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eloquent--asshole · 3 years

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My Date With the President’s Son

a/n: I’ve been getting a lot of anons recently letting me know they couldn’t find this piece. Well... I found out it was deleted. So, here is a repost of My Date With the President’s Son! I was so sad when I found out it was gone :( BUT IT’S BACK!!! :) And much love to all of you that let me know it was missing! Come talk to me about this, future ideas, or anything! --PJ

hey, hi, hello! this is my submission for the Pick Your Poison fic challenge! I went with a good ole fake dating piece. Also, sidenote: this is the first pic i’ve actually decided to post! Please feel free to message me with any comments, questions, or concern. Also, an absolutely MASSIVE shoutout to @for-fucks-sake-h, @oh-honey-styles, and @andwhenshesays for creating this and letting me be a part of it! I’m so happy I decided to do this even though I was an absolute mess about it! Buckle up kids, it’s about to get messy!

read the other challenge pieces here!!!!! and support them!

"Miss. Y/L/N, I don't think you understand the immense pressure we're under with this mission." My boss, Mr. Thompson, was staring at me from across the conference table. The room was bright. Almost too bright from the fluorescent lights beaming on us.

I looked at my hands resting on my thighs under the table before returning to his gaze. "Well, Mr. Thompson, I don’t think you understand that this goes against not only our ethical codes but my moral beliefs as well.”

Mr. Thompson spoke as he got up and came around the table, taking a seat on the glass two feet to my left. "Miss. Y/L/N, you are obligated to serve your country. However the circumstances may seem. If you do not take this mission, I will be suggesting your employment for termination."

I ran a hand down my cheek. "What –“ I ran the options through my head. Get fired or help the President’s son. Easy decision, really. “How could this even work? Does he know?"

"No, he doesn’t know. Don't worry about the details of that. We will take care of it. Nevertheless, on your part, it must seem as authentic as possible." I looked at him in disbelief.

How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest? I let out a heavy sigh before nodding at Mr. Thompson. He let a small smile break through his tough demeanor.

“Very well, we’ve set up for you two to ‘meet’ tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson got up to open the door at the end of the room. “Oh,” he paused turning to look at me one last time, “And don’t worry, if anything goes off course, you’ll be wearing an earpiece and a mic. So we’ll know and figure it out as we go along. Remember Y/N. We’re all in this together.”

But were we?

I sat in position, waiting for the signal. I was outside a quaint coffee shop where my target was currently buying a coffee.

As I got my cue from the team, I got up and started walking in the direction of the van that was watching our every move. The door to the coffee shop flew open and I felt a heavy weight rush into me "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there," came rushing out of the stranger’s mouth. I looked down at the spilled coffee on the ground between us.

"No, no. It's okay, I should have been paying more attention." I said, letting an embarrassed blush creep onto my cheeks. Why did he have to actually run into me?

"Can I buy you another coffee?” He offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"No, I insist. Really." He said, reopening the door to the café.

"Okay," I hesitated. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harry. What do you like to drink?”

I heard Thompson in my ear immediately, "Vanilla soy latte,” he basically shouted.

"Vanilla soy latte, please" I offered a smile to the barista, hiding my wince. “A grande.”

"You're joking." Harry smiled down at me. He was taller than I expected. Standing about 6”1. His curls cut into the frame of his sunglasses. Cute. I thought to myself.

"Why?" I asked, letting a giggle escape my lips.

"That's what I drink" He chuckled. Okay. I see what you’re doing, Thompson.

We smiled at each other and finished ordering. The drinks were up almost instantly. We sat at a table I chose outside. Purposely, so the team could continue watching.

"So, tell me about yourself," He started, taking a sip of his latte.

"I-" I paused briefly, waiting for instruction from Thompson.

"You work as the marketing director for Accent" Accent is a huge professional services firm. There’s no way I’m getting away with this.

"I work as a marketing director.” I took a breath, “For Accent."

"That's cool, I have some friends who work over there." Is he onto me? "Do you know Rich?”

"Rich Charleston. Operations Manager. 5"5. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.” Thompson barked in my ear.

"Oh yeah. The operations manager? He's not that tall. Auburn hair?" I questioned, a coy smile playing at my lips.

"Yeah! That's him! Funny, I've been to a few work parties with them. I've never seen you around." He looked at his coffee and came back to me. I felt my cheeks tinge pink yet again. No way I’m making it through this.

"Y/N, you're doing great. Just go with it. You started at Accent three months ago. They haven't had a company party in five months.” Thompson stated. It’s weird. Almost as if playing detective. Wait. I am a detective. A very…high end detective.

"Oh, yeah. I only started a few months ago, so that would make sense." I giggled, taking a sip of my latte.

Harry’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slipped it out to check the notification. "Shit, sorry. I actually have to get going. I'm late for a meeting. Could I get your number?" He asked, handing over his phone.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I took his phone where the ‘add new contact’ was already on his screen. I entered my information and handed it back. "Great, I'll see you around then."

"Gladly." He was off, hopping into the back seat of an awaiting SUV across the street. As it pulled away, I noticed it was in a no-parking zone. Of course, it would be. He's the president's son.

It has been three weeks since my ‘run in’ with Harry. He texted me an hour later asking if he could see me again. We had seen each other twice over the course of three weeks. Each time in a public setting to ensure the FBI could have an eye on us at all times.

We talked mostly about my work. He had finally let it slide through text that he was the President’s son. It was easy to act surprised through text. It would be harder to act as if I didn’t know my coworkers if it ever got to the point that I would be seeing him in a more intimate setting.

I was starting to realize why so many women were swooning for him. Not only was he handsome – he was charming, sweet, and extremely articulate.

I sat in Mr. Thompson’s office discussing plans for the upcoming benefit. The benefit that Harry had yet to ask me to.

"Mr. Thompson, he has no idea this plan is underway. Like what happens if he tries to make advances on me. I did not sign up to be this boy's actual girlfriend.” I borderline complained.

"Miss. Y/L/N. This is your duty for the time being. We're trying to keep him safe and clean up his image. This is the best way we can do that.”

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, what if he actually starts to have feelings for me. What if he asks me to be his girlfriend? What if – "

Mr. Thompson raised a hand to interrupt me. "Miss Y/L/N, if that happens, we will handle it. Mr. Styles will never know. Now for the upcoming benefit. You will attend with Mr. Styles. As always, you will wear an earpiece. Members of the secret service will be aware of your presence. If something comes up, I will be in your ear warning you to get Mr. Styles out of there. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” I agreed, sulking into the chair. “But sir, he hasn’t even asked me.” Thompson’s hands brushed through the air - almost as to dismiss my thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry, kid.” He snickered. “Mr. Horan, the head of his security, has intel that he will be asking you.”

As predicted, Harry did ask me to join him at the benefit. Giving me a two-day notice. Scratch that. Harry said he wanted me to come to a “party” and ‘wear something suited for a ball’ I recounted the statement as he was dropping me off from our brunch “date” on Thursday.

I stared at myself in the champagne-colored gown in my full-length mirror. I let out a frustrated sigh. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s actually really sweet. How can I untangle myself from this mess? I could commit treason, leave the country, and lay under the radar. One part of my brain told me. Or be put to death. The other part reminded me. I gave myself one last look-over and decided it was time to head to the lobby.

My roommate, Ashley, whistled at me as I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. “Going somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Work event,” I brushed off. I hadn’t told her anything. Specifically, because of the confidentiality behind the mission.

“With Harry Styles?” I froze in my tracks, taking a deep breath.

“How did you know that?”

“Sweetheart. You are all over the magazine covers. Do you think no one has cameras in public? I was speechless. How could I be so naïve that journalists who have such a strong eye on Harry’s personal, party lifestyle wouldn’t spot us out?

“Honey,” I heard our third roommate, Summer, call from the couch. “Did you really think you could be so slick?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashlie chimed in.

Before I could answer, a call from Harry popped up on my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s here.” I said turning on my heel to exit our apartment.

“Wait – “ Summer stopped me – “Can you please give us some juicy details on the man-who – I mean your new fling when you get home?”

I laughed at her response with a nod and started my trek to the lobby.

He was waiting outside the SUV, dressed in a black suit and a matching champagne tie. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

I blushed at his compliment. The security guard driving us gave me a curt nod as he opened the door for us. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

When I dodged his kiss, he pulled me in for a hug before gesturing for me to get in first. “Thanks.” Despite the disappointment in his eyes, Harry’s smile was beaming. He looked absolutely adora – Y/N stop. This is strictly for work.

The door shut behind us and in half a second we were whizzing down the street to the banquet hall where the Benefit was being held.

“I’m really happy you agreed to be my date tonight,” Harry commented, not breaking his gaze from the window. “You can meet my parents.”

Parents? As in, the President and first lady of the United States? My body shivered at the thought. I have been in the same room as them before, yes. But meeting them as not an employee – but their son’s date, friend or whatever you want to call it – is terrifying.

“Wow, that would be – “ I tried to find the right words – “nice.”

“Really?” His eyes wandered to mine. “Most people would about shit themselves right about now.”

Well I’m damn near close, Styles.

When we pulled up to the entrance of the venue, our driver – Niall, I learned – hopped out and got the door for us. My eyes were blinded by the flashing lights. Harry grabbed my hand and helped me onto the ground. As we made our ascent, paparazzi were flooding him with questions. “Harry, Harry! Who’s this?” “New flame of the week kid?” “I heard you were bringing Kendall Jenner” could be heard from every angle.

Harry apologized as soon as the doors shut behind us. I shook my head to let him know it was okay.

“I am way too sober for this,” Harry mentioned before we walked into the noisy room. “And it hasn’t even started.” I let out a quiet giggle as he smiled at me.

The benefit passed with ease. As Harry walked us around making small talk and thanking people for coming, Thompson was in my ear telling me who people were and how they got invited. Harry and I kept making trips back to the bar. While I nursed two glasses of wine, Harry had drank 4 rum and cokes. It was becoming clear that Harry was feeling good. Almost too good for him to continue being at this event.

As a last stop around the room, we walked towards his parents.

“Harry, my boy. Thanks for being here tonight,” President Styles pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Like I had a choice?” He rolled his eyes. President Styles gave a laugh, one Harry didn’t reciprocate.

“Who’s this?” His mother asked as her gaze moved to me. Her eyes were kind. They matched Harry’s, I noticed.

“Mom, dad.” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “This is my date, Y/N.”

“Hi,” I offered my hand to shake, “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasures all ours, sweetie.” His mother affirmed. I felt a smile creep onto my lips. His parents were sweet - partly informal.

As we were making our way to a table, we were stopped by a friend of Harry’s – Louis. Apparently, they had been long time friends. As they grew up, Louis had started a media company, one which Harry happily invested in to help him out.

“Harry, this your date?” He asked curiously.

“Yes, this is my future girlfriend, Y/N.” His words slurred, I felt the wind knock out of me. Girlfriend? FUTURE girlfriend?

“How about a kiss for the camera?” Louis interrupted my thoughts. “For a piece I’m working on?”

“Why not?” This boy was definitely drunk. Without having time to react, Harry grabbed my waist and quickly, yet gently, pressed his lips to mine. It lasted only about half a second and I found myself wanting more.

Harry chatted with Louis for a few more minutes before bidding goodbye and continuing our walk to a table in the back. I brought my fingers to brush against my lips, still feeling his burning into my memory.

The next hour passed quickly. Harry had downed another two drinks because “I’ve already talked to everyone I need to and now I can relax.” I could see why the media calls him a party boy. He’s 0 – 100 real quick.

Our conversation flowed easily and I found myself enjoying his presence.

“I’m having a really good time,” Harry slurred into my ear. He snuck an arm around my shoulders at some point, and I didn’t really care.

“So am I.”

“Good, I was really nervous to ask you.” His admission took me by surprise. The entire three weeks I’ve known him, he never seemed shy. He was always respectful. I’ve learned so much about the party boy that always seemed to be judged. If it were me, no one would care if I went out with my friends every weekend and brought a different guy home. But because he’s, well, Harry Styles. It matters. The presidential family is supposed to be clean, polished, not having any dirty laundry. But the media loves to air his.

I learned Harry had a – what most would call – normal upbringing. Small home in the outskirts of NYC. He went to public school up until high school, when his father had decided to run for congress and got in. His favorite color is yellow – because it’s happy. He loves music from the 70’s and 80’s because it reminds him of his childhood. He knows about his party-boy persona and absolutely loathes it – but continues to live it because it’s the only way he can let go of the stress from being the President’s son.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Well, it’s always intimidating to meet a beautiful woman who knows what she wants in life and won’t settle for less. I was especially nervous because I thought not only my reputation, but my status would scare you off.” My chest felt tight. If only he knew that everything, well half of everything, I told him were lines being fed to me from the Director of the FBI. “And I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you. I didn’t want to lie. But I felt like it would be easier for us to get to know each other before I told you.”

There’s that word. Lie. I hate that word but yet, it’s what I was doing almost every time we were together.

“I don’t want you to ever feel nervous or feel like you have something to hide from me.” I took the hand he had draped around me in my own. “I just want you to be yourself. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I don’t care about your status or the fact that your parents are the President and First Lady. That’s not something you should feel ashamed of.”

For the first time, Harry’s smile met his eyes. He’s smiled plenty when we’re together, but this was different. He tugged me closer and placed his lips on my cheek. They burned from his touch. My body temperature must have risen 10 degrees.

Did Thompson see that? Of course, he did. Wait, where is he? My smile dropped as I looked across the room, hoping for a sign of Thompson. He hadn’t been in my ear for a while. I wonder if everything’s okay.

“Everything’s fine,” I moved my eyes around the room once more, confused. “I can see that look on your face. I know that look. You were getting worried.”

Where the heck is Thompson and how can he see my face.

“Niall is about to grab you to take you both home. So, I’m off for the night. You’re on your own kid.” I heard the familiar static as they shut my earpiece off. So, they had heard that entire conversation, wonderful.

I smiled, reaching for my ear to take the piece out, but halting my movements when I remembered Harry was still sat next to me.

“Mr. Styles, the car is here.” Niall leaned down to whisper to Harry.

“Alright, love. Off we go.” Harry let his arm fall from my shoulder. I stood to grab my clutch off the table. I paused when I noticed Harry guzzling the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “What?” he asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to just leave it there. Someone could try to sell that since my lips have touched it!” I smirked at him before linking my arm with his.

The drive home was filled with Harry trying to be touchy feely and a bit too flirtatious. Between him keeping trying to rest his hand on my knee, and the many compliments he spewed out in a drunken slur, I felt myself loosening up and enjoying his drunken, flirty presence. Niall made eye contact with me in the mirror one too many times for me to be comfortable with.

He knows.

When we pulled up to my building, I opened the door only to feel a tug on my wrist. I craned my neck to look at Harry, who didn’t let go of my arm.

“Will you kiss me?” His glazed eyes bore into mine as he leaned over to my half of the seat, “For real this time?” I contemplated for a second. Yes, I would like to kiss you again. Will I? I can’t.

I giggled at his lazy smile and glanced to the mirror at Niall who seemed to be minding his own business, “You’re drunk Harry.”

“Would you reconsider if I was sober?”

“Goodnight, Harry” I said, hopping out of the SUV.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” He called as I shut the door.

What is this boy doing to me?

It’s been three days since the benefit. I hadn’t heard from Harry much, maybe a text or two over the last two days. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I did. Yes, what I was doing was wrong. But after seeing him in a vulnerable state being drunk at the benefit, he grew on me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. Even though I hadn’t heard from him, I still had the inside scoop from Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Horan was keeping a tight leash on him. No parties or clubs recently.

One thing that should’ve been noticed a lot sooner on my part was that every time I was with Harry or Harry was out, he had Niall maybe 5 feet away. So why the hell would they need me?

Oh right – clean up the image.

“Y/N!” Ashlie screamed from the kitchen. I came to a screeching halt in front of her at the counter. “Have you seen these?” I furrowed my brows as she angled her laptop screen towards me. Right on the landing page of the most popular magazine’s website was Harry’s picture. Stumbling out of a club with none-other than Kendall Jenner, hand in hand.

My brows furrowed even closer when I grabbed the laptop from the counter. I quietly walked to the couch and sat down. ‘Eligible bachelor, Harry Styles couldn’t seem to get enough of the model as they were seen being cozy all night at popular night club, Avalon Nightclub downtown Washington, D.C.’

Would this jeopardize my mission? How would Thompson handle this? What now? Was he really done with me just like that?

With too many thoughts to process, I sat the computer next to me and stared at the blank TV. The weight of the couch shifted next to me. Ashlie slid her arms around my torso and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was trying to be empathetic; I know. But I also didn’t want her pity.

“It’s okay,” I tilted my head to rest on top of hers. “Who needs him anyways?”

Wait, I do.

I stared out the window behind Mr. Thompson. He tapped his fingers in pattern on his desk, other hand resting on his cheek.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” He started, stopping his fingers from tapping. I flicked my eyes to his. “I knew this would be hard, having the type of personality he does. He doesn’t – doesn’t have a long attention span when it comes to women.”

I looked back to the window, admiring the cars streaming by on the 695. I already knew that. We all knew it. You thought one of your agents could change him? People don’t change because you want them to. They change because they want to.

When I didn’t offer a response, Thompson continued. “Did something happen after the benefit? After we unplugged you?”

I thought back to that night. Our drive home was filled mainly with his giggles and slurred pick-up lines.

“I don’t think – “ I didn’t kiss him. He wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t. “He wanted to kiss me, Mr. Thompson.”

“You didn’t kiss him, right?”

“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No, I mean – yes, I didn’t kiss him.” I clarified. I wanted to though.

“Miss. Y/L/N, we’ve brought in Mr. Horan. Head of his security. ”Thompson waved to Mr. Horan through the window. The screech from the chair next to me as it slid across the tile floor. My eyes flashed to the man next to me. Niall. Now it makes sense.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall cleared his throat, “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mr. Horan.”

