Chrissy, who smiled and gave you a little thumbs-up, and finally realised what was going on.

Your eyes rolled back over to Chance, who was finally looking you in the eye. He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, seemingly trying to quell his nerves. “Do you maybe want to go see a movie with me on Friday?”

Not knowing what to say you looked back at your friends again, seeing them and half of the cafeteria watching you. It was terrifying, to say the least, but you knew there wasn’t any harm in it. You could go see the movie with him and try to get to know him a little better to see if the two of you had anything more in common. It didn’t mean you were going to be his girlfriend, just that you would be going on a date with a pretty decent guy by all accounts.

“Um, sure. Yeah, that would be nice.”

You knew you didn’t sound too sure of your answer but Chance just seemed to chalk it down to nerves and smiled. “Great, I’ll pick you up at six Friday night?”

With a quaint smile, you hummed and walked with him to sit and eat lunch. When you looked up from the table you caught a glimpse of Eddie leaving the cafeteria and guessed he probably had another sale to take care of or maybe he was off for a quick smoke before class.

“Y/n, can we talk a sec?” It was when you were on your way to class that Jason jogged over, pulling you aside for a moment.

“Sure, what’s up?”

At first, you were happy to talk with him, expecting him to speak to you about your date with Chance, but when you saw a flicker of arrogance in his eye you could only furrow your brow.

“Now you’ve agreed to go out with Chance you should think more about who you hang out with.”

“What do you mean?”

He stepped forwards, forcing you to take a couple of steps back. “You know what I mean, y/n. I didn’t spend all morning encouraging Chance to ask you out for you to mess it up by hanging out with the wrong people.”

“What does who I hang out with have anything to do with my love life?” you asked, voice firm.

He leaned in slightly, his vicious eyes unyielding as he spat, “It has everything to do with it! If you’re hanging out with the wrong people how will that look for Chance? For Chrissy? I’ve seen you with that freak. I saw you talking with him after practice in the parking lot last week and you asked about him at lunch the next day.”

“And? You know my brother is in a club with him, I was talking to him because I was asking about Mike. Nancy was picking us up, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes and stepped away, pacing slightly in front of you. “Don't play coy with me, Wheeler. I saw you two exchange stupid little glances and smiles when we got to school the other day and you were talking to him in the hallway yesterday. I bet it’s him you’re ‘running errands’ with later today.”

With tightly pursed lips you stood tall, stepping closer to him as you folded your arms across your chest. “And so what if I’m hanging out with him? I’m allowed to choose my own friends, Jason.”

Although he had been angry only moments before, Jason’s whole demeanour relaxed until all prior hostility had vanished and he sighed, “I’m just saying you should choose them wiser, Wheeler. I’m trying to look out for you, as your friend.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left. Leaving you to think about what he had said as you walked off to class, hoping you weren’t going to be too late after your confrontation.

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[yr-obedt-cicero]

btw ive never went to read too much about eliza, almost all I know about her is from the musical (i know), so, having curiosity sparkled by your post talking about how people see her as an idiot person, can you tell me some things about her? thank you!

Sure!

Elizabeth was affectionately nicknamed “Betsey” by Hamilton.

And she was not a self-pittier. Elizabeth dealt with many deaths of loved ones throughout her life. March 1801, Elizabeth lost her sister, Margaret Schuyler (Or more well-known as; Peggy), after a long course of ailment. And her brother, John, too. Her eldest son, Philip Hamilton, died that November in a reckless duel, which was a deep cut into the family emotionally. Her mother also having died. And then, Hamilton himself followed just three years later, in his own duel against his political rival, Aaron Burr. Having fallen into the deep and harsh financial straits, Elizabeth then experienced her father's death in November 1804. With barely little, she had to utilize anything and everything to keep her remaining family afloat. A slight inheritance from Philip Schuyler helped with that, as did the private raising of money from Hamilton's friends that enabled Elizabeth to stay in the house she and Hamilton had shared for a few more years.

She was also a excellent and devoted mother! She was always mainly staying at home with the children while Hamilton would travel for work. But even after her husband's death, with her still relatively young children; Elizabeth kept the family together and well. She continued to raise Little Phil (Philip Hamilton II) and Eliza Hamilton Holly by herself, with, of course, the hell of her sons.

She even still took great care of their mentally ill daughter, Angelica Hamilton, who suffered from a mental breakdown from the shock of her eldest brother's death and mentally regressed into a “delusional” or “child-like state”. Elizabeth stayed with her for years, until she would grow too old to properly care for her, Angelica was eventually placed in the care of a Dr. MacDonald of Flushing, Queens, where she remained for the rest of her life. But even in her will, she begged her children to be kind and considerate to Angelica.

