#stop overworking your employees...

[fagpulp]

listen im a pokemon hater in body and im a pokemon lover in mind. They exist equally within me

[lemmaeof]

I swear to god if I see anyone doing the "look what modders can do!" bullshit around the mob vote this year I'm gonna fucking lose it

[hypermascbishounen]

Wait my copy of Drill Dozer is worth how much now???

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is the governess for Harry's children, and they cannot hide their growing affection for each other.

author's note: part one of governess!yn (who is my lil angel baby). after the love on good omens, i finally got my mojo back and i'm back with another work! pls be kind and definitely let me know what you think (and what you would like to see in part 2!)

word count: 12.4k of mutual pining (but they just don't know it yet), friends to lovers, employer/employee relationships going out of the window and meddling modistes!

WARNINGS: death during childbirth, child abandonment, parent death, death of a spouse (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of daisies here! mwah <3

YEAR ONE

“Noah!” YN called from where she sat on a picnic blanket on the house grounds, “Slow down, wait for your sister!”

“But Miss. YN,” The younger boy groaned, a second away from stomping his feet YN assumed, “She’s so slow.”

“Noah,” YN warned again with a tilt of her head, watching as the little boy stopped and waited for the even smaller girl behind him, “Thank you.”

YN loved her life.

Whilst YN had not had the easiest of upbringings in life, she had truly found her passion and calling in being a governess. The Styles household had not been the first family she had worked for – but they were her favourite. Noah, the six-year-old little boy, was bubbly, mischievous and had a penchant for teasing his younger sister made her life interesting every day. Honorah, who was just three years old was the complete opposite of her brother – quiet, sweet and the happiest little girl YN knew.

The family that YN had been with before were difficult to work with. There was an absent father and a mother who interfered with YN’s work too much for her liking so when Mr Styles asked her to come and work for his family – she did not even have to think about it. Mr Styles loved his children, but from what YN had heard – he had loved his wife too. Mrs. Styles had died during the birth of Honorah, and from what YN had experienced it had shaken the family.

YN had started working for the Styles about three months ago. Before, Mr. Styles had relied on his mother and his household staff to aid with the upbringing of his children. Unfortunately for them, his mother had been unable to continue helping in her old age and that was when they sought out help from YN.

“Miss. YN,” Honorah’s voice shook YN out of her daydream, “I picked this for you.”

“Thank you, Norah,” YN smiled, accepting the small daisy that the girl was holding out for her, “This is a lovely daisy.”

The girl sheepishly smiled, rocking on her feet slightly as she stood above the older woman. YN smiled, tapping the space on the blanket next to her for her to drop down.

“How about this…” YN smiled, pulling out some paper and pencils that she had packed in a basket and placing them in front of the girl, “I packed these for you, would you like to try and draw the daisy?”

Honorah nodded, accepting the paper and pencils from YN. The older woman watched with a smile on her face as the girl carefully placed the daisy down in front of her, her tongue slightly slipping out from her lips in concentration as she grabbed the pencil and started to sketch. In her peripheral vision, YN could see Noah chasing what looked to be a butterfly around some of the flowers in front of them.

YN loved the summer, and the Styles children did too it seemed. They had a perfectly good classroom spare in the house to use but when the weather was this lovely, YN saw no need to keep the children holed up within the four walls. They had completed spelling tests each earlier in the morning, and seeing as though it was a Friday, YN saw no need to overwork the children.

“Miss YN,” Noah screamed, running over to her with his hands clutched tightly in front of him, “I caught it!”

“You caught it?” YN’s eyes widened, trying to match the younger boy’s excitement, “What did you catch, Noah?”

“The butterfly I was chasing!” The younger boy’s words were followed by a giggle and a small shake of his shoulders, “It is tickling me.”

“That is probably because it is scared, Noah,” YN explained, placing the younger boy’s hands in hers, “Remember how small the butterfly is? Small enough to fit in your hand. Even though you are a little boy, you are big and scary to the butterfly.”

“Oh,” Noah’s face dropped, his shoulders dropping slightly, “I do not want to scare it.”

YN nodded, “Should we let it go?”

Noah nodded, accepting YN’s help when she cupped his hands and opened them and there was the butterfly. It immediately flew away from them, and Noah saw that as the opportunity to go chasing after it again, Honorah could not resist abandoning her drawing and running after her brother.

YN leant back on her hands lightly and watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. YN had come to terms with the fact that she would not have children of her own, and these two little ones filled that void. YN had been trained with people that she knew would not be the kindest of governesses and at most hated children and she swore she would never be like that. She had been dealt this life, but she was not going to let it change her.

“The last time he caught a bug it took us three hours to convince him to set it free,” YN jumped at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice from the side of her, the man standing a few feet away from her with his hands in his pockets.

YN smiled, turning her attention back to the children, “I must admit I am surprised he gave it up so easily.”

Mr. Styles chuckled, his hand pointing to the blanket next to her, “May I join you?”

YN nodded, “Of course.”

She tried not to stare as he sat down. There was a decent amount of space between them, and whilst YN’s legs were curved to the side of her – Harry’s extended in front of him. YN would be lying if she said her employer was not attractive. Even with his mood which often reflected the tragedies he had experienced in his life – his features still stood out to YN. Mr. Styles was not shy about eye contact, and every time YN was under his gaze her heart fluttered – just as she was now.

YN looked out at the children who were now chasing each other around a tree, “They completed their spelling lessons an hour or so ago, and instead of keeping them indoors I thought this was a better way for them to spend their time.”

“I am in no position to criticise your methods, Miss YLN,” Mr. Styles nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son taunt his daughter from behind the tree, “If anything, this will ensure that bedtime goes smoothly.”

YN chuckled, watching as the children spotted their father and came bounding over to him. Noah immediately latched onto his father’s side, with Honorah wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Papa, did you see?” Noah’s beaming face almost shouted at his father, “I caught a butterfly! But I let it go because it was scared.”

“I did see, Noah,” Mr. Styles nodded, pulling down his son’s shirt that had rolled up at the back, “It was very nice of you to let it go.”

Noah nodded, obviously trying to suppress the smile on his face due to how his father was happy with him. Honorah, obviously feeling slightly left out of her father’s attention, picked up her half-finished daisy and passed it to him.

Even though YN knew the difficulties of making sure that each of the children had equal attention, Mr Styles did it so effortlessly. After YN’s first experience with a family, one in which she was sure that the father had no idea as to what his children’s names were – it was a lovely sight. He managed to ensure that each one of his children knew that they were loved, and he did everything he could to ensure that they did not feel the hole that the loss of their mother created.

“How about we go inside for supper?” Harry offered to the children, both of whom nodded their heads and scrambled to stand up.

YN took that as the opportunity to start packing up the things she had brought out with them and retire for the evening. Just as YN was about to fold up the blanket, Mr. Styles had already beaten her to it. He smiled at her as he offered the folded blanket to her, which she accepted with a nod of her head and placed it within the basket.

Just as she was about to turn and walk towards the house, Mr. Styles cleared his throat.

“Would you like to join us for supper?”

“Oh,” That stopped YN in her tracks immediately, “I… I should not…I would not want to intrude.”

“You would not be intruding,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I am offering. There is no need for you to eat alone when you can dine with us.”

YN contemplated his words for a second or so before nodding with a small smile on her face, “Thank you.”

Walking side by side, the two adults followed the children as they ran ahead – a supper waiting inside for them.

For the last three weeks, YN had not eaten alone.

To anyone else, that may have not seemed a fate that would be something to be concerned about – but it was strange. It had started with the supper after the day in the garden with the children and had then been followed by an invitation to breakfast the next day.

YN supposed that it had been for ease, and even more so to allow for her teachings of the children to continue into the rest of the day rather than just to the previous allotted times. The only issue that YN had found with the new arrangement was how YN was being affected by the newly increased amount of time she was spending with Mr. Styles.

Throughout the day YN did not see much of him (just like before) as he tended to retreat to his study to take care of the estate and any other issues that may be presented before him. During mealtimes, however, Mr. Styles now took his place to the left of her at the dining table.

Their conversations never strayed far from the weather, food or most likely the children. Whilst it was strange for YN to join them for these meals, there was a slight comfort that was now found between the two of them. YN never saw Harry converse with friends or leave the house late at night to engage with mistresses which had been a favourite pastime of the previous husband she worked for. A part of YN just assumed that maybe he was lonely, and a conversation with someone that was above the age of six was something that he wished for.

There was also a side of YN that missed the quiet that eating alone gave her. It allowed her time to pause and think. Whilst she loved her job, and she loved the children more than anything YN often wondered what her life would have been like if things were different.

Similarly to the Styles children, YN’s mother had died in childbirth. She had known nothing of her but that information. Her father, a gentleman from the city had remarried almost immediately and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with YN – so she had been abandoned at an orphanage. It was only due to her father’s lineage (even though she had not the faintest idea of who he was) that she had not been made to work, and instead had been trained to be a governess.

YN often wondered what would have happened if that was not the case, if she had not been abandoned in the way she had. She could have been married and had children of her own by now. At the age she was (eight and twenty) the only way in which she could even register the thought of getting married was to a businessman in the village, and yet she did not venture into the village long enough for that to even be a possibility. These thoughts would swirl around YN’s head, just as they were doing now, but then she would be reminded of how fulfilled she was in this role and none of these thoughts would matter.

Whilst YN would often brush these thoughts out of her head, there was a slight comfort in imaging what her life could have been.

YN sat on the steps outside of the residence, a cup filled with tea next to her and the light summer’s breeze a comfort to her. It was deep into the night, and there had not been movement in the house for a few hours and YN was at peace. Dressed in just her nightgown and shawl, the only comfort to her being the silence and the night sky – YN was happy. This time, whilst it had become few and far between recently was the time that she cherished.

“It is a lovely night.”

YN jumped out of her skin at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice behind her, just as she had done in the garden a few weeks ago. With a hand pressed firmly on her chest in hopes of calming her heart rate down, she turned to look at the man.

“Mr. Styles,” YN gasped, her hand still clutching her chest, “I am afraid you quite terrified me.”

“I apologise,” He offers her a smile, “I heard footsteps earlier and I thought it was the children, but then I saw you sitting out here, and I am now assuming it was you.”

“I apologise,” YN was quick to insert, unable to hide her embarrassment at the situation, “I had no intention of disturbing you.”

“I am most certain you did not,” He pointed to the space on the step next to her, as though asking her permission to sit down and she nodded, watching as he dropped down next to her, “In fact, you were very quiet, it is just me who is a light sleeper. Since my wife…I became the one who had to listen out for the children.”

YN’s body froze when she heard Harry mention his wife. It had been Mr. Styles’ mother who had initially told her about the death of Mrs. Styles. YN had never heard Harry even mention her. She had not a single idea as to whether he spoke to the children about her. She assumed that whilst he may not speak about her now, he must at some point speak to them. YN knew what it was like to have not met a mother, and she knew the pain that it causes and would certainly not ever wish that upon anyone else – especially not those darling children.

“We had another eventful day in the garden today,” YN explained, “I attempted to teach the children how to play pall mall with the old set I found but we instead ended up with a game of cat and mouse – and I am therefore not surprised that they are worn out.”

Harry chuckled, “My family and I used to play pall mall when I was a boy. I had hoped that I would get around to teaching them, but I never had.”

YN’s eyes immediately widened, “I apologise if I overstepped Mr. Styles – I was merely attempting to make use of the day.”

“No, no do not apologise,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I heard their joyful glees earlier in the day – I would allow for anything to continue to hear those sounds.”

YN wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them closer to her chest, “I know that I have given you this information before, but you do have two beautiful children, Mr. Styles.”

Mr Styles’ face beamed a smile, as though he was proud to be hearing such information. If YN had heard this information about her children she would not have been prouder to be a parent. Mr. Styles’ face reflected that.

“I wish I could take all of the credit but indeed I cannot,” Mr. Styles sighed, a hand running over his face, “Norah, is, well… she is exactly like her namesake. My wife was sweet, gentle, and kind. She was inquisitive, just as Noah is. Unfortunately for him, he may have inherited my unfortunate mischievous side which I had as a child.”

YN chuckled slightly before offering him a small smile, “It must be lovely to see her in them. To know that she is still here, in them.”

Mr. Styles hesitated. YN’s heart dropped, the fear that she had overstepped coursing through her veins.

“Mr. Styles, I apologise,” YN’s chest started to rise up and down, this time from the nerves rather than being scared, “I completely overstepped. I did not mean to offend you.”

Mr. Styles shook his head, “You did not, and please forget the formalities – call me Harry.”

YN nodded, “I am still sorry if I offended you, Harry.”

“You did not, YN, I can promise you that,” Harry offered her a smile which settled any of the woman that might have still harboured, “In truth, you are correct. Whilst she is no longer with us, I see her face every day. I see the aspects of her that I fell in love with day after day. Whilst it does not fill the hole of what we have lost, it offers a sense of comfort that I am more appreciative of than words could ever explain.”

A comfortable silence loomed over the two of them, the words that had just been spoken dancing around them, invading their thoughts. It was at this point that YN felt her sense of loss wash over her.

“I, uh, well…” YN offered Harry a sad smile, “My mother died giving birth to me too. I do not wish to bore you with the details, but I did not have a father looking out and loving me in the way that you do. Your children will be grateful in the future for that – I promise you.”

Harry nodded, “I am ever so sorry for your loss, YN.”

YN shrugged, “It was a long time ago now, Harry. Whilst I do not advocate the idea that wounds heal with time, I suppose that the effects of such become easier to deal with.”

“I tell them stories of her every night,” Harry offers her a small smile, “I will not allow them to forget her.”

“Then that is all that you can do.”

YEAR TWO

“I do so wish that I could dress you proper, Miss YN,” Miss Francis, the modiste, spoke as she continued to pin the dress on YN’s body.

YN chuckled, “I do not need them, Miss Francis. It would be a waste of an expense.”

The older lady sighed, continuing to pin the length on YN’s new-day dress. It was in a delightful lilac, trimmed with lace that around the cuffs and soon to be the hem.

“But you would look so gorgeous adorned in the latest fashions,” YN sighed but allowed Miss Francis to continue, “I do not know if you have heard, but Mr Jacobs’ son is looking for a wife.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You know that I do not entertain myself with the idle gossip of the village.”

“Well, I for one believe you should,” Miss Francis stood up, her eyes focusing directly on YN, “You have done your duty as a governess, and I am sure the Styles’ are nothing but grateful for your service but there is a time where one must think for themself.”

YN shook her head, not allowing her words to infiltrate her mind at all, “I would never betray my role. Those children need me… Mr. Styles –”

“Mr Styles can find another governess at the drop of a hat,” Miss Francis sighed, “I am sure that if an advertisement went out today there would be a line from here to London hoping for the role.”

YN scoffed and shook her head, “We both know that is an exaggeration.”

“From here to Manchester, then,” Miss Francis corrected.

YN sighed and stepped off the podium, allowing Miss Francis to help her remove the dress on her body and return to the gown she had arrived in. Today the children had gone with Mr Styles to his mother’s house, something that they did every so often and allowed for YN to have a day just to herself. It was a rarity, and in some parts, YN was thankful to receive these days but sometimes she truly did just miss the children. She would also be lying if she said that she did not miss Harry.

In the last year that she had worked for him, she would say that their relationship grew to what YN would deem as a friendship, to more than just an employer-employee relationship. That in itself was something she cherished alongside the life that he had given her. They still ate meals together with the children, and more often than not in their alone time she would find herself in his company. Even if the room was quiet – they would be together.

To anyone looking in, their situation would seem strange. In all honesty – it was. But no matter how strange the situation, YN would not change it for the world.

“I am happy just the way I am, Miss Francis,” YN smiled at the woman, “I do not need to change anything.”

The older lady just scoffed, “Well, if you are ever to change your mind I would be happy to arrange a meeting.”

YN just shook her head, “I promise that shall never be the case.”

It was at this point that YN could tell that the older woman was slightly annoyed with her, “I shall send your gown to the Styles residence when it is ready.”

“Thank you, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “Do not be too angry with me.”

“I am not,” Miss Francis shook her head, “I just wish that one day you realise your full potential, my dear.”

YN left the modiste with her brain spinning with the words that Miss Francis had said. It was not that she was taking account of anything that Miss Francis said about marriage because she knew that was not on the cards for YN. She had made her peace with that a long time ago. It was more so that YN was struggling to decipher what the older woman meant by saying that she had not met her full potential.

All of her life, YN knew that her only job in life was going to be a governess. The orphanage had made that very clear to her, and fortunately for YN – it was also something that she enjoyed. That was her potential. That was the start of it, and that was the end of it. There was nothing else that anyone could say to change that.

It began the age-old question discussion again. It started YN’s spiral as to when she would think about what life could have been like if certain things were different. Then, no matter how much she would imagine what her life could have been like – she always circles back to right now and how this was where she wanted to be.

Sighing, YN stepped out from the side of the building and onto the road in hopes of crossing it and continuing her journey home. Just as she was about to step out, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back by the side of the building. It was just as she had been pulled back that a carriage went riding past her, too fast for the speed of a normal carriage.