“As you know, Mr. Horan here is the head of Mr. Styles’ security and has been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of President Styles’ term. He’s here to shed some insight and help us through this obstacle. He knows Harry the best, so we will have his assistance for matters like this.” Mr. Thompson gestured to Niall to start speaking about what he knows.

“Yeah, so” Niall shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Harry’s a bit frustrated. He feels like, I don’t know. That you – “ I caught his eyes drift to mine – “aren’t ‘interested’ in him anymore”

I scoffed at the remark, earning a glare from Mr. Thompson. “Miss. Y/L/N, a problem?”

“Sorry it’s just – “ I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, resting my palms on my thighs – “He feels like I’m not interested? When three days after the benefit he’s out gallivanting around D.C? That’s ridiculous.”

“See,” Niall turned towards me, “That’s just it. That’s how Harry copes. He doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms. He thinks the best way to get around his issues is to drink them away. It’s why he drank so much at the benefit. It’s why he drinks so much in general.”

It explains a lot. He had told me that he’s been under stress, and I can only imagine how much stress he feels from having to live up to a perfect image that he can’t attain with his reputation.

“So, what do I do?”

“I’ve tried to knock some sense into him. I may protect Harry for a living, but he is my friend, and I care about him and his feelings.”

The Saturday sun was warm on my skin. I stared at the clouds in the sky, listened to the kids playing about 50 feet away, and the ducks in the pond. I should be at the gym, I reminded myself. Or at least running.

It’d been a week since I last saw Harry, part of me missed him. Thompson said he was going to work with Niall and how to get the boy back on track. Why me out of all people? There were so many young women in the FBI at this point, so why me? ‘Because we see the most potential in you. Half these women won’t make it another 6 months.’ Thompson’s voice rang in my ears from our conversation yesterday afternoon.

The bright darkness dimmed behind my eyelids. I opened one to see a figure standing above me. I jolted out of my comfort.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I said sitting up and criss crossing my legs.

“Uh – “ raising a hand to the back of their neck – “Can we talk?”

“Yeah Summer, what’s up?” She sat opposite of me in the grass and looked around the park.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Her eyes never settled on mine. She’s being cautious.

“Yeah, great day to be outside.” I looked over to the swimming ducks, still quacking at each other.

What I would give to be a duck right now. Not having any worries about whether or not my job was still intact. If my friends hated me for lying to them. If the boy I liked was done with me before even having a chance to know me, and really me.

“So,” Summer started after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her expectantly. “Someone dropped by today to see you.” My heart jumped; my palms started to sweat. Was Harry at my apartment?

“Harry?”

“Uh – “ she faltered – “No, Louis?” I scrunched my brows, confused. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who Louis was. “He said he’s a friend. You apparently met him at the Benefit? I told him you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. He said to call him and left his number.” I looked at my crossed ankles. Oh, Louis. Wait, Louis took that picture of me and Harry. What does he want? “Do you know him?”

I looked back at Summer. “Yeah, he’s… he’s one of Harry’s friends.”

“You should probably call him, he looked in a rush.” I lifted my head in a nod, letting my eyes fall to the grass between us. A comfortable silence took over. “Y/N, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about whatever happened between you and… him. But I’m here for you if you do.”

“I know that, Summer. Thank you.”

I took a few steps into my room and tossed my purse onto my bed. I decided I should give Louis a call to see what’s going on.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Louis. It’s Y/N. I heard you stopped by today.”

“Oh!” He sounds surprised. His tone quickly hushed. “Y/N, thanks for calling. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I sat in my desk chair with one leg tucked under me. “What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me?” There was a long pause.

“Wh – “

“In an hour, at the park by the white house.” Before I could respond, I heard the click of him hanging up.

What?

I didn’t take much time to get ready to meet Louis. I threw a gray zip up sweatshirt over my tank top and slipped on my flare jeans with converse and was on my way. Louis texted me to say he wanted to ask me a few questions about the benefit – for a promotion he was working on for his company.

The sun had set on my way over, the purple, black sky taking over the D.C air. I glanced at the sky as I stood by the lamp post in the park. The stars look beautiful tonight. My eyes kept traveling around the park. Something I was trained to do. Have your eyes everywhere at all times.

I heard him before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, deep breathing. He sounds troubled. I whipped my head in the opposite direction.

“Y/N?” He asked, pulling the hood off his head. I could only nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I – “ I was off the script. No earpiece with Thompson telling me what to do, who to be, anything. “Just out for a stroll.” Harry stared at me as if he wasn’t really seeing me. He shook his head, his long locks falling in front of his face. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the pieces that had fallen from his face.

“By… the white house?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I love this park. Very peaceful with some great views.” I concluded. Louis sent me here, he knows what he’s doing. He and Harry are longtime friends. They must’ve talked.

“Right…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around.

“I wanted to talk.” “We should talk.” We spoke at the same time. Our eyes locked before breaking into giggles and looking at our feet.

“You go ahead,” Harry encouraged.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I –“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “How drunk was I that night?”

I blinked harshly, not expecting him to ask that. “What?”

“I don’t remember much after slamming my drink right before we left and…” He took a step away from me. “I was a little embarrassed and I wasn’t sure if I said or did anything wrong and… I thought if I held off for a bit then it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“So why still didn’t you call?” Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You didn’t get my voicemail?” He quirked his head.

“What voicemail?”

“Y/N, I called you like three times.”

“What?” Then it hit me. Thompson. Thompson tapped my phone when starting the mission to have all the details. But why?

“I just kinda thought you were done with us and I had done something after the benefit.”

“Harry, I had no idea. Honest… Is that why you went out with Kendall?”

He laughed at my question. “I haven’t gone out with Kendall. I haven’t seen her in months. Those pictures are from like… November.” I was bewildered.

I composed myself before speaking, “I’m sorry to have assumed the worst…”

“It’s okay,” he stepped closer. “Can I come to your place?”

“Right now?”

He glanced at his feet and back to me, “Yeah.” He murmured. Only meaning to be heard between us two.

“Are you okay?” I tucked some stray hair behind my ear, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right.

“I just – I just don’t want to go back yet. I had to sneak out and I just need some time away.” Running one hand through his hair, he grabbed my hand with the other.

“Okay.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet. Harry didn’t say much about what was going on within the White House walls, although I’m sure I would find out come Monday, if not sooner. I was trying to read his moving eyes, but there wasn’t much to tell. His eyes told a completely different story than his lips.

His lips spoke of stress and hardship. His eyes shine like the moon over a Georgia river in the dead of night.

When I finally parked my car in the lot, Harry slid out of my car with grace, taking my hand as each of us rounded the back of my car.

“This is it,” I sighed when opening the door to my apartment.

“Wow,” He looked from the kitchen to the living room before turning to face me, “Cute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I whipped my head to see Ashlie coming into the entrance in a towel from the hallway – clearly not expecting company.

“Uh – Hi.” Harry awkwardly waved.

“Hi, wow. Wasn’t expecting you.” She gave a small smile and gestured to her attire.

“It’s not a problem. Nice to meet you,” Harry extended his hand for her, which she gladly took, “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’m Ashlie.” Ashlie let out a flirty giggle. You know, the kind you hear at a bar when a girl is trying too hard to let a man know his jokes are ‘funny’.

“We’ll uh – be in my room.” I remarked, breaking up the awkwardness I could feel radiating through the room.

Harry trailed behind me, telling me he thought Ashlie seemed nice.

“How many roommates do you have?” He questioned, taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

“Two. My other roommate, Summer, is probably at her boyfriend’s.” I hung my hoodie over the back of my desk chair and took a seat on it backwards so I could face him. Harry nodded his head before letting his body fall back onto my bed. “So, what’s going on? At home?”

“It’s nothing,” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s obviously something if you’re sneaking out and wandering parks at night without guards. How’d you even get away with that anyways?”

“The White House has many escape routes that can’t be seen by the control room. I’ve found them all.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting.” The silence that filled the room was deafening. “Harry,” I paused waiting for him to look at me. His eyes gradually found mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of my family and the security telling me my behavior is ‘unacceptable’ because I’m the President’s son. I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t be seen with girls who are friends. I can’t have a drink in a bar.” He stood from my bed and started pacing around my room like his life depended on it. “When I’m in the White House, all I have is people barking orders in my ear, telling me what I can and can’t do. What I can and can’t wear. Who I can and can’t see? So, I guess,” Harry brought his hands to his head and started pulling his hair at the roots, “When I do get to go out with friends, I get carried away. Unfortunately, every time.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I want to say? I can relate. What can I say? Nothing.

When he moved to sit back on my bed, I joined him. He brought his chest between his knees and bowed his head, taking the stance of looking like he was about to vomit. I rested my hand on his back and tried my best to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, still looking for the right words. “Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was something you had to deal with.”

“I know, because I don’t share that part of my life. Not with anyone. The only one who really knows is Niall. But that’s only because he’s with me when I’m out and that’s when it all comes out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. “He’s the only person I really trust. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. I know it’s his job to be there. But, he’s the only one I really have.”

“That’s not true. You have loads of friends. I’ve seen them in the pictures with you.”

“No, those people – while they’re nice to hang out with – they only care about my status. They care about Harry Styles, President’s son. Not Harry.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.” And I truly didn’t. Here he is, spilling his heart to me again, and I can’t even reciprocate without blowing my cover.

“You don’t have to say anything. I thought Niall was the only person that actually cared about me. As in Harry, the person. And then I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sat up and turned his body towards mine, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Y/N, I know you would never do anything to hurt me. You care about me. You ask me about me, not what my family is doing, or what bills are going through congress. Or even try to advance your career through me.”

My mouth got dry, but I felt like I was drowning. How can he not see through this act? When will I give it up? When will Thompson have it cut? His eyes bore into mine.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I – I like you too Harry.” I have to tell him; I have to tell him the girl he thinks he knows is not who she says she is. I have to tell him; this was all part of my job. But this isn’t. It’s not your job to be here with him right now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” The proposition tore me from my thoughts. I got up and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow me down the hall.

I plopped on the couch flipping the TV on. Harry sat next to me and flung his arm to the back of the couch behind me.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” He looked over to me, nodding excitedly.

We flipped through Netflix for 10 minutes before finally deciding on 27 Dresses. The movie was the only thing that could be heard in the living room. At whatever point, Harry let his arm fall onto my shoulders and pulled me into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as we continued watching.

“Hey Y/N?” I looked up at him, humming in response. “I’m sober now.” I scrunched my eyebrows and opened my mouth to speak, “Can I kiss you now?” My heart sped up, and my cheeks warmed with the blood rushing to them.

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I let my head dip so I wasn’t looking at him.

“Why’s that?” He asked, confusion taking over his tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but... I would really like to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. It’s just - “ I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong - the FBI busting into my apartment to have me arrested, me starting what feels like a real relationship based on lies, breaking his heart after he let me in.

“Then let me,” Harry cupped my cheek and brought our gazes together. I stared at him for a moment before lightly nodding.

His lips ghosted over mine before gently pressing together. I swear I could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine. I rested my hand on his cheek and his hand moved to my waist, pulling me as close as possible. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t quick. It was soft and sweet, like him.

He pulled away and leaned back into the couch. A smile graced his face. I nuzzled back into him and pulled my feet up on the couch.

I woke up to the room completely dark, the only light coming from the dim light above the oven. I was still laying on Harry. I sat up, removing his arms from my waist. I grabbed my phone from the table to check the time. 2:36am. Oh shit, I turned back to wake Harry.

“Harry, Harry wake up. You have to go.” I shook him out of his sleep.

“What why?” He stirred, rubbing his eyes, barely coming out of his sleep.

“It’s 2:36AM.”

“Mmmmm comfy.” He closed his eyes again and rested further into the couch.

“Harry, no. You’re gonna get into trouble.” I stood up and grabbed his hands trying to pull him off the couch.

“No, I won’t”

“Harry,” I insisted. When he wouldn’t budge, I gave up. Flopping back into the couch.

“Can I just stay – you won’t even know I was here.”

I woke up in my bed. I looked at my clock next to me. 9:22am. Was it a dream? I sat up, same tank top. Same jeans. I searched for my phone to find it under my pillow with a sticky note.

Left around 5. Carried you to bed and didn’t want to wake you. Call me. – Harry

Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I pulled myself out of bed and let my feet guide me to the bathroom. What did I do? Why did I have to do that?

After staring at myself for almost two minutes, I decided to call Harry.

“Hello?” his voice was chipper.

“How’d you get home?” I asked, putting the call on speaker so I could wash my face.

“I took an Uber. I woke up to one missed call and one text from Niall asking if I was in my room from around 2. I figured it’d be best if I was back in the house before sunrise and not let anyone get suspicious.” At least he was thoughtful of other peoples’ sleep schedules.

“Ah, alright.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you wanted me to call you?” I stated, remembering his note.

“Oh, yeah! I’m picking you up for breakfast.” He said, I could feel his smile through the phone. Man does this boy get right back on the love train; I swear.

“You? Or Niall?” I teased, breaking into a smile. I grabbed my washcloth and wet it to begin washing my face.

“Ha ha. Funny. No, me. Just you, me, and some delicious breakfast.” He clarified. Should I tell Thompson? Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” We said goodbye and felt my heart beating faster. I quickly texted Thompson to let him know what was happening. I started the shower and dropped my clothes. Washing everything quickly, I felt my nerves beginning to settle in. Should I even have said yes? What if Thompson doesn’t want me to? Too late.

When I got out, I checked my phone for a response.

Thompson – 9:37am: Earpiece.

He really was a man of few words. Powerful words, but few. I quickly blew dry my hair and changed into some leggings and a ¾ sleeve blouse. Finishing putting on some light makeup, I heard a knock on the front door.

“Harry!” Ashlie exclaimed, “Good to see you again.”

I walked out to see Harry looking awkwardly at her. She was asking how everything was going for him, to which he politely smiled and said “Fine, Thanks.” His eyes lit up when they connected with mine.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, pulling me in for a hug

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile and accepting his arms around me.

“Ready?”

‘Let me just grab my purse,” I said, backing away down the hallway towards my room. I quickly grabbed the earpiece from my drawer and inserted it into my ear. I grabbed my purse from my desk and started heading back to our entryway. I paused in the doorway, glancing at my open drawer with my pistol sticking out. I slipped it into my purse before returning to Harry. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ashlie moved to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast, taking peeks over her shoulder at Harry. She shot me a wink as Harry opened the front door to lead us out.

When we were settled in the car, Harry turned to me. “First things first, I wanted to say thank you to you. For last night. And I’m sorry if I was intruding.”

“You weren’t,” I reassured him, “You never are.” As I finished my sentence, I heard the static in my earpiece. Thompson’s on.

“Morning superstar. I don’t know what happened last night, but good job getting him back.” If only he knew.

Harry turned on the radio for our drive. As we drove further out of the city, he told me how he loved some of the neighborhoods we were driving by. Mostly because he had friends living there that he made when we were in high school because Mr. Styles would often bring him to D.C., and he would meet other congressmen’s children.

I laughed at his jokes, and when he sang. Frankly, he can’t sing. But he does a very nice job trying.

When we pulled up to the café, I noticed it was quite small. Niall hadn’t brought us here on our previous brunch meetings.

“Where are we?” I questioned.

“Oh, my dad used to take me here in high school. I don’t get to come too often anymore. Ya know, security and everything.”

Right.

Breakfast went exactly how I thought it would. Harry talked about his life, asked me about mine, and Thompson fed me lines that apparently “Niall had done ‘research’, and this is what Harry wants to hear.”

But this time, when I laughed with Harry, I felt more genuine. My feelings were too. I really liked him. He was kind, generous, thoughtful. Everything a good man acted like.

When he dropped me off, Harry walked me to my door. I didn’t hesitate to kiss his cheek. Harry grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He glanced at his feet, letting a grin bless his features with his dimples showing perfectly. I nodded, squeezing his hands back. He pulled me into him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not wanting to let go.

“Bye, Harry.” I opened the door when he let go of me.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The next week felt like it flew by. I would see Harry after work, either for dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk, really anything he could think of to see me.

Thompson would be in my ear, encouraging me. Sometimes he wasn’t, those were my favorite nights with Harry. I could be myself without having to worry about if Thompson thought ‘Well that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

My phone ringing brought me out of my sleep. I looked at the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello?” I greeted, rubbing the sleep from my left eye.

“Can you come over?” Harry asked, his voice cracking near the end. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 1:11am. After a pause he added, “Please?” The desperation in his voice was almost tangible. A shiver ran down my spine just hearing his broken voice.

“Yeah, of course.” I threw my covers off of me and grabbed my nearest pair of jeans. I pulled them on and picked up one of Harry’s long sleeve t-shirts and ripped it over my head. “I’ll be there in 15.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I can let you in by the east garden.” I hung up my phone and hesitated to grab my keys. I should take an Uber. Guards would see my car parked near the White House. I opened the Uber app and ordered a car.

“Morning ma’am.” Said Andrew, the driver.

“Morning,” I grumbled, climbing in the backseat.

“How was your night?” he asked, smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Could be better,” I sighed, rubbing my fingers into my temples.

“Oh, I totally get it,” he started. Andrew talked almost the entire way about his night. When he dropped me on the corner a block away from the White House, he concluded his rant with “And that’s when I kicked him out. Well, I hope your night gets better! Life’s too short to have bad sex.” I gave him the best smile I could muster and got out of his car.

I walked up the street and crossed through an alley to get to the East garden. I saw a sliver of light coming from a shrub. The sliver of light grew bigger, giving away that it was actually a door. A disheveled Harry appeared in the light. As I got closer, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’s been crying. When I was close enough, he instantly crashed his body into mine, holding me so tight I might combust.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” I asked, cuddling him closer. He let out a choked weep. “Come on, let’s go.” I said, pulling away. He grabbed my hand and led us through the tunnels.