Elizabeth would even travel days to go and see William Stephen Hamilton, who had moved half across the country, just to visit him.

In 1798, Elizabeth had accepted her friend's, Isabella Graham, invitation to join the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows with Small Children, which had been established the previous year.

Two years after her husband's death, in 1806, Elizabeth — along with many other women including — founded the Orphan Asylum Society. ESH was appointed second directress. (Or vice-president) In 1821, she was named first directress, and served for 27 years in this role. Elizabeth raised many funds, collected needed goods, and oversaw the care and education of over 700 children. Until she had to resign, having left New York in 1848.

Elizabeth, alongside her two sons, James Alexander, and John Church, defended AH's against his posthumous critiques in several of ways, including by supporting his claim of authorship of George Washington's Farewell Address, and by requesting an apology from James Monroe over his accusations of financial improprieties. As well as her son's raising funds to try and have monuments constructed for their father's legacy. Elizabeth even petitioned Congress to publish her husband's writings in 1846. Elizabeth would continue to be dedicated to preserving her husband's legacy, which is considerable when his legacy had nearly be swept down the drain due to the popular disliking towards him after his passing. She sorted through all of Hamilton's letters, papers, articles, and writings, with the assistance of her son, John Church. And remained assisting, sven through many setbacks in getting John's biography getting published. With his mother's help, JCH would go on to publish History of the Republic of the United States America, and would set the bar or reference use for future biographies of Alexander Hamilton, that would grow as time went on. The writings that nearly every historian have today by Hamilton, can be attributed to efforts from Elizabeth. As in the June, of 1848, Elizabeth was in her nineties, she made an effort for Congress to buy and publish her late husband's works. Then in the following August, her request was granted and Congress bought and published Alexander's works, adding them to the Library of Congress and helping future historians of Hamilton have access to his works today.

She adored and felt attached to Hamilton's writings so much so; that she wore a small package around her neck containing the pieces of a sonnet that Hamilton had wrote for her during their courtship. At some point during that winter of 1780, he had written her a love sonnet. Unfortunately, it's unknown where the romantic poem now remains. But, Allan McLane Hamilton, the grandson of Alexander and Elizabeth Hamilton — and the son of their youngest child Phil II — had it in his possession, amongst many other family papers, in the early 20th century.

In his biography of his grandfather, The Intimate Life of Alexander Hamilton, he described the immense significance of the poem to Elizabeth;

“Few letters remain which enable us to mark the advance of Alexander’s wooing, but a little verse is in my possession which was found in a tiny bag hanging from his wife’s neck after her death, and which she had evidently always worn, and it was quite probably given to her when they were together this winter [1779-1780]. What is apparently a sonnet was written upon a piece of torn and yellow paper, fragments of which had been sewn together with ordinary thread.”

(source)

Hope this helps!

[blackbutlerbitch23]

💖Now that I have some followers who cannot escape my feed and are forced to listen to me, I will rank my top 5 ships from Black Bulter from Worst to Best and explain why I placed them there. BTW my opinion is 100% correct, AND no, I do not take criticism. Buckle up your seat belts because this will be a long ride, and no, we're not gonna stop; you should have gone to the bathroom before we left. Now sit back, relax and HAVE FUN, EVERYONE!!!! 💖

5. Vincent & Madam Red

Aesthetically this couple is fantastic. Betrayal, drama, jealousy, and forbidden love. There's a reason why blue and red are often paired together. PRIME COLOURS, BABY. That's what the kids call colour theory 😎. ANWAY, this is the Angelica Schuyler (work, work) and Alexander Hamilton (lol, you defiantly threw away your shot) ship of the Black Butler community. Even the name Angelina looks and sounds similar to Angelica. They are a bisexual dream of "may I have a side of step on me" 👞👡. They would have been that couple. Yet, I gotta rate them at number five because even though they would be slaying it together (literally and figuratively *very clever jack the ripper and watchdog joke*🔪), it does reduce the intelligent and independent Madam Red into an "uwu notice me sempai" girl. She gets turned from girl boss (affectionate) into girl boss (unaffectionate). Like GURL, I know he is bad, but you are a Miranda in a world full of Nates. The Devil wears Prada because he has taste👠. He's not worth trying to stab an eye-patched child over.

7/10 - if I was Angelina, I would have poured red wine over Rachel's wedding dress because I'm petty like that👰🍷.