It was only then that YN realised that whoever the person was who had pulled her out of the way of the carriage had pretty much just saved her life.

“Oh,” YN sighed, her hand lifting to rest again on her chest – her heart rate rising once more.

“Are you okay, miss?” The saviour asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

For the first time, YN’s eyes turn to meet the man and they widen. He was tall, and the only word that YN would have to describe him would be rugged. But in between all of that ruggedness, he was handsome, and YN was not ashamed to admit that.

“I am fine,” YN offered him a small smile, “I… Thank you for that. I fear I was not paying much attention to my surroundings.”

“I gathered that,” YN’s eyebrows furrowed at him, “From the way you ignored my calls for you to stop.”

“I, uh, I did not hear you,” YN chuckles, “I was just…”

“Not paying much attention,” He chuckles.

It was then that YN realised that her hands were shaking. In the adrenaline of it all, she supposed that her near-death experience was finally catching up with her body.

“I… I, uh, thank you for… saving me,” YN nodded, pointing across the road, “But I must be getting home.”

“Allow me to fetch a carriage for you, miss?” YN shook her head at the gentleman’s offer.

“No, I cannot, but thank you,” YN gave him a small smile, “I would very much prefer to walk.”

“Then allow me to escort you,” The man continued to press, obviously not wanting to take her no for an answer, “Just to ensure you are out of the path of any other carriages.”

YN chuckled but again shook her head, “Sir, even if I was to say yes I know better than to accept offers from strangers.”

The man offered her a smile, “Well, that is an issue that is immediately fixable – Mr Jacobs, it is lovely to make your acquaintance Miss…”

“…YLN,” YN chuckles, realising by the second that this man was insanely stubborn, “But I assure you, Mr Jacobs, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.”

“Well, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs presses, “How about instead of me walking you home it turns out that the two of us are just walking in the same direction.”

YN tilts her head at the man, “I fear that may be worse.”

“Yes,” The man laughs, unable to stop himself, “I knew that the minute I said so.”

There must have been something that made it so that once Miss Francis had mentioned this man to her she would meet him. YN would not say that she believed in fate, but this was certainly an odd coincidence.

“Whilst I am not saying yes to your offer,” YN started, offering the man a small smile, “I suppose I cannot stop you from joining me if you do so wish, Mr Jacobs.”

“Very well,” He opened his arm out in the direction she had been walking in, “After you, miss.”

YN makes it obvious that she double-checks whether or not any carriages are coming down the road before she attempts to cross it. Her heart has calmed down, as well as the shaking in her hands but in all honesty she would rather curl up with a book and relax.

“Seeing as though we are walking in the same direction, would it be improper of me to ask you a question or two?” Mr Jacobs prompted from the side of her.

“I would say that I owe you as much,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile, “Seeing as though I could have been in a very different situation if it was not for you.”

Mr Jacobs laughs, “Yes, I must admit saving one from a carriage is a much better play.”

YN shrugged, “Ask away.”

YN was surprised. The conversation, barring the near-death experience, seemed to flow with ease. More often than not, YN found herself laughing. Whilst she loved the conversations that she had with Harry, and she would say that he was her best friend within this world – it was nice to converse with someone who did not necessarily know her.

Whilst it had been nice (as it always is) to play make-believe for a little while, she knew that the second the turn-off for the Styles estate came into view she would have to return to her reality.

YN stopped just at the turning, and Mr Jacobs had not anticipated this as he continued to walk. She cleared her throat, and that was when he stopped and turned around – his eyebrows furrowing at her stopped movements.

“This is me,” She pointed down the road.

He pointed down the road, “The Styles estate?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, lifting her hand to brush her hair out of her face, “I… I am their governess. I work with the Styles children.”

“Oh,” Mr Jacobs seemed to relax slightly, “An honest profession, I must say.”

YN just smiled, “I do appreciate you walking with me, and also not allowing the carriage to run me over.”

Mr Jacobs shook his head, “Do not mention it – I would do it over again if you needed.”

YN opened her mouth but shut it again almost immediately. YN just decided to offer him a smile instead.

“Well, thank you again,” YN pointed down the path, “I must go but I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “As I wish you do too,” YN turned and started to walk down the path when his voice called out again, “Stay out of the way of any carriages!”

YN could not help the chuckle that left her lips at his words.

The second that YN had returned to the house she had dropped down in the drawing room and stayed there. The house was still silent, letting YN know that neither the children nor Mr Styles were back at the house, and surprisingly to her YN was thankful for that.

Near-death experience aside, YN had enjoyed herself. It was always a pleasure to see Miss Francis (even though she enjoyed meddling more than anything) but the real shock of the day had been her walk and subsequent conversation with Mr Jacobs.

The issue that YN found herself in was that the bridge between her thoughts and her reality had started to merge. From one conversation YN could not presume that she was going to marry the man and she was certainly in no place to do that – but she could not say that the prospect was not there.

YN could have been sat there for an hour, or maybe even five by the time that she was knocked out of her daydreaming. She had not even heard Harry walk into the room and it was only when he moved to stand in front of her was when she realised that he had returned.

“I have been looking for you everywhere,” He sighed, dropping down on the settee just next to her, “Did you not hear me calling your name?”

“I seem to be doing that a lot lately,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile but saying no more.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the state that she was now in which was very different from the one that he had left her in this morning.

“That was not ominous at all,” Harry stated as though it was the most obvious thing, but YN seemed to be paying no attention, “Are you going to give me an explanation at all?”

“I was nearly hit by a carriage today.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened, his body immediately leaning towards her, “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine,” YN shook her head, leaning back on the seat she was on, “I am just…”

YN’s sentence trailed off and then she did not say a single thing. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he decided then that he did not believe her, “Are you sure you were not injured? You did not bang your head or anything?”

“Harry, I did not hit my head!” The exclaimed rather loud, earning a laugh from Harry from across the room, “I am perfectly okay.”

The silence washed over them again. YN’s eyes continued looking forward, out of the window and to where the trees were slightly swaying in the breeze. She could hear the children squealing throughout the rest of the house, and she was reminded that they were probably happy from spending the day with their grandmother.

“How was your day?” YN asked, still not looking away from the window, “How did the children enjoy it?”  

“They loved it, as they always do,” Harry shrugged off their questioning, “But, and promise me you will not be angry with me –”

“Harry, we both know that if you start a sentence with that I am probably going to be angry with you.”

“I know this but still, I have to ask,” Harry sighed, “Are you positive you are okay?”

YN went silent, her hands messing with a loose thread of fabric on her dress. Harry looked at her, still unable to figure out why on earth she was acting so strangely.

“Do you ever think of marriage?”

Harry’s mouth opened once, before shutting again. He then sighed, and then the realisation of what had been said washed over her and her eyes found his.

“Harry, I am so sorry,” YN shook her head, completely unable to understand why on earth she would have said that, “I should not have said that, God, I do not understand why I said it.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I must admit I was a little shocked but do not apologise. My mother had a lot to say about marriage earlier today.”

“She did?”

Harry nods with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “She just mentioned how beneficial it would be for Noah and Norah if they had a mother in their lives. And when I say mentioned, I mean brought up every other sentence.”

YN chuckled. She would be lying if she said she did not love Harry’s mother. She was lovely, and just a ray of sunshine. Whilst she had not experienced having a mother in her life, she did have some idea as to what it would have been like to have a meddling mother. She also had the experiences with Miss Francis, and she gathered that it must have been something like that.

“So, you have considered it?” YN asked, her fingers still pulling on the thread of her dress.

“No, I would not say that,” Harry shook his head, “I would not say consider, but rather had the idea in my head for a few seconds before removing it altogether.”

YN laughed, “I honestly do not blame you for such.”

“Have you…” Harry’s eyes found her, “Thought about it?”

“I do, sometimes,” YN shrugs her shoulders, “I would not say very often but sometimes I find myself doing the same as you. I think about it, and then I remove it from my brain.”

YN laughs, but Harry does not join her. Once she realises her laughter drowns out, she finds herself under his gaze. She should not be so surprised that someone she has lived with for almost two years now knows her so well, but it still shocked her. Just as it had done earlier on in the day, YN found herself unable to stop the increasing of her heart rate. It was silly. He had not even said anything to her, and yet she was completely and utterly a mess under his gaze. It should not be like this, and yet it was.

“It is not unnatural to think about marriage, YN,” Harry says, and YN can tell that every single word he was saying was sincere and he believed true, “Whilst as your employer I should be saying to you not to marry because my children and I… they need you, I cannot in good conscience say that. If marriage is what you wish – then nothing should stop you from doing so. As your friend, I would even go as far as to say that any deserving man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

YN was silent, taking in his words with nothing but shock swirling around her head. To hear him say those words, as well as the look his face held whilst he said them shook YN to her core.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, attempting to not focus on the tears that were starting to collect in her waterline and more so on her breathing.

Harry cleared his throat, attempting to mask the awkwardness that now loomed over them, “I apologise if I spoke out of turn, YN.”

“No, you did not,” YN shook her head, “And I appreciate everything you have said, Harry, I truly do but… today must have just been a lapse in my judgement. I would be lying if I said that I am not happy here because I truly am.”

YN’s face could not help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of the one across Harry’s lips.

“I truly do not believe that I could have asked for a better life, and you are the one I have to thank for that.”

Harry just nodded, “Whilst as your employer I am more than happy to hear those words, as your friend I am just delighted that I have managed to help you in this way.”

YN smiled, finally feeling as though whatever mood she had found herself in after today had been brushed off. She stood up, her eyes catching Harry’s as she motioned her head towards the door.

“Let us go find your children and get them ready for bed before they terrorise the rest of the staff.”

Harry laughs and stands up, following YN out of the room and towards the sound of children’s laughter down the hall.

YEAR THREE

“Noah, it is not appropriate to throw food at your sister,” YN warned from her seat next to Harry.

The little boy did not seem to care about her warnings and continued to load grapes onto his spoon and launch them at his sister.

“Noah,” Harry was the one to warn the little boy this time, “Pass me the spoon?”

Harry held his hand out for the spoon. Noah continued to hold the spoon, his eyes darting between his father and the grapes set out in front of him. Harry just raised his eyebrow at his son who sighed and placed the spoon in his father’s hand. YN watched as the boy picked up the grape and without his spoon launched it at his sister.

“That is it, Noah,” Harry shook his head, “If you carry on with this behaviour you will be staying here instead of going to your Grandmother’s house tomorrow.”

That was all that the little boy needed to drop the grape that he had picked up and sit up straight in his seat. YN pursed her lips in hopes of suppressing the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips at the child’s antics.

“How about the two of you go to the classroom and wait for Miss. YN?” Harry asked, a smile present on his lips, “I just need to have a quick word.”

YN nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin, and placing it on the table next to her plate. YN watched with a smile as the children started a race upstairs to the classroom. YN knew that they were going to be a handful today as they always were when they were going to see their grandmother. It was as though the excitement of waiting for tomorrow was too much for them.

“Is something the matter?” YN asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I had a question to ask you,” Harry started, “It is about tomorrow.”

“Oh,” YN smiled, “Do you mean your birthday? Something about your birthday?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and the girl giggled. YN knew that Harry did not enjoy his birthday and that made it ever so easy to tease him.

“It is unfortunately something about my birthday,” Harry sighed, “Even though I am not supposed to know, I do know that my mother is throwing a ball for my birthday tomorrow night. She has tried to for the past few years, and I asked her to wait, and she has.”

“That should be lovely,” YN smiled, “I have heard from others how enjoyable your mother’s balls are. I hope you have a lovely time, no matter how much you hate it.”

Harry shook his head, knowing that he would be unable to stop the girl’s teasing, “I was wondering whether you wanted to join me? At the ball?”

YN’s eyes widen. That was certainly not what she was expecting him to say. YN thought that she would do what she normally does when Harry and the children go to his mother’s house which was have a day to herself. She honestly would never have thought would be what he was going to say to her, and yet here he was asking her this.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, “I… even if I did, I do not have anything to wear.”

“That is an easy rectifiable issue,” Harry sighed with a smile on her face, “I will take the children for a few hours this afternoon so that you can go and see Miss Francis.”

“I do not… how will she even manage to…”

Harry shook his head, “Please stop your worrying, there is no need for it. Do not worry about the cost or the timing for I am sure that Miss Francis will be happy to do this for you to attend the ball.”

YN just shook her head, “I shall be so out of place, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on the table, leaning forward to offer a comforting look, “No you will not. You will be with me, and I am positive some of your acquaintances from the village shall be there. And even if they are not, it is my birthday, and you are my best friend, and I will not go unless you are there.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You will upset your mother by doing that.”

“You will upset me by not coming,” Harry retorts quickly.

YN sighs, and nods her head, “Will you send word to Miss Francis that I shall be coming to see her later?”

Harry beams a smile at his friend and nods, “I will do so immediately.”

A few hours later YN was standing in front of Miss Francis with an already complete dress on her body. YN was shocked, and confused as to why there was an already complete garment ready for her but then she remembered Miss Francis’ penchant for meddling and the fact that Harry knew that she would not have been able to say no to him.

“When Mr Styles sent word of the ball a few weeks or so ago, I knew that this fabric would be perfect for you,” Miss Francis explained as she pinned the hem of the dress for the girl.

YN’s mouth opened in shock as the older woman’s words registered in YN’s head, “I saw you just a week ago to alter my winter dresses and you made no mention of the ball.”

The older woman’s face broke out in a smile, “Mr Styles wished for it to remain a secret and who am I not to oblige?”

Even though YN was pretending to be annoyed with the woman, she was sort of pleased that she had only been told about the ball the day before. Whilst the children had known they had been going to their grandmother's for the last few weeks and each day they had become more and more excited, YN would not have experienced that. If YN had found out about the ball at any time before today, she knew that she would have convinced herself not to go. Finding out so late and knowing that a dress had already been made for her – there was no way that she could convince herself not to do so.

“This gown is truly beautiful, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “You truly have outdone yourself.”

“I have said to you all along my dear, if you allowed me to dress you in the latest fashions you could have suitors lining outside the door.”

YN sighed and shook her head. Since YN’s conversation with Harry last year after her near-death experience with a carriage, she had not even thought about marriage. When she had said that she was happy during that conversation – she had truly meant it. She was happy in her current situation, and she would not change it for the world.

But, seeing herself in this dress she would be completely and utterly lying to herself if the thought had not crossed her mind one more time. This could have been her life if things were different – these outfits, and balls could have been her day-to-day life. But, there were balls, and these dresses were now her day-to-day in this life and to her that meant everything.

“I must admit, Miss Francis, I am completely out of my depth with this entire thing.”

Miss Francis just shook her head, “Do not worry, my dear. There is no pressure on you, at all. At most, you will have a few drinks, some sweet, possibly a dance if you are lucky and that is it.”

YN sighed with a chuckle, “Goodness, I have not danced in years.”

Miss Francis placed a comforting hand on YN’s arm, “As long as you do not stand on your partners’ feet, I believe you shall be okay.”

“That is easier said than done, Miss Francis.”

The older woman aided YN out of the gown and into her previous outfit so that she could make the last amendments to her gown.

“If I were you, every time that you find yourself nervous, or without somebody to talk to I would just remind yourself of why you are there – because Mr Styles is your friend, and he wishes you there.”

YN reached out to grab Miss Francis’ hand and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you. If anything, I am lucky that you are my friend.”

Miss Francis held up her finger as if to delay that thought for a second and moved into the back room. She came out with a wooden box in hand, unlocked the clasp and passed it to YN.

“This belonged to my mother. It was a family heirloom of sorts,” Miss Francis explained, “I always thought that I would pass it to my children, but that never came to be. I wish for you to have them, and to wear them tomorrow.”

YN gasped as she opened the box, placing her hand on her chest as she peered at the matching diamond necklace and earrings that were inside. YN had seen the jewellery that many members of society wore, and whilst this was not like that – YN preferred it more. The earrings were modest, with a tiny diamond falling from a gold stud and the necklace matched. It was beautiful, and it was timeless.

“Miss Francis, I do not know what to say,” YN shook her head, “I cannot accept this.”

“You can, and you will,” The older woman nodded, “You are the closest thing that I have to a daughter in this world, and this is your first ball, and you deserve to show yourself off.”

YN chuckled through the tears that were collecting in her waterline, shut the box containing the jewels and wrapped her arms around the older lady. Miss Francis laughed in obvious shock at the girl’s antics.

“I do not know how to thank you,” YN muttered into the woman’s shoulder.

“Do not thank me,” Miss Francis shook her head, “Just promise me that you will have a good time and enjoy yourself.”

“I promise,” YN nodded.

YN had never felt more out of place in her entire life.

She knew that the way that she had grown up was different to those in society, but being surrounded by them in the way she was truly allowed YN to realise how much of that was true.

YN did not even know where to begin.