When we got to the halls, Harry looked around every corner, checking for guards before sneaking us to his room. The door clicked shut and the only thing I could hear were his soft sniffles. I took in the room before me. It was large and decorated for a king. There were items scattered, a chair tipped over, and a lamp lay broken on the floor next to his bed.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head with his hands covering his face. I walked over and took a seat next to him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and took another look around.

“Harry,” I whispered. “What happened?”

“He’s so disappointed in me.” He mumbled, barely audible. His body shook with sobs, soft enough to go unnoticed by anyone passing by.

“Who? Your dad?”

“He said his approval rate has barely gone up, and when he asked the cabinet about it, they – they told him it was my fault.” My heart broke at his words.

“Harry, I’m so – “

“He doesn’t get it. No one does,” he ripped himself from my grasp and stood in front of me, facing the door. “I have him, his cabinet, members of the staff, media, friends, everyone constantly yelling at me. Just because I want to go out and be normal. Live a normal life.” He was facing me now, arms flailing around to get his point across. “And as soon as I get something right, it’s not good enough!”

“What do you mean?” I inquired. I stood up and placed my hands on his shoulders, leading him back to sit down. “Talk to me.”

“You,” he stated as if it was obvious. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to better myself. Not go out as much, get away from the crowd that only talked to me because they want something. I haven’t had any interest in doing that because – well. I want to be the best man I can. For you.”

I stood straight at his confession. I was left speechless. I took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of him. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

“Harry, I – I’m proud of you for doing all of that.”

“Well I’m glad someone is,” he exclaimed. He threw himself back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

I got up and sat next to him, criss crossing my legs. I grabbed his hands from his face and held them.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you too. He just doesn’t know how to say it.” I tried to assure him.

“Yeah because ‘if you would’ve kept the clean image like I told you to’ screams ‘I’m proud of you.” He groaned. He grasped my hands and brought them to his chest.

“Well, let’s think about this. Your dad is the President. He has a lot of people to answer to, and I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress.” I explained to him, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands

“I know, I know. But like, there’s a way to talk to your kids.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying how he handled it was correct. I’m just saying, from his perspective, he’s probably not mad. Just frustrated. And I’m sure he’s proud of you for trying to better yourself.” I paused, glancing at the door. “Maybe you should just talk to him about how this experience has been for you. I know you haven’t and that might help him to better understand where you’re coming from.” I concluded.

“You’re right. I should probably try to talk to him in private.”

“Wanna hear a joke?” He nodded, cracking a small smile. “What did the drummer name his daughters? Anna one, anna two!” His giggle filled the quiet room, a chuckle left my own lips. He pulled me down, so my head was resting on his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed his hand down my cheek.

“I’ve been told,” I joked, returning the smile he gave me.

“No, I’m serious,” He looked at the ceiling before continuing, “You give really good advice that makes me think from another perspective, and you can make me laugh even when it feels like my world is crashing - not even two minutes ago.” He glanced back down at me. My eyes never leaving his face.

We stayed like this for a while. Talking about life, things we believed in, conspiracy theories, the best type of pasta (Tortellini was unanimously voted), everything.

Harry walked me back to the East Garden entrance around 3:00am.

“Are you sure you can’t stay the night? Niall can just drop you off in the morning.” He tried one last time.

“I’m sure, Harry.” I let out a quiet laugh. “But hey – maybe we should just keep this between us two? I don’t want to get any weird looks from m –“ I stopped myself before the words ‘my coworkers’ escaped my lips, “your guards.”

“Of course, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead and watched as I waited for my Uber. Occasionally throwing out pick-up lines. My favorite being ‘Are you a time traveler? Because I can see you in my future’ I casually waved as the Uber pulled up.

“Y/N?” She asked. I nodded and opened the door. I took one last look towards the entrance, seeing just the crack of light, knowing Harry was watching through it.

The next few weeks continued like this. Harry sneaking out to my house, and me to his. Each time learning new secret passages that brings me to his wing, or his room. It got to be exciting, really. Seeing Harry without Thompson in my ear. I had somehow convinced him to keep Niall out of the loop of our late-night meetings. But, of course, going on public outings was a different story. Niall would be waiting in a blacked-out SUV, I had my earpiece in, and I had to give Harry lines fed from Thompson every other sentence.

Sitting in Thompson’s office was something I should be used to by now. However, ever since Harry and I began having our midnight rendezvous, I had been anxious every time Thompson was even so much as in the same building. Although Harry and I haven’t so much as kissed since that night in my apartment, every time I saw him, I could feel the sexual tension radiating off him like I was standing next to a bonfire. He was waiting for me to make the first move, which I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. It would put so much more confusion into this already sticky situation.

Harry has grown into my friend. Of course, there was romantic interest. But I couldn’t jeopardize my cover. To him, I was Y/N Y/L/N. Marketing director for Accent. Small town girl from Carolina. I went to college for Business. I have my mom and two younger brothers back home who encouraged me to follow my dreams and move to D.C. If he knew who I really was. We could never have a relationship. If he knew I was being paid to play his romantic interest, things would never be real for us.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Thompson’s serious tone tore me from my thoughts, “We’re aware that things have gone swimmingly since Mr. Styles had picked you up for breakfast a couple weeks ago. But how are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m well. He seems to be just fine. Hasn’t been as much in the spotlight. And the press - ”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” His tone lightened a bit. Thompson clasped his hands on his desk and softened his eyes toward me. I locked eyes with him as he continued. “Y/N, how are you doing?” His question took me by surprise. Thompson is always business. Hard-core authoritarian and never cares about sick days, let alone mental health days. He didn’t care if you were vomiting on the curb, you better show up for duty.

“I – What?” I asked, bewildered. My jaw fell slack, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my thoughts.

“Y/N, I know this must be extremely hard on you. I know I asked a lot of you when I assigned you to this. I want to be sure you’re doing okay. You two spend a lot of time together and I know how charming he is. I’ve met him on several occasions.” He chuckled, pushing his chair back and coming to sit next to me.

I turned toward him and put on a poker face. “Mr. Thompson, I know the longevity of this mission, and I know what a great deal of stress this is putting on everyone involved as well.” I couldn’t help it, I let my face fall into one of agitation. “But when I’m with him, I can’t help but think of how real it is for him. How would he feel if he knew that my interest is just a hoax? That it’s part of my job description to play this part?”

Thompson moved out of his chair and moved to the windows that looked out into the office. He took his time shutting the blinds before he came to sit in front of me on his desk.

“Y/N,” He started, the unease in his voice was something new. “I know your concern for his emotions is genuine. It’s part of why I hired you. You fully invest in what you’re doing. And that’s a trait that’s hard to come by nowadays. But I also hired you because I know how tough you are. You don’t let people push you around. You’ve truly shown your character with this.”

He took a long glance out the window at the cars driving down the 695. Did he have children? I never asked. We weren’t supposed to ask our superiors about their personal lives. The office and field were strictly professional.

“The unfortunate part of our jobs, is the mere fact that everyone we interact with, is part of our job. Whether it’s a civilian on the street, or the Queen of England. We’re on guard the whole time. Take Niall for instance.” He finally brought his gaze back to mine. “Niall is the closest we have to getting inside Mr. Styles head. To understand his motives and how he may be putting a risk to himself. That’s where we come in.”

“I don’t under – “

“Like Niall, we have Joe. Joe is the head of security for President Styles. President Styles may not understand what we’re doing at the time. But always comes to thank us later.”

“Mr. Thompson,” I let the confusion slide onto my face. “With all due respect, I don’t understand how this relates.”

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that, even though it may not seem like it, we do have Mr. Styles’ best interest at heart. But to do that, we need to be on the inside as well.”

I left Thompson’s office feeling even more anxious than before I entered. The phone ringing in my pocket halted my movements. Harry was trying to FaceTime me. I took a sharp right and entered the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“Hey,” I greeted him through the screen. He was in a car, driving. His sunglasses were pulled onto his head, pushing his chocolate locks out of his face.

“Hi! Oh – I’m sorry. You’re at work, aren’t you?” He apologized.

“Oh – yeah,” I fibbed. I hated this. I wanted to scream how I didn’t work at Accent and haven’t the slightest clue what marketing strategies were. You’re in too deep at this point, slick.

“How about I come pick you up for lunch? I can say hi to Rich.” He excitedly proposed.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry. I – uh” Think Y/N, think. “I’m actually in a business meeting with a prospect. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. What’re you doing tonight?” He didn’t even seem fazed. He had grown used to my typical 9-5 day. That was actually midnight to midnight and being on call over the weekends. I, technically, was always working.

“I think Ashlie was cooking some homemade eggplant Parmesan. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight. Maybe watch a movie with some popcorn?” He gave a light smirk, before turning it into a full grin.

“I could be up for that. After dinner?”

“Do you want me to send a car to get you? Or would you like to sneak in as usual?” There was a hint of annoyance laced in his voice. He seemed to be getting tired of sneaking around.

“I can get myself there,” I stifled a laugh, trying to lighten his mood. “East Garden?”

“Yeah, okay.” I felt bad, that I couldn’t just stroll up to the main doors of the white house. But what security didn’t know didn’t hurt us. Well, me.

I arrived at the East Garden at 8:58, Harry was waiting with the door slightly cracked, as he had continuously done throughout our little meetings.

“Hey, ninja,” He smirked.

“Ninja?” I giggled as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his head atop mine, arms around my waist.

“Yeah, I think it suits you.” He snickered.

“If only you knew,” I whispered. I pulled away, “Shall we?” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. Something I had grown accustomed to.

We settled in his room, laying back on the pillows. He pulled me into his chest as The Notebook started.

“Hey Y/N?” He gingerly murmured into my hair. Feeling the day weigh on my eyelids, I offered a hum in response. “How much do you. Ya know, like me?”

My eyes flew open at the question. My heart shook my toes with how hard it was beating. “What do you mean?” Trying to keep my voice even, I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Like, we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now, so I was just wondering like.” He grabbed my left hand and gave it a squeeze, “What are we doing?”

“Harry I – “ I took a deep breath. You knew it was coming. Play stupid. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I sat up and turned to him, criss crossing my legs. “Harry, as much as I care about you,” The words were harder to get out than anticipated. “I really enjoy what we have going on. And, I mean, with your status. I’m nervous about it … blowing up. Does that make sense?” I shook my head at his disapproving eyes. My voice started to waver as I continued, “I’m sorry, I just. I know how nasty the media can be and…”

Harry bolted up, grabbing my face ready to wipe any tears that could fall. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize. I just, I don’t know. I feel like you don’t want to be seen with me or something. Even around my own house…” his voice trailed as he looked down at his own legs.

I took the opportunity to grab his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. “Harry, I promise that I really care about you. I just, I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Okay, I understand.” His gaze peered back up to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. I would just really love to show off the woman that has stolen my heart.” I stole his heart and felt mine drop. “Will you let me know when you are?” I could only nod. “Come on, let’s lay back down. I love this movie.”

I don’t know when Harry fell asleep. His soft snores filled the room long before the movie ended. I couldn’t move, but I had to get out of here. I had to tell Thompson I couldn’t do it anymore. I checked my phone for the time. 4:27. I have to go home. I carefully unhooked Harry’s hand from mine. I gathered my things from his desk before spotting a notepad. I glanced over at the sleeping boy. You at least owe him the courtesy to write him a note that you were leaving. He’s done the same before.

I scribbled a simple “Couldn’t sleep, call me tomorrow. - Y/N” On the paper before putting it next to him on the bed.

I cracked the door open as quietly as possible and stuck my head through the crack, looking for any potential sign of life. I slid my body through the door and shut it as lightly as possible. I ran my hands down my face and started down the hall.

“Y/N?” I froze as I was about to round the corner. I slowly turned around to find a confused Niall standing at the other end of the hall. He took several glances between me and Harry’s door. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cold.

“Niall, I – I didn’t think you’d be roaming the halls this early in the morning.” I tried to laugh it off while taking several strides towards him.

He stared at me dumbfounded. “Does Thompson know you’re here?” He took my blank expression as an answer. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Niall, it’s not what it seems.” I defended.

“No, you’re just sneaking over to the WHITE HOUSE in the middle of the night for no reason. Not to hook up with Harry?”

“Niall, it’s really not like that!” I raised my voice slightly.

“Then tell me what it’s like Y/N. You know this could jeopardize the mission!” Niall raised his voice higher than mine. Not seeming to care if other guards heard him.

“I’m being his friend, Niall!” I cried. ‘That’s all.”

“Being his friend?” He asked bemused. “I don’t think FRIENDS do what you’re doing, Y/N.” His voice lower this time.

“Niall, I’m just trying to do the best I can! There’s no precedent for stuff like this! He calls, I answer. If he asks me to be there for him, I am. Like three weeks ago when he had an all-out meltdown!” My hands swung from my sides, to cover my face.

“That’s my job Y/N, not yours. I’m the one he calls to handle situations like that.” He stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows. He spoke almost as if he was telling a three-year-old that they couldn’t jump off the monkey bars because they could get hurt.

“Yeah, Niall. I know it’s your job. But have you been doing it? Are you really his friend and have you been handling it?” I countered his argument. If Niall was the one to handle situations like that, then why did Harry call me instead?

“Y/N, I leave him alone when he gets like that. When he’s ready to talk, he does. I think I know him a little better than you.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice was ear-piercingly serious.

“Do you, Niall? Do you really? You may know about everything he’s going through professionally, but –“ I took a deep breath, composing myself so my voice was even. “Do you even know the real him? The sensitive Harry that talks about how hard this life is?” I paused taking in Niall’s cold expression

“How about the Harry that’s favorite color is yellow, or that he loves rom coms because they always end happily? Or what about the Harry that’s just trying to cope because this isn’t the lifestyle he planned or hoped for? Do you even know him Niall?” My voice crippled as I finished my rant.

Niall doesn’t know him. Niall knows what he needs to know so he can report to Thompson at the end of the week. Trouble he got into, bars he went to, where the paparazzi who photographed his every move worked so they can get the pictures back from his blacked-out adventures.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall’s voice was too evenly keeled. “At least I know my place, when it comes to my job. Unlike you, who has no issues crossing clear boundaries. I will be pleased to inform Mr. Thompson of your little rendezvous with Mr. Styles this evening.” He turned his back before flicking his face over his shoulder, “And I’m sure we can find out about all the others as well.”

“What?” Niall froze in his tracks; I was too afraid to turn around. “What’s going on?”

I turned to find a red-faced Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Harry,” our voices came in unison.

“You – Niall. Mr. Thompson?” The confusion took its rightful place on his face. “This,” Harry glanced at his sock clad feet. “This was a set up?” I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. “How did you – when were you – “ The unfinished questions never left his lips.

“Harry, I can explain.” My voice was thick. It almost hurt to get the words out. If I didn’t vomit when explaining to him why I like the privacy, it was sure about to come up now.

“You both… you both…” another unfinished question. He shut his door behind him and started walking in the opposite direction of both Niall and me. I gave a desperate glance to Niall, who quickly motioned for me to follow him.

“Go, you should talk to him.” His voice was soft. We both knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. “Better you than me right now.”

I jogged to catch up to Harry. “Harry wait,” I called reaching out for his hand. He quickly swiped it from my grip and quickened his pace. “Harry, please let me explain!” I cried.

“Explain what?” He growled, stopping in his tracks. I stopped just before I crashed into him and took a step back. “Explain how you can go about your day just - just lying to me? About everything? Making me feel these things for you?” His voice was exceptionally hard, barely able to detect the hurt laced through.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. ”I – “

“Sorry for what.” He barked, whipping around to face me. “Sorry for making me trust you, or sorry for getting caught in your big scheme.” His words rifled through me like he took an AR-15 to my heart. You should’ve known this could be the outcome. “Whatever you’re sorry for, I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out, I’m done.”

His shoulder bumped me as he walked past. I turned to watch him go back down the hall and around the corner back to his room. I remained motionless when I heard his door slam shut. I felt the wetness of a single tear rolling down my cheek and quickly raised my hand to wipe it away.

How could you have been so stupid, Y/N?

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dc41896 · 4 years

Text

Save Room for Us

Hey guys☺️! So this is inspired by the songs “Save Room for Us” by Tinashe and “Should’ve Been Us” by Tori Kelly (idk if that’s a thing for an imagine to be inspired by two songs that but here we are lol). Also I feel like it’s a bit lengthy so sorry about that and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff💕!

“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?,” you sing along with Pocahontas on the television screen while your 10 month old daughter, Ameera, sat in your lap as you finished securing the bow on her last puff.

Babbling as she gazes at the movie, the chime of the security alarm from the front door opening draws her attention as she crawls towards the armrest. “Looks like your favorite uncle is here,” you smile hearing her excitedly squeal seeing Chris walk into the room.

“I’m coming sweetheart just let me wash my hands first.”

Having stayed with him in his Boston home throughout the entirety of quarantine so far, Ameera had become attached to her new playmate. When he wasn’t being interviewed or working with Mark, you’d find the both of them laughing on the floor on top of one of his throws playing peek a boo or with one of her many toys.

Sometimes they’d even watch Disney movies together with Chris being the reason for her current obsession with Pocahontas. Both sat with eyes glued to the screen wrapped in a blanket eating a snack, you couldn’t help but secretly take a picture trying to hide your laughter at the adorable site.

“Hi meemo,” Chris smiles picking up the already giggling little girl and kissing her cheek before sitting on the couch beside you. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone huh?”

“The usual. Eating, playing, fussing when she wants to watch her new favorite movie.”

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” he chuckles tickling under her chin. “And what about you? Still packing your stuff?”

“Yea I uh packed some of her toys earlier but that’s it.”

“You know, you don’t have to go. I don’t have a problem with you guys staying as long as you want. Even ma told me to tell you her place is open too,” he adds looking at you while your daughter plays with the pendant on his necklace.