4. Mey-Rin & Ronald Knox

I KNOW WHAT YOU ALL ARE THINKING🧠. That's right, I'm telepathic AF. Call me Anya 2.0. "Didn't they only interact once?" Yes, and your point? I could sense the chemistry and potential oozing like a warhead from that singular interaction. When Mey-Rin said that was the first time she ever got hit on, I was shocked and appalled because that girl is a hot warrior queen 👑like some Victorian Hippolyta. If I was shot by Mey-Rin, I would thank her because that meant she noticed little ol' me. Ronald (lol nerd) may *technically* be a dead sociopathic playboy, but underneath all that, he is also a clumsy idiot with some pretty snazzy fighting skills like a certain maid ;)). They both rock the sexy geeky🤓 look, AND Mey-Rin deserves to be swept away by a man who understands the struggle of trying to impress your superior (and failing horribly) while cleaning out blood stains🩸. They are number four because I vaguely get some The Mister by E.L James vibes, which makes me break out in a cold sweat 😷🤢if I think about it for too long. Plus, they did only interact once. God, imagine having Grell as a mother-in-law.

7.5/10 - Call me captain because Imma go down with the ship like the Campania that brought these virgins together⚓.

3. Ciel & Sieglinde

Bubala, I want to get this out of the way before we proceed. I'm no Humbert Humbert. Miss me with that ❌Lolita❌ shit (although it's a fantastic book, shout out to my lad Nabokov). When I ship kids, it's in an "it would be cute in the future" way. I don't expect a thirteen-year-old and ten-year-old actually to date. Kapeesh? Anyway, this is also not a reflection of Elizabeth as a character. We can all agree that their relationship was doomed the minute Lizzy discovered that OCiel wasn't RCiel and proceeded to have one of the worst reactions possible™. She tried to kill Sebastian, ran away from home, and let a TEENAGER get arrested because she got Parent Trapped. Girl, you even knew he was innocent but go off sis🙄💅. You know, ✨everyday rich girl things✨. Sieglinde, our little green witch, adores Ciel for who is truly is, not the broken-down actor carrying around his brother's ghost. Our scientist saw OCeil at his lowest point and still came to respect him. She also was tricked by him but didn't try to get him arrested, so...🙄💅. I'm more of an On the grind 💪 appreciator than a girl boss, manipulate gaslight type. Gotta love a spider leg, girl.

Unlike Elizabeth, who has dealt with tragedy from a distance (and don't get me wrong, she hasn't had an easy ride. It's just more psychological/self-inflicted), Ciel and Sieglinde, these two pipsqueaks have been through hell and back but came out stronger. In short, they can relate to each other's pain more than others their age. Plus, she's super adorable and a genius who can keep up (and outsmart) Ciel and is unafraid to be herself. They might not win in a leg race, but they will destroy you on a chessboard♟️. The best girl in town deserves the worst boy in London 😈.

8/10- Don't witches 🧙‍♀️ love the devil or whatever? Hocus Pocus girl and contract boy can fangirl over the same demon together. Fandom goals

2. Diedrich & Vincent

Ah, Hello again, Vincent. You have shown up on this list more than the actual Manga. Anyway, WHEN I SAW THE PANEL, THE ONE WITH "THE DAYS SPENT WITH YOU ARE BURNED INTO A MEMORY," I WANTED TO CRY. OMFG. I LOVE IT SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖. They look so sweet together there🥺. I'm a bitch for dark English academia shit because I am basic AF. Like, don't come at me. I know dark academia has a somewhat problematic history, but Imma keep shoving it down my throat like how Diedrich shoves down those sandwiches😏. The relationship between Vincent and Diedrich is so angsty that I need some rain boots because it's pouring tears out here. Even years after Vincent dies, Diedrich remains loyal to him and tries to save his child (in his "I hate you but I serectly love you" way).

Now I can hear you exclaim, "well, Vincent basically enslaved German boy as his brother-servent thing," but let me tell you, if he wanted out, he could have just stayed in Germany, but that Guten Tag man kept visiting that fine British ass until the day that fine Britsh ass was burnt to a crisp. Vincent was hot until the day he died🔥. Diedrich even keeps a picture of their time together and thinks of it fondly, despite Vicent treating him like a lapdog. THIS MAN DIDN'T EVEN GET MARRIED!!!! WAS IT BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BUSY WITH VINCENT🤔🤔🤔???? Probably not, but for my sake, I will say yes. If Lana Del Ray's music was a couple, it would be this one. They are at number two because as much I love them, there is one ship I adore a bit more. Plus, Vincent has so many side pieces that I don't trust him to stay in a monogamous relationship.