That was how she ended up standing, hovering by the wall as people mingled and danced around her. She had arrived with Harry earlier in the day but had left the family alone to celebrate with each other. Once she had joined the festivities of the ball, she still had not seen the birthday boy. Of course, he could have been anywhere in this room and YN would have missed him entirely due to the amount of people there.

With a sigh, YN’s eyes fluttered around the room until she spotted Harry and his mother walking into the room. YN would be lying if she said that the smile adorned on his face did not cause a matching one on hers. He truly did look happy. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red, and YN wondered whether or not he had some liquid courage before joining the party. YN could not blame him and chuckled to herself at the thought.

“Miss YLN,” YN jumped out of her skin slightly at the sound of a voice next to her, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Mr Jacobs, “Is something amusing you?”

“Oh, no,” YN shook her head with a small shrug, “Just an amusing thought, that is all.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed, “I must admit, it is nice to see you. When I received the invitation for the evening I did wonder whether or not you were going to make an appearance, and I am happy that you did.”

YN just smiled, dropping her head slightly. She had not seen Mr Jacobs (or thought about him at that) since the almost fatal carriage incident day. It amused YN to no end that had not been the case for Mr Jacobs, and he had thought about her. Maybe she left more of an impression on people than she had thought.

Mr Jacobs looked around the room and cleared his throat, “How are you enjoying yourself so far?”

YN chuckled again, “I would be withholding the truth if I did not say I am slightly overwhelmed, but, I must admit there has been a lovely turnout to celebrate Mr Styles’ birthday.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed again, “That itself is not surprising.”

YN’s eyebrows furrowed in the man’s direction, “And why would that be?”

Mr Jacobs lifted the glass he held in his hand up to his lips and shrugged, “I heard that Mrs Styles extended invitations to every eligible lady in the county, as well as a few from London, seeing as though Mr Styles wishes to take a wife.”

YN nearly choked on her spit at his words but attempted to cover it up in hopes of not raising any questions. This was the first that she had heard of this subject. The last time that she and Harry had conversed on this subject he had made it painfully aware that he was not thinking at all of marriage. Of course, that conversation had been almost a year ago and his intentions could have changed since then. The only question that floated around in YN’s brain was – if so, why had he not said anything to her?

“Oh,” YN faked a laugh, “Well that does make sense. If Mr Styles wants to marry again, he should ensure that he makes the correct choice.”

Mr Jacobs’ eyebrows furrow, “You did not know that he was looking for another bride?”

YN lightly shook her head, “I am not shocked, though. I am only his governess, he does not have to discuss such important, personal matters with me.”

“I just thought that since you had been invited to the ball perhaps you were friends,” Mr Jacobs pressed, confusing YN slightly.

“To a degree, yes,” YN nodded, “But not to the degree of discussing these matters, I suppose.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, finished his drink, and placed his glass down on the table behind them. YN had hoped by that point their conversation would be over, and she could go back to watching the room – but that was not to be the case. YN was admittingly shocked when Mr Jacobs extended his hand out before her.

“Miss YLN,” He spoke, a small smile etching across his features, “Would you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?”

“Oh,” YN shook her head, “Thank you, Mr Jacobs but I will have to politely refuse – I have not danced since I was a child.”

“Well,” Mr Jacobs shrugged, “To me, it seems there is no time like the present to start again.”

YN watched from over his shoulder as other couples began to migrate to the dancefloor. Exhaling a nervous breath, YN nodded and placed her hand into Mr Jacobs’. He led her towards the dancefloor, and they somehow ended up directly in the middle. Her eyes fluttered to the left and the right of her before they settled directly in front. Mr Jacobs offered her a smile, and that was seemingly all it took for her nerves to dissipate almost completely.

The music started, and they danced.

What YN could not see as she moved around the room, her hand tightly placed in Mr Jacobs was the two eyes watching her from across the room. Harry had been speaking to one of the many ladies that his mother had invited without his knowledge (he will remember this for next time) when he saw them. There was not a possible way that he could have missed her. When he had instructed Miss Francis to make her a dress, he knew that the older woman would succeed at making it beautiful but the only word that seemed to stand out in his head was breathtaking.

Harry tried to listen to the conversation he was in, but he could not. The only thing he could pay attention to was how she floated around the dance floor. She was smiling, an indication to him that she was enjoying herself. At one point he even saw her share a laugh with Mr Jacobs, a man that Harry knew of but not very well. A wave of longing washed over him, a longing for that to have been him.

“Mr Styles!” A voice called from the side of him, “Mr Styles?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, turning back to the lady who had grown impatient at the expense of his distraction, which was now finishing thankfully.

“I asked whether or not you enjoyed dancing?”

Harry’s eyes caught YN walking over towards the refreshment table, alone, and he saw this as his opportunity. He excused himself from the lady, who stood there in shock and watched as he walked away. Harry made a beeline for the refreshment table, ignoring any calls of his name the entire way there.

YN had just picked up a glass to take a sip when she felt someone beside her. She turned, saw that it was Harry and smiled – only for that smile to drop when she saw the expression on his face. The once smiley Mr Styles had been replaced with a look of sadness. It concerned YN to no end.

“Harry?” She dropped the drink back down on the table, “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I require some air. Would you care to join me?”

YN just nodded, knowing that he was probably wanting to talk to her more than have some air. Saying that, the room was quite stuffy with the amount of bodies occupying it so she would not be shocked. She followed him through the house until they could slip out of the back door. There was a chill in the air, seeing as though it was February, but that was not the important thing right now.

YN stood by the door, hoping to guard herself from the child slightly as she watched Harry pace in front of her. With each step, she grew more concerned for the man.

“You are worrying me now, Harry,” She started, her voice turning to a slight plead, “Would you please tell me what is wrong?”

Harry sighed and stopped his pacing before turning and walking so he was standing just a few feet from the girl.

“If you wish to marry Mr Jacobs then you should do so.”

YN feels as though all of the air has been sucked out of her body. Her heart begins to beat uncontrollably – the only sound she can hear is her heartbeat throughout her body. Out of everything that she thought he was going to say, that had certainly not been it. She could not even imagine why it had made him act in this way.

“Harry, I…” YN shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh, “That is… I had not even… I only danced with the man Harry.”

Harry shook his head, “I need you to know that if you wish to marry him, then you should.”

YN laughed again, “Harry you are being preposterous! You cannot just go around saying things such as that! But, seeing as though you have said such things, I would like to reiterate all of the information which you already know – I am happy just as I am, with you and with the children.”

Harry sighs, “You do not have to lie to me, YN. I can take the truth.”

“By this display of emotions Harry I find that very hard to believe,” She shakes her head once more, “And even so, I am not lying to you. I merely offered a dance, and I accepted and whilst I do not have the most experience with balls – I have gathered that this is something that usually happens at them!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at YN once more, and that is when she noticed that his chest was heaving just as much as hers was. The more that they were standing staring at each other, the more confused YN became. That all came to a head when Harry turned and walked away from her, walking into the house without a single second look at her.

YN watched him as he walked away, and she was overwhelmed with the want to cry. She took a deep breath, lifting her hand to rest a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. YN took a few steps away from the house so that she could rest against the wall surrounding the steps, the chill in the air the last of the worries.

YN sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead in hopes that would help regain even an ounce of or so of calm again. It was no use though as all she could think about was Harry, and what was the reason behind his sudden outburst of emotion.

“Oh, Miss YLN,” YN lifted her head at the sound of her name, “Are you quite alright?”

There was a part of YN that wanted to groan slightly at the fact that Mr Jacobs had somehow found her even admits the festivities. Instead of groaning, however, YN, found herself offering him a smile.

“I am fine,” She nodded, “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, approaching where she was sitting on the wall. She did feel bad for the man, seeing as though he was the cause of so much turmoil and yet he had no idea of it. At the end of the day, Mr Jacobs had technically done nothing wrong, and she could not blame the man for something that was between herself and Harry.

He dropped down on the wall with an adequate space next to her and ran his hands over his trousers, “I did wish to ask you something after our dance, before I realised you had disappeared.”

YN just nodded, “Of course, Mr Jacobs.”

“I do not wish for you to read too far into this, Miss YLN, but I do enjoy your company,” Mr Jacobs started, “And, even though I had wanted to do this the last time I saw you I knew it would be inappropriate, but now I do not think the same.”

“Mr Jacobs, you do not have to justify yourself to me,” YN offered him a small smile, “Please, ask whatever it is you would like.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “Would you care to join me for a promenade tomorrow?”

For the second time in a short period, YN found herself short of breath. She could not believe how these declarations were coming one after the other.

YN knew that if she lingered on the thought too much she would lose herself or talk herself out of it. She supposed, in deciding for herself for once she nodded her head at Mr Jacobs.

“I would very much like that.”

YEAR FOUR

“Do you think Father is scared of bees, Miss YN?” Noah asked, holding YN’s hand as they walked back towards the house.

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “I do not know, Noah, you should ask him yourself.”

The little boy nodded, “I do not wish for them to sting me, but I would not say that I am scared of them – not like Norah is.”

The little girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name, “I am not afraid! I just do not like them very much.”

YN chuckled at the discussion between the small children. They both pulled away from YN once they reached the steps to the house, turning it into a race just as they did with everything. Sighing, YN followed them up the steps slightly slower than they had done. Once she stepped inside the house, she saw both children standing in the doorway of the sitting room with shocked expressions on their faces.

“What is it?” YN questioned, turning to look at what both of the children were staring at. She stopped in her tracks at what it was.

Sitting on the settee was both Harry and Mr Jacobs. YN could not figure out the expression that Harry’s face held, but she could see that Mr Jacobs seemed to be one of happiness. YN placed a hand on the back of the children’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you both get yourself cleaned up for supper?” She smiled, ushering the children out of the room before she stepped inside.

YN stayed standing up just by the door as she watched the uncomfortable air that seemed to be passing between the two men. In all honesty, YN believed that this was probably the first time that they had met properly. They had both been a topic of conversations with YN but had never spoken directly. It caused YN’s stomach to twist. 

YN had agreed to meet Mr Jacobs the day after the ball mainly to spite Harry, and the words that he had shared with her just a few moments before. What she had been surprised by was the amount she had enjoyed herself. Their walks had been few and far between over the past year or so, as YN would not have let herself forget the real reason she was there in the first place – and that was the children. She could tell that Mr Jacobs had wished for more, but she was unable to give him that. In all honesty, she did not know whether she wanted to give him that.

She had not expected him to show up at her house, though.

“Mr Jacobs,” YN greeted with a small smile, “It is lovely to see you.”

“As it is for you, Miss YLN.”

YN’s eyes flickered between Harry and Mr Jacobs, “May I ask the reason for your visit?”

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, looking at YN with an unreadable expression on his face, “He is here to ask you a question, YN. Or really, to ask me whether it is agreeable for me if he was to ask for your hand in marriage.”

YN gasped. Out of everything that Harry could have said, she had not expected that. Whilst it had shocked her, there was another feeling present that YN couldn’t quite put her finger on.

With a slight drop of her head she looked towards Harry, “Mr Styles, would you mind leaving the room?”

The second YN said those words, she regretted it. The expression on Harry’s face had gone from unreadable to pained, and she knew that she was the cause of this. She hoped that he would not let himself get too worked up over this. Whilst YN had no idea as to how this would play out, she had hoped that Harry would have a little more faith in her than to just abandon him in this way.

With a nod, Harry nodded and walked past her to leave the room. The door shut behind him, and she was finally alone with Mr Jacobs. That was when she realised the other emotion that was swirling within her – it was anger.

“Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs stood up, “I had hoped that I would be able to…”

YN shook her head and held her hand out so that he knew not to take a step closer to her, “I do not want to hear it, Mr Jacobs.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowing at her words, “Miss YLN, if I have done something to offend you –”

“You have,” YN nodded, unable to hold back her anger, “You have offended me, Mr Jacobs. You have offended me by coming to my place of employment to ask for my hand in marriage instead of coming to me.”

“You have avoided me for weeks, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs responds, his tone turning stern, “Of course, I had wished to speak to you first, but I was unable to do so.”

“So you thought your best course of action was to show up here and what?” YN sighed, laughing slightly at the absurdness of the entire situation, “Ask Harry for my hand in marriage?”

“I only wished to ask…” Mr Jacobs stopped in his tracks, his expression changing once more, “Harry?”

YN shakes her head, even more confused, “What?”

“You call Mr Styles by his first name?” Mr Jacobs presses once more.

YN scoffs a laugh, “Yes I do, Mr Jacobs, but I do not see how that is your business.”

“I think it is,” Mr Jacobs nods, “Seeing as though he is your employer, and you call him by his first name.”

“Yes,” YN nods, “My employer who is also my friend, and has been for the past four years.”

Mr Jacobs scoffs, “I should have known. I should have known when you were at the ball, even more so when you refused to join me on promenades, and this has just made it even more apparent.”

YN shook her head, “Made what even more apparent?”

“That your affections lie with Mr Styles, or Harry is it?”

YN could not believe what she was hearing. It angered her more so than she thought anything ever could. The audacity of this man to say such a thing – make such a claim when he did not the extent of the accusations that he was making.

“I think it is time for you to take your leave, Mr Jacobs,” YN stated coldly.

“No,” Mr Jacobs shakes his head, placing his hands upon his hips, “Not until I receive my answer from you.”

“I think my asking of you to leave is answer enough.”

Mr Jacobs sighs, “Will you not at least give me a reason as to why?”

“I said leave!”

“I will not,” YN was surprised at the level at which Mr Jacobs raised his voice, “You have no authority to order me out of this house.”

That was when the door opened and Harry stepped in, the look on his face matching Mr Jacobs in anger.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr Jacobs,” Harry speaks calmly, “This is just as much Miss YLN’s house as it is mine, and if she does not wish for you to be here anymore then you should leave. If you refuse, well that is when I shall step in – and I have no qualms in physically removing you from the property.”

Mr Jacobs looks at YN one last time before scoffing and practically storming out of the room. Once she hears the front door from the side of them slam shut, YN thankfully knows that she is in all clear. It takes all of a few seconds before she breaks down, the tears streaming down her face involuntarily.

“Oh, YN,” Harry takes one look at her shaking body, and he is there, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. The pressure of his body against hers was all she needed to collapse, her legs giving way and her body falling to the ground.

Harry is there to catch her, pulling her body even closer to his. Her hands grasp at the lapel of his jacket, hoping that would give her even an ounce of relief.

“Harry,” She gasps, the tears still streaming down her face, “I am so sorry.”

Harry shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

YN was sitting at the front of the classroom, the complete silence in the room offering an inch of comfort to YN after a difficult few days. 

She was not necessarily one who thought that silent reading time was the best for the children, but she had no other option. The past few days she had not been herself, and unfortunately whilst she had tried to not let it affect her work – there was unfortunately no way that it would not.

YN was staring out of the window when the door opened, replacing the silence in the room with footsteps that could only belong to one person. It was at that point that YN realised that the children had not been reading, and instead had been occupying themselves in other ways. The pencil that Noah had been attempting to balance on his face fell off and clattered to the ground the second his father made an entrance into the room, and Norah dropped the hair that she had been attempting to colour with her crayons.

“Noah, Norah,” Harry addressed his children, “How about you go and find the cook. From what I have heard, she has a plate of treats waiting for you both.”

The children’s faces broke out into smiles, and they bounded past their father, the two of them making it a competition as they did. YN sighed, offering Harry a small smile as he closed the door to the classroom. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone since the incident occurred and YN supposed that was not for a lack of trying on Harry’s part – more so that YN had been avoiding him.

“I know what you are here to discuss, and I fear we cannot,” YN shook her head, watching as Harry leant against the children’s desk and crossed his arms over his face.

“We can,” Harry nodded, “You cannot avoid me forever, seeing as though we live in the same house, and you are the governess to my children. And more importantly, you are my friend.”

YN sighed, “There is nothing to say, Harry. We both know what happened, and I believe the best thing for us to do is move on as though nothing has happened.”

“But we both know that is not the case,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know that you think the best thing for us to do is ignore the situation, YN, but we cannot.”

YN sighs and nods her head, “Very well, then. Say what you need to.”

Harry sighed and stood up, taking a step closer to YN from over the desk, “Did you want to?”

“Did I what?” YN offered him a puzzled expression.

“Want to marry him?” Harry asks, “Mr Jacobs?”

YN sighed and almost immediately shook her head, “No. I did not. If I had, I would have accepted his hand right then and there. I have told you time and time again, Harry, I am happy just where I am.”

Harry nodded, starting to pace up and down in front of her just as he had the night of the ball. If he was not careful, she would not be surprised if a scuff mark appeared on the floor from his shoes.

Harry stopped directly in front of her and nodded again, “Then marry me.”

YN’s eyes widen. Whilst the last proposal she was shocked and appalled by – this one, she was just shocked. YN could not even believe that those words had just come out of Harry’s lips, and more so that it was directed at her.

“Harry,” YN addressed with a laugh and a shake of her head, “You cannot mean that.”

“But I do,” He nodded, walking around the table so that he was directly in front of the chair that she was sitting in, “I do mean it.”

YN scoffed, “I understand if you are upset with what happened with Mr Jacobs but Harry, what you are saying is preposterous.”