Being your best friend, you knew he’d try to do whatever he could for you both, but that still didn’t take away the guilt you felt from the situation. You didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way with Ameera’s crying or her, at times, crazy sleep schedule especially since he was still working. He assured you that wouldn’t be the case though when he suggested you come stay with him during an impromptu venting session on your part.

Your parents wanted you to stay with them instead of being on your own in the apartment, but with five people living in a three bedroom house you knew things would eventually feel cramped. You were already stressed enough with everything going on and doing your best to take care of your baby. You didn’t feel like your family being on top of you would help.

And so here you were these past four months and counting living with your best friend from high school.

“I know, but my parents have been on my back talking about how they wish they could see Ameera in person and how I should be spending time with them, so I think it’s time we leave. Plus I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of us,” you laugh propping your elbow on the back of the couch.

“Never, if you guys wanted to live here forever I wouldn’t mind,” he smiles as Ameera taps his eyebrows with her small palms trying to get some words out but only releasing grunts making him laugh.

“Hey now, be gentle.”

“It’s ok, I know what she wants.” Raising his eyebrows and making a stern face, she wildly squeals showing her one tooth while grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Listen here small person, if you think you’re the most adorable one here you’re in for a rude awakening,” he speaks in a low voice further prompting her giggles.

“Why have you been doing Lucas Lee in front of my child?,” you laugh as he turns to you returning to his normal expression.

“Well she was fussy one day we were waiting for you to get out the shower so I did it making a funny face and she loved it. I guess it’s been our thing since.”

“Oh boy, I don’t think you know what you’ve created meera.”

“What? Everybody loves Lucas Lee,” he ruggedly speaks getting back into character. “That’s been proven from my numerous fan voted awards,” he winks making you lean forward in laughter and him join in soon after.

“Da-da!” Both of you snapping your heads to your daughter, you watch her giggle with hands on his chest as she presses her lips against his cheek trying to give him a kiss but leaving a slobbery mess instead.

“Da-da!”

“Meemo that’s your first word! Do it again, say da da!”

“Or how about we try uncle? Say un-cle!,” you smile playing with her hand.

“Dada,” she giggles again lying her head in the crook of his neck before letting out a soft yawn and making him aw as he gently sways her side to side.

“I can put her to sleep if you want?”

“No it’s okay I got her. Come on Ameera it’s nap time.”

Taking her from his hands, she pokes out her bottom lip as she begins to fuss not wanting to leave her uncle.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he tries to soothe only to be met with tears while you walk her to the guest room. Smiling to himself he hears you quietly sing the familiar melody over the baby monitor on the table eventually getting her to settle. Whenever he heard it, whether from your mouth or somewhere else, he was always brought back to visiting you in the hospital shortly after Ameera was born.

Tip toeing in the room behind your mom to surprise you, he found you alone with a content smile sitting in bed as you gently swaddled the tiny infant lying in front of you.

“My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for, how I wish that you were mine,” you sung carefully picking her up to cradle in your arms.

“I picked something up for you while I was out,” your mom smiled moving aside to reveal a slightly crouched Chris holding two large pink gift bags designed with cartoon storks.

“I thought you were away filming?!”

“Well, I heard it was someone’s birthday today so I’m here for the party!,” he answers kissing your temple as he gently hugs you with his free arm trying not to wake the currently sleeping bundle. “Welcome to the world Ameera.”

“Say thank you uncle Chris! You really didn’t have to get more gifts though, you’ve already done enough. And that especially goes for if there’s anything Patriots in there, you might as well throw it out now.”

“No there’s nothing Patriots in here now, but give it a couple years I’m gonna have her own jersey made.”

“You better not,” you both laugh startling Ameera as she begins to squirm and whine in your arms. Consoling her while you apologize, a soft smile forms on his lips as his gaze lingers on you.

Curls tied on the top of your head wearing your light blue ‘granny pajamas’, as you called them, and your glasses perched on your nose he knew you probably didn’t feel it but in this moment it was as if you were the most beautiful being he’d laid eyes on.

He always did think you were beautiful though from the first time you met, and now with the remnants of your pregnancy glow mixing with the one you already had from your natural beauty, he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you shyly speak interrupting his thoughts as you return to your seat next to him.

“About what the crying? Y/N I think I’m pretty used to that by now,” he chuckles while you shake your head.

“No, about her calling you dada. I promise we haven’t been practicing that or anything I was just as shocked as you.”

“Oh that, you don’t have to apologize,” he responds waving you off. “I mean she’s seen me everyday for four months, it’s understandable how it would happen. Plus I don’t mind if she wants to call me dad.”

“That’s very sweet, but what happens when you get a girlfriend? You don’t think that’ll seem weird to them your best friend’s kid calling you dad?”

“Well if after I explain why Ameera calls me dad they have a problem, then they’re not for me,” he shrugs.

“And what about when you have kids?”

“Then they’ll have an older sister. Like I said though Y/N if you’re not okay with it-,”

“It’s not that I’m not it’s just...,” you begin, sighing as you look down at the cushion below you trying to figure out your feelings. Of course it warmed your heart how he’d gladly fulfil that role for Ameera, but at the same time she wasn’t his responsibility. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to do anything just because you were friends.

“Chris be honest, do you feel guilty because of what happened with me and Josh?”

Hearing that name instantly made him clench his jaw as he vividly remembered the night you confessed everything that was going on in your seemingly happy relationship. He just called to check on you and Ameera since it had been a while you two last spoke with him back working. You tried to stand strong saying how both of you were fine and updating him on how much she had grown, but being your friend for so long even through the phone he knew something was off.

That’s when you broke down explaining how Josh, your then fiancé, was feeling “stressed” from the pressures of marriage and fatherhood, and how he found comfort in, Kyla, one of the trainers at the gym he frequented.

He’d never consider himself a violent man, but it took every atom and particle in him not to pay a little visit to Josh to take care of him himself.

“Because if you are, you don’t need to be. Meera is mine and his responsibility and if he doesn’t want to step up then-.” Lightly shaking his head, he grabs your hands scooting closer to peer deeper into your brown eyes that were nearly on the verge of tears.

“No no no no Y/N listen to me, what I do for you and for meemo is because I care so much for both of you that I will do any and everything I can. That’s how I’ve felt since we were younger, since you told me you were pregnant, and how I’ll always feel. If anything, the thing I feel guilty about is not saving you from that heartache.”

“Chris don’t do that to yourself, how could you have saved me? You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”

“No I didn’t, but maybe if I would’ve told you earlier what I’ve always wanted to tell you then...things would be different,” he responds seemingly nervous as he releases a breath and eyes look as if he’s trying to carefully choose his next words.

“Our junior year I realized I liked you as more than a friend and I wanted to tell you before I left, but I got scared. So, I figured by the time I saw you again I’d have built up the courage to tell you how I felt but that wasn’t until your graduation where I found out you were going away for college. I didn’t want to be something that potentially added stress or held you back so again I left it alone. Missed chance after missed chance and eventually you met Josh and once you got engaged I knew that was it. I had no more chances. Looking back though I wish I would’ve said something sooner and then you wouldn’t have to had go through all of that and-and...”

Becoming silent, he sighs raking his hand through his dark brown strands looking towards the wooden beams on the ceiling.

“...and Ameera would be our daughter and not just mine,” you finish as he slowly nods with hands covering his face.

“I know, I’m a terrible person for thinking that.” Removing his hands to reveal his reddened face, a small smile rests on your lips as you lift his eyelids open so he could look at you.

“You’re not a terrible person for wondering what could have happened if you did something differently, everyone’s done it in some way. And as far as saving me goes, yea it would’ve been nice but in my opinion, sometimes the things we go through serve as lessons to help us in the future somehow. So take failed relationships for example, those are lessons we learn that help build us to be who we’re supposed to be. And when we finally find our person, yea that’ll come with its own lessons too, but again it’s part of the building process and what we’ve already learned will help us in that relationship with them.”

Light eyes staring into yours, you feel a bit insecure as you sit back turning your attention to the tv as you grab the remote. “Then again that probably made no sense and sounded dumb and naive and-,”

Before you could come up with more adjectives, you feel warm lips and prickling hair tap the corner of your mouth making you instinctively touch the same spot as you look at Chris.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. It’s just what you said earlier definitely wasn’t dumb and-honestly figures I missed because I didn’t ask you first and you didn’t even say how you felt-,” he rambles before your hand covers his mouth.

“Christopher Dork Evans shut up. Would it have been nice of you to ask me first? Yes, and you’re right you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me....especially when my lips were turned in another direction.”

Looking at you slightly confused as you remove your hand, you shift your gaze to his lips as you inch closer until he meets you halfway to connect with yours. Slow and passionate, your lips move together as if they had plenty of practice doing this before. Feeling your body being shifted to his lap, your arms join around his neck as his hands keep you secured to his body holding your back and creeping down until...

“What? What happened?,” he lightly chuckles after you giggle against his lips breaking the intimate moment.

“You weren’t lying when you said that’s your preference.” Quickly removing his hands from your butt the heat returns to neck and face as he nervously laughs.

“Sorry, force of habit. I mean not that every girl I kiss I instantly grab it, and not that I make out with a lot of girls-,”

“It’s okay dork, I don’t mind,” you giggle leaning back in to return to where you left off. Centimeters apart, you both look towards the table once you hear the beginning of a light cry from the baby monitor signaling Ameera had woken up from her nap.

“She’s probably wet,” you both speak at the same time making you both laugh.

“You relax, I got her.” Quickly pecking your lips, you move over so he can stand up to make his way to her room. Face pressed against the pillow held against your chest, you couldn’t get rid of the giddy smile on your lips as his words and everything that followed really sink in.

“Hey meemo! Have a good nap?,” you hear him ask through the baby monitor.

“Da da,” she replies sounding a mix of sad and tired as she holds up her arms to be freed from her crib.

“I know you weren’t ready to wake up yet were you? The nasty wet diaper made you wake up?”

Silently giggling to yourself with their back and forth exchange as he changes her diaper, you soon hear footsteps returning as you sit up to see her lying on his shoulder while he carefully sits down.

“It’s a little weird, but I’m gonna miss seeing drool spots on my shirts when you guys leave,” he chuckles softly rubbing her back.

“Well I was just thinking that maybe staying with my parents doesn’t have to be long term. Like maybe we could be there for a week or two then come back and do that every now and then. If it’s okay with you that is.”

“Yea of course I’d be fine with that,” he smiles. “What made you change your mind?”

“Meera’s really comfortable here and I don’t want to possibly disrupt that you know? Plus I’d probably have to FaceTime you every day and night or else she’d be upset,” you laugh lightly grazing your thumb back and forth against her tiny hand.

“And it’s just Meera feeling that way?”

“Okay, maybe that’s how we both feel,” you smile leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @jojolu @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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winetae · 4 years

Text

:: modern loneliness

⇨ prompt : android!hoseok x reader. 2205 words. drabble with a possible follow-up. it’s been 38 days since you’ve last seen and interacted with a living, breathing person and you’re slowly going insane.

[Week 1 of lock down.]

At first, you’re optimistic.

Working from home comes with its own set of non-negligeable perks. Notably, no more commute time! No more squeezing in between sweaty men on the subway during rush hour just to get home. The new arrangement means that you’re no longer obliged to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to blow-dry your hair or meticulously put on makeup while stuffing a bagel into your mouth because you’re short on time.

On Day 1 of quarantine, you roll out of bed and don’t even bother to change out of your pajamas. It’s quite the sight. Not that you care whether or not your hair looks like a bird’s nest or if there’s a small hole in your shirt. You’d gladly take your flannel pants and old university sweatshirt with the coffee stain by the collar over the rigid pencil skirt and stupid obligatory heels they force you to wear to the office. Ironing? You don’t know her.

That’s not to say there aren't any inconveniences but as of now, the pros outweigh the cons. For one, you’re now allowed to add as much sugar into your coffee without susciting your coworkers’ judgement. You can blast angry rap songs while finishing your reports and no one will stop you. The list goes on.

With all this newfound time on your hands, you have no more valid reasons to procrastinate. You start off by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets you’d been meaning to re-organize for months. Then you rearrange your wardrobe, dust off the top shelves of your bookcase that you usually skip over because no one can see them, and water the potted plants you’d been neglecting.

It feels great to be so productive. Your friends tell you via FaceConnect that your productivity streak won’t last long, but you’re quick to shake off their doubts.

“I’m a new me!” You insist when Mia’s laughter echoes around your empty apartment. “My life is back on track. I feel like a proper adult now that I’m not struggling so much to get everything done.”

“Sure,” she humors you. “Just don’t get upset when I tell you I told you so.”

[Day 8 of lockdown.]

Now that your apartment is cleaner than it’s ever been, you need to find other means of entertainment. According to the internet, now is the ideal time to learn a new language or acquire a new hobby, like crocheting or playing the guitar. But while it might be technically possible to learn a language, you’re definitely not an overachiever. You’re aware of your own limits.

Today you try your hand at baking. To some it might not seem like a big deal. But for someone like you who solely uses the kitchen to boil ramyeon packets and chop the occasional vegetable, today’s venture into the world of cooking is the equivalent of a quantum leap.

The molten lava cakes that come out of the oven 15 minutes later don’t look like the picture advertised in the online recipe. They don’t taste like how you’d expected, either.

You try not to be too disappointed with your failed attempt. After all, it’s only your first try. Dry cakes aren’t that bad in comparison to the horrors that could have occurred. At least nothing is burnt and your oven is still intact. You’ll try again tomorrow with hopefully a little more success.

[Day 16 of lockdown.]

It turns out that baking is not for you. After numerous trials and errors you learn a few days later that you have no vacation to be a baker. You end up abandoning all attempts to acquire a new hobby and instead look for new ways to pass the time.

Thankfully, your home server is offering free VOD for a limited amount of time, so you’re not short on distractions. You consume around half a dozen cult movies, the kind people always reference and quote without actually watching, before you finally begin crossing TV series off your to-watch list.

You yawn. It’s 9 PM on a Saturday night and you’ve just finished binging the entire season of Tiger King. It’s the third show you’ve watched from start to finish since quarantine began and now you’re wondering whether you should start a fourth.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you say before a grimace crosses your face. “Oh great... Now I’m talking to myself.”

That can’t be a good sign, you think to yourself. How long has it been since you’ve last talked to someone? You used to call your parents every day but when there’s nothing new to report, the conversations become repetitive and dull.

You should call Mia. Just to see how she’s doing.

[Day 24 of lockdown.]

YOUR WEEKLY BASKET FROM FOODCONNECT HAS ARRIVED. ALL PURCHASES WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR MONTHLY EXPENSES CARD. REMINDER THAT DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES, CONNECT CARDS ARE ALLOWED A 5000 EXCESS OVER FIXED LIMIT. TOTAL EXCESS HAS NOT YET BEEN REACHED.

[Day 38 of lockdown.]

You’re browsing BH, hoping to restock your vitamins. Lately you’ve been feeling tired and mentally drained, despite your workload not being what it used to be. Why you’re so exhausted is a mystery you’ve yet to solve. In all logic, your energy level should be at an all time high now that you’re working less and spending all your free time lounging on the couch surfing the internet.

According to the national health guideline, you’re supposed to be exercising an hour a day minimum in order for your body to remain in good condition. Your BODYCONNECT watch monitor beeps every hour to remind you that you haven’t completed the suggested activity.

Ugh.

You press the button on the side of the watch to turn the reminder off. It’s the fifth time you’ve had to silence it today but you can’t bring yourself to work up a sweat right this minute. You keep telling yourself that you’ll exercise later but like all things lately, later ends up being never.

Come to think of it, this isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself slacking off. Where did all your motivation during week 1 of lockdown go? You don’t even have the strength to do ten jumping jacks anymore; it’s like your bones belong to a person three times your age - feeble and brittle and threatening to break at a moment’s notice.

LOW ON SEROTONIN? WE’VE GOT YOU COVERED. Flash promo over in 00:32:43! Limited offer while supplies last.

A bright yellow advertisement flashes on the top right corner of your screen. Intrigued, you follow the link without expecting much. The last thing you expect is to be brought directly to BH LAB’s homepage.

“Um… I don’t think I have the budget for this…” You mutter under your breath and prepare to exit out of the page.

Androids are usually employed by the government but the ones for sale to the general public are known to be exorbitantly expensive.

A message reads: EXCLUSIVE 1 HOUR PROMO, 40% OFF YOUR FIRST PURCHASE. Click here for more details. Offer valid for new customers only.

You pause and decide to click on the link. Looking around won’t hurt anyone, right? It’s not like you’ve decided to buy anything yet.

The seven Dwellers available for sale are just as good looking as you expected them to be. Their unnaturally good looks and vibrant green eyes are what makes them easy to pick out from the crowd.

You skim through each Dweller’s description. It seems that apart from the physical differences like their facial features and build, they each have their own specialty and characteristics. One of the best-selling models boasts the cooking ability of a 5-star chef, which you admit sounds very tempting since your skills with a knife are pathetic enough to make Gordon Ramsey cry.

Another best-selling model specializes in...sex. You blink, your cheeks warming as you read over the model’s description (the “thick, vibrating cock that guarantees an orgasm every time!” comment makes you choke on your saliva). You can understand straight away why this particular model would be so popular. All of the models are pretty, but this one’s face doesn’t look like it’s from this world. Confinement would make anyone horny, and when promised a godly sex bot equipped with a vibrating dick, well…

Too bad you’re too tired these days to even think about having “mind-blowing sex for 5 hours straight.” Having such intense intercourse would probably make you pass out on the Dweller’s artificial cock, and there’s no way in hell you would want someone from CONNECT to intervene after receiving distressed signals from your body monitor. That would just be embarrassing.

You’re about to exit out of the page, curiosity sated, when the last model catches your eye.

SEROTONIN BOOSTER. Low on energy? Feeling sad or depressed? Need a companion?