8.5/10 - I wish I knew WHY Vincent chose Rachel over these icons. Like girl, we have no beef, but I need to understand how you collared Vincent🐕‍🦺.

1. Sebastian & Agni

HAHAHA, YOU MUST OF ALL KNOWN MY (DE)MAN WOULD HAVE TO BE A PART OF MY NUMBER ONE PAIR!!!! Oooooh, the scene where Sebastian said that Agni was the first person to ever call him a friend👌👌👌. Sebastian's first friend. Think about that. The AMOUNT OF ADMIRATION they had for one another. This is Sebastian "lol, humans are bugs I like to burn with my magnifying glass" Michaelis, who respects nothing but himself (and cats). Yet, he believed Agni to be an "exemplary butler" who lived up to his ~asethics~ and Agni, the literal right hand of Kali, reached out (no pun instead) to a DEMON and saw something worth appreciating. 

Sebastian even listened to his advice over Ciel's. His master and meal ticket. The guy he signed the bloody contract with. That's like if your lawyer turned to the opposition and said, "they make a fair point, and I agree my client is in the wrong." Like WHAT???? Seb values Agni's advice. A human. In Yana's own words, a species he views as nothing more than a cluster of pests. At best, they're amusing, like how a kid keeps an ant farm. Yet, Agni is different. Here the grasshopper has become the master🙇.

Their potential stepdad AUs were just up my ally. FOUND FAMILY ADMIRES UNITE! But I gotta admit, as much I love Soma, I would give him up for adoption if he was my kid. I can't deal with that level of extra. At the very least, he would go to theatre camp for the entire summer and boarding school, as is tradition for most rich British families. See, I'm not totally heartless😘! Talking about heartlessness, don't even get me started on Agni's death scene because I will ugly cry. When Sebastian dirtied himself with Agni's blood, even tho we all know that prissy bitch is more protective over his clothes than a runway model😔✊. That was the most upset we had ever seen him (outside of almost losing his son Ciel), and he seemed at least happy Agni died in peace. I doubt Sebastian can genuinely mourn, but now at least, he has double reason to hate Undertaker. 

In Conclusion, I just think they are neat.

9.5/10- YASS KING, WHISPER YOUR DEMON SHIT WHILE HE PRAYS TO KALI!!! However, I can't give this a perfect score because one half is dead, and I do not support necrophilia💀. I hope we get Ciel and Sebastian explaining to Soma that they did not kill his daddy and, in fact, were planning a family vacay🏖️. I swear to god, if they have Soma work with RCiel, Imma flip my lid like a fucking kettle. Overall, they would have been couple goals💏.

[cassurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me A River - Chapter 19- Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"When your past calls don't answer. It has nothing new to say."

Out of Control

"The moron just wouldn't stop fucking me," Michael complains angrily while stuffing his face with a vanilla, whipped cake.

Lying upon a silver tray lay many kinds of assorted, expensive cakes.

The maids had originally brought them for Alastair and I to eat for breakfast.

However, about ten minutes into our breakfast time Michael has burst through the door spewing on and on about Keith and Alastair had so much as made a beeline out the door.

Disappearing and leaving me alone with Michael and his muffled complaints as he ate Alastair's cake.

The moment Alastair had left, Michael had stuffed his face with Alastair's cake through declarations of Alastair's undeserving of such a sweetened good when he was anything but sweet after leaving his brother-in-law in his time of 'need'.

What his serving of cake had to do with his patience to listen to Michael's complaints was beneath me.

Alastair was sweet.

He has been nothing but a gentleman the entire time I've known him.

"Someone needs to rope him to a pole somewhere and just leave him there. Stupid, moronic, dog," he mumbled through loud chewing.

"Was what he did so..."

"He doesn't know when to stop," he exclaimed, lifting his fork up in exasperation.

"Why don't you tell him how you feel?" I asked, cutting a piece of strawberry shortcake.

My favorite.

"I did," he sighed.

"But he went off on a whole tangent on how his penis would fall off if he didn't get his daily dose of Michael, idiot."

"Well, at least he's affectionate?"

I tried as I took a piece of the strawberry goodness and took a bite.

My eyes almost rolled back as the creamy, sweet taste engulfed my taste buds in a utopia-like feeling.

"Too affectionate," he groaned as he took another bite of his cake.

I tried to come up with a solution to his problem but I wasn't quite sure what I would do in his situation.

Alastair and I still hadn't had sex yet so the idea of having sex every day was but a foreign concept to me.