“It is not,” Harry shakes his head, dropping down so he is at eye level with the girl, “I know that you wish to marry, YN, and I am saying – let that person be me.”

“Harry…”

YN’s eyes start to fill with tears, even more so when he reaches forward to grab her hands, “I know that I need to marry, and I know that somewhere, deep down you would like to. We are already acquainted, and I would definitely say that we are friends and I already know that the children like you. I mean – it makes perfect sense to me.”

YN sighed, beginning to shake her head again, “No, Harry you do not mean that.”

“But I do,” He nods his head, his eyes never leaving hers, “I do not think I have ever meant anything more in my life. I lov…” Harry’s eyes widen at his words and then he shakes his head, “I appreciate you more than anything, YN. You have changed my life and my children’s lives for the better. We do not have to care about what society may think, all we have to care about we think. Let me change your life.”

YN opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was truly and honestly in a state of shock.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Sea Monster

The ocean is a dangerous entity 

Known for her high waves, immeasurable depths, and eternal mysteries

She entices millions into her cold embrace every day

Many of whom are devoured by said mysteries leaving no trace

One of its greatest mysteries is a creature who’s been roaming beneath the surface of the earth for eons

So it truly is a special occasion that Maelstrom breaks this streak for a feast on a private yacht 

It’s far too easy how this new (to him) bipedal species gawks and helplessly flails while he sucks the bones out of their soft skin

He doesn’t care for the soft innards that the skin holds 

He does like how their screams gurgle and warble as he delights in their crunchy bones

So he makes it his mission to devour or turn into water 

And he’s sure that he’s done so with all of the little crunchy snack bags on the ship

Until he’s led into a cramped little closet with a tiny version of the springy boxes he’d found before

On it was a wailing babe—you

Now that he’s recognized 

Because for all the different species evolution has brought it a crying infant was a common denominator

And you were crying hard

Whether you were the sibling or offspring of some ill-thinking teen or an overworked employee of the crew the one who was going to care for you was gone

And Maelstorm knew that

On the account that he’s certain he’d still be hearing your incessant crying on the entirely silent yacht, he molds his water-like body into something more like the ‘human skin bags’ 

Letting his face bulge and bubble with the vague memory of his meal’s screaming faces until you stop crying

“There…there…my pearl.”

It’s been so long since he’s been awake to have a pet 

Surely it won’t be too hard

…right?

“Aaaaghh!”

“You’re not hungry, you’re not sleepy, you’ve already gone to the bathroom! WHAT IS IT!?”

He’s never been so stressed out 

Stressed out trying to stop your little face from contorting anymore as you empty your little lungs and exhaust your little vocal cords

He eventually decides he does need help and uses one of the less rotted bodies to go on land and learn among these skin bags so that he knows what to do

“Oh poor sir looks like they’re just hungry for some warm hugs.”

“Is that…really all?”

“Why of course! Babies really hinge on your emotions and attention.”

After he takes in the ‘nurse’s’ wisdom he begins to feel something new 

Something full of jealousy that has him snatching your swaddled form before giving a light pat that turns her into a puddle on the floor

Maelstorm easily finds another skin-bag with a nice face to take the body of 

Leaving with a skip in his step while the ‘skin-bags’ authorities baffled over the only remnant of a missing ‘nurse’

“I see now to avoid this awful feeling I must make sure all my affection is being given to my pearl.”

From there you can be sure that you’re entire life will be filled with Maelstorm learning about the negative emotions he can get as you grow

True there will be many positive feelings 

But he learns that to protect those precious new feelings 

Barricading you on abandoned ships and attacking all the skin-bags that come to keep it that way

And even when you grow into the adults he’d previously snacked on

He won’t completely leave humans alone

He pulls back on this snacking habit only because he sees more of you in them

But he’s not going to stop eating them 

Especially when he finds your attention drifting from him as you crave more socialization 

“As far as I’m concerned all we need is each other. Now do I have to eat this entire village or will you go back to our boat?”

[bella-goths-wife]

Soft moments with yandere Vox

This takes place after the stayed gone song.

Warnings: forced affection, Valentino, SA mentions, obsessive behaviour

“Can’t believe that fucker is back” vox mumbled angrily as he made his way back to his bedroom to recharge, having used up a lot of his energy dealing with alastor.

During the walk down the long corridor to his room, he passed by your door and briefly stopped to look at it.

He could still remember the day he gifted you your first room. It was much smaller back then and was down on a lower level since the top floor was reserved for himself, velvette and Valentino until you came along.

But he remembers the grateful expression you pulled when he opened the door to what he saw as a tiny shit tip, but you saw shelter after living on the streets for nearly a year so you couldn’t stop the fond smile that grew on your face.

After vox grew more favourable with you, he gifted you with your current room which was a definite upgrade. He had decorated it with band memorabilia and musical items that he knew you liked before giving to you, along with a few voxtech gadgets and cameras so he could always keep an eye on you.

You tried to refuse it when he first showed you the new room, you said it was much too extravagant for just an assistant. But Vox insisted that it would be better that you lived closer to him and the other Vs, that you weren’t just any employee to him.

Vox stares at the small plaque with your name on it on the door, well not your name but your title. Pet is carved into the plaque with a small heart and star next to the beginning and the bed of the word, courtesy of velvette and Valentino.

Vox felt himself grimace at the sight of the title that would usually give him an electrical thrill to see in writing, when was the last time any of them had called you by your name?

Do they even know your name? Vox eyes widen at the realisation of his ignorance. He didn’t know your name, and if he did he couldn’t remember it.

Vox opens your door almost silently as he enters your room before searching for you, only to find you laid down on your bed.

Vox doesn’t know what comes over him as he walks over to your bed and crouches down to look at you.

You had clearly fallen asleep while doing audio prep for velvette’s fashion show in a week’s time, with your laptop open on the bed and notes scattered around you.

Vox sighs as he takes in the sight of your clear exhaustion, too tired for you to change into sleepwear and passing out in your cold room with no covers over your body and a lack of warm clothes on.

Have they been overworking you this much? He knows that you have a large workload but you look absolutely drained of energy as you sleep peacefully.

Vox finds himself bringing his clawed hand to your face and gently tracing the musical note scars that ran down the sides of your face like vines that wrapped around an ancient temple.

He gently traced the markings but stopped before reaching your neck. He observed how the markings seemed to run down your body but he’d never really confirmed it since it was hard to tell. Valentino had once admitted to Vox after a heated exchange that he was curious in seeing where your markings stopped and always wanted to find out, Vox made quick work of forbidding Valentino from doing so and leaving the room.

Vox looks at you once more and takes in your full figure this time before noticing your bare arms and the amount of bruises on them. No doubt they were from him or the other two, probably from where Vox had grabbed you a few nights prior after you had asked a question about alastor.

Vox wasn’t an idiot, he noticed that you had very similar features, abilities and mannerisms to his enemy. He surmised that you had a previous relationship with alastor but couldn’t work out what it was, and asking you gave him no answers when you revealed that the only contact you’d ever had with alastor was him buying you some food and giving you advice on your ability.

So Vox decided to stay blissfully unaware and ignored the similarities between the two of you, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the nostalgic feeling that filled his chest when your doe like ears would flick back against your skull like alastors did or how your horns would grow whenever you used your ability.

While the similarities made him feel nostalgic, they also posed a threat in Voxs mind. What if alastor worked out the mysterious connection between the two of you and decided to take you back to that shit hole of a hotel with him.

Vox practically growled at the thought as his claws accidentally pressed into the delicate markings on your face, causing you to yelp in your sleep until he stopped. You stirred in yous sleep and turn on your side.

Vox wouldn’t let anyone take you, anything but you. You were something to him, you brought him emotions that he hadn’t felt in so long. You gave him something that all the money and souls he owned couldn’t give him, so he could never relinquish his ownership of you.

He’d put the no sex or relationships rule in place because he was worried he’d lose you to something as ridiculous as young love, so he certainly wasn’t going to lose you to that red grinning fucker.

Vox sighs and calms himself before looking at your sleeping figure in the bed and feeling a sense of serenity fill his chest at the sight.

He grabs the covers of the bed and pulls them over your shivering sleeping figure as he tucks you in, he even allows himself to give you a fatherly kiss on the forehead before making his way out the room.

He closes the door and makes a mental note to give you an upgrade on security, anyone could walk in!

He leaves with a new sense of determination to defeat alastor and make sure that you remained in his care. You sold your soul to him and he would make sure that it remains his for his eternal stay in this hellish afterlife.

He had told you that you were more than an average worker to you the day he gave you your room, but he wanted to say that you were like a daughter to him most days and a threat to him on others. He wanted to reassure you with a comforting embrace but he also wanted to push you away and hurt you for ever causing him to soften up and weaken on some street urchin.

He walks away with the realisation that even though he previously grimaced at your title as pet, but it was perfect for you. A daughter can be a wonderful thing, but they are only temporary until they out grow you.

But a pet will always rely on him, will always need him and will always remain loyal to him.

So Vox refuses to let anyone take his beloved pet, his relationship to you is much too interesting and complex to ever let you go.

[blackhairedjjun]

thoughts on food truck chef!yeonjun x office worker!reader

meet cute, gn!reader, warnings for food and overwork

unfortunately one day, you forget to bring the lunch you packed to work. fortunately, a new food truck selling burgers and fries has decided to park a few blocks away from your office building.

at first you don't think much of it: you stand in line with a few other employees in front of you, then a gruff middle-aged man takes your order, then you wait for a few minutes for your burger to be grilled. when your name is called, however, your order is served not by the same gruff man but by a handsome young man about your age. he smiles at you when he hands over the wrapped burger and you suddenly feel dizzy from the way he looks at you.

it soon becomes routine for you to visit the food truck during your lunch break at least once a week - maybe you order a burger because you "forgot" your lunch at home, or maybe you just order some fries or a drink to go with the food you already have. the cute cook always smiles and chats with the customers, including you; he asks about your day, if you enjoyed your last order with him, how you spent your last weekend. even if you've ordered nothing more than a soda, he still takes the time to talk to you.

and when you ask him how his weekend was and how his day's been going, he breaks out into shy laughter, his ears turning pink.

you learn that his name is yeonjun, that he lives in the same apartment building as his four closest friends, and that he likes to take photos or do dance covers when he isn't busy with his job at the food truck. he starts peppering his conversations with little flirtations, each one making your heart flutter, but you tell yourself that it's nothing. he likes being cheeky with all his customers.

one night you find yourself going home late after an incredibly long overtime shift. you have a client who wants a rush project, and that means more hours at your desk; the first step outside your office building feels like entering paradise. you don't expect anyone else to be out as late as you, yet when you pass by the food truck you find yeonjun all by himself locking it shut.

he overslept and arrived past the lunch rush hour, he explains, and to make up for it his boss made him clean up by himself.

he's headed to the same train station as you and is even taking the same line, just with a different stop, so the two of you head home together. he tells you that he overslept because he stayed up editing a video of his dance covers, a little passion project of his. you rant to him about your new client and he frowns, worrying that you're working yourself to the bone. "you're too precious to be stressing out over a client who doesn't really care," he says.

you turn away from him so that he doesn't see you blush.

on the train home he shows you a draft of his dance cover video on his phone. you've never seen this side of yeonjun before: he is completely in his element, moving perfectly with the music, expressing just how he feels with his body. you gasp and shower him with compliments, and all he can do is let out nervous giggles and mumble shy "thank you"s. you love this side of him and you wish that you could see it more.

his stop is before yours, and before he gets off he looks at you then opens his mouth. nothing comes out. he closes his mouth then opens it again, then croaks out: "can i... have your number?"

you heartbeat is ringing in your ears as you exchange phones and type in your contact details, but you're smiling so much that you can feel your cheeks ache. "text me when you get home," you say, your voice just as shaky.

"i will," he says just as train pulls in at his stop. "you too, okay?"

"okay. take care, yeonjun."

"good night."

he takes one last look at you before he exits the train, his ears still red. you watch his figure as he goes, then press your hands to your cheeks as if to stop yourself from blushing so much.

let this be only the beginning, your heart tells you.

omg i don't know what came over me... the clips of burger cook!yeonjun from the concept trailer took over my mind he looked soooo good lksdjfklsjf i just had to write sth about it so i wrote all of this in one go. maybe if i have the energy i'll turn this into a proper fic...? idk

[gyubakeries]

𝟲:𝟮𝟱 𝗔𝗠 | k.mg

word count: 1.9k contents: mingyu x afab!reader , domestic fluff , hr manager!mingyu , lawyer!reader , morning cuddles , writing this makes me crave it even more

mornings used to be the worst part of your day. when you were an overworked lawyer with your firm dumping cases on you left, right and center, waking up at the ass crack of dawn felt like the worst form of torture.

your job had thrown you into an endless rut of work, eat soggy instant ramen for your one meal of the day, get three hours of restless sleep, and repeat it all over again. you barely had a social life, despite your friends' various attempts to take you clubbing or shopping.

you were at the lowest point of your life.

then came a break in your monotonous routine in the form of a vacancy in the legal department of SVT Inc., a famous advertising and media agency your best friend, soonyoung, worked at. without even thinking twice, you applied for the job.

fortunately, you were the perfect fit for the company and were immediately recruited one week after your interview. you instantly quit your previous job and geared up for your new one.

things were finally looking up for you. and as if your life couldn't get any better, you met mingyu.

mingyu was the tall, broad, puppy-faced HR head at SVT Inc. He had this boyish charm and warm aura that made everyone around him feel secure and loved.

he would bake cookies and (your favorite) brownies to distribute amongst all the employees and give the best gifts to people on their birthdays. to add on to his kind nature, he was also great at his job, smoothly handling disputes and sincerely working to resolve any grievances the employee had.

it was only a matter of time before you fell for him. you kept your feelings to yourself, though, because you didn't expect him to reciprocate them. plus, it would only make the work environment awkward if he got to know how you felt and he didn't feel the same way.

but what surprised you was the way he showed up at your desk one evening, after everyone had left work, and shyly asked you out on a dinner date.

since that fateful night, your life had been turned upside-down.

loving mingyu and being loved by him was the best thing that had happened to you. he filled up all the empty and lonely gaps in your life with his sunshine-bright laughter. you were determined to make this relationship last till the day you took your last breath, because you were sure that no one would love you as good as mingyu did, and neither would you love anyone else the same way.

you had also impacted his life in a good way. in all his past relationships, his partners left him because he was 'too much'. 'too much' in the way that he always showered his partner with love and gifts. 'too much' in the way that he'd go out of his way to cook for his partner, or do the chores at home so that they wouldn't have to lift a finger. his old partners had all felt like he was coddling them too much.

he had too much love to give.

but then he met you, a person who had never been loved right, so how could he help himself from falling for you? more so when you let him love you the way he wanted to?

you two were the perfect match for each other, with one learning how to love and be loved, and the other finally being able to love without feeling conscious about being overwhelming.

now, mornings were the best part of your day, because mornings with mingyu were magical.

your mornings went something like this:

the alarm clock's trill sound rang out in the room, only to be silenced by the slam of a hand. you crack one eye open and read the time; 6:25 AM. time to get ready for work, you sigh, trying to get out of bed when you register what's been stopping you.

mingyu's arm is draped over your stomach, his hand clutching your waist gently, as if getting ready to stop you from leaving the bed, even in his sleep. your boyfriend was a huge cuddler; not that it bothered you, but when it got both of you to come into work late, it was a problem.

"baby, wake up. we need to get ready, or we'll be late," you whisper softly, turning in mingyu's embrace to face him. he stirs at the movement, lifting his head up and looking at you through half-closed eyes. you smile at the sight of him, hair standing up in ten different directions, and the blankets imprinted on his cheeks.

"good morning, sleeping beauty," you tease, your fingers lightly grazing his bare torso, as if wanting to tickle him. "sleep well?"

"i always sleep well with you beside me," mingyu replies, his voice a deep croak due to him just waking up. "why're you waking up this early anyways? it's saturday, love."

"oh." you say, dumbly. your stupid ass had forgotten to turn off the alarm for the weekend. again.

"i'm so sorry for waking you up," you pout, feeling guilty for not letting mingyu sleep for longer. "i forgot it was the weekend."

"it's okay, love," mingyu smiles. "i quite like being woken up by my workaholic girlfriend. maybe i should just become a stay-at-home boyfriend, you work enough for the both of us."

"i will agree, you'd make a good housewife," you nod, playing along with his joke. "i'd wake up to breakfast in bed every day. sounds like the dream."

"but if i'm at home, who's gonna come kiss you every 30 minutes at work?" your eyes are closed, but you can hear the pout in mingyu's voice.

"baby, you're the head of HR. pretty sure you're not supposed to be kissing me at work," you chuckle, opening your eyes to find him pouting.

you snuggle closer into his chest, cold hands seeking warmth by wrapping around his sun-kissed skin. "how are you always so warm? it's literally freezing out here," you mumble, voice muffled because of the way your face is squished against his bare chest.