This model is perfect for you! Model JHS is equipped with emotion sensors. They will fulfill your every need even when you’re not able to vocalize them. Stressed? They specialize in massages and are proficient in: Swedish massages, Aromatherapy, Shiatsu massages, Reflexology, among others.

Personality : This model is energetic. They are very active and therefore requires a minimum 6 hours to recharge. They are extremely tactile and will easily engage in skinship such as hugs or holding hands. They are talkative and will hold passionate conversations with you about almost any subject.

Likes : cleaning, working out

Dislikes : horror movies, strong smells

When reading the description, it feels they’re talking about a person rather than an android. You’re surprised to see that the Dwellers are programmed to have a certain personality that caters to specific needs because the only androids you’ve ever come across before are the government ones, and they’ve always been stoic and devoid of any distinguishing characteristic.

It would be nice, you think, to have a companion. Someone you could talk to for real instead of through a pixelated hologram. As much as you enjoy your time alone, each passing day locked in your apartment makes you realize how much you long for a hug. You miss holding someone in your arms, feeling their heartbeat against your cheek and the rise and fall of their chest as they squeeze you back.

Model JHS looks like he could fill that vacancy. Their smile is blinding, like they’re physically radiating sunshine through their expression alone. You don’t doubt their capacity to bring positive energy into your life.

Before you can think twice about it you’re adding the model to your shopping cart. The site asks you if you want to pay more in order to customize them. For an additional fee, you’re able to tweak the Dweller’s personality or modify their physical attributes to your liking. You skip over the option. For one, you don’t have the funds to afford a vibrating dick enhancement and two, you’re more than satisfied with your Dweller as they are.

It’s not until you finish supplying all your information including your Connect Card details and shipping address that you realize what a monumental purchase you’re about to make and how empty your account will be by the end of it.

You stare at the price listed at the bottom of the screen and weigh your options. Even with the 40% reduction, it’s not a negligible sum. You could buy several models of the new Birkin bag you’d been saving up for with this money.

Why purchase designer bags when you can’t even go out and use them? a voice argues. And - uh. Fair point.

In any case, you’d have to stop shopping, eating out all the time and going on frivolous trips overseas. Not that you really have a choice, given the circumstances.

You look at the laptop screen again. Are you seriously so touch-deprived that you’re willing to fork over that much money for a live-at-home android? Really?

Fuck it.

You click on [VALIDATE PAYMENT] before rationality has time to kick in and you change your mind again. Just as the screen changes and the new page loads, you feel your heart leap to your throat but it’s too late to back out now.

PROCESSING ORDER …

...

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ORDERED (1) DWELLER - JHS MODEL. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE.

(!) Your order is eligible for Instant Shipping (delivered to your door in 24 hours or less).

(!!) Due to exception circumstances, your order might encounter delays. We are taking multiple steps to ensure the safety and hygiene of all products and shipments. For more information click here.

(!) All BH products are covered by a limited two-year warranty. Please refer to warranty details regarding your product in the Dweller E-HandBook, free for download here. Please register your product after purchase in order to qualify for future claims, returns, and support.

You expel the breath you’d been holding. Your father will throw a fit once he finds out you’ve blown all your money on a bot. The criticism is warranted.

What are you even supposed to say to defend yourself? You’ve bought a Dweller on a whim while browsing for Vitamin C supplements.

Quarantine is really making you lose your goddamn mind, huh.

#blurb.txt #idk what to think of this tbh so i guess i'm just testing the waters?? if it's not too weird i'll write the rest #i really hesitated btwn jimin and hoseok dflkdjf it was a hard decision #drabble named after that lauv song

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writer-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Art Museum

네가 왜 이걸 그렇게 좋아아는지 알겠다. I can see why you enjoy these so much.

Description: Just a date with Mingi at an art museum. Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1.5k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

“Where do you want to start?” Mingi questions, opening the map and attempting to find our current location, the entrance.

I look around for the lobby area and find most people are headed into a hallway to the left.

“Mingi,” I nudge him, “I think we start over there.”

I look at him and find he’s too absorbed in the map to have heard what I said

“Oh!” Mingi exclaims, “We go that way,” He points to the left, “and then the whole thing is like a loop so we’ll end up over there.” He turns and points to the hallway to the right.

I smile at how hard he’s trying to make this a memorable date. He knows how much I love art museums but I know he’s not a big fan so I’ve never suggested it. A few days ago, I had stated that I hadn’t been to one in a while and the next thing I knew, he was buying two tickets for the museum.

Mingi grabs my hands and leads me towards the hallway to the left.

“Are you ready?” He asks, swinging our hands back and forth.

I smile and nod, happily.

As we enter the first exhibit, my eyes frantically try to take in all the different colors before I remind myself to breath and really look at the pieces.

Through the entire first exhibit, Mingi doesn’t let go of my hand, stays next to me, and silently listens to my little comments about each and every piece.

“Woah,” I breath out and take in the colors of serene meadow with greens and blues traveling through the whole piece.

I tug Mingi along to the next piece, an abstract.

“What is that?” Mingi leans close to me and points to the bottom left hand corner.

I look to where he’s looking, “I think it’s supposed to represent a couple.”

“It looks more like two potatoes.” Mingi comments and I giggle.

“Then what does the rest look like to you?” I ask, curious where his mind will take him.

“Mmm.” He hums and looks at the whole piece. “Potatoes. It’s a collage of different colored potatoes.”

I smile, “Mingi, do you want potatoes for lunch?” I inquire, knowing his stomach is often in control.

Mingi shakes his head, “I’m serious! They look like potatoes.” He insists. “But now that you say that, fries sound really good right now.” He adds quickly.

I push his shoulder and he laughs.

We finish in the first exhibit and move to the second exhibit. Two steps into the area and I’m immediately am immersed in a world of colored glass sculptures.

My mouth falls open in awe and I squeeze Mingi’s hand out of reflex.

“Hmm?” Mingi wonders, thinking I was calling for his attention.

I shake my head, “Nothing, I’m just super excited. I love glass sculptures.” I explain walking towards the first piece. It’s made of bright red and clear glass that twists upwards. Almost like how a flame would look, minus the orange and yellow tones.

“Ah, that’s right.” Mingi remembers.

“Isn’t it amazing?” I wonder out loud. “The way something like glass can be twisted and transformed into something else with just a flame. But even with the smallest of hits, it could break and shatter. It’s incredible. The amount of skill and patience and knowledge it takes to make one of these.” I taper off, admiring the next piece full of blues, greens, purples, and speckles of red.

As I read the description on the piece, Mingi lets go of my hand. Too intrigued by the back story of the piece, I let him wander away.

After examining three more piece, I realize Mingi hasn’t returned to my side. I look up and scan the room for my tall, red haired boyfriend. I spot him in the center of room looking up at the hanging piece above him. I quickly pull out my phone and snap a picture of him.

“New lock screen.” I think to myself before joining him.

“The tag says they’re supposed to be like frozen rain droplets.” Mingi mutters feeling me near him.

The varying sizes of different shades of blue are suspended above us. The lights create a feeling of being under a street lamp while it rains.

“I can see it.” I comment.

“I can feel it.” Mingi says and looks down at me.

“We should move on. We have another whole exhibit to see.” I remind him with a smile.

Mingi’s eyes widen. “Oh yeah.” He grabs my hand and leads me through the rest of the glass sculptures.

“You know,” He says as we stop in front of an intricate shape, “I can see why you enjoy these so much.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

Mingi nods, “There’s a certain strength to them. But it’s the kind of strength that you have to be careful with. The kind where if you don’t know it’s weak point, you could easily break and shatter it. But if you know how to take care of those weak points and protect them, the strength can shine and be magnificent and smooth and pure. And amazing.” He finishes.

I stare at him and my heart swells with joy.

“What?” He questions, noticing my silent stare.

“I think I fell in love with you again.” I state as a smile grows on my lips.

Mingi lightly scoffs at me.

“It’s true.” I insist and lean into his side.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and we travel to the next exhibit.

After spending enough time in the last exhibit, we exit back into the lobby and head for the exit.

“Where should we eat?” I question, squinting my eyes against the harsh sunlight.

“Mmm, let’s go to that little cafe that has the fries I really like.” Mingi suggests.

“Oh yeah, and it’s close by.” I nod and we head down the road.

“Thanks for taking me today.” I thank him after a few minutes of walking.

Mingi shakes his head, “Don’t have to thank me. It was fun.”

We continue to walk hand in hand in the sunlight and I feel like I’m on cloud9. Pure joy. Not only did Mingi take me to an art museum but he seemed to enjoy it. Which is something I would’ve never expected.

We reach the cafe and Mingi opens the door for me, allowing me to pass in first.

“Apple juice, right?” Mingi guesses, nearing the counter.

I nod, loving that he knows me so well.

“Go find a spot, I’ll order.” He instructs and I oblige, searching for the perfect spot in the semi busy cafe.

I pick a booth near the windows, slide into the seat, and patiently wait for Mingi to return. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my pictures before remembering that I took only the one of Mingi and nothing else. I pout and lay my phone on the table as Mingi return with an apple juice and a soda.

“Why are you pouty?” He questions, sliding my apple juice across the table.

“I was having so much fun, I forgot to take pictures.” I continue to pout, slightly upset with myself.

“Don’t worry.” Mingi pulls out his phone, “I took plenty. Probably way more than I should have.”

“When?” I ask in disbelief.

“In the glass exhibit.” Mingi scrolls through his phone and begins to show me his favorites. “You were so into the exhibit that I couldn’t resist taking like 100 photos of you.”

I take his phone from him and scroll through the pictures. Close ups, farther away, mid shots, angles, and lighting, Mingi indeed take a lot. I heart the ones that I really enjoy and send them to myself.

“Which one’s your favorite?” I ask, handing back his phone.

Mingi hums and scrolls through. “This one.” He turns his phone.

In the picture, I’m walking from one piece to another. He took it from the other side of the exhibit. The lights are placed perfectly so I’m in sort of an inverted spotlight. The suspended rain drops sprinkle the top of picture and somehow there were no people in between him and me.

“You have some talent there, Song Mingi.” I praise his picture. “I got one of you, too.” I open my phone and slide it over to him.

“Wah,” He smiles, “I look so cool.” Mingi puffs up his chest and runs a hand through his hand.

I roll my eyes and a waitress walks up with two burger plates in her hands.

“Remember, I’m the only who can make you look that cool in pictures.” I remind him, pointing a threatening french fry at him.

“And you remember,” Mingi challenges with his own fry, “That without me, you’d have no pictures.”

I admit defeat and pop the fry into my mouth. Mingi smiles in victory and places his fry on my plate.

“But I love you, so I’d gladly take your picture any day.” Mingi says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear.

I return the smile, “I love you too, Mr. Cool dude.”

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez mingi #ateez mingi imagine #mingi imagine #song mingi imagine #mingi #song mingi

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romanticatheart-posts · 5 years

Text

The Winds of Change

@cora-nova @allaboutchoices @ao719 @emichelle @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @cordonianroyalty @dangerouseggseagleartisan @eadanga @texaskitten30 @janezillow @jared2612 @dcbbw

A message from the author -- The following is nothing more than my attempt to recreate a fictitious tale that has been written and re-written a million times and in a million different ways (by some very talented writers I might add) since Choices aired its first chapter of The Royal Romance in April 2017.

The short prologue below will hopefully give you some idea about how the story will unfold and just for reference, it’s part canon and part AU, but all of it centers around Riley and Liam. Thank you in advance for liking or commenting and just know that doing one or both is the sweetest form of flattery and also keeps me motivated. Though, if you truly enjoy this first chapter, a re-blog would just put the icing on the cake! --

Prologue After her fall from grace, Riley was forced to board a plane headed for New York City. Back to her origin of birth. She returned with little more than a broken spirit and a broken heart, but what she left behind was a trail of shattered hopes and dreams with no possibility of restoring all that was lost. As difficult as it was to believe that her name had been smeared because of false accusations against her, it was even harder to accept that the man she loved had rejected her because of it.

It had only been a few days since her arrival from Cordonia, but even so, it seemed like a lifetime ago. She realized the big city no longer held promise for her, nor did it feel like home anymore. And while earnestly seeking refuge in the concrete jungle once more, she encounters one obstacle after the other, forcing Riley to face a hard reality. With her resources shrinking as fast as her optimism, if she doesn’t catch a break soon, not only will she be standing in front of a breadline waiting for a handout, but by that point, she will already be homeless. However, as the winds began to shift in her direction yet again, this time they would blow in her favor bringing a welcome reprieve from the hardships that had befallen her recently. This much-needed relief and support would come swiftly, and from a very unexpected source.

Back in Cordonia, Liam had just been crowned as king when all hell broke loose. And the award for most fortunate that night goes to the culprit who rained all-out chaos on an otherwise civilized ceremony because their timing was impeccable. But not so lucky, was the one who’s plans for the future came to screeching halt when his closing speech was interrupted by a devastating news release. It just had to be that moment when photos of his beloved Riley surfaced that captured her in a compromising position with another man, deeming her unfit as the potential queen.

Liam knew immediately it had to be staged and most likely part of a conspiracy, but who would do such a thing? And why? Needless to say, he was shocked, confused and angry all at the same time, but as the mayhem tapered off and old fears began to emerge, he made a split-second decision to protect her the only way he could. Under the scrutiny of his peers, the people and the press, he unwillingly fulfilled his last obligation by becoming formally engaged just as Riley is being forcefully escorted from the ballroom. When he learns later that she is on a plane headed for New York, his despair is replaced with overwhelming desperation. And as the old saying goes, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’… Well, in spite of the circumstances, Liam found the courage he needed to assert his first official command as reigning monarch. It was a decision that would shake Cordonian tradition to its core.

Without further ado, let the chaos... Ahem. I mean, let the story begin!

The Winds of Change is a term used to describe various instances in which our paths are altered by unseen forces. A metaphoric phenomenon that will touch the lives of every living, breathing soul on the face of the earth. It is believed that change is inevitable and oftentimes occurs without a noticeable impact. However, when this invisible dynamic begins to whip and thrash around its next victim, what’s left in its wake can either bring joy or it can bring misery. And no matter which way it blows, no one is immune.

That cliché holds a particular truth for one spirited young waitress who, because of one incredible night, decided to follow her heart in pursuit of true love. If anyone had told her even a year ago that she would live amongst royalty as a member of the elite, and perhaps win the heart of a prince, she would have declared them insane. Ironically, she had little to none of the typical childhood fantasies about knights in shining armor and happily ever after’s. Her approach to life has always been more... down-to-earth. Even if it seems extreme, be open to adventure and embrace every opportunity that presents itself. But in the process, keep your head out of the clouds and remain true to yourself. Everything else will just fall into place. And when fate decided to test that philosophy by throwing a handsome stranger and the chance of a lifetime into the mix, without hesitation, she accepted the challenge. Although unaware at the time, Riley Brooks came face to face with a real-life prince and his three unlikely cohorts on a not so typical Saturday night. This was just the beginning of what would set her on the course for an adventure of a lifetime. So, let’s go back to where it all began...

Living in New York City and working at a local bar gave Riley ample opportunity to meet people from all walks of life and most of the time, they’d come and go without ever leaving so much as a smidge of an impression on her. Though, when these four men walked in, she could tell right away they were... different, but in a good way. And maybe the word unique would be the best way to describe them.

It was clear that they were not native to New York, or even anywhere near, but there was a distinct brotherly bond between them that was rather endearing. Not only was their comradery entertaining to watch, but they would often draw her into their trivial disputes and discussions as she brought food and drinks to the table. And for once, working an extra shift didn’t seem so bad after all. These men were so completely different in terms of character that she wondered how they managed to become acquaintances, much less friends, to begin with. But even so, she sensed right away that they’d be fun to hang out with. Though, only one of them had awakened her other senses.

His name was Liam. The man whose eyes were like mystic blue orbs that seemed to flash more vibrant each time he looked at her and when combined with that radiant smile he wore, well... let’s just say she tingled from head to toe. Throughout the evening she did well in her attempts to keep from staring, but that didn’t stop her from tossing a few subtle glances his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was hard not to, especially since he was so unbelievably handsome. Each time though, she was met by his hypnotic gaze that almost made her go weak in the knees. Riley found that even though her motto was to never get personally involved with any of her customers, there was just something about him that made her want to forget that small detail. There was no denying the connection that existed between them and if given the opportunity for something more, she would gladly seize it. But, since the bar was about to close and neither had made a move in that direction, she resigned that this would just be another classic tale about the one that got away. However, fate had other plans.

While Riley was busy finishing her tasks for the night, as luck would have it, the bachelor party was wrapping up at the same time. It was then that Liam approached her with an apology for keeping her so late and offered to buy her a drink as a thank you. The look in his eyes told her he was sincere and trustworthy, so without hesitation, she followed her instincts and agreed to be their tour guide.

Instead of the usual club scene that had been suggested, Riley decided to charm them all with a visit to a place she called her secret spot. It was a cove just off the beaten path that she frequented for the peace and serenity that came from being near the water. That night though, it provided the perfect backdrop for her impromptu date with destiny. While the others cavorted in and around the shoreline, Riley led Liam on a short walk to climb a small cliff overlooking the ocean just to show him an amazing view. Although, the only view he was interested in at the moment was literally standing in front of him. Afterward, they wandered over by the bonfire Drake started upon their arrival, both thankful for the warmth of the crackling embers. They sat side by side and spent that time just getting to know one another better. This is when she learned Liam was a prince of some country in the Mediterranean. The Crown Prince of Cordonia to be exact and seeing that his mood had shifted as soon as he mentioned it, it was obvious the subject was a source of contention for him. Instead of focusing on the noticeable conflict that was written in his expression, Riley thought a change of scenery would be the perfect distraction and might do them both some good. So, after stating his desire to see the Statue of Liberty on his last night here, she cashed in a few favors and fulfilled a lifelong dream and in the process, brought the spark back to his eyes.