"Talking about affectionate," he smirked.

"How are you and Alastair coming along?"

"Good..?"

"Hmm?"

I took another bite of my cake.

"How far have you two gone?" he asked.

I felt as my air supply got cut off as a rush of sugary sweetness went down my air pipe.

I coughed through fits of gasping as Michael pat my back.

"Are you okay..."

"Michael," I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"What kind of question is that?" I squeaked as I managed to regain my normal breathing.

"A question your brother-in-law is allowed to ask," he declared determinately.

"Since when?"

"Since so-called brother-in-law has been talking to you about his sex life for the past few weeks."

"Because you wanted to. I never asked a thing."

I crossed my arms.

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

He gasped.

"You guys didn't have sex yet?"

"Michael," I squeaked as I covered my face.

"Aww, little, innocent River's virginity is still intact," he cooed.

"Michael," I squeaked as I swiped at his face, missing as he dodged my attacks in a fit of laughter.

"Aww, wittle River is embarrassed," he cooed with pursed lips.

"Micheal."

"Sugar."

We both turned as Keith skidded into the room with wide, nervous eyes.

His composer immediately relaxed as his eyes met Michael's startled form on top my bed with a plate of cake by his side.

He swept Michael into his arms as if he weighed as much as a feather, kissing him gently on the lips.

"Put me down, moron," Michael pounded at Keith's chest as Keith smiled at him with a goofy smile, seemingly unaffected by Michael's attacks.

Alastair appeared from behind the door, ushering Keith out the door with an annoyed look on his face.

"See ya, cutie," Keith smirked as he hurried out with Michael pounding away at him while screaming profanities.

Wow, good luck Keith.

Alastair sighed, slamming the door before approaching the bed.

"Thank God, they're gone," he said exasperatedly.

His brows knitted together as he looked at his now empty plate.

"My cake.."

"Michael ate it," I explained.

"Something about you being undeserving of it."

I shrugged.

"Hmm," he looked up at me with a quirked smile.

'Oh no. '

He jumped onto the bed, pulling me into his arms as he nipped at my neck.

"Guess I'll just have to eat you instead," he teased, nipping down my neck as I giggled away and attempted to push him away.

He could have been made of steel with the amount of progress I was gaining.

"Alastair," I squealed.

"Aah and even sweeter than cake," he sighed as he continued to kiss up my neck before brushing my hair from my face and bringing his lips gently to mine.

He nipped at my bottom lip with a groan as I whimpered into his mouth.

"A-Alastair," I whimpered as his tongue breached my mouth like a desperate thief.

He licked and sucked like a pro leaving me a whimpering, moaning mess beneath his muscular frame as he pushed me down onto the soft bed.

His arms encircled my head like a protective encasing as he robbed me of my sanity and left me a puddle of goop under his passionate lips.

I lifted my hands, brushing them through his silky, raven-like hair, pulling as his kiss deepened.

"Aah.."

A loud crashing startled us from our heated moment.

Alastair lifted from on top of me and peered behind him at a fallen redheaded maid.

"S-sorry, Your Highness."

She stumbled her way back up with a nervous smile.

Alastair was silent as he watched her through narrowed eyes.

"May I help you?"

"Oh," she gasped,

"I was sent here to give you this."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small square of parchment paper.

He stood up from the bed as she handed it to his outstretched hand, her hand lingering too long.

My eyes narrowed.

Alastair pulled away from her lingering hand, opening the folded paper.

The air in the room seemed to tighten as Alastair read the paper and peered up at the maid with a crossed expression.

"You may leave."

She nodded and hurried out.

Alastair stared at her retreating figure before crumpling the paper and stuffing it into his pocket.

"What was that?" I asked softly, placing my hand on his stiff shoulder.

He turned around looking down before peering up at my small form upon our bed.

His eyes shone with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.

A mixture of regret, worry and something else I couldn't quite read.