"i don't know why either," mingyu shrugs. "maybe my body knows it has to stay warm for you."

"you're so sappy," you tease, but you don't disagree. sometimes it really felt like the universe had put you two together because you complemented each other so well.

his bear hugs would warm up your cold body. your organizing skills helped him always keep his files arranged neatly. his cooking skills made up for your subpar ramen-cooking skills. your tendency to spoil him with whatever he wanted kept him happy. his words of affirmation give you the motivation to keep going.

you completed each other, and you couldn't be more thankful for all the things you've had to face in life just to meet mingyu and find your comfort in him.

"you love it," mingyu replies cheekily, pressing a kiss into your hair, which was just as messy as his.

"wrong, i love you," you correct him, and the giggle it pulls out of him is a sound you want to hear all the time.

"i love you too, so much," mingyu sighs contentedly. he hugs your body closer to his, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. you nuzzle your cold nose into the defined muscles of mingyu's chest, lips leaving tiny kisses all over the skin.

"that feels ticklish," mingyu whines. "you know i'm sensitive, baby."

you grin brightly at his tone, pulling back just a bit to press a kiss to his lips. "fine, i won't tickle you. only if you make me pancakes for breakfast though."

"there's no flour in the kitchen," mingyu frowns, as if the lack of flour hurts him greatly. in a way, it does, because it means having to say no to you, which he hates.

"that’s okay, we could go out and get breakfast," you suggest, and mingyu's enthusiasm is spontaneous. his eyes light up and stomach rumbles at the mention of food.

"oh my god. there's the cutest bakery i found yesterday and i have to take you there. can we please go?" he rambles, lips turning into a pout naturally as he gets excited.

"of course we can," you nod. "but first, we need to fix that bedhead of yours."

mingyu nods, springing out of bed and dragging you with him. he gets ready quicker than he ever has his entire life, and sits at the edge of the bed like an eager puppy while waiting for you to finish throwing on some clothes. (his hoodie and your pajama pants.)

once you've brushed your teeth and changed, you take mingyu to the bathroom and wet his unruly hair, styling it so it looks neat and tidy.

"okay, all set. let's go!" you announce after taking five minutes to tame a few stubborn locks on mingyu's head.

"finally," mingyu groans. "let's hurry! all the fresh stuff will be sold out soon!!"

laughing at how serious he is, you grab your phone, wallet and keys and stuff them into the large pocket of your mingyu's hoodie. he's practically dragging you out of the house before you can even put your shoes on properly.

this leads you to stumble on an untied shoelace and almost fall flat on your face, but mingyu's arms catch you before you break your nose on the carpeted floor of your apartment building.

"shit, are you okay?" mingyu asks worriedly, inspecting your face and arms. "mingyu, baby, calm down," you laugh, holding his restless hands in yours.

"i'm fine. just let me tie my shoelace, and then we can go, okay?" mingyu nods, a guilty pout forming on his face because his impatience almost hurt you.

once you were done tying your shoelace, you stand up, only to be swaddled into a tight hug by your boyfriend.

"i'm sorry for hurting you," mingyu apologizes. "let's go somewhere you want to for breakfast. let me make it up to you." he says. he feels terrible when he does something that could hurt you in any way, even if it's accidental.

"you silly boy, we're going to your bakery," you giggle, bringing your hands up to pinch your boyfriend's cheeks. "even if i did end up breaking my nose, you'd still love me, so it's okay."

"really? we can still go to the bakery?" mingyu gasps, a smile replacing his frown.

"yes, gyu. that's what i-"

before you can even complete your sentence, he's leaning forward to kiss you sweetly. his hands cup your face and you melt against him.

he leaves a series of short pecks on your lips, not letting you go. when you finally manage to pull away from his affection-filled attack, you tease, "aren't we getting late to the bakery now?"

needless to say, mingyu didn't need anymore incentive to take you to the bakery, eager to show you his new discovery.

yeah, mornings with mingyu really were magical.

(when you found him pouting at the 'closed' sign hanging at the door of the bakery because it only opened an hour later, you found yourself wanting to spend every morning you had with mingyu.)

- fin.

[doomedmoth]

Not fast, just furious

Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, unhinged behavior, alcohol and cigarettes consumption, kys joke, suggestive texts, chaotic fluff, grumpy x sunshine, lando getting bullied

Synopsis : During his winter break in Australia, Daniel meets a barmaid with a big heart and a bigger mouth. When she starts following him during the races, fans are a bit unsure of how to deal with her unhinged behavior and total lack of media training. Daniel loves it.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi friends ! Pls be kind, it’s my first attempt at a smau and I’m on mobile, so the formatting might be weird. Also sorry if your name is Malva, it was the first one that came to mind lol.

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername Walking in the club like we regulars

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yourbff leaving the club like an overworked mom

Liked by yourusername

melbournemirage our favorite employee 🤩

Liked by yourusername

yourusername wouldn’t mind a raise then 🤪

user1 gorggggg

yourbrother stop drinking on the job bitch

yourusername get a job before judging me bitch

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[Messages] Daniel has sent you a text

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wagupdates New wag alert ?? Daniel Ricciardo has now been seen a few times with an unknown woman around Melbourne and Perth during his winter break. At first thought to be a childhood friend, sources say they met at the bar where the young woman is working, and they have been getting quite cozy 👀 What do you think ??? 📸 via Australian celebrity press

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danyfanclub she looks cuuuute

user1 anyone got her @ ???

user2 apparently he been hanging out at melbournemirage so maybe she works there ???

malva she looks messsyyyy, doubt it’s gonna last till the season starts…

danyfanclub stay mad

*****

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daniel3.jpg Aussie adventures before going back to vroom vroom

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maxverstappen1 honey come home the kids miss you

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user1 what camera do you use ???

wagupdates do we spy the new girl on the 4th and 7th slide ??? 👀

user2 THANK YOU I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE

user3 sneakyyy

danyfanclub can’t wait to see her in the paddock ‼️

landojpg we missed you at karting mate 🥺

daniel3.jpg sorry, too busy drinking cocktails 🤪

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[Messages] Your coworker has sent you a text in Charlie’s Angels

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melbournemirage Today we mourn the loss of our best bartender, yourusername . She had been with us for a little over a year now, and was the light of Melbourne Mirage, our pride and joy. She always won employee of the month, and not just because she created and awarded the title herself. A gathering in her memory will be held tonight at 9pm, everyone who knew and loved her is free to attend 💔

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yourbff LMAOOOOO

yourusername WHY THE FUCK DO YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I’M DEAD I JUST QUITTED ???

melbournemirage sometimes we can still hear her voice… 💔

daniel3.jpg don’t worry I’ll take good care of her 😇

yourcoworker you better 🔪

user4 DANIEL ???

danyfanclub finally we have the @ !!!

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yourusername last month stuff

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yourbff damn girl, money suits you well 😍

yourusername right ???

malva wow, gold digger much…

danielricciardo thank you for getting Max to fly us around babe 🥰

maxverstappen1 as if I was not offering after every race…

landonorris why don’t you offer me after every race ???

maxverstappen1 you can walk

landonorris TO SILVERSTONE ???

user1 from barmaid to wag, girl is living the dream life

user2 smoking is not cool girl…

yourusername minding your own fckn business is tho

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[Messages] my sun 🌞 has sent you a text

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daniel3.jpg Sorry my cat bites, I found her in the streets. She’s a good girl irl.

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yourusername don’t reveal my secrets 🙄 (love you)

daniel3.jpg the world has to know ❤️‍🔥 (love you more)

lilymhe I can confirm the good girl part

yourusername I’ll be the best for you 🥵

alex_albon HM EXCUSE ME ???

danyfanclub ppl love to hate on her because she’s not trained like a nepo baby but honestly relatable queen !!

user1 boy is simping so hard

user2 she looks so fun to be around, finally a wag that doesn’t look fake

malva yeah she definitely got the street cat look…

user3 OMG GET A FUCKING LIFE GIRL

danyfanclub being this salty won’t make him like you go get a grip

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user1 replied to your story :

Did you and Daniel break up ???

malva replied to your story :

fucking finally, so looooong

danielricciardo replied to your story :

have fuuuun, I’ll call you when my plane lands 🐶

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yourusername Back where everything started. I know I sound like a bitch sometimes, but to my love, my sun, my pup, I am so glad I met you 6 months ago. You turned my life around and I can’t wait for more shenanigans with you. You make any place feel like home. I love you. To everyone else, especially those who thought we broke up because I had the audacity to go home two days before him : Fuck you all ❤️

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melbournemirage we were so happy to have you back, even for just a night ! Soon a #speeddating night at the Melbourne Mirage everyone ? 👀

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yourusername stop promoting yourself on my account

maxverstappen1 glad to have met you this year bro

yourusername #mates4life

user1 I didn’t know they were so close !!

danielricciardo my love ❤️‍🔥

yourusername my sun 🌞

user2 highway looking pretty good for a nap rn

user3 goooosh they are so cute I’m gonna kms

danyfanclub FROM THE MAIN ACCOUNT TOO ‼️

malva still not buying it

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yourbrother you did not have to come back so soon

yourusername jeez 🤡 at least pretend to be happy for the gifts you little shit

yourbrother thx I guess

yourusername you’re adopted

landonorris can you bring me back some Tim Tam ? 🥺

danielricciardo no ❤️

yourbff no ❤️

yourusername no and kys ❤️

landonorris damn 🥺

[winter-kh-sideblog]

Axel from chain of memories is just so funny as a concept. I’m Obsessed with him

It’s like if the horrifying assassin sent to kill you was a minimum wage employee going through a divorce. And he didnt feel any guilt or apprehension about trying to kill you, (a random child LITERALLY just trying to find and hug your friends) but he Was lazy (depressed) as heck and hated his job. And trying to kill you faster so he could depression nap.

And his one source of joy was scaring the crap out of people and torturing them to death.

And ALSO he was a single dad struggling to work two jobs who loved his kids dearly but that did not make him a Better person or more likely to spare you .

The ONLY chance u have of survival comes down to whether or not he’s lazy enough to give up and depression nap.

The kids maybe make him More likely to stay and kill you because hes secretly worried he’s a bad father and he doesnt have to face up to Having Conversations About Feelings and Admitting He Cares About His Kids for however long hes scaring u.

He has stupid goth makeup with little clown looking teardrops under his eyes and a stupid catchphrase. He barely gets payed and has like no vacation days and is overworked because his company is stupidly short staffed and his ex husband is his manager and keeps sending him to assassinate his few remaining coworkers and hes too low in the company to argue and explain why this is a stupid idea. And management being like “ugh its like you dont even care about this job and you just wanna do the bare minimum and clock out. Now go kill your coworkers”

And ALSO its so funny because you dont know ANY of this

Imagine a scary horror clown man trying to murder you and you are About to die and then the horror clown’s alarm goes off and hes like “oh thank god its union mandated paid ten minute break. They CANNOT make me work in this time Fuck yeah goodbye loser” and he just Teleports across the room and is immediately on the phone like “babe STOP texting me . I DONT want you back. Maybe stop trying to kill our employees if youre so mad about us being short staffed. WAIT did you send me here to die. Was this a murder attempt. Hello?!?! HELLO?!??? DONT HANG UP ON ME?!??” And then he sighs and shrugs and starts reapplying glimmer eyeshadow until another alarm goes off and hea like “ewwwwwww work time.” And he stares at you like hed rather do anything in the world than resume your death fight. And then he stabs you with an on fire weapon and starts evil cackling with his full chest

Literally no one else will ever be him

[daisyofwaterdeep]

[Accidental Confessions]

!NSFW! Rolan/Femcis Reader Mutual Pining, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex 5.3k