This was a pivotal moment for Liam when he recognized she wasn’t just some pretty face that used her wiles for personal gain. She showed him a side of human nature that was as sincere as it was unfamiliar, and yet something he craved all the same. It was simple really. His greatest desire was to be regarded as Liam the person, instead of a title that he was born to bear, and that is exactly who he was to her... just, Liam. The longer they talked, the more he realized that the feelings she’d stirred in him at the bar were multiplying by the second and once they shared their first kiss he immediately began dreading the moment they would have to say goodbye. Though the time did come, and it was much harder than either could have imagined.

At the point when they reached her apartment, Maxwell, Drake, and Tariq had all but crashed after their trip to the cove and were fast asleep as the limo rolled to a stop. Liam and Riley shared amused glances and then edged quietly out of the vehicle while stifling laughter at the sight before them. Though, once they both stood facing the apartment building, their expressions became more passive as neither was ready for the night to end. But after a few silent moments of contemplating the inevitable, Liam smiles ruefully as he gently takes her hand into his and they began the long trek down a short footpath that led to the front door. The entrance was not that far from where they were but wanting to hold onto these last precious moments together, they walked at a slower pace.

Upon reaching the threshold, the two stood looking at each other and for a brief moment, neither knew exactly what to say. Liam finally broke the silence, but not before lifting her hand to his lips for a sweet kiss and then held it tenderly to his chest, forcing her to take a half-step forward.

“Thank you for tonight, Riley. Believe me when I say that I thoroughly enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Liam. I had fun too.”

“That’s... I’m glad.”

With emotions running high and hearts racing, their eyes were locked solely on each other. Knowing their paths would never cross again, Riley leans in and captures his lips in hers one last time. It was a long, deep kiss and without hesitation, Liam wrapped his arms tightly around her as though he’d never let her go. But then, it was over way too soon and both knew the time had come to part ways. He reluctantly let her go and took a small step back.

“I’m glad to have met you, Riley Brooks. I’ll never forget this night...”

“Neither will I.”

And with that, she turned to go inside as Liam waited until she was safely behind the glass entrance and then headed back to the limo. As he opened the door, he took one last moment to look back only to find that she was no longer there. It was a bittersweet moment, to say the least.

The next morning, only seconds after reaching the bar where she was just about to begin her shift, Maxwell, one of the four guys she’d met the night before, showed up with an off the wall proposition. It was an invitation to join a contest of sorts, where she would rub elbows with royalty, ski the Alps, and visit places she’d only ever imagined... but the best part of all was the fact that she would get to see Liam again. And if their connection the night before held true, it would definitely be worth the trip. And then there could possibly be a proposal at the end which seemed a little farfetched, but she was game. With Liam being from a sovereign nation, it was a tradition and expected that its Crown Prince would choose a wife from those that came from noble houses in and around the kingdom. Since Riley didn’t meet this small requirement to participate, Maxwell gladly offered to be her sponsor. Within an hour after receiving the invitation, she was on a plane headed to a place she’d never seen before. And before she met Liam, she’d never heard of it either.

From the moment she stepped foot inside the palace of Cordonia, until tonight, the time just seemed to fly by. And with good reason. Beginning with one ball and now ending with another, the social season had been a continuous string of parties and social gatherings where she sailed a boat, danced with royalty and even got to show off her skills on the slopes. As soon as one event ended another began, and each was more dynamic than the last. Aside from sleeping, not one minute was spent idly. Although her ability to hold stamina in this fast-pace environment was no different than growing up in the hustle and bustle of New York City, that is where familiarity ended.

It wasn’t a secret that she was an outsider with no formal education in navigating through this strange yet exciting world she willingly leaped into. And as such, it put her at a slight disadvantage over the born and bred noblewomen that came with their pedigrees primed and ready. But with guidance from a few close friends she’d made along the way, coupled with her God-given strength and determination, Riley was quickly thrust into the spotlight, becoming favored among the others. Not only did she find success in every event of the social season, but she also earned well-deserved respect in the process. Surprisingly, nothing about the methodology ever made her feel as though she was out of her element. In fact, it gave her cause to believe that this is where she was meant to be... the place where she belonged.

Though, her growing fondness of Cordonia was only secondary to the increasing affection toward its prince. And by the third or fourth event, there was no doubt that she had fallen deeply in love with Prince Liam, and as much as he tried to be fair to the others, it was evident from the way he looked at her that the feeling was mutual. Tonight marked the end of the social season and a hopeful beginning for the future. But, before she could seize her moment of triumph, she was literally carried away in a hell storm.

Sitting idly inside the Cordonian airport, Riley’s expression can’t hide the true depth of confusion and pain she feels at this moment. And how it runs all the way to her soul. How could one misunderstanding get distorted and be so far from the truth, that she was forced out like a common criminal? On second thought, at least a real criminal would have gotten to make a phone call before being exiled. There is no doubt she has a lot on her mind... and her heart. As she sifts through the scattered fragments of what brought her to this moment, a flashback of the not so distant past streams through her mind...

“Right now, I want to have this moment just with you. Not in front of the entire court. Not with nobles and servants watching. I want to remember this moment... before our lives change forever tonight. And when I remember it, I want it to be just for us. Riley, even if I didn’t need to choose a bride tonight, I’d still be proposing. Because I don’t need any more time to decide. I already know.”

“Liam... What are you saying?”

“Riley, I never expected to feel this way about anyone. I never expected to meet anyone like you. These past few weeks have been torture... wanting desperately to spend time with you but being held back by this damned process. Wanting so badly to hold you... to tell you that it was always you in my heart. You’re the brightest spot in my world. When I’m near you, I can’t help smiling, laughing... you’re the funniest, sweetest, most daring person that I know. And every time I see you I find myself thinking how lucky, how incredibly lucky I am that I’m the one you’re spending your time with. Ever since my brother abdicated, I was worried about finding a woman worthy of being the Queen of Cordonia. But since I’ve met you, I worry about being worthy of you. Riley Brooks, you’re incredible in every sense of the word. And I don’t want to spend another minute without you knowing exactly how I feel. I’ve never said this to anyone before, but I know it’s more true than my own name. Which is all to say... Riley, I love you.”

There was so much sincerity in the way he said those three little words, and as pure and unwavering as the look in his eyes when he said them. Leaving no doubt, that they were spoken from the heart. In vivid detail, Riley replays those tender moments she and Liam shared inside the garden maze tonight and can only be described as magical. At last, a spoken confession of deep and abiding love, one to the other. Then followed by the most beautiful display of affection that neither had ever known before... making love under the stars for the very first time. Their devotion to one another, sealed in that moment. No more hesitations... no more doubts. Just two hearts, two souls, converged as one... Even now, his intoxicating aroma is still fresh on her skin. Oh, God... I just can’t believe this is happening...

These were the sweet moments prior to her world being torn apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it. What began as a dream, suddenly turned into her worst nightmare and no words can describe the pain in her heart. Was it not enough to be falsely accused as unfaithful and then publicly chastened while guards practically dragged her from the Coronation Ball? Fate obviously thought not and had one last, cruel trick up her sleeve. Just as the doors to the ballroom were about to close, Liam’s voice echoes above the crowd, delivering the final blow...

“I choose... Lady Hana.”

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etlunainmorte · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

You had to do it. You had no idea how long you would last, so, it’s all, or nothing. After all, you’re about to face the Dreadnought in a few hours. You had to really do it, before anything bad befall you.

You saw him there, standing outside of the van, calmly reading his beloved William Blake anthology. He was alone, and it was a perfect timing.

You inhaled deeply, actually expecting for the worse. Even despite your friend Nico’s reassurance that everything would turn out fine, you just could not shake off the foreboding feeling that this insane idea would end up with disastrous results.

But, then, you’re here with him now. There’s no use turning back.

And as he turned his gaze towards you in an acknowledgement of your greeting, you felt your heart do flips in erratic beats.

“How can I help you?” He said, ever so polite and well - mannered.

“I, uhh,…” You muttered. There’s at least one moment in your life when you just could not stop stuttering. And of all those times, why would you do it in front of the poet, of all people?! “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Go on.” He said quietly as he looked back at the pages of Blake’s illustrations. He may have allowed you to speak, but he sure didn’t look like he wanted to listen to you. Odd.

And this made your confidence plummet to the ground.

“I just wanted to say,… uhh,… thank you. For saving me earlier.”

“I always come when I can to help those in need.” He simply answered.

Your chest felt heavier, your breathing more labored. Your lips trembled as you tried to say the words,…

“You are such a good person, and I,… I really like you,… for that,…”

He was not looking up from his book. Was he even listening to you?

You took what courage and little confidence you had left and decided to pour everything out of your bursting chest.

“What I mean to say is, I really, really like you, V. I just thought I should let you know before,…” There! You finally said the words. But, before you could even begin to say the word ‘Dreadnought’, he looked up from his book with a smile on his lips.

That smile! Was Nico right, all along? That he’s, indeed, interested in you, as well? Were your efforts finally being paid off?

But, wait. That’s not his regular, charming smile. It was more like a,… smirk? A grin? Something felt really off with the look he’s giving you right now. Was it,… pity?

He left his spot and went slowly towards you, swinging his cane playfully.

“Those words you just uttered, were you certain about them?” He asked you, that strange smile still on his lips.

“Sorry?”

He just chuckled, like he was making fun of a child.

“Those feelings you have for me, I’m afraid we do not share them mutually.” He simply said without any difficulty.

As if breaking hearts was not foreign to him.

Well, you expected this all along. You forced a smile on your lips despite the crushing sensation you could feel in your chest.

“I see. Well, I just wanted you to know - ”

“But, that was not enough for you, yes?” Using his cane, he made you look up to him, propping your chin up to properly meet his piercing gaze. “You said I’m a good person, if I got it correctly.”

“Y-yes.”

“Then, I do feel obliged to tell you that I’ am not the person you seem to know. I’ am neither a good person, nor a hero you consider. In fact, I’ am the villain of your story.”

“V?” You said helplessly, confusion and sadness taking over.

“And I, may I add, only helped you because you seem so,… useless. Why would you even take up this massive commission in the first place? You are not as half as strong as the weakest Devil Hunter here to begin with. You are just a weak human who relies on others for survival.”

“I’m,…” You wanted to point out that he was totally wrong, that you had your own reasons for fighting this massive war, and that you did not come here unprepared. You just had to keep some,… secrets.

Unfortunately for you, you did not choose to divulge those things to others, save for Nico, your friend since childhood, and Dante, your current boss. It was partly one of the things that made you seem weak in front of others.

And he surely didn’t know your own reason for doing all of those, even though the pain you felt hiding all those things kept on piling up, higher and higher, until you could no longer contain the sadness.

Until you could no longer contain the tears of frustration and heartbreak.

And he didn’t stop there despite seeing the tears in your eyes.

It seemed like breaking your heart was not enough.

“You would only become a burden. I suggest you leave this place even before the first signs of the enemy.” He said, finally letting your chin go. He was about to walk away when he heard you call his name.

“I will not be a burden, V!” You helplessly said to him, tears streaming down your face. “I have to face this battle, please!”

“Apparently,” V said in a threatening voice as he turned back to look at you. He strode towards you like a predator, and you had to step back in fear of what he might do to you. “You are not only useless, but an imbecile, as well. If I were you, I would gladly take this chance to leave in order to spare my own life. Take it from me, it is better to run away.”

You could not say any more words to him. He completely broke you, and now, you just stood there, shocked, and a complete whimpering mess. He brought the tip of his cane down as forcefully as he could, summoning Shadow in the process as some of his tattoos vanished from his pale skin.

You looked as the great, dark Demon growled at you, something that made you even more heartbroken, for the huge cat, for some reason, used to purr quite loudly and shamelessly whenever you scratch her chin and ears as she laid down beside you.

“Now, we do not want bloodshed here so early on in the game. Leave. Now.” He warned for the very last time.

You had no choice but to turn away. From the Dreadnought. From your purpose.

From the man you have grown to love despite everything.

You may have spent the remaining hours of your life bawling out like an infant inside the van and letting it all out on Nico, but you could not just accept the outcome of your conversation with that man - your own reason for fighting.

“I’ll go.”

“Ya sure about this? You would surely not make it outta there alive. Not for gettin’ smacked by Demons.”

You looked up from the towel that Nico offered you to wipe your tears with.

“I know. I have accepted that ever since I decided to join. Nico, I know my fate, and I embrace it.”

Your friend sighed.

“Still can’t tell him?”

“No. He doesn’t have to know.”

You glanced out of the window to see the massive thing floating in the sky towards the deserted city. You were sure that the others were already dealing with it as of the moment.

You stood up and took your weapons, a violin and its bow. An instrument that your friend 'tweaked’ for you.

“I’ll go, just like the usual.”

“Alone?” Nico said, also standing up.

“And after the boys.” You said with utter resolution. V may have rejected your feelings, but he would not dare reject your permanent, once in a lifetime offer of an insurance policy, and you damn well know it.

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #prologue #revised

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bipercabeth · 5 years

Note

Things you said with your actions instead for percabeth please!! I literally just found you and read through everything I could find on ao3!

ooh this right here is a peak percabeth prompt (also thank you so much, i’m so glad you like my writing!!!) this drabble is very AU. i don’t have any specifics in mind, just an older, slower moving percabeth.

things you said with your actions instead

It’ll be a cold day in hell when Percy and Annabeth both have a day with zero obligations, and it’s a cold day in New York City when that day finally comes.

The two lay tangled up on Percy’s couch, Grover having left the apartment to brave the storm and check up on Juniper. They’re half watching Parks and Rec and half debating over if Ben and Leslie or April and Andy are the superior couple (Percy on the side of Andy and April, of course) when she reaches up to tap his shoulder.

“Hm?” He pulls his eyes from the screen and looks down at her.

“So, theoretically, if someone in this apartment had a craving for blue cookies, would we have what we need to make them?”A very sheepish, not-Annabeth look spreads over her face.

Percy closes his eyes and tries to visualize the ingredients in the pantry. He opens them to a shy smile on her lips. “Yeah. And who exactly is baking the cookies in this completely hypothetical situation?”

He’ll make them, and gladly, and his heart totally skipped out of his chest when she suggested it, but he’s delighting in this timid Annabeth. He makes her work for it.

“I was wondering if you would teach me?” She rests a hand on his chest, shielding half of her face from view, and this is way better than whatever he had assumed from her first question.

Percy can’t stop his answering grin. He nods wordlessly and sits up, pushing her up with him. He pulls her into the kitchen and she sits on the counter while he grabs what they need from the top shelf. They’re doing this Sally Jackson style, meaning from scratch and with tons of blue dye.

Soon Annabeth stands hunched over the mix of ingredients as she adds wet to dry with her back to him. Unable to help himself, he leans on the counter beside her and watches as her nose scrunches up in concentration. It’s adorable, how much she’s putting into this.

He’s not sure how long they spend like that (she’s an incredibly thorough whisker), but soon she’s turning with him with a fully mixed bowl of cookie dough and pride coming off of her in waves.

Then it’s time for blue dye, which Percy happily bites the bullet and stains his hands for. Chasing her around the kitchen with said stained hands isn’t the only reason he volunteers, but it is a perk.

It’s over when he corners her in the hallway. He rushes forward and puts his hands on her neck, capturing her in a sweet kiss. Too sweet. She tastes of chocolate and–

“You ate some of the cookie dough?! We agreed not to!”

She gives him a sorry smile that he reads as not sorry in the slightest. Before he can complain more, she’s pulling him back into the kitchen to put the cookie sheet into the oven.

Her back is to him as she steps away from the oven, giving Percy the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. Annabeth turns in his arms and pecks his lips before turning back to stare at the cookies. While her enthusiasm is adorable, Percy has spent the past 20 minutes of baking holding back from kissing his beautiful and enthusiastic girlfriend, and they have at least ten minutes before the cookies are even close to done.

He dips his head to her exposed neck and gets about three solid seconds of contact in before she drops down to sit crisscross on the floor in front of him. It takes her a moment, but she wrenches her eyes away from the rising cookies and looks back at him, gesturing to the floor next to her as if she didn’t just fall to it instead of letting him kiss her.

Still, he isn’t too butthurt as he plops down next to her. Her joy is still infectious, her enthusiasm still the brightest thing in the city on this dreary day. Her head falls to his shoulder and he catches a whiff of her lemon shampoo mixed in with the smell of cookie filling the apartment.

The closer the timer gets to zero, the more agitated Annabeth becomes. By five minutes left she’s an arm’s length closer to the glass and holding up a finger to silence him absentmindedly.

Her over mitts are on with a minute left to go, so Percy smiles and opens the oven for her when time finally runs out.

Once they’re cool enough to eat, Annabeth tentatively picks one up and offers half to Percy. He takes it from her and gestures for her to take the first bite.

“You do the honors.” He smiles.

She stares at the cookie like it’s a live grenade before stuffing it into her mouth and the look on her face when it tastes delicious (he assumes) is without a doubt the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He pops his own cookie in his mouth and pretends to wrinkle his nose at her, wincing when she hits his arm.

“Seriously,” she looks concerned, “what do you think?”

He takes another bite and relishes at the way it melts in his mouth a little. “Mom would be proud.” Annabeth beams in response and picks up another cookie in delight and Percy isn’t as much drowning in feelings so much as he is floating on them.

So when the words “I love you” come tumbling out of his mouth, he doesn’t back track.

Annabeth is frozen before him with a bit of cookie on her mouth and looking extremely caught off guard.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He steps forward and smooths his hands up and down her arms. “I just wanted you to know.”

And she doesn’t look afraid. Percy knows what she looks like when she’s afraid, and that isn’t it. Surprise, certainly, but not fear. She purses her lips and shuts her eyes tight, like she’s struggling with words of her own.