[itadorisgf]

— a taste of heaven

aka soft headcanons

note: it’s difficult being so s*ft all the time so here’s a part two

ft. inumaki toge, miwa kasumi, okkotsu yūta, tōdō aoi, zenin maki.

warning: gn!reader, insecurities, fluff

part one

⤷ main page

— inumaki toge.

inumaki’s eyes widen in surprise when you trot over to him one day and clumsily sign in jsl “good morning, toge! how are you?” his eyes water when you shyly admit that you’ve been learning for him since you don’t want him to worry about not being able to speak all of the time. you then eagerly ask if you signed it correctly. even if you didn’t sign it perfectly, the fact that you’re actively learning for inumaki is more than enough.

inumaki can sometimes get self-conscious of the seals etched onto his cheeks. it’s a part of him, something that indicates his connection to his clan, but he’ll never forget the looks he used to get from others as a child. whispers of poor child and how ugly when he would pass by them. so when you cradle his face with your hands, staring at him like he’s personally hung every star in the sky and murmuring that he’s so beautiful, inumaki’s heart melts.

while you’re happily chatting away with maki and panda, inumaki will come up from behind and wrap his arms around your middle while nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. it’s an occurrence that happens often enough that your shared friends don’t bat an eye. maki does scoff and comment that the two of you are so disgustingly in love it makes her sick, however.

— miwa kasumi.

miwa babbles. it’s a habit that she’s never managed to kick no matter how hard she’s tried to. so when she’s telling you about something that happened during her day, it hits her all of a sudden of how annoying she must be. she quiets down and abruptly ends her story. however, you notice and softly encourage her to continue. her heart skips a beat when you say “i like listening to what you have to say, kasumi.”

her little brothers are menaces. miwa loves them, but they know exactly how to get on her nerves. she’s apprehensive about introducing you to them, even though it’s only through facetime, and warns you ahead of time about how they can be. she’s shocked when they take to you so easily. soon enough, you’re the one carrying the conversation as miwa sits in the frame of the camera and watches you interact with them. she’s embarrassed when at the end of the call, her little brothers loudly proclaim that they like you before hanging up.

miwa will shyly gift you random little things she’s made: baked goods she’s experimented with, neatly completed friendship bracelets, a knitted hat when you complained about how your ears are always cold. she’s always worried about whether or not you’ll like them, but the smile that crosses your face and the glimmer in your eyes informs her that you do. and if that wasn’t enough to convince her, the happy kiss that you press to miwa’s cheek is.

— okkotsu yūta.

some nights, scratch that, most nights, yūta has difficulty falling, and staying, asleep. his mind is plagued with too many thoughts flooding his brain and he just can’t seem to turn it off. he feels like a bother, but he’ll softly creep out of his bed and slip into your dorm. in the safety of your arms, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, yūta manages to get a good night’s rest.

yūta worries about your relationship when he decides to travel overseas to study. although he’s incredibly busy most days, he always sends you a good morning and a good night text despite the time difference. sometimes he even manages to send you a box of trinkets he’s amassed for you. when you open up the box, there’s a quick messily scrawled note on top of everything that reads “i love you and miss you so much. love, yūta <3”

he flusters when you seat yourself on top of his lap and place your hands on either side of his face. yūta squirms underneath your intent gaze as you examine every inch of his face. his hands are loosely looped around your wrists and he’s bracing himself for what you’re going to say. it wouldn’t be like you, but yūta can’t help the fear that you’ll call him unattractive or ugly like the girls he used to attend school with. his face heats up when instead you murmur “you’re so pretty, yūta,” and lean in to press a kiss to his nose.

— tōdō aoi.

tōdō does not shut up about you, much to everyone’s dismay. they have no issue with you in particular, it’s just that tōdō will go on and on about you forever even if they express their lack of interest in the conversation topic. he’s just so proud to have you as his s/o that he can’t help but talk about how amazing you are all of the time!

he has a photo album on his phone that’s entirely dedicated to you. it’s filled with images that tōdō’s taken of you: pictures of you striking silly poses for him, images that you have no clue exist because he somehow managed to snap them without you noticing, and much, much more. when he talks about you, he always whips out his phone to show whoever he’s talking to how pretty you are.

he’s a huge fan of piggy back rides! you say your feet hurt from walking around? instantly, you’ll find yourself swept up by tōdō. you’re either on his back or he’s carrying you bridal style everywhere despite your protests and complaints of how embarrassing it is. he can’t have his lovely s/o walking around in pain.

— zenin maki.

if you happen to fall asleep on the train and your head drops onto maki’s shoulder, she’s incredibly careful to not jostle you awake. her entire frame is tensed, afraid that the slightest movement may wake you. if panda speaks too loudly, she glares at him and tells him to quiet down. when you wake up and lift your head up, maki gives you a grin and informs you that you drool in your sleep.

maki is fiercely protective over you. yes, you’re an idiot (affectionate), but you’re her idiot. therefore, she’s the only one who can seriously make fun of you. she doesn’t mind if others poke fun at you or tease you, as long as it’s light-hearted. the moment someone actually attempts to degrade you and make you feel lesser, maki is beating their ass.

she has to wear glasses for prolonged periods of time because of her inability to see curses without them. this often leads to maki’s temples hurting. she’ll try to ignore it because she’s not going to let a little headache bother her, but you’re having none of that. she’ll try and protest, but she can’t deny how nice it feels to have her head resting in your lap as you gently massage her aching head.