Rolan accidentally spills a love potion on himself. When you come to visit him, he can't hold himself back.

~~~ Being an employee at Sorcerous Sundries has it's perks--getting to hang out with Loroakan's new apprentice being one of them. You often muster up the courage to chat with Rolan during work hours, and though he seems stiff and nervous at first, he quickly warms to the environment. But when the beatings start, he starts withdrawing again. You try to talk to him about it, you show concern and worry, but he bats it all down with a few curt words. It absolutely breaks your heart. And then Loroakan dies. Rolan is busier than ever--you hardly ever see him at the ground floor, but that's fine by you, because when you do see him, he's happy. Tired and overworked, sure, but so happy that your heart aches with your own happiness. You do get a chance to chat with Cal and Lia quite often, and you live off of the scraps that they nonchalantly give you about their brother. How he can be quite stubborn. How he's a picky eater. How he snores. All of these tiny little glimpses of Rolan, filling out your fantasies of what life could be like, if only you had the courage to actually confess. When Cal and Lia are out of town, though, you try to check on Rolan a few times a day, bringing him food and drink, because you know he would forget to nourish himself otherwise. Even though he's neck deep in work, he always expresses appreciation with a soft smile during these moments. You tell yourself that it's all you need.

But one of these visits goes quite differently.

You worry your hands over your dress one last time before you go through the portal, a tray of tea and cake in hand (you always try to indulge Rolan's sweet tooth when you can). Rolan doesn't appear to be on the first floor, and a quick glance at the desks on the various balconies brings up nothing. Wondering if he may have slipped out while you were busy downstairs, you carefully make your way up the nearest set of stairs to get a better look, pondering if you should call out his name.

But then you hear him-- a low, pained groan, followed by hurried breathing. Your head turns to the sound, and you spot a pair of feet from behind several stacks of books on the ground.

"Master Rolan?" You hurry over, tea sloshing. It looks that he had been removing all the books from one of the shelves, likely to sort and catalog them. Did he fall and hurt himself?

Worry clots your throat as you round the stacks and he fully comes into view at your feet. He's got his back propped against the half-empty bookshelf, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands clawing weakly at his robes. And his face-- well, you don't really know what to make of it. He looks to be in pain, but even with his furrowed brow and panting mouth, you know in your core that that's not entirely correct.

"R-Rolan!" You nearly throw the tray down as you fall to your knees beside him, hands fluttering over his heaving chest, not sure what's going on or what you can do to help.

Rolan's eyes flick up, as if only just noticing your presence. The rest of his body seems desperate, out of control, but his eyes...they're assured, steady, unblinking. And, you note with a chill, they're almost entirely black. His pupils have blown so wide that only the smallest sliver of gold rings around them, like an eclipse. "You," Rolan gasps, his hands stopping their incessant grabbing of his own clothes to grab at you instead, "Of course it's you..." He gives a short bark of a laugh that dwindles into a breathy sigh as his arms wrap around your back, drawing you close with a surprising strength, "It's always been you, hasn't it?" Being pulled into an impromptu hug by Rolan would have sent you into a tizzy in any other circumstance, but right now you know that you can't be distracted by your own feelings. Something is wrong, very wrong, and Rolan isn't in his right mind. What was he even talking about? Are you the cause of this, somehow?

"M-Master Rolan," You try to pull free from his grip, and as much as it pains you mentally to do such a thing, it seems to be nothing compared to the wounded sound that Rolan makes when you finally wrestle free.

"Please," Rolan begs, dark eyes never leaving yours, his hands still on your sides, "Don't leave me, I--" Rolan bares his teeth as he fights to catch his breath, "Something...something's wrong."

The absolute desperation written across his face has your own breath struggling to come and go.

"What happened?" As you say it you grab his hands, ignoring the little thrill it gives you, and hold them between the two of you. "Talk to me, Rolan. Are you hurt?"

"Hurt..." Rolan's head hangs but his eyes are still on your face, as if it's his duty to look at you, "It hurts, yes--" He groans, a mixture of pain and aggravation, and his back arches away from the bookcase as he draws your hands to his chest with a near painful grip. "Please touch me, touch me..."

You're too flabbergasted to fight back as your hands are forcibly dragged down his torso. Rolan moans at the contact, as if the touch is all that he's needed. Even through the fabric of his robes, you can feel him-- the hard ridges of his infernal ribcage, then the softness of his stomach, and then-- You yank your hands away before they get lower, heat flooding your face and cold waves of shock wracking your frame.

He's turned on. The revelation smashes into you like a hammer to the back of the head. There's no way, right? Rolan, strong, proud, perfect Rolan is currently writhing beside you with need. Your crush, your infatuation, your beautiful, unattainable daydream of a man...There's no way that he's currently drawing your hands back down, bringing them to the distinct outline that presses from under his robes, and it even gives a twitch as he catches you noticing it.

"Please?" Rolan's voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper as he stops your hands right above his erection, "Please, just...a little, I only need a little bit..." His hands squeeze your own as he pleads.

Your body is covered in goosebumps and you can feel your thundering heartbeat in your throat...and between your legs. But despite that, you know you can't take advantage of the situation. It would be too easy to give in, to touch him in all the ways you've fantasized, but you know just how wrong that would be. Because you know there’s something else at play here. Rolan isn’t like this–he would never lose his faculties in such a way.

"I-I can't."

His face goes slack, a look of completely devastated disbelief. You squeeze his hands back, trying to ignore the pang of guilt at making him look so, so heartbreakingly sad.

"Rolan, please listen." You clear your throat as his eyes look unwaveringly into yours. "You're not yourself. You don't want me. You're under the influence of something--a spell, or maybe a potion..."

Rolan shakes his head as you speak, first softly, then with more force, denying everything that you say.

"Yes, Rolan." You say firmly. "Please, I need you to think. You were clearing this shelf before I came in, weren't you? Did you open an odd book, scroll, anything?"

"No, you need to listen." The helpless desperation that Rolan's been soaked in up until this point disappears in an instant. His body stiffens as he sits up, sharp claws digging into the tender skin of your wrists as he pulls your hands to his chest. You can feel the hectic speed of his heart. "I want you," He groans and licks his lips, eyes darting down to your mouth for a brief moment before locking back onto your eyes with a fiery resolve, "I've wanted you for so long." He grimaces, eyes glossy with emotion, "Please. Please believe me."

Oh, he's making this very, very difficult. The sincerity that drips from every word threatens to swallow you into this fantasy-- but that's what this is. Some manufactured fantasy spun by some incredibly potent magic.

But even still, your resolve is wearing down, and fast.

You have to get help, but the risk of ruining Rolan's reputation puts you in a very tricky predicament. You can't go and fetch just anyone. If word gets out about this, Rolan would surely be embarrassed. Perhaps Tolna is still downstairs...she might be able to help?

You raise up on one knee, making to leave, but your foot connects with something on the floor. You snap your head to the side just in time to see a potion bottle roll unceremoniously across the carpet. It's uncorked, but the tapered neck has kept some of the contents inside-- a nearly translucent pink liquid sloshes inside of it before it connects with the handrail of the stairs with a small clink.

So it was a potion, after all. Even if you knew that Rolan was under the influence of something, there's the tiniest part of you that feels hurt. Crushed by your own naivety. Even if you know that it's a ludicrous notion--Rolan would never bother with someone like you, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn't be like this-- there was some thread of hope there, somewhere deep in your heart, that maybe he really did feel something for you.

But of course not. Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Did you drink that?" You turn back to Rolan and try to gesture to the bottle with your hand, but Rolan still has it in a death-grip. You nod towards it with your head instead. "Why would you do something like that?"

"What?" Rolan huffs, eyes never leaving your face, "What are you...?" He grimaces and tugs at your hands, a note of frustration furrowing his brow, "Are you teasing me?" That causes a flicker of happiness to light up his face, easing the tension from his jaw, "You're toying with me, aren't you?" And again his face shifts, taking on that serious edge of desperation he had before, his voice falling to an intimate hush, "You want me to beg for you, don't you? I can beg for you, if that's what you wish--whatever you want."

He's hardly making any sense-- you're really not sure if he's just too far gone to remember, or if he really didn't drink it. You can't think of why he would take such a potent love potion, so perhaps it fell on him while he was clearing the shelf....that makes far more sense. And with Loroakan being the bastard that he was, it doesn't surprise you in the slightest that he'd have something so nefarious on hand.

The story starts to fall into place, as well as a course of action. You need to take the potion bottle downstairs. Hopefully Tolna will still be at her counter, but if not, you can run over to the nearby apothecary. Once the potion is identified, you can get an antidote, and then everything will be okay.

But first...you have to pry yourself free from Rolan. That might be the most monumental task of all. But you have a little plan for that as well.

"Rolan," He perks up as you say his name, a small, hopeful smile shaking on his lips. "I need you to stay here, okay?"

"No." This smile disappears just as quickly as it had appeared. He shakes his head like a petulant child, sweating palms pressing your hands more firmly against his chest, "You're not leaving me."

"Just for a moment," You assure him, forcing a calm, even tone. "You said you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"

"Not this," Rolan frowns so hard that his chin dimples and his eyes shine with desperation. You realize that he's on the verge of tears. "Y-you can't leave me..." His eyes rake over your face, looking for any shred of mercy, before he hoarsley croaks out, "Please."

Oh gods. This might not just be a monumental task--it's shaping up to be an impossible one.

It's time to switch gears. Playing the calm, collected one isn't getting you a single inch, but playing his game might get you somewhere.

And it's for Rolan's sake. Completely for his sake. You aren't doing it for your own desires. Just merely...playing the game.

"Listen to me...darling." Your voice trembles at the edges and prickles of heat bloom on your face and chest, "I need you to be good and stay right here." You swallow thickly before adding, "You want to be good for me, don't you?"

The groan that leaves Rolan nearly fogs your brain completely over. He leans his head back against the shelf, his horns clacking dully against the wood and his adam's apple jerking roughly as the noise from his throat dwindles into a low, needy whine.

"Please," He pants, body rolling up in a pseudo-thrust before collapsing back to the ground in a mess of shivers, "Good boy...I'm your good boy..."

Such a simple phrase, and such a strong reaction...the excitement that wracks through your body is so potent that you actually feel numb.

No. No. You have to rein yourself in. You can't let yourself get swept up in Rolan's condition. If you took advantage of him right now, he would never forgive you. Fuck, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.

"Th-that's right." You hurriedly say, mouth dry, "Be good for me, and stay right here." The squeak of your voice diminishes any sort of authority you hope to convey, but it's the best you can muster.

You've still got one foot on the floor and make to stand up fully, hoping the action will finally pry your hands free of Rolan's grasp--

"No!"

The force of the word is only matched by the force of which you're pushed back, tumbling to the floor unceremoniously and landing on your bottom. A shocked exclamation leaves you, but it's jerked from your lungs as Rolan pounces you, his full weight knocking you flat on the floor and pinning you.

All at once, the dynamic has shifted into something far more dangerous. Rolan's hair is falling out of it's neatly styled coif and frames his face as he looks down at you, a predatory glaze shining in his dark eyes. With his hair obscuring the light on his face, the angles look much more severe, and the gold of his irises damn near glow with their intensity.

What do you do? Do you fight back? Cold, brittle panic rises in your throat as you realize just what sort of position you're in. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in, and your legs have been rendered useless with his knees between them.

"Don't leave me," Even if his position gives him dominance, his voice is still pleading, desperate. "I-I need you. So please..."

"Rolan," You say carefully, voice tight, "Don't do anything you'll regret." You think to put your hands on his chest to keep him at bay, but fear touching him might send him into a frenzy.

"Regret...?" Rolan searches your face, trying to glean more understanding but seeming to come up short. "I don't regret adoring you."

He truly doesn't seem to understand the situation he's put you in. And perhaps you don't either, because your heart beats faster at his words, magic-induced as they may be. The initial fear you felt is now melting away into an uncertain excitement-- Rolan is on top of you, his knees pressed against your inner thighs, his lips parted and eyes glimmering with admiration. How many times have you dreamt of just this? How easy it would be to believe his sweet words, to believe that the man above you truly does want you.

"You don't." You're not sure if you're saying it more for his sake or yours. "Rolan, you don't adore me. You've been drugged and aren't thinking clearly." The words taste bitter, but you suppose truth often can be.

Rolan growls in frustration, and you hear his tail smack against something behind him.

"Why don't you believe me?" There's tension in his face, but it loosens as he shakes his head slowly, "What do I need to say for you to believe me?"

"You don't--"

"I do." Rolan drops from his hands onto his forearms, bringing your faces mere inches apart, "Fiercely."

Feeling his hot breath mixing with your own has your mind clouding over. All you can muster is the same two words.

"You don't..."

"Every day I look forward to you bringing me tea. To the point that I've been getting less work done, just waiting to see you." Rolan exhales harshly, in something like a disbelieving laugh, "Sometimes, I'll come downstairs just to watch you work. Just to catch another glimpse of you."

There's been plenty of times when you've been in the shop and caught him on the second floor balcony, but had he really been watching you? You'd always be too flustered to do nothing more than a cursory look before awkwardly continuing your work.

You don't have time to ponder it for too long because Rolan pushes on, his eyes commanding your attention with their fiery glow.

"I spend so many days sitting at my desk thinking of your smile....gods, and your laugh." He smiles at the memory, a soft, tender look that makes your stomach tumble, "The way your nose crinkles when you're really laughing. And the way you always fuss with your hair after you set a stack of books down."

Do you really do that?

Rolan's smile eases away. "And during everything with Loroakan, you always made sure I ate. And the washbasin under the desk-- you put that there for me, didn't you? So I could clean up after his beatings." His jaw clenches and a brief storminess darkens his eyes before softening, "You cared for me during that time, even when I pushed you away… I was horrible to you."

"You weren't horrible," You whisper, afraid your emotion will break your voice if you raise it any higher than this, "You were going through a lot."

He had been talking so coherently that you had almost forgotten the current situation, but reality comes crashing back when he whines deep in his throat and his body rocks above you.

"I don't deserve you," Rolan's body trembles and his eyes shine as they glance down at your lips, "You've shown me such kindness, and in return, I do nothing but defile you in my thoughts..."

His words catch you off guard to such an extent that you gasp--a breathy, deep noise that ignites Rolan's eyes. You've made a mistake. A very, very bad one.

"That's right," Rolan is matching your whisper now, body still impatiently rocking above you, "Every night I lie in bed thinking of you. Aching for you. You, under me... just like this." A groan rumbles deep in his chest and his nostrils flare, "Imagining how you'd say my name as I touch you. Taste you--" He practically hisses the word out as his body trembles, "Fucking my hand, wishing it was your pretty cunt stretched around me..."

"Rolan--" You practically wheeze, liquid fire rushing into your stomach as your hips jerk up from the floor, like they have a mind of their own.

"Yessss, ahh-- j-just like that," Rolan's eyes roll closed and his chest brushes yours as he lowers down. When his eyes flick back open, he almost seems like a different man. Starved-- that's the word that comes to your mind, and it's an apt one, with the way the tip of his tongue dips out and curls, as if tasting the air between you two. "Again...say it again."

Don't. Don't do it. Do not stoke the fire. The warning’s buzzing through your brain, but there's a larger presence in your thoughts, chanting for him to do something. To prove that he wants you. To make good on all of his sordid fantasies. Even if it's all a lie, even if it's the potion's spell, you want it. Even if you shouldn't, you do. But somehow, you're still hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

When it's clear that you aren't going to say his name, Rolan whines deep in his throat and you can hear his claws scrape against the carpet on either side of you. It seems that he's holding onto the same thread.

"Please," Rolan leans down and brushes a heated kiss against your lips, "Fuck, please--" Another kiss, "Please, please..."

He's kissing you. It's not a daydream, even if the warmth and softness of his lips don't feel real to you. All you can do is lay there, slack, your brain rapid-firing with the sensations. The hot, hurried puffs of his breath from his mouth. The tickles of his hanging hair on the sides of your cheeks. The press of his perfect nose against the side of your own.

Even if your shock-induced limpness is both involuntary and possibly the best course of action, it backfires on you almost immediately.

As Rolan's kisses grow firmer, his lips push yours open, making the wetness of your inner lip catch on his own. That little touch of heated moisture has Rolan mewling, and all at once, his tongue is inside your mouth.

Your eyes fly open (wait, when had they closed?) and your hands come up to Rolan's chest to push him away, but his muscles are taut and he's locked in place, his hot, hungry tongue pressing past your teeth to lick along your own tongue. The muffled sound you make is a mixture of panic and surprise, but Rolan seems to take it as pleasure with the way he moans in response.

But maybe he's not too far off the mark. Even if you want to deny it, his tongue is divine. The way it tastes, the velvet feel of it, the way it pushes in deep before pulling away with a wet roll of his lips, only to enter you again. It's like your mouth is being fucked by him, and it's all you can do to not tip completely into ecstacy.

"Stop--" You try to break the kiss by turning your head, but his mouth only finds the curve of your neck, "Stop, Ro--aah!" His sharp bottom teeth drag roughly under your jaw before being soothed with a hot, desperate lick. "Stop," You gasp, though your hands ball into his robes, begging him not to, "R-Rolan, you have to--"

Your words choke off into a shameful whine as Rolan finally gives in and lowers his body to press against yours. He slots in perfectly between your legs, his hard cock pressed firm against your aching sex. The both of you stiffen and freeze, as if mesmerized by the mutual throbbing you can feel from underneath your clothes.

"O-oh," Rolan almost looks drunk with the way his head sways and his eyes glaze over, "Oh g-gods...I can't--"

It should be a comfort to hear. At the brink of ruin, Rolan has managed to regain himself. But the sigh you let out--from relief or disappointment, you're not sure which-- is cut off on a choked gasp as Rolan yanks the bottom of your dress up.

"Wait--" Your hands fall between you both, tangling in your dress as you try to pull it back down, "Wait, R-Rolan!"

It's like he can no longer hear you. His shaking hands push the front of his robe to the side and nearly snaps the lacings of his pants as he tears them open. You only get a glimpse of his cock before he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing the heated length of it against your panties. But what a glimpse it was-- thick, ridged, and damn near maroon with how blood-swollen it is.

Your mind reels as you're assaulted both physically and mentally with Rolan's body. The heavy drag of his erection against your clothed pussy. The soft scrape of teeth and wet heat of his tongue trailing down your neck to your chest. And the sounds Rolan is making-- he's groaning with such intensity that it rumbles in your ribs.

"I can't..." Rolan says again, but after another grumbling moan, he finally finds the remainder of his words, "I can't hold back anymore..." He raises his head with a lust-drunk sway to lock eyes with you once more, his brow bunched with his desperation and loose strands of his hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead "I need you--fuck, I need you."

You want to get lost in those words, to savor the soft, needy delivery of them, to pretend that they were said under less dire circumstances, but you have no time for any of that. Because as soon as Rolan says it, his hand darts between you both and yanks your panties to the side and then you feel the maddening heat of his cock against the bare wetness of your pussy.

You try to cry out, but the sudden blast of fear racking through you grips your throat, only allowing a pitiful squeak to escape.