“Hey, hey, hey. I mean it. It’s alright.” He pulls her into his chest, his heart still filled to the brim but now sitting heavier in his chest.

But then Annabeth rocks onto her toes and presses her lips to his, and he knows everything is alright. Her arms wind slowly around his neck and she tastes like home and she doesn’t say it back, but he knows. And that’s all he needs.

#njkhis #drabbles #requests #my fic #my percabeth #ugh this is so soft #this is what i needed to get out of my funk thank u pal #also wow thank u for reading all my stuff #means a lot even if there isn't much yet #pjo #hoo #percabeth

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thedyingmoon · 5 years

Text

***

You had to do it. You had no idea how long you would last, so, it's all, or nothing. After all, you're about to face the Dreadnought in a few hours. You had to really do it, before anything bad befall you.

You saw him there, standing outside of the van, calmly reading his beloved William Blake anthology. He was alone, and it was a perfect timing.

You inhaled deeply, actually expecting for the worse. Even despite your friend Nico's reassurance that everything would turn out fine, you just could not shake off the foreboding feeling that this insane idea would end up with disastrous results.

But, then, you're here with him now. There's no use turning back.

And as he turned his gaze towards you in an acknowledgement of your greeting, you felt your heart do flips in erratic beats.

"How can I help you?" He said, ever so polite and well - mannered.

"I, uhh,..." You muttered. There's at least one moment in your life when you just could not stop stuttering. And of all those times, why would you do it in front of the poet, of all people?! "I wanted to tell you something."

"Go on." He said quietly, and, may you add, uninterestedly, as he looked back at the pages of Blake's illustrations. He may have allowed you to speak, but he sure didn't look like he wanted to listen to you. Odd.

And this made your confidence plummet to the ground.

"I just wanted to say,... uhh,... thank you. For saving me earlier."

"I always come when I can to help those in need." He simply answered.

Your chest felt heavier, your breathing more labored. Your lips trembled as you tried to say the words,...

"You are such a good person, and I,... I really like you,... for that,..."

He was not looking up from his book. Was he even listening to you?

You took what courage and little confidence you had left and decided to pour everything out of your bursting chest.

"What I mean to say is, I really, really like you, V. I just thought I should let you know before,..." There! You finally said the words. But, before you could even begin to say the word 'Dreadnought', he looked up from his book with a smile on his lips.

That smile! Was Nico right, all along? That he's, indeed, interested in you, as well? Were your efforts finally being paid off?

But, wait. That's not his regular, charming smile. It was more like a,... smirk? A grin? Something felt really off with the look he's giving you right now. Was it,... pity?

He left his spot and went slowly towards you, swinging his cane playfully.

"Those words you just uttered, were you certain about them?" He asked you, that strange smile still on his lips.

"Sorry?"

He just chuckled, like he was making fun of a child.

"Those feelings you have for me, I'm afraid we do not share them mutually." He simply said without any difficulty.

As if breaking hearts was not foreign to him.

Well, you expected this all along. You forced a smile on your lips despite the crushing sensation you could feel in your chest.

"I see. Well, I just wanted you to know - "

"But, that was not enough for you, yes?" Using his cane, he made you look up to him, propping your chin up to properly meet his piercing gaze. "You said I'm a good person, if I got it correctly."

"Y-yes."

"Then, I do feel obliged to tell you that I' am not the person you seem to know. I' am neither a good person, nor a hero you consider. In fact, I' am the villain of your story."

"V?" You said helplessly, confusion and sadness taking over.

"And I, may I add, only helped you because you seem so,... useless. Why would you even take up this massive commission in the first place? You are not as half as strong as the weakest Devil Hunter here to begin with. You are just a weak human who relies on others for survival."

"I'm,..." You wanted to point out that he was totally wrong, that you had your own reasons for fighting this massive war, and that you did not come here unprepared. You just had to keep some,... secrets.

And he surely didn't know your own reason for doing all of those, even though the pain you felt hiding all those things kept on piling up, higher and higher, until you could no longer contain the sadness.

Until you could no longer contain the tears of frustration and heartbreak.

And he didn't stop there despite seeing the tears in your eyes.

It seemed like breaking your heart was not enough.

"You would only become a burden. I suggest you leave this place even before the first signs of the enemy." He said, finally letting your chin go. He was about to walk away when he heard you call his name.

"I will not be a burden, V!" You helplessly said to him, tears streaming down your face. "I have to face this battle, please!"

"Apparently," V said in a threatening voice as he turned back to look at you. He strode towards you like a predator, and you had to step back in fear of what he might do to you. "You are not only useless, but an imbecile, as well. If I were you, I would gladly take this chance to leave in order to spare my own life. Take it from me, it is better to run away."

"Now, we do not want bloodshed here so early on in the game. Leave. Now." He warned for the very last time.

You had no choice but to turn away. From the Dreadnought. From your purpose.

From the man you have grown to love despite everything.

"I'll go."

"Ya sure about this? You would surely not make it outta there alive. Not for gettin' smacked by Demons."

You looked up from the towel that Nico offered you to wipe your tears with.

"I know. I have accepted that ever since I decided to join. Nico, I know my fate, and I embrace it."

Your friend sighed.

"Still can't tell him?"

"No. He doesn't have to know."

You glanced out of the window to see the massive thing floating in the sky towards the deserted city. You were sure that the others were already dealing with it as of the moment.

You stood up and took your weapons, a violin and its bow. An instrument that your friend 'tweaked' for you.

"I'll go, just like the usual."

"Alone?" Nico said, also standing up.

"And after the boys." You said with utter resolution. V may have rejected your feelings, but he would not dare reject your permanent, once in a lifetime offer of an insurance policy, and you damn well know it.

***

A/N:

This is an experiment. I've been planning for a full fic of this for a while now, my very first V X Reader.

I just want to know how you, guys and gals, feel about it. Should I continue it, or not?

Please, let me know!

Thank you so much!

🖤🖤🖤

#devil may cry 5 #v #v x reader #prologue #v x you #fanfiction #ouch?#hoping for some good response #i see my future before me

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deserted-americanmaiden · 5 years

Text

Signs of Lesbian Compulsory Heterosexuality [Part 1: Men]

"Attraction" To Men

Deciding which guys to be attracted to – not to date, but to be attracted to – based on how well they match a mental list of attractive qualities.

You have a ‘list’ of impossible criteria in your head that a man must meet for you to be attracted to him, and if you ever meet someone who matches all the criteria you just add more impossible standards.

Constantly testing your attraction to men. You pick one or more conventionally attractive men in the room, and try to force yourselfself to be attracted to them.

You like the idea of being with a man, but any time a man makes a move on you you get incredibly uncomfortable.

You do not like the reality of men, only the idea of being with men.

You may like the idea of being in a relationship with a man, but can always pick out a reason to not want to date any man that is interested in you or any man suggested to you. These reasons are sometimes reasonable, but often insignificant (i.e. “I don’t like guys who do their hair like that, he has a weird mole on his face, he’s too tall”).

You can fantasize about men and find men aesthetically attractive, but thinking about realistically being with a man makes my stomach churn.

Only developing attraction to a guy after a female friend expresses attraction to him.

You like getting attention from men and being validated in your attractiveness, but the moment it goes from attention to an interaction (i.e. from flirting to asking out) you start panicking.

Getting jealous of a specific female friend’s relationships with guys and assuming you must be attracted to the guys she’s with (even if you never really noticed him before she was interested in him).

You view relationships with men as a chore, burden, or just something you must deal with.

Confusing a strong emotional connection/dependency with a man for romantic feelings, can be due to mental illness.

You get crushes on just about every guy you’re friendly with, because there’s really no difference between friendships and crushes to you.

You feel like you could theoretically be attracted to men (you may even have fantasies about them), but in practice you never have any feelings for them.

Picking a guy at random to be attracted to.

Having such high standards that literally no guy meets them – and feeling no spark of attraction to any guy who doesn’t meet them.

You’re far more certain about being attracted to women than you are about being attracted to men.

Only/mostly being into guys who are gender nonconforming or feminine in some way.

Alternatively, the guys you like are always a hypermasculine man’s man who embodies everything about manliness.

You want to date/fall in love/get married/have kids/etc with a guy, but the guy you dream about is never specific and may as well be a cardboard cutout.

All of your fantasies around men are always with faceless, nameless men; the more realistic the fantasy and the more details about your partner you invent, the less excited and into the fantasy you become.

Only/mostly being attracted to unattainable, disinterested, or fictional guys or guys you never or rarely interact with. (Such as teachers, married or older men, and men that live far away).

Similar to only crushing on famous or fictional men, the men you like may be gay or in relationships as they are also unattainable (if they are in a relationship, you may even start to wonder if it’s actually the woman you have a crush on).

You lose all attraction or get extremely uncomfortable if there are any implications that they might like you back. You get deeply uncomfortable and lose all interest in these unattainable guys if they ever indicate they might reciprocate.

You mistake the desire for male approval as attraction. You don’t necessarily want a relationship with men, but you want men to want a relationship with you.

Reading your anxiety/discomfort/nervousness/combativeness around men as attraction to them. Confusing your anxiety around men for “butterflies” or being flustered.

Reading a desire to be attractive to men as attraction to them.

You wish you weren’t attracted to men / You wish you were a lesbian.

Relationships With Men

Dreading what feels like an inevitable domestic future with a man.

Or looking forward to an idealized version of it that resembles literally no m/f relationship you’ve ever seen in your life, never being able to picture any man you’ve actually met in that image.

You have every reason to be happy in your relationship with a man, but you just aren’t / everything is going really well, but something is missing and you can’t figure out what.

Being repulsed by the dynamics of most/all real life m/f relationships you’ve seen and/or regularly feeling like “maybe it works for them but I never want my relationship to be like that”.

Thinking you’re commitment-phobic because no relationship, no matter how great the guy, feels quite right and you drag your feet when it comes time to escalate it.

Going along with escalation because it seems like the ‘appropriate time’ or bc the guy wants it so bad, even if you personally aren’t quite ready to say I love you or have labels or move in together etc.

Or jumping ahead and trying to rush to the ‘comfortably settled’ part of relationships with guys, trying to make a relationship a done deal without investing time into emotional closeness.

Your relationships with men are devoid of passion.

Feeling like you have to have relationships with guys and/or let them get serious in order to prove something, maybe something nebulous you can’t identify.

Only having online relationships with guys; preferring not to look at the guys you’re interacting with online; choosing not to meet up with a guy even if you seem very into him and he reciprocates and meeting up is totally realistic.

Getting a boyfriend mostly so other people know you have a boyfriend and not really being interested in him romantically/sexually.

Wishing your boyfriend was more like your female friends.

Wishing your boyfriend was less interested in romance and/or sex with you and that you could just hang out as pals.

Thinking you’re really in love with a guy but being able to get over him in such record time that you pretend to be more affected than you are so your friends don’t think you’re heartless.

After a breakup, missing having a relationship more than you miss the specific guy you were with.

Worrying that you’re broken inside and unable to really love anyone.

Sex And Intimacy With Men

Having sex not out of desire for the physical pleasure or emotional closeness but because you like feeling wanted.

OR: preferring to ‘be a tease’ to feel wanted but feeling like following through is a chore.

Having to be drunk or high to have sex with men.

The idea of kissing, cuddling, dating and/or having sex with men is really scary/anxiety inducing, and the idea of doing any of those things with women isn’t (or is noticeably less scary).

Your fantasies about men still somehow turn out to be a little "gay". Maybe you’re penetrating him, you don’t have to look at his face/don’t want to look at his face, you want a threesome with another woman, he’s very feminine, etc. It might be a “straight fantasy” but you’ve altered it in a way straight people might not be totally interested in.

Thinking because you don't like/pursue sex with men you must be asexual. Or vice versa with romance for men.

Your fantasies about men give you intense distress or anxiety. They could be intrusive thoughts, forms of self-harm, or otherwise.

When you think about guys, you think about all the things that you could tolerate doing with them (dating, kissing, sex, marriage) but always in terms of what you could force yourself to do, not what you want to do.

Being around guys that are interested in you gives you intense anxiety.

Feeling weird/wrong calling your boyfriends pet names or showing them pda, but gladly showing your girl friend’s pda.

Only being comfortable with sex with men if there’s an extreme power imbalance and your desires aren’t centred.

Using sex with men as a form of self-harm.

You don’t have much of an emotional reaction to kissing or being otherwise physical with a man, or you even dislike/hate it.

Feeling numb or dissociating or crying during/after sex with men (even if you don’t understand that reaction and think you’re fine and crying etc for no reason).

Being bored with sex with men/not understanding what the big deal is that makes other women want it.

Doing it anyway out of obligation or a desire to be a good sport/do something nice for him.

Never/rarely having sexual fantasies about specific men, preferring to leave them as undetailed as possible or not thinking about men at all while fantasizing.

Having to make a concerted effort to fantasize about the guy you’re “attracted” to.

Source:

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dubiousduskwight · 6 years

Text

Contractual Obligations

“...Companionship, in forms to be defined as emotional, social, and physical, in perpetuity. I do not ask for exclusivity, simply because I do not have the funds, and you do not have the interest.”

Verad did not have his usual cheery demeanor as he made his offer. There wasn’t any need for it. For once, he was not trying to convince an unsuspecting customer to buy something they were certain they didn’t want. That was a freeing circumstance, if not quite as fun. There would be no tall tales, no playing upon language, no spurious logic that only made sense if one had too much firewater in the belly, yet made sense all the same. Both parties had something the other wanted, and so persuasion stepped aside for negotiation.

While his own demeanor was formal in a friendly sort of way - upright in his seat, correct posture, one leg crossed over the other knee, but still possessed of a certain smile and furrowing of the brow that hinted at the casual - his partner felt no such obligation. Fair, considering negotiations took place in her chambers in the Pakshee. Z’zhumii Umi lounged on her side as she examined the slowly growing list of terms and stipulations the pair were adding to what had been blank vellum half a bell ago, head propped on her hand and eyes half-lidded as if she were listening to some light chamber music.

This wasn’t a formal printed contract and was devoid of the legalisms which kept Monetarists from murdering each other in their sleep, but both knew the business of Ul’dah well enough that any down-on-her-gil clerk would officiate it even if it was written entirely in a flowing and personal script on cheaply-purchased vellum, devoid of the seals of Nald and Thal’s approval. “When you suggest pehrrrpetuity,” she said, rolling the r in imitation of a purr, and gesturing towards the new line with an outstretched hand, index finger pointed such that the gold leaf on her nails made them seem more like claws, “What terms are there for cessation?” He paused, reviewing the material so far. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, at least as he understood long-term contracts with courtesans. Regular time together, both at home and in public. At least some time spent at his own estate rather than at the Pakshee; he had insisted on that, and Z’zhumii had agreed. Prior notice of at least a day before arranging a liaison. Gifts of appropriate value and taste at equally appropriate, if not consistent intervals. They were all the sort of things that stopped a client from monopolizing their time, from filling their head with fanciful notions that yes, of course, it had started as something financial, but surely it was now something more.

Z’zhumii was very keen on making that clear. In days past, when both their purses had been near to empty, she had complained at length about how often people insisted she needed a bodyguard, and how often those insisting tended to be men of varying degrees of attractiveness. “Do you know how often I’ve needed such a man?” she had told him, after a drop too much of wine. “Nevehrr. Not once. Not a soul has drawn a knife on me, Verad babu. No one has raised a hand. And they know this, you see. They profess to guard my body, but only so they may see more of it, and more cheaply. No bodyguards, ever.”

No, there would never be something more. Verad had agreed to those terms gladly. Believing this would be something more was very much the last thing he wanted. Not after Ishgard, and not after the Severidennes. He was very enthusiastic about desiring something that would be nothing.

“The obvious one is upon my death, of course,” he said, leaning forward to dip his quill and scribble the line as he spoke. He did not make any effort to add a term suggesting that it had to be a natural death and any suspicion of foul play would mean the reversion of funds to the care of his estate. He wouldn’t mind dying if it meant somebody got a decent murder mystery out of it. Mayhaps all those private investigators milling around Ul’dah would get some work from it. “In that event, the shares will remain within your care. You may also provide written notice of termination of the contract, in which case the shares will revert back to my own control, save for the dividends you acquired during the period the contract remains in force.”

This seemed reasonable to him. The funds in question were little more than the extremely minor stake he held in Vesper Bay - a percentile of a percentile, a reward for cruel decisions made in a decade he had forgotten - but even a stake as small as his was an investment worth a great deal of money, certainly enough to keep a person comfortable without much effort by relying on the returns alone. And Z’zhumii enjoyed comfort and disliked effort in equal measure.

She never quite opened her eyes as she reviewed the updated text, nor did she need to. The sharp and clear and pale blue of her irises made her seem to be paying attention even if she wasn’t, and the way her head remained still even as the rest of her shifted beneath her, orange and yellow silks around her legs bunching and rolling with the movements. Z’zhumii had aged somewhat since Verad had last seen her, having successfully raised the Pakshee and gone into a retirement that had excused her from the difficulty of having to do work, and certainly since he had first met her using his allotted hour in his Pearl Lane office for dance practice. She was rounder at the sides, her waist having filled out in idleness, and her hair grown longer, a few grey streaks in black hair showing the marching routes of time. Saying she had aged like a good wine was cliche, and not quite right; rather, she had become even more herself, all of it reflected in the more open cunning with which she read the materials.

“Yes,” she rumbled, rising up and gesturing with outstretched palm to take the paper and quill to sign her name. “I think this will do very well. Append your own and this can be officiated.” She smiled. This much was genuine, Verad knew, because it was imperfect, one fang peeking out in an asymmetry where a more practiced, false gesture would be fixed in place. “And it will be a pleasure to spend such time with you. Someone who respects the profession, who is a friend - always a joy.” She struck a line on the bottom of the parchment with the quill, and handed both back to him. “At your leisure.”

Holding pen, Verad hesitated. Discussion was one thing. Finality was another.