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Emmaaa❤️❤️ may I request a headcanon where the easy boys fell in love with a shy reader? Maybe with Bull, Tab, Luz, Speirs Babe and Malarkey? Thank you❤️ love you

Aaahhh Fran my dear, what a great way to start off my birthday week tysm for sending one in💓

Bull Randleman:

Bull is super protective of you, always has been.

He got 10 million times more protective when he realises he's head over ass in love with you.

He's always there, always got your back no matter what.

He likes that you're most comfortable when you're with him, makes him feel like he's special.

When he was stuck in that barn in Holland, separated from everyone, thinking about you was the only thing that kept his strength up.

Its then he decides he has to tell you how he feels.

He's pretty direct about it, he doesn't want to beat around the bush with this.

"Look darlin', I ain't gonna mess around here, because to be completely honest I'm head over heels in love with you."

You get all blushy and stuttery and he thinks it's probably the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

He can tell you're flustered, so he grabs your cheeks in his hands and rubs his thumbs over them gently.

"Can I kiss ya darlin'?" He asks softly

You can't even speak you're so surprised, so you nod and he leans in and kisses you slowly, not wanting to rush anything and ruin the perfect moment.

"Hell Bull," you giggle, "I've been hoping you'd say something for ages."

"And why didn't you say anything, huh?" He laughed.

"Because I was too scared you'd turn me down."

"Well," he sighed, kissing your forehead, "I just can't quite believe I ever gave you the impression I'd turn you down. Guess I'll just have to prove to you how much I love you from now on."

Floyd Talbert

Tab is a total flirt

He's all cheesy pickup likes at first and they make you blush like hell but you'll never give him the satisfaction of laughing at them because they're so ridiculous.

But he takes your blushing as encouragement so he keeps going for weeks until eventually he gets a giggle out of you and it makes all his efforts worthwhile because you have the most lovely laugh.

After that you start getting to know each other a little better, and you start to get closer.

He's delighted when you start to open up and share more with him.

It kind of hits him like a slap in the face that shit, he's in love love you.

He's a total softie with you

He's quite subtle about it at first. He does small nice things for you; makes you coffee, gives you half his k ration when supplies are low.

He's surprisingly reluctant to profess his feelings for you. He thinks there's no way you'll see him as anything other than a friend.

Chuck tells him he's an idiot, that you've clearly got feelings for him too and be should just tell you already.

So he does...in the most muddled way possible. It all kinda comes out like word vomit.

"So-I-Just-wanna-tell-you-I-think-you're-wonderful-and-I'm-a-little-bit-in-love-with-you."

You're dumbfounded, and you can't quite comprehend what he's just said.

"Wait," you whisper, "are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've kinda got it really bad for you."

You giggle and blush like hell, and he grins like an idiot because he loves that giggle so much

"How about I take you out for dinner sometime?" He asks cheekily, and his grin widens when you blush harder and agree to go.

He saunters over to you and plants a quick kiss on your lips, before putting his arm around your shoulder and leading you off, pointedly ignoring Chucks wolf whistles when the two of you walk past him.

George Luz

George is the biggest flirt around, and he makes no secret in the fact he likes you.

He goes out of his way to compliment you; tells you that you make Rita Hayworth look plain, that you make sunshine look dull.

The more he makes you blush, the harder he tries. He knows he can crack your shy shell and find the gem underneath.

He's a big fan of cheesy movie quotes, which you adamantly refuse to indulge him with, but he keeps trying nonetheless.

He's tried them all, so he decides this time to pull out all the stops and be as direct about his feelings as possible.

"See that's what's wrong with you," he starts smoothly, "you should be kissed, and often. And by someone who knows how."

He pauses for a second to judge your reaction, and when he sees you smiling he sweeps you into a dramatic dip and kisses you passionately, Clarke Gable style.

He quite literally swept you off your feet, and he knows it too.

Once he knows he's successfully gotten your attention for real, he softens. He dials down the flamboyant flirting and instead he just talks to you and gets to know you for real.

He loves to cuddle you in close and have whispered conversations for hours.

He's very affectionate too, always has to be holding your hand or have his arm around you.

He brings you out of your shell, his enthusiasm and fun nature is so infectious you can't help but be swept up by it and join in on the fun.