Please--" Rolan begins rutting into you, hips grinding fast and hungry, spreading your lips with his ministrations and easily gliding through the slick that's drenched your sex, "Wet, oh gods, so fucking wet--" He's babbling now, his words shifting between low groans and high, tight whimpers, "Wet for me-- you need this too, don't you? You need me...oh gods, need me to fuck you, f-fuck your pretty cunt, please--"

The head of his cock catches on your entrance, and you feel a pulse of hot liquid shoot from him, dribbling down your ass. Then all at once, he's inside you. It happens at a dizzying speed-- the deep burn of being stretched quick and full, the hot gush of semen, the snapping hips dragging you across the carpet in hiccuped jumps, the claws that grab and tear and sting your arms, all the while Rolan weeps, crumbling his body weight entirely on you.

"No," Rolan gasps in big, aching breaths as he sobs into your shoulder, "Nonono, I c-can't--" Hot tears fall on your neck, "Forgive me, p-please, forgive me--"

He raises his head and looks at you, his face twisted in equal parts despair and adoration, wet tear streaks carving shining paths down his gaunt cheeks. It's a direct contrast to the beastial breeding of his hips-- lovestruck emotion against mindless, animalistic instinct. And there's pain there, too. He came almost immediately, but his body just won't let him stop. His cock is still stiff and slamming into your cunt, the wetness of your sexes sucking and slapping lewdly under the chorus of his whimpers and cries.

A sob of your own retches from your throat. It's all too much. Even if it hurts, the churn of his desperate hips grinds against your clit with delicious abandon. And the way his hard cock curves and roughly drags inside of you, reaching so much farther than fingers ever could, stroking your walls with greedy need. It's all terrible in the most exquisite way-- the pain a sear, but the pleasure a rolling wave of heat that grows thicker and deeper with every thrust.

You're disgusted with yourself, even as you wrap your arms around Rolan's back and your heart sings with the warmth of his cheek against your own. You shouldn't be enjoying this. It was your responsibility to not let things get this far. But you wanted it. From the moment you knew what was happening, a part of you wanted exactly this. To have him cling onto you and tell you all the sweet things you've fantasized about countless times. To fuck you.

"Sorry," Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper as the heated tension in your gut begins tipping through your body-- "I-I'm so s-sorry, R-Rolan--"

And then your world shatters away as your orgasm is wrenched from you. Every synapse in your brain goes cold and your body shakes and tightens, his name cried out through numb lips as you clench hard around him, your body as desperate as your mind to keep him right where he is. Rolan. Rolan. Rolan. Every part of your being is consumed by him in that moment, and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists, other than him.

"That's it," Rolan's voice finds you in your pleasure-haze and enhances it with it's sweet tremble, "That's it, yes--fuck, ahh-- please, love you," He buries himself in you and stills, lips meeting yours as he babbles and his cock twitches and throbs deep in your cunt, "I love you, o-oh-- love you, please--"

Your climax had begun it's descent, but the feeling of those words sighed into your mouth makes another rush of rapture overtake you. You're only somewhat aware of the way you mewl, a wounded noise that dwindles and rises as your tongue finds Rolan's once more. Even with the hard edge of his desires satisfied, Rolan kisses you with no less passion, his moans of relief rattling your bones with their sheer intensity.

You could happily lay there kissing him like this for eternity, but now that the warmth of your desire is ebbing away, reality is setting back in. Disgust curdles in your stomach, sapping away any last dredges of an afterglow that remained.

You turn your head to break the kiss and Rolan pulls back, his eyes still uncharacteristically dark but more level than they had been since you found him. But with the beginning return of his facilities, you can't help but feel that he looks...lost. You can see the weight of the situation slowly creeping over him-- the distress. But even still, there's still heat behind those despairing eyes. The understanding of what's happening, but not the strength to stop himself.

"D...do you feel better?" You croak out, your throat feeling a wreck.

Rolan's lips move, but his voice fails him. For the first time, his eyes willingly leave your face, focusing instead on the carpet beside you. "It...hurts." He finally manages, his words so soft that they're almost inaudible.

That's enough to finally move you into action. Your entire body aches as you gently guide him off of you, the both of you hissing as his cock slips from you with a wet squelch. Rolan makes no effort to get up, instead rolling onto his back to look up at the high ceiling of the tower. You can't help but think that he looks gorgeous like this--chest heaving, hair in disarray, cock still twitching and stiff and slick with you. And then the disgust comes back and propels you to your feet.

"Sorry," You stammer, a fresh bout of tears threatening to spill down your face, "I'll...I'll get help."

Rolan whines deep in the back of his throat before he can stop himself. He drapes a hand over his eyes, like he wishes to shut out the world.

"Please," He gasps, voice gravelly with suppressed emotion, "Hurry."

You start to walk down the stairs you had ascended only shortly before. Each trembling step you take brings you a fraction more into reality. Regret, horror, revulsion....they build in your gut with each passing moment. By the time you make it to the other side of the portal, you're running from the tower, wishing you had never gone up to begin with.

[petew21-blog]

Just a party, part 3

"Number 14 and 16"

"Guess it's you and me again." Ben took my hand and we went to the room we were assigned"

We left Ezra and Jason back there. Poor Jason, he was really fed up with Ezra. Hope he'll survive the night in that pip squeak body.

We opened the door of the room. I went on the bed. Ben right down next to me

It was awfully quiet. We wanted to have a party, we were overworked, stressed and probably needed a drink to loosen up a bit. We knew immediately that we both felt the same way. And we headed to the bar of the building.

The emplyees were serving us, asking about our needs and desires. Creepy but somehow nice. I bet the studio must have pay a massive ammount to get us to this event. But they all say that this one even is worth working for Hollywood. It fullfills you.

"You know, we didn't have much time to explore our bodies by ourselves before. With the Comic Con and so on, giving out all the autographs. I'm pretty sure that all the fans that will try to sell stuff with 'your' signature are gonna be pretty sad. I tried to perfect your signature Henry, but it still looks like someone else did it."

"Even better then. Those who really appreciate it get to keep it anyway and the ones trying to sell won't be as succesfull'

"Henry? You know I'm now the one wearing SUPERMAN's body? You don't have to act like him all the time."

"I don't honestly. I am just being polite most of the time. A decent human being."

"How about you show me how my BATMAN body looks like? You know what? Let's call each other by the name of our bodies, ok? To make the experience worth it. I wanna know what it feels like to be you"

"Ok then HENRY, now I wanna show you now what it truly feels like to FEEL that SUPERMAN body"

Henry in Ben's body lowered down to give Ben a head. He unzipped his pants and took out the beautiful hard cock he was already familiar with:"I think it looks even better from this angle" And the he took it in his mouth

It might have been the fact that I knew my cock so well. The way it responded to my tongue circling around the top, sucking his balls made me sure I was making Ben feel good. But I can't let him cum yet.

Suddenly my phone rang. I just looked up at him. He only winked at me and picked up.

"Hey, this is... HENRY Cavill. Sure, I got time. New TV series? The Witcher? I am not sure about that"

I looked at him aggresively. Playing Witcher is my dream, he can't deny them.

"Jeez. Ok, I really want it. When do we start? Ok, thanks. No, I can't talk that long, there is something I need to take care of. Bye."

My blow job was coming to an end. Then I stopped. Can't let him finish that easily.

"Please, go on!"

"Can't do that HENRY! You got an ass to breed. And I wanna have fun too"

I took his hand and dragged him to the entrance hall.

"The room is too far, let's go to one of the closests, I wanna fuck you there."

We took the first door on the right. Passionately making out on the way. Ben pushed me against one of the lockers. Wait, that wasn't a closet. We must have entered the lockers of the employees. We kept on going.

Suddenly we noticed voices from a room around the corner. We stopped and I showed Ben a finger on my lips to shush him. We went closer to get to hear them

"All right. As I have said before, we are now on the full capacity of our guests. They are very busy right now. Each and every one of you has an envelope with a name of the actor or other famous person they get to swap with today. For those of you who haven't read it, the reason of the swap is the Writers and actors strike. You will get a brand new life of a popular person, their money in exchange for absolute loyalty and diacretion about the swap. I am deeply sorry to everyone who wanted to go back to their bodies sometimes in the future, but we have to get rid of them. The actors in your bodies can't let anyone know about this. Is anyone against this?" nobody responded which led us to believe that they agreed"

"Ok. We now have 48 minutes until the door of the rooms get locked completely, sealing our guests inside making it easier for us. We will be going over some details with each and everyone of you. Starting with Miguel who will be receiving Henry Cavil's body..."

I looked in shock at Ben in my body. He was also horrified about what we just heard.

"We have to warn everyone!" Ben said to me

Suddenly a manly voice above us said very calmly:"Haha. But we won't let you, gentlemen" the man above us was Chris Hemsworth, holding a taser. Something was telling me, that Chris wasn't the one controlling his body anymore, or the one of his friends who swapped with him

To be continued...

Story request from inbox by Anonymous: That Hugh and Ryan story was Great! Maybe you can do a swap involving Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill?

And also continuation for part 2.

Inbox request: Your stories are soo good, love the Chris E. and RDJ swap. Maybe a second part involving some actors from dc, like Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa swapping to try new roles & running into Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck in the rooms?

Part 2:

Part 4:

[lovezbrownies]

Office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia offOffice lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia Office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia Office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia Office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia office lady Nia..

Making this made me blush don't ask why

The office's Monarch. (Yandere Queen?Boss? x GN!Reader.)

Nia's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: You're overworked, and your bachelorette of a boss has the remedy.

Nia Bloodwen x GN!Reader

Warnings: Big bad boss Nia, the office not liking darling, overworked darling, kinda suggestive? But that's a given with Nia tbh

Today, you couldn’t afford to do anything but work. The prospect of a lunch break was nothing more than a distant dream, as you stared at the seemingly endless rows of emails and stacks of paperwork that had been cruelly dropped onto your desk. All courtesy of a coworker who was probably basking in the sun on a beach somewhere, enjoying their paid vacation. The memory of their smug grin as they left only fueled your growing frustration. Damned rat.

The gnawing hunger in your stomach was easier to ignore than the heavy weight of responsibility pressing down on you. There was simply no time to stop and eat. Deadlines loomed large, and your priority was getting through the mountain of tasks in front of you before they became an avalanche.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair for a moment of respite. Most of the office didn’t like you anyway—no one would even notice if you disappeared for a few minutes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d earned their disdain without ever meaning to, and truth be told, you couldn’t entirely blame them.

From the moment you had been hired, Nia Bloodwen, your boss, had taken a particular interest in you. She had carved out a special place for you in the company that no one else seemed to occupy. Whether it was extending your lunch hours, giving you extra time off, or offering extensions on projects without a second thought, Nia was always there to make sure you were treated differently. Far better than the rest of the staff, to be precise.

And everyone had noticed. There was no hiding it—Nia didn’t even try to be subtle. Her favoritism was as blatant as the sky was blue, and you’d been given the unfortunate title of “Boss’ Pet,” a nickname that followed you through the halls like a shadow. The bitterness of your coworkers was palpable. WenBlood & Co. didn’t have an “Employee of the Month” program until you arrived, but since your first week, your photo had been plastered up on the wall every single month. It was as if Nia had created the title just for you, a constant reminder to the others that you were different. Special. Untouchable.

It didn’t help that whenever someone tried to strike up a casual conversation with you, Nia would appear out of nowhere, ready to defend her favorite.

“Mister Bajaj! What are you doing loitering by L/N’s desk? Get back to work!”

Or, with an icy glare at Mrs. Alotaibi, “I expect better from you. Don’t distract L/N with idle chatter. I won’t tolerate it.”

Even minor offenses like a friendly email exchange would end in a scolding that echoed across the office. People learned quickly to avoid you, preferring to keep their distance rather than risk being humiliated by the boss. The few who still dared to interact with you did so cautiously, sending projects to your personal email just to avoid Nia’s wrath. She monitored everyone’s work emails like a hawk, and no one wanted to be the next victim of one of her public takedowns.

“Mister Bajaj, another non-work-related email and you’re done. L/N has real work to do, not time for your cat gifs.”

And it wasn’t just a casual comment. Her voice would cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold, as she openly threatened anyone who dared waste your time. Nia’s “minions,” as she liked to call the rest of the office, were left walking on eggshells whenever you were involved.

For them, Nia was terrifying. She ruled with an iron fist, barking orders, threatening layoffs, and keeping everyone in a constant state of anxiety. But with you? She was different. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, Nia was always soft and gentle, as if she were a completely different person when she was around you. Her cold demeanor would melt, replaced with warmth and compassion that bordered on obsessive. She listened to your complaints, accommodated your requests—even when you didn’t ask for anything. One day, you had casually mentioned that you liked coffee, and by the next morning, a brand-new coffee machine had been installed on your desk.

That’s when you learned to stop admitting to liking things. Nia took every word you said as gospel, going to great lengths to cater to your needs—even when you didn’t need it.

Normally, you could tolerate it. You even found it amusing at times, though you were always careful to never push Nia too far. She was your boss, after all, and your job was on the line if she ever decided you weren’t worth the trouble. But today was different. Today, the sheer volume of work in front of you left no room for her theatrics.

Emails kept pouring into your inbox faster than you could respond, and the paperwork—God, the paperwork—had only grown worse by the hour. Your own tasks were still manageable, but your coworker’s load, due tomorrow, was like a ticking time bomb. You cursed yourself for agreeing to take it on. You’d wanted to be helpful, to show your coworkers that you weren’t just Nia’s little pet. But now? Now you were paying for that decision, drowning in work that wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You exhaled slowly, your hands shaking slightly from the stress. Why did you care if your coworkers liked you anyway? Half of them probably didn’t deserve your time. You barely knew them, and what little you did know wasn’t exactly flattering. Yet here you were, breaking your back for them, hoping in vain that maybe, just maybe, they’d see you as more than Nia’s golden child.

While you sat stewing in frustration, Nia had been hovering at the edge of your desk, trying to coax you into joining her for lunch. For the last five minutes, she had been relentless, her voice soft yet insistent, like a melody you couldn’t get out of your head.

“I’ll give you an extension if you’re so worried about your work. Just leave it for now and come with me. I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

Her low-cut top and open blouse were impossible to ignore as she leaned forward, making her presence all the more unavoidable. Nia had never been shy about her appearance, and no one dared to say anything about it. Her last name ensured that. Even HR wouldn’t touch her, not with her father, the CEO, pulling the strings. And while Nia had always dressed fashionably, you couldn’t help but notice that she had amped it up since you started working at WenBlood. Whether you were shallow enough to care didn’t matter—she knew how to get your attention, and today was no different.

But today, you were too tired. Too worn down. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard as you tried to finish one last email. “No, Nia,” you muttered. “I’ve got too much to do. This can’t wait. I’ve got snacks in my drawer if I need them.” You pulled open the drawer to reveal an overstuffed collection of snacks, though you didn’t even glance at it. “Go ahead without me.”

Nia wasn’t pleased with that answer. Her lips pursed slightly as she walked around the desk, her eyes flicking to your monitor. It didn’t take her long to figure out what was going on. “Wait a minute,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the project label on your screen. “I assigned these to Miss Smith. Why are you doing them?”

You hesitated for a split second, unsure of how to respond. “She’s on vacation,” you finally said. “I told her I’d handle it while she’s gone.”

Nia’s expression darkened, her irritation evident in the way her eyes flashed. Without warning, Nia walked around the desk, now right behind you as she reached down and powered off your monitor, effectively halting your work. You let out a surprised gasp, but before you could even begin to protest, Nia spun your chair around to face her.

Her manicured nails tapped against the backrest of your chair, just inches from your head. She was so close you could smell the faint traces of her expensive perfume—something floral, with a hint of spice. The scent wrapped around you, making it impossible to think straight.

“You,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “are going to take a well-deserved break with me. We are going to enjoy lunch together, and that’s final.”

Her presence was overwhelming, her beauty almost hypnotic as she stood over you, her eyes locking onto yours. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as her words sunk in. She wasn’t asking. She was telling.

Before you could muster a response, Nia’s hand slipped into yours, pulling you to your feet with surprising ease. She wasted no time looping her arm through yours, guiding you toward the door like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, your mind racing as you tried to process the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

The sudden proximity made you stiffen. Her perfume—something floral and impossibly expensive—lingered in the air between you. Your heart thudded in your chest as she pulled you along, completely ignoring the confused stares of your coworkers.

You could feel their eyes on you as Nia led you through the office, her heels clicking confidently on the tiled floor. Most of your coworkers either shrank back or quickly pretended to be busy, not wanting to draw her ire.

Outside, the heat of the midday sun hit you like a wall, and you stumbled slightly as Nia led you toward her car. It wasn’t the sleek black sports car she usually drove—it was something far more extravagant today. A silver Rolls-Royce, polished to perfection.

“Really?” you muttered under your breath, but Nia just laughed as she opened the door for you, gesturing for you to get in. “Come on, darling. You deserve to be spoiled today.”

You hesitated, glancing between her and the car. But there was no way out of this, not without making a scene. You slid into the plush leather seat with a resigned sigh, and Nia slipped in beside you, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

The restaurant she took you to was even more ridiculous than you’d imagined. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with gold-framed mirrors. The entire place screamed luxury, and as soon as you entered, the staff treated Nia like royalty, ushering you both to a private table.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you muttered, glancing around in disbelief. Nia just smiled, unfazed. “Nothing but the best for you, my dear. Can you even think of anyone else who can do it like me? Hah, of course not!”

The restaurant buzzed with life, the soft hum of conversation and clinking silverware creating an atmosphere that should’ve been relaxing. But with Nia sitting across from you, calm and poised, you couldn’t quite shake the sense that this wasn’t just lunch—it was something else entirely. Something orchestrated. Nia always had a way of making situations bend to her will, and today, it felt like you were the focus of her attention in a way that left you on edge.

"Relax," Nia said, her voice warm, noticing the stiffness in your posture. She slid into the seat across from you, her eyes shining with that same playful glint. "I promise, I’m not going to bite. Unless you want me to." Nia giggles, blush overcoming her cheeks.

Her tone was light, but there was a careful precision to her words, as if each one was chosen with intent. The waiter appeared and took your orders without even bothering to ask if you wanted a menu. Nia, it seemed, had already decided what would be best for you—an assumption that only deepened the quiet unease growing inside you.

You didn’t argue. It never seemed worth it.

The conversation began as usual, with Nia recounting bits of office gossip and teasing remarks about your coworkers, her voice lilting with amusement. But there was something else woven into her words, a subtle shift in the way she spoke about them—diminishing their roles, highlighting how little they mattered compared to you. It was easy to laugh along, but you couldn’t ignore the lingering sense that you were being nudged into a certain way of thinking.