People would tell him he took the wrong lesson from this. That for all the troubles in Ishgard, he should be looking for someone that would love him for him. That what had passed there was infatuation, and he should not so easily discard the opportunity for something more. To be with Z’zhumii, a woman he suspected literally could not care for him, was giving up.

He remembered the gambling parlour he had visited in the Brume, seeking information from Ser Gil. In particular the “off-aisle betting” had drawn his attention: A slate board, marked with chalk, listing all the upcoming nuptials and engagements of Ishgard, the odds of each suitor’s success marked beside them. The Severidenne Engagement, with its many competitors, had a great deal of marks beside it. He remembered the odds listed next to his own name: a shot so long that it wasn’t worth betting even if one started rigging the game.

He suspected the same people who would warn him would call this kind of enterprise callous. Verad had found it strangely comforting - not the probabilities, his own ego insisted his were better than that, even if he hadn’t beaten them in the end. But seeing it all come down to money was a relief. Something familiar. There was no harm, surely, in basing such an arrangement on money if all parties were clear upon it.

And, he suspected, the same people who would call this a mistake overlapped with the people who insisted that really, truly, he was better off at the Quicksand selling junk to strangers, giving them the means to find their own paths. To the hells with what they thought.

Verad’s signature was very much like his bows - full of unnecessary flourishes and twists. It took him far longer to sign his name than was needed, but when it was done, he smiled. “There. All official. If it pleases you -- “

“ --Put the chest over there, in front of the bench until the bed is moved in.” Z’zhumii’s method of directing movers was much the same as her method of managing contract negotiations: She lounged, resting on the same couch she used in her chambers at the Pakshee. That the couch in question was currently on Verad’s front lawn was a minor detail, lost amidst all of the other bric-a-brac she had brought with her. Two moons had passed. The contract between them had gone as he expected. They met once or twice a week, typically at his estate. He had planned on redecorating his basement, and she had shown excellent taste without completely overriding his own aesthetic. She stayed the night, they ordered out for breakfast in the morning, and bade each other goodbye. Plans were made for more public outings. So far, so swimmingly.

This, however, was unexpected. If he had not awoken to the sound of his front door being jimmied open and his storefront counter moved aside in order to bring the items within such that the movers (all Lalafell, ideal for their lifting strength) did not have to jump over it, Verad probably would have slept through the entire affair. As it was, he now found himself beside the couch, still in the process of waking up on a late morning and sputtering out his disbelief, his statements taking no greater shape than a few half-mumbled wh-’s and buts and one semi-coherent “All the partitions?!”

For her part, Z’zhumii was a gracious intruder, snacking on imported grapes from the La Noscean lowland while guiding her staff. She did not overwhelm Verad with affection until he had managed to rub the bleariness from his eyes and befuddlement from his brain and ask “Zozu, darling, what exactly is going on?”

Only then did she clasp her hands together and rise up from her couch to a seated position, lifting up her chin. Verad, on cue, stooped low enough to allow her to kiss his cheek. “Of course, babu, I did not expect you to wake so soon. I had hoped to surprise you. I am leaving the Pakshee, you see, and you did say you had rooms open. Dears, please, be careful with those chests,” she said, turning her attention to the movers without turning her eyes from Verad. “I have every coin in their accounted for, and if even half-a-gil is missing~!” Even her threats arrived with a sweet lilt to her voice, a little trill as if she was promising them something nicer than whatever horrors might await.

“Yes, I can see this, you know, the, ah, the moving,” Verad replied after rising to his full height again. “Perhaps why exactly is going on, is the better question. If not as well-phrased.”

“Of course, of course.” She patted his side before returning to her repose. “So, as you know, I returned from retirement at our anniversary, but there is something . . . “ She waved a grape in the air as if it contained the mysteries of the aether. “Something lacking. All management, not as much pehrrformance. And I have so been enjoying our time together, you know. I thought that, perhaps, it would be all the more pleasant to step down and take up your own exploits.” Her eyes shimmered in the morning light. “You always make things sound so interesting when you tell your stories. How much better to see them, hmm?”

The flattery was more than welcome, puffing out his chest as it passed his ears, but Verad’s expression was, nevertheless, quite dubious. “I would expect this requires some negotiation, Zozu. I had rather assumed you would be spending your time at the Pakshee. At the very least, some prior notice - ” He stopped. At no point in negotiating the contract had he required that she give him a day’s notice prior to her arrival. Why would he? It had been as he said - she would spend her time away, and indeed want to spend her time away. There was a definite letter-but-not-the-spirit element at work, and by the way her smile shifted to something lopsided, a fang peeking out, he had guessed that exactly right.

He slumped onto the couch beside Z’zhumii’s head, his sigh exasperated and defeated. She patted his thigh. “In the interest of a fair and equitable agreement,” she purred, reaching for a grape. “I can waive the day’s notice on your part while we share a residence. Do you think that fair?” Her eyes were upturned, and he had to peer down at them from a great height, even in a seated position. Her smile remained. His appeared, similarly askew.

Resting his hand at the side of her head, he scratched her ear with the tips of his fingers. Verad sighed again - exasperated and defeated, but not unhappy.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #verad bellveil #z'zhumii umi #ic writing

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stupid-jeans · 6 years

Text

Well. It’s not fic (not really) but I’m posting this here anyway mostly for me. This is...really heavily veiled RPF. And it’s not relevant to any of my recent fandoms. If you can figure it out um...you get a medal. This is a verse my wife and I wrote in almost nonstop for 10-something years. And I missed it so this is what happened. It’s not the beginning, it’s not the end. *shrug*

CW for mentions of rape/sexual assault/PTSD/flashbacks/disassociating/war related violence, but nothing major.

Matt didn't expect that going back up the Hudson would cause a problem. Why would it? Nothing happened there. And he was fine. He'd been fine for several months now. He almost didn't think about it every day anymore (it helped that he'd left, that his time in the army was done), and things were good.

So he went upstate to visit his brother, because being away, being in a war zone, had made him want to mend whatever was left of the wreckage of bridges he'd burned with his younger siblings. If he was being totally honest, spending so much time in California played just as big of a role as the war had. His siblings didn't deserve to pay for the fact that his mom died. And it had been twenty fucking years already. It was definitely time to bury the hatchet.

Everything went okay until they decided to go to the bar, on a Friday night of a three day weekend. Everything was fine until he'd been brushed up against twenty too many times while playing pool, until Jimmy's buddies were ragging on him for playing a shit game, until some guy with an army-issued buzz cut stumbled into him walking out of the bathroom, and the next thing he knew, Jimmy and two of his buddies were hauling Matt off the guy and dragging him out of the bar. The shock of the cold air snapped him out of it, and then he was shaking and fighting the urge to run and Jimmy just looked worried. Fuck.

"I'm...gonna call Wes?" Jimmy offered, and Matt almost objected, until he thought about the potential damage he could do to his little brother's career over the next 48 hours. So he nodded instead, handing Jimmy his phone. His voice wouldn't work yet, and with how badly his hands were still shaking, there was no way he'd be able to text.

So his brother called his boyfriend and then they walked back to Matt's hotel and Jimmy stood by the door, still looking worried (and also overwhelmingly like their father, and that wasn't something Matt was ready to process right now).

"You can't stand there all night," Matt said finally. Jimmy nodded but didn't move. "I didn't know tonight was going to happen or I wouldn't have come."

Jimmy softened immediately and it was all Linda, Jimmy's mom, and Matt felt a pang of guilt for all the times he'd pushed his stepmother away.

"I don't give a shit about that," Jimmy promised. "Are you okay? I mean, what the hell happened?"

"I can't, okay? I'm sorry." At least he hadn't said it was nothing. A step in the right direction.

"Being over there...it really fucked you up, huh?" Jimmy finally moved to the couch, sinking into it.

"I...guess you could say that," Matt agreed, because it was true. Not the way Jimmy was thinking, because it wasn't the sand or the heat or the bombs that got him. It wasn't patching up bullet wounds or picking fragments of IEDs out of his friends that kept him up at night.

No, as it had turned out, the real enemy had looked just like him. A home-grown farm boy from Oklahoma, just trying to make his family proud. And have a little fun on the side. Whether the other participant was willing or not. And Matt had definitely not been willing.

He was shaking again before he realized.

"Matt." Jimmy's voice was even, quiet, just enough to pull him back. He breathed and unclenched his fists, realizing for the first time that his knuckles were bruised. From decking the guy in the bar. His stomach twisted. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know," Matt admitted. "Water, maybe?"

Jimmy brought him a plastic cup from the bathroom. "You know I love you, right?"

And that caught him off guard, because Jimmy wasn't exactly the type to get all sappy. Or maybe he was, and Matt had just never been on the receiving end. He was once again struck by how little he knew his half brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, I love you too."

They watched a movie with the volume on low, all the lights on, plenty of space between them, until Wes showed up several hours later. Matt took his first real breath since leaving the bar. The world blinked mostly back into focus, and Matt vowed never to come up here alone again.

A week later, he was only just recovering. Wesley had mandated he go to his therapist, and he had. He was doing all the right things, but this wasn't like medication. It didn't just get better. There wasn't just two steps back, there were fifty, and, though he'd stumbled forward again a bit, now he'd stalled.

There was exactly one number he could call that stood a shot at helping him, but he was wary. Wary because everything was so damn complicated. Wary because, of course the only person he wanted to talk to was his boyfriend's sister's ex. But after pacing the living room for well over two hours, barely keeping a panic attack and an almost guaranteed dissociation at bay, Matt caved and sent Ingrid a text, having no idea if she'd respond or not.

His phone rang less than two minutes later.

"Do you want me to come over?" Ingrid asked. "Are you home?"

"I...yeah. Um, that would be great," Matt mumbled, finally giving up on pacing and sinking onto the couch instead, still tense, still fighting the wave of dread in his chest, but one step closer to winning.

"Okay. Just, do me a favor and unlock the door for me? I'll stay on the phone until I get there, but I need you to do that, okay?" Ingrid said, and Matt flashed back to barricading himself in Wesley's bedroom in California, to Delaney unlocking the door from the outside, which Matt hadn't even known was possible, to resurfacing on the other side of a nasty episode with his hand to Delaney's throat, pinning her up against the wall, and Ingrid there, calmly talking him back to himself somehow, until he'd let go. "Matt." Her voice was just as calm now, gently coaxing him back to reality. "It's okay. We're all okay."

"Yeah," Matt whispered. It had been five years and he still wasn't sure that was true. "Okay, it's unlocked."

Ingrid kept her promise and stayed on the line until he heard the door open. "I'm really glad you called," she said, tucking her phone into her purse. "It's good to see you. Despite the circumstances."

He smiled a little, standing to greet her. "You too. I, um...thanks for coming. I wasn't sure..."

"Look." Ingrid stopped him. "Whatever happened between me and Delaney has nothing to do with me and you, okay? You can always call me and I will always be here for you. Just like you'll always be there for me, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Matt agreed easily.

"You think I can get a hug?"

And honestly, it meant the world to Matt that Ingrid wanted him to touch her at all. He hugged her, more tension ebbing out of him.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Ingrid murmured once they pulled away.

So Matt did. And even though he'd told the same story to Wes, and his therapist, and his sister, it felt better telling it to Ingrid. Because of all those people, she was the only one who really understood.

"Fucking triggers," Ingrid muttered once he'd finished.

"More to add to the list, I guess," Matt sighed.

"But we're here," Ingrid said. "And they get better."

"Do they?"

"Yeah," Ingrid said. "I mean, the other night, after a show, I went out to a bar with some of the girls. I didn't need my meds, I had a few drinks, I took the subway home alone, and I didn't even notice until the next morning."

"You're a fucking warrior," Matt declared, sliding his arm around her as she leaned against him.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Ingrid teased.

Huffing out a laugh, Matt rolled his eyes. "Let's not wait until the next middle of the night trauma crisis to see each other again?"

"Should be a lot easier now that you're not all the way in fucking North Carolina," Ingrid murmured.

"You should stay tonight," Matt suggested.

"Um, yeah, if you think I'm going home at...3:30 in the morning, you're insane."

"You can take my bed. I'll stay out here." Matt gestured toward the bedroom.

Ingrid glanced at the door and then across the apartment at the other bedroom door. "That bad, huh?"

He hadn't slept with Wes since coming home. It was safer to sleep alone, to avoid the potential for issues. Though Wesley could overpower him much more readily than Delaney. Asking him to wasn’t fair.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Okay. Will you come lay with me until I fall asleep, then?"

Ingrid had her own set of triggers, and Matt knew well enough that perhaps her biggest was sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. And they'd only just moved into this place when Ingrid and Delaney broke up. She'd been here maybe twice, and never overnight.

He obliged her gladly, sitting up against the headboard while she curled up beside him. "I'd say wake me up if you need anything, but I think maybe you'd be better off waking Wes," he murmured.

"Don't worry. I've been to this rodeo a time or fifty, remember?" Ingrid reassured him sleepily. "G'night, Matty."

"Night, Ingrid."

In the morning, he woke up to Wes making breakfast, talking quietly to Ingrid who was perched on the counter, sipping coffee out of an oversized mug. No nightmares, no anxiety.

He knew the instant Ingrid noticed he was awake, but she didn't acknowledge him. More things she'd learned, about letting him come around on his own. And Matt thought, not for the first time, that he'd never love anyone else the way he loved Ingrid.

"Morning," he greeted, joining them, kissing Wesley on the cheek, lingering against his back a couple of extra seconds. His boyfriend definitely noticed but he, too,kept quiet.

"Wes and I were just discussing the merits of sitting around and watching hockey all day," Ingrid explained, offering Matt her mug, which he took with a smile.

"As long as we stick to hockey," Matt said. "No baseball, no football. Got it?"

Hockey was the only sport they'd all ever agreed on.

Wes' phone went off and Ingrid glanced at it, her mouth twisting as she looked at the display. Delaney.

Wes seemed to figure it out right as Matt did and they both reached for the phone at the same time.

"Let me get it. You know anything in that pan'll burn if you leave it with me." It was enough for Wes to relent. So Matt took the phone and wandered back to the bedroom.

"Hey, Lane, it's Matt."

"What'd you do to my brother? You know what, don't answer that, I don't wanna know." Delaney's typical whirlwind of a conversation made Matt grin.

"Sorry to disappoint you but he's just making breakfast. Didn't really feel like burning the house down so you got me instead."

"You know I like you better anyway. Listen, I'm in the neighborhood so I'm gonna stop by. Bodega requests?"

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea…” Matt said, wincing a little.

“Trouble in paradise? My brother being a dick? You know I’ll come kick his ass if I need to…”

“No, it’s not that. Just...Ingrid’s here.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. If not for the sounds of traffic in the background, Matt would wonder if the line had disconnected.

“Oh.”

“I called her. I needed…” Matt sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Your brother shouldn’t be responsible for all my demons, Lane.”

“I get it. It’s fine. We’re adults, right?”

“Something like that.” He chuckled. It still didn’t feel like he’d grown up at all some days.

“So, I’ll let you have your morning. Tell Wes I said hi. And Ingrid too, I guess.”

“Very adult,” he teased.

“I try. And Matty? I get it. Maybe not exactly, but I understand why you need her. I’m glad you have each other.”

Matt’s chest ached, for himself and how grateful he was for this family that had become his own, and for Delaney and Ingrid, who still loved each other but couldn’t seem to figure out how to make it work.

“Yeah, thanks.” He sniffed and tamped down on his emotions. There’d been enough of those lately. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“We got coffee yesterday, loser,” Lane pointed out, laughing.

“Love you too, jerk.”

“Whatever. Tell my brother to text me.”

And before he could respond, the line was dead. Typical.

When he returned to the kitchen, Ingrid was wiping away tears and the ache in his chest returned tenfold. Wes was comforting her, both of their mugs abandoned, the burner on the stove turned off.

“What happened?”

Ingrid waved him off even as Matt closed the space between them, pulling her into his chest.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I miss her, that’s all.”

He knew better than to say Delaney missed her too, that the two of them just needed to get their shit together. They were soulmates, and everyone seemed to know it but them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she’d be calling…” Wesley mumbled.

“Of course not. You don’t have to apologize for that. This is just...messy, that’s all. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You don’t have to go,” Wes said. “Stay, have breakfast, watch hockey.”

“You sure?” Ingrid still looked skeptical.

“All this french toast isn’t gonna eat itself,” Matt declared, snatching up a piece off the plate and taking a generous bite.

“Something tells me you’d have no problem devouring every last piece of that with no help from me.” But Ingrid snagged her own piece and smiled. It felt mostly like old times and the tension that had been lingering in him since Hudson slowly ebbed.

After the game ended, while they were waiting on Wesley getting their pizza, Ingrid nudged him, snuggling against his shoulder.

“You should call him.”

“Who?”

“Jimmy.”

“Yeah?” Matt wondered how Ingrid had him so figured out.

“Maybe invite him down. I mean, they have to let them out of there at some point, right?” she teased.

“It’s a school, Ingrid, not a prison.”

“Exactly. So call him. Your territory. A little safer.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Alright.”

He half expected Jimmy not to answer as he nervously paced the living room. He could feel Ingrid decidedly not watching him from the couch, which helped, for some reason.

“Everything okay?” Matt could practically count on one hand the number of times he and Jimmy had spoken on the phone. All of them had been cursory greetings, usually while Matt was deployed, at the behest of Jimmy’s mom.

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m fine.” It felt good not to lie. “Just kinda disappointed our weekend got cut short.”

“Yeah?”

“So, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come down here? Do a weekend?”

“Like, in the city? Hell yeah.”

He must’ve been smiling, because he caught sight of Ingrid beaming back at him from the couch, and Matt wished he had a pillow to chuck at her.

As it turned out, mending bridges was a lot easier than he’d thought. There was work to be done, but today, it felt doable. That was a victory all in itself.

#excaliburandthelaundromat

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