Ronald Speirs

Ron is incredibly different when he's with you, much to everyone's surprise.

He laughs with you, like....a lot.

At first you were very cautious with him. You'd heard the stories and weren't too sure what to make of him.

But when you get to know him you realise that he is totally different to what everyone said.

You found that he is really easy to talk to, and he has a wicked sense of humour.

He liked that you were a bit more quiet than others, it made you much easier for him to talk to.

He tells the most brilliant stories, and the two of you usually end up talking for hours about all sorts; history, movies, music, anything and everything.

Its obvious to everyone but you that he has feelings for you.

He thinks you must surely know, that it was completely obvious he'd fallen in love with you. I mean he spends all his free time with you, and he never talks to anyone else the way he does with you.

Lipton eventually realises that no, you don't actually have a clue how Speirs feels about you, so he tells him that you're oblivious.

Naturally Speirs is all action and matter of fact, so he decides to just tell you how he feels and see what happens.

He's kinda nervous despite outward appearances, but he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else.

So he literally just comes out and says it one day; no frills, no fuss.

You're disarmed by his straightforwardness. You'd hoped that he might return your feelings but you'd thought there was no way.

You've never seen him smile brighter than when you told him you returned his feelings.

He wasted no time after that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, his other hand cupping your jaw.

Everyone was delighted you'd mellowed out ole Sparky a little, but of course nobody was brave enough to say it out loud in case he found out.

Babe Heffron

Babe....is a bit of a mess around you.

He tries to act all cool and smooth, but he's really a total disaster because he's so distracted staring at you.

When you first start getting to know each other he does most of the talking. He's nervous as hell around you so his mouth just keeps going.

Lucky for him though you find it endearing, and it helps you feel more comfortable with him so you start to open up too.

After that he prefers to listen instead of talk, because he's fascinated by everything you tell him.

You're two peas in a pod, and everyone thinks you're a miracle worker because you've managed to get Babe to stop talking for 5 minutes.

Its clear to everyone that the guy is totally in love with you, they're just waiting for him to do something about it.

So of course Bill is the one to tell him to get his act together.

"Get your goddamn head out of your ass Babe and stop acting like a lovesick puppy. Go tell her you love her and get the goddamn girl."

It takes him awhile, and he really has to gear himself up to do it. He's attempted to say it so many times but he keeps chickening out.

One night you two are hanging out just the two of you and he manages to get it out.

He stutters like hell, but you think it's seriously adorable, and you're grinning like an idiot by the time he's finished.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," he says nervously, "do you feel the same or...?"

You say nothing, instead leaning towards him and kissing him sweetly.

You're both blushing like two cherry tomatoes, but you're smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

Then you're even more inseparable. Bill thinks you're joined at the hip or something.

You're really cute together though, always holding hands or cuddled up.

What you don't see is that Babe rarely takes his eyes off of you, and he still looks like a lovesick puppy but honestly he couldn't care less.

Don Malarkey

Don tries to act all cool when the boys are around, but when he's alone with you he's much quieter.

It's those quiet moments alone together that you enjoy the most.

He's a great listener, and he has a gentle way of pushing you to open up and be yourself with him.

You guys grow close pretty quickly, and start spending more and more time together.

He finds himself getting lost in conversations with you, and getting distracted staring at you.

He realises one day when you're telling a funny story about your childhood and he hears your wonderful laugh that he's totally in love with you.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, thinking it all over. He contemplates if he should even tell you or not because there's a chance you'll laugh I'm his face and tell him no way in hell.

Eventually he decides to screw it and just tell you. But he's not gonna just come out and say it, he's gotta do some kinda gesture. But nothing too overly dramatic because you wouldn't like that.

So he turns up to meet you with a bunch of flowers he picked himself, and he's been trying to fix his hair for the last goddamn half hour.

He's got a speech prepared and everything, but he's pretty sure he's forgotten half of it.

"Look I...I don't know if you feel the same or anything but...I just want you to know that I am head over heels in love with you. And I don't expect you to return the feelings or anything but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance."

You could tell he was nervous about the whole thing, and it was quite possibly the most endearing thing you'd ever seen in your life.

You took the flowers from him and placed them on a side table quickly before jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

"Woah," he chuckles, "I'm taking this as a good sign then."

You pulled back your head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes happily, nodding your agreement.

He eyes crinkled when he smiles and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

Its clear to everyone how perfect you are for each other; you calm his wilder side and he brings out your more outgoing side.

Well there you have it! Hope you all like it and ilysm Fran thanks so much for such a fun request to kick off the birthday week fun💕

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