And then, as the food arrived, Nia’s tone changed again, softening, becoming almost... intimate.

"I don’t like seeing you stressed," she murmured, her voice quiet and soothing. "You’re always doing so much for other people, taking on more than you should. And for what? People who don’t appreciate you?" Her gaze locked onto yours, her expression all concern, but her words dripped with something more. A subtle pressure.

You shifted in your seat, caught off guard by her intensity. "I’m fine," you replied, forcing a smile, though the weight of everything you had been dealing with was beginning to press down on you.

"Are you?" Nia asked, her voice soft but pointed, like she already knew the answer. "You’re too kind, too generous. It’s admirable, but it’s not fair. I don’t want to see you burning out just because you can’t say no." She paused, letting her words sink in, then leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice even further. "You don’t have to be that person for everyone. You don’t have to be that person for them. Not when I’m here."

The way she said it made it sound like a favor, a gift—like she was the only one who truly understood you. Before you could respond, she reached across the table, her fingers grazing the back of your hand in a gesture that seemed gentle, but there was a possessiveness to it. A subtle claim.

"L/N," she continued, her thumb tracing a slow circle on your skin, her eyes never leaving yours, "let me help you. You don’t need to carry everything on your own. I can make things easier for you." Her smile was soft, sweet even, but there was an unmistakable hint of satisfaction in her eyes, as if she knew she was pulling you closer, bit by bit.

There it was again—the sense that her kindness wasn’t without strings. But the way she said it, the way she looked at you, made it hard to resist. It was as though she was offering you exactly what you needed, exactly when you needed it. A lifeline, wrapped in velvet.

"You trust me, don’t you?" Nia asked, her voice now barely above a whisper. It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement—an expectation.

As you looked at her, you could feel the weight of her words settling around you, a promise mixed with something much heavier. And yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little.

"Let me take care of you, like I always do," she added, her smile widening ever so slightly, her tone light and playful again, though the undercurrent was unmistakable. You were hers, whether you realized it or not.

[catscidr]

i woke up and got possessed by the urge to write the smut i wanted to ramble about yesterday. i have nothing else to say. you cant blame me for any of this. it was inevitable.

cw shameless smut, dottore x afab reader, brainrot rambling. he uses his fingers for a good cause °ᗜ°

working overtime was a chore. your bosses expected you to stay after hours to work on documents meant for the next day and you’d get judgemental looks if you didn’t stay in the office longer than you needed to. unfortunately for you, the knowledge that they might think lesser of you for not doing overtime was enough for you to stay.

apparently not many people shared the sentiment though, because when you finally look up from your computer screen to stretch your aching muscles, you’re met with deafening silence– aside from your shoulders cracking.

which isn’t to say that no one is in the office besides you, either. but you doubt zandik stayed behind because he cared about the managers judging him. he always seemed to move along his own schedule, placing more importance on work than relationships with… anyone. granted, it’s not like he was ecstatic to work at the office, but he was naturally good at whatever job the boss gave him. to other people it looks like he works hard, but really, he’s just doing the bare minimum. you don’t want to think that people are too dense to notice it, but at the same time you can’t really blame them; it’s not like it’s normal for overworked office employees to notice such little details about a coworker that doesn’t care for them.

though, ever since you and your cubicle neighbor got told off by the man himself, you’ve found yourself looking for him in crowds. when you take the subway on your way home you try to spot his icy blue hair amongst the sea of suits and blazers, when you attend office-funded outings at the bar you hope to find him sipping on the cheap beer they provide, and even now you’re subtly trying to catch a glimpse of him in the dim lighting of the office. your efforts usually end in failure, unfortunately- but not this time.

you always expect to see nothing but tired businessmen and women cramped in the subway, to see the same faces you greet every day of the week downing that cheap beer, and to see a myriad of black screens in the office.

you didn’t think you’d meet his gaze as he walked out of the boss’s office, completely inconspicuous but still harbouring that same aura of suspiciousness.

“you’re still here?” you ask before you can stop your lips from moving. sure it was currently three hours after hours, but speaking so informally to a senior could bode poorly for you at any time.

thankfully, he just chuckles as a response. but you notice how his lips immediately tilt back down to their original resting state, the lighting making it look like he’s scowling down at you.

“i had to take care of some personal business,” he says plainly, not elaborating further (and you think he would avoid doing so even if you asked). you nod, glancing down at your uniform to smooth it down nervously, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you must look. “well i hope you were able to take care of it without a… hitch,” you cough awkwardly.

sure you knew zandik well enough to not call him a stranger, but recently it seems like he’s been spending more time in your head than in the office. you blame his mysterious and brooding personality. “i understand why authors like to write mysterious love interests in their romance novels…” you think offhandedly, for no reason at all whatsoever.

his footsteps pull you out of your daydream, right before your mind drifted off to not-so-professional thoughts. pulling the rolling chair out from under the desk, zandik takes a seat next to you, crossing an ankle over his knee. you shuffle away to give him some space (to politely accommodate his long legs or to stop yourself from pouncing on him, you wouldn’t be able to tell).

“i appreciate the sentiment. but why are you still here? you work efficiently, i doubt you’re so behind schedule that you need to stay in the office for this long.” the words that leave his lips entrance you– the slight drawl, bordering on seductive, makes you swallow the saliva in your mouth. you shake your head, humbly dismissing his praise (though your brain buzzes at what else you wish he would say).

“i just had to take care of some… things,” you respond awkwardly, fidgeting with your fingertips as you avoid looking into his carmine eyes for too long. he hums, placing down the file he had been carrying around on the desk to cross his arms over his chest, expression unreadable aside from the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly.

“right. things,” he says, his tone deep, rumbling in your chest as your heart hammers into your ribcage. you’ve talked to plenty of coworkers over your time working here, but none have made you break a sweat from their mere presence.

“h-haha, yeah, things. um, how have you been? i want to apologize again for the other day, we really didn’t mean to pry into your personal life, we were just-“ zandik makes a tsk noise, “concerned for my wellbeing, of course,” he finishes. the ghost of a smile he wore vanished, leaving you with a feeling of dread and anticipation. “you’re not the only one looking out for your coworkers though, sweetheart. you don’t look too good yourself,” zandik says, raising a brow at you. you were all but shivering under his gaze, brows stopping the sweat that had started building up on your forehead from getting in your eyes. if anything, you looked worse than him. you barely register the pet name before he speaks up again.

“we can’t have you overworking yourself too much, can we? you’re one of out best employees,” he says your name softly, practically purring. the same thing you felt that morning came back tenfold– though this time you couldn’t possibly leave for a bathroom break to take care of it.

zandik approaches you like a wolf does with a rabbit, slowly and quietly, to reduce the chances of you fleeing the scene. he gets close enough that his knee almost grazes yours.

“what kind of senior would i be if i just let you go without offering any kind of help?” you knew it was a rhetorical question and he wasn’t expecting an answer, but you still try to muster up the courage to say something, anything.

“is there anything i can do to help?” he continues, tone sickeningly sweet, practically foreign on his tongue. but the more he speaks, the more you feel your resolve melt, the more he pushes your buttons until-

“you’re not very good at being subtle,” he whispers, placing the tip of his shoe right up against your clothed core. you keen, legs widening as if on autopilot, but back away into your chair to flee from the sinful sensation. his lips stretch into a grin, the same expression you played on repeat in your mind when you got off a night ever since he confronted you and your coworker.

“don’t run away now. your body is practically begging for me to touch you,” he coos, extending his slender leg to press his polished shoe right up into you again, pulling a whine out of your lips. you lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat, scrambling to say something to save your dignity.

“y-you don’t know that. are you a… doctor or something?” you huff, trying to steady your breathing. he slides his foot up and down your panties, pencil skirt riding up the more you widen your legs. zandik laughs under his breath, eyes narrowing at you for a split second.

“yeah, i am. that’s what i do as a second job. i run an underground hospital and run unethical tests on desperate patients.” the words roll over you like drops of water on a chinchilla– even if you did listen to him though, you wouldn’t have believed him. “that’s why i can tell that your heart is pounding. that’s why i can tell that you want this,” he coos, leaning forward ever so slightly. you buck your hips unconsciously, chasing the feeling he oh so graciously was giving you.

“that’s not- mngh, ‘m not a pervert,” you whimper, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your lewd expression. zandik only laughs at you, pulling back to stand up and lean over you, his lips right next to your ears.

he places a hand on your thigh, the other going between your legs to rub at your drenched panties. “oh but you are. getting this wet when i’ve barely done anything to you,” he purrs, middle finger gliding up to tease your clit. “just want me to take you right here, huh? my my, you’re so desperate.”

if you hadn’t taken care of your needs you would have come already, but even then you were still teetering on the edge of an explosive climax. his calloused, slender fingers slide up and down, teasing your clothed hole as it flutters around nothing. you try to close your legs to keep his hand steady but he swiftly brings one knee up to rest on the chair, keeping your legs spread. zandik takes ahold of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your arm away from your face as you turn your head away to hide.

“oh no you don’t,” he hisses as he grabs your face with one hand, cheeks squishing together to turn your head back to face him. “you’re going to look at me when you come.” your eyes flutter, thighs twitching as the coil in your lower abdomen threatens to snap. your gaze flickers down between your legs to watch his deft fingers toy with you, then drag up to look at the tent in his slacks. zandik tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“are you fucked dumb already? i said don’t look away,” he hisses, eyes narrowing at you as he pulls your ruined underwear to the side to slide two fingers into your cunt. you squeal at the stretch, but you were so wet that you didn’t feel more than a pinch before you started moaning freely again. his thumb rubs tight circles over your clit as his middle and ring fingers pump into you earnestly. he curls them up to prod at the spongy spot inside of you, and your eyes roll back momentarily from the sensation.

“come on, i can tell you’re close sweetheart,” he coos, lips ghosting over yours, just away from reach. you whine and moan, hands gripping his flexing forearms as you feel your body lose control.

the sound of your pussy squelching in the otherwise quiet office throws you over the edge, your vision going white as you just barely make out zandik’s face while he makes you ride out your orgasm, adding a third finger inside of your cunt to stuff you full. all of his fingers stop but his thumb, still rubbing your sensitive clit as you twitch and jolt in pleasure.

“thaaat’s it, that’s my girl, ride it out,” he purrs, grinning down at you with a smug laugh. “took me so well,” zandik praises, curling his fingers up inside your used cunt. you thrash weakly, letting out a muffled ”‘s too much”. he continues for a few seconds before letting go of your face and pulling out his fingers slowly, looking down to admire the slick covering his hand.

“mmh, made a mess. gonna clean it up?” he asks coyly, bringing his hand up to your lips. you waste no time to lick it off, brows furrowing at the tangy taste. he pulls his hand away to lick it himself, holding eye contact with you as he goes over where you just cleaned him off. a shiver runs down your spine at the sight.

while you shut your eyes for a moment to catch your breath, he grabs a few tissues from the box on your desk and cleans the mess between your legs, pressing down on your aching clit on purpose to make sure you don’t fall asleep. you jolt, whimpering as you glare weakly at him, earning yourself a chuckle from the man between your legs.

“i hope you don’t think this is a one-time fling,” he whispers, tossing the used tissues in the bin under your desk. zandik pulls the edge of your skirt down to cover your messy thighs and straightens up, turning to leave. he palms his bulge, holding eye contact with you as you stare at his hand, feeling yourself get wet again.

“see you tomorrow.”

[daintyys]

Can I request a jealous Coriolanus snow fic pls?

jealousy, jealousy

MDNI - fem!reader x coriolanus snow, 1k words, angst, jealousy, cursing, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, intentional lowercase, i wrote this a hot minute ago just didn't get the chance to fully edit it until now hehe

coriolanus was making his way in the world. he had just been elected president of panem, and it seemed like everything was finally falling into place for him. that is, the fact he was infatuated with you, and had no clue how to go about telling you. coriolanus and you had gone to university together, becoming close over the years, and he assumed you just wanted to stay friends.

for weeks after coryo's election, all he seemed to be doing was hosting galas and spending hours in meetings. boring. the only thing that made him look forward to doing anything was knowing that you would be there. you were his personal assistant. whilst attending university with coriolanus, you made a deal with him: if he ever got elected president, you would be his right-hand woman. and here you were.

on a particularly busy day, coriolanus had not 1, but 4 meetings in a row, and then after that, a night long ball to celebrate the new year. he was not excited for all of it. sure, he had power, but he hardly got any sleep.

the meetings drew on for what seemed like ages, with coryo sealing his approval on bills he had no care for and huffing agreements with his government workers. what finally woke him up was a knock on his office door.

"come in." he groaned, smoothing his hair back. you opened the door slowly, a tray of coffee and cookies in your hands. "i heard you were having a long day, and thought some caffeine would prepare you for tonight." you hummed, placing the tray at the end of his desk. coriolanus' mood changed immediately, his frown turning to a grin. you knew him all too well. "that sounds about right, y/n." coryo approved as he sipped his coffee.

you leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "if you're overworking yourself, you know you can just say no, right? after all, you are the president." coriolanus leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "i'll be fine. thank you for your concern, though." you nodded, heading for the door. "y/n, wait. you're coming to the ball tonight, correct?" the president choked out, looking at you intently. "i will if you want me to, coriolanus. just save me a dance, hm?" you giggled, leaving his office and shutting the door behind you. coryo scoffed, a huge smile plastered on his face, rubbing his temple.

coriolanus could hardly hide his smile as he saw you enter the ballroom. you looked beautiful, your hair in a french twist, and wearing a gorgeous navy-blue gown. you didn't go straight over to him, which was surprising. instead, you made your way to one of coryo's advisors, a man a few years older than you were. he watched as the man kissed your knuckles and reached out to touch your earrings, seemingly complimenting them. fuck.

coriolanus was enraged, his stomach churning violently at the sight of you and another man. you were his. you had always been his. he could go over there and just beat up the man, but that wouldn't look good in the press. you took the advisor's arm, and he lead you over to the bar, handing you a glass of champagne. coryo noticed how happy you looked with the man, how you laughed with him, and it made him positively sick.

it had never occurred to coriolanus that you could have feelings for somebody. not that you were an unloving robot, but coryo had just never heard about you dating anybody. you'd never told him, at least. maybe the man was a just family friend or something, but coryo couldn't seem to get the thought of you all giddy and tipsy with one of his employees out of his head.

coryo soon found himself tossing back glasses of champagne, trying to ease the pain and stop himself from going over to the man and snapping his neck. "fucking bastard." coriolanus chided, handing his glass to a confused waiter. his eyes bore into you, you were standing against the wall with the advisor, deep in conversation. you had promised coriolanus a dance, so what the hell were you doing?

-----

the party was drawing to a close, finally. and even though it was close to 2 in the morning, coriolanus was wide awake. he couldn't stand not being able to watch you leave, let alone not being able to watch you at all. especially not with the man. how controversial would it be for the president of panem to punch the smug smile off of one of his advisor's faces?

he'd finally had enough. his heart was aching, and it had been hours. you hadn't even looked at him. your president. how shameful. coriolanus strided over to you, grasping your wrist lightly. you jumped.

"coriolanus?" you turned towards him, flushed cheeks. his blue eyes bore into yours, narrow and concentrated on your expression. "a word, ms. y/l/n?" you nodded, and coryo lead you into the hallway. you couldn't help but giggle, the alcohol was getting to you. "don't laugh. i'm not fucking laughing." coriolanus fumed, spinning around and planting either of his hands on your shoulders.

you shuddered, he was freezing. "what's going on?" you slurred. "i think you know what's going on, y/n." coriolanus huffed, flush creeping up his neck. "enlighten me, mr. president." you tittered. coriolanus released your shoulders from his grip, and smoothed his suit jacket. "what's the story between you and that man in there?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

you paused. you knew what he was getting at. "you're not jealous, are you, coryo?" a smile toyed at your lips. coriolanus scowled, a look of irritation coming over him. "i-i'm. good god, who was it, y/n?" he loosened his tie, absolutely furious. "my cousin, if you're so interested." you leaned against the wall, smirking.

coriolanus groaned. "unbelievable. i thought you were going out with him. i would have fired him, y/n..." he trailed off, rubbing his temple. "you were jealous." a laugh escaped your lips, and you reached out to touch coryo's arm. "quiet." he whispered, holding his arm out for you to link with.

"yes, mr. president." you took his arm, walking down the hall together. you still had a dance to fulfill, after all.

asks 🩷

[gay-as-fucking-hell]

Thinking about a Modern AU for Path to Nowhere and I've got prompts! :D

Office romance with Eirene. She's the cold hearted CEO of Quinn Corporations who has never been in a relationship before and you're the overworked employee that has only ever been in toxic relationships.

Eirene interrupts a yelling your boss was giving you and that interaction soon leads to many more between the two of you. Through you, she finds out about the toxic work environment and mistreatment within her company. This leads to Eirene ordering an overhaul of each department with a multitude of firings of shitty employees occurring and a reworking of many systems.

The both of you grow closer to one another and soon feelings start to bloom. But there's a problem, Eirene's doesn't know a thing about romance and is to prideful to outright ask you out, and you're as dense as a rock and in denial with the possibility of her liking you.

Mafia romance with Zoya. She's the leader of the infamous gang The Legion and you're a forced stripper trying to work off the debt your parents accumulated from a different gang by working at their club.

Zoya was visiting the club to discuss gang matters with the owner when you come over to entertain her whilst she waited for them. She found herself enamoured by you. You looked so out of place, like you didn't belong in your current position and this peeked Zoya's interest. She starts coming to the club regularly, booking you for a few hours in a VIP lounge and eventually conversations start between the two of you.

You both become friends somewhat and you start looking forward to her visits. Zoya starts to get bold, becoming touchy with you and asking more personal questions. You do the same, wanting to know more about her and encouraging her touches whilst initiating your own. Soon the sexual tension becomes too thick to bare and you have sex with her. Afterwards, your boss tries to stop future appointments with Zoya but she doesn't plan on letting that happen.

Amnesia and Small Town romance with Adela. She's a well-known local of the area with a famous salon and you're a new resident who's settling into the area.

You end up moving into town after a nasty divorce with your ex-husband, just wanting to be away from him and to start fresh somewhere. As you're settling in, you start going out for things and talking to the locals. You are told about many things within the town along with a salon and its highly praised owner.

You soon decide to visit the salon for a haircut and now you cant shake the feeling of familiarity during or after your visit. Soon you start getting odd dreams and visions of a life within this small town with the most prominent ones being a fight with your father, a car accident, a mysterious lady, and a feminine voice with a britsh accent.

Anyone is free to use these prompts, but please tag me. I want credit and I want to read the fics!

I hope you enjoyed my brain rot!