#the man at the music shop is starting to recognize me

[coolshadowtwins]

Barbie Princess and the Pauper.

SVSSS.

If you make SY Annalise, and SJ Erika, that fits with their backstories. The princess is the rich kid and the pauper is the former slave. (The image of SJ glaring at SY instead of singing ‘I’m just like you~’ is so funny to me.)

Then that would make LBH Julian, Annalise’s tutor. As I started writing this post, I was going to argue flipping SY and SJ around, because it would make sense for LBH to be King Dominic, but then I actually thought things through.

You have Prince Shen Yuan, who is going to be married to a foreign king to save his kingdom. He doesn’t want to do it. All he wants to do is read his trashy books, and is actually a little in love with his servant LBH, but he will for his people. Duty and all that.

Shen Jiu works in a dress shop in town. They don’t own him, technically. Not in the same way his past masters did. But in every way that matters, really. He owes them a great deal of money, so he can’t leave. And it’s… fine. It’s not the worst job, even if he will be working there forever after his childhood friend tragically abandoned him. But he gets food most days and the ladies (other than the owner) like him. This doesn’t stop him from being a angry, bitter man, of course. He’s still SJ after all lol

They may or may not sing a duet about doing what’s right, in the name of duty.

SY wants to see the city, just one time before he’s trapped in the castle! So LBH takes him downtown, where SY runs into SJ. They may or may not have a musical number about how much they look alike.

Then, like the movie, SY gets kidnapped. I don’t know who Preminger is here. I thought about it, and I can’t decide who to put there. It can’t be LBH’s family, tho, because then why is he there as a servant??? Anyway, SY gets kidnapped, so LBH drags SJ kicking and screaming to the castle to play the Prince while he investigates on the side. They may or may not have a musical number about LBH trying to teach SJ to be a Prince.

But then SJ has to go on a date with SY’s fiancé! And it turns out!!! The foreign king is YQY!!!!

YQY had thought SJ dead. He’s been practically a zombie for years, believing that he had failed SJ, and ruling the kingdom on autopilot. Why is he a king now? Uh, long lost son or something. Anyway, when he sees SJ, pretending to be SY, he freezes up. But then he convinces himself that it can’t be SJ! Because this is SY, obviously, who has very dedicated records keeping tract of the fact that yes, the Prince was indeed the prince his entire life and not a former slave. So he spends this entire date upset that he’s falling in love and betraying/replacing SJ.

On SJ’s part, he’s also upset about how much he likes YQY. He doesn’t recognize YQY as Qi-Ge, of course, but it still feels like he’s replacing him. Also, this isn’t his life. This isn’t his fiancé. Either SY will come back, and marry him and SJ will go back to the dress shop alone. Or SJ will stay the Prince forever, with the knowledge that none of this was every his, and he only got it by stealing another man’s life.

They may or may not sing a romantic duet that hides all the angst they are feeling.

Of course, SJ gets found out rather quickly after that. LBH has been caught and thrown in with SY, leaving no one to stop SJ from going to jail for the disappearance of the Prince. YQY is devastated to hear that SJ would do something like that, but more than that, YQY is elated to hear that this isn’t SY. It’s an unknown SY look alike, and how many of those can there be out there??? This has to be SJ, and now YQY has to help him out of prison.

Then SY and LBH escape, and come save the day, and find precious geodes to save the kingdom, etc etc etc. SY and LBH confess to each other, and live happily ever after, while YQY (after breaking SJ out of prison in a very illegal way) tearfully tells SJ that he is sorry and that he thought he was dead and he couldn’t find him and-

SJ, who just got broken out of prison by the foreign king that he had went on a date with earlier by pretending to be someone else, can only stare as he realizes that this is Qi-Ge.

SJ strings him along for a year until he feels he can accept any apology. And then they get married, because he is not passing up the chance to be a ruler of a country. Who do you think he is??

[halemerry]

So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

[cheshirebitch]

Alastor x Reader

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕖 (oneshot)

I brushed the flour off my hands and onto my apron when the bell rang. Dark brown eyes met mine as I gazed at who my newest customer could be. I was merely in my 20s and had my own business going on here. I recognized the male quickly as one of my best friends from town.

“Alastor! What brings you in here today?” My smile matched his. I swear he is always smiling unless it was just us in private sometimes. I walked around the counter and ditched my apron there. He had his hands behind his back as I approached him.

“Hello, dear! Just stopping by for a quick meal before my show!” The clock above the door read to be 5:30PM. Wow, time really flies by nowadays. My smile broadened as I clasped my hands together.

“Always a pleasure to have you stop by! I have your favorite already almost done! I was planning on bringing it over when I closed up.” He smiled wider and gracefully ditched his coat on the rack, turning my open sign off, and locking the door for me. My footsteps quietly echoed down the basement steps as I entered the room dedicated to Alastor. Carefully putting on my rain boots, bloody apron, and my rubber gloves. My hair was already pulled out of my face messily. 

Alastor’s jazzy music started playing upstairs as he started helping finish my closing duties, our weekly ritual turning almost daily nowadays. As I finished making his meal, I thought of how close Alastor and I have become after I found out his secret. It was truly so romantic how it happened even though he was worried I wouldn’t understand his… hobby and diet. 

I was locking up my just opened bakery, excited that it was very successful so far. There was a strange man across the street watching me. I brushed it off slightly, just noting to hussle home faster. Alastor’s radio station was down the street from me along with Mimzy’s place a couple more blocks further. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I hurried in to wait for this creepy man to leave. But, along the walk, I heard his footsteps get heavier and closer. I grabbed my heel and whipped around, talking loud since I was outside of the radio station now. 

“Leave me be or face my wrath!” I held the heel, ready to bash his face in if need be. The man started laughing, towering over me. My heart was pounding and my hands shaking. I loved the thrill but not like this. 

“A pretty gal like you shouldn’t walk home alone then, yeah?” He wasn’t leaving room for an option here. My back pressed against the wall. I knew I would lose ultimately, even if I played dirty. 

“Good thing she wasn’t.” Before I could peer around the creep, I saw blood dripping from his mouth as he fell over. I watched his body collapse onto the ground with a heavy thud, then the stab wound on his back became clear. My eyes flashed to who my savor, or maybe new threat, stood before me. 

“Are you alright, dear?” My eyes looked into familiar brown eyes. Alastor, who I knew but wasn’t awfully close to, stood in front of me. He was carefully cleaning his knife but watching me. I wasn’t scared of him at all, if anything, his presence made me relax. I breathed out, not realizing I was holding it this whole time.

“Oh, Alastor. Thank you!” My eyes looked back down and back up at him, then it clicked. He was the unknown killer that started as of late. 

“What a disgusting fellow. I am truly sorry for this mess, (Y/n). You were never supposed to become involved at all. Please do forgive me, dear.” 

“What ever for? He had it coming, yes? How bout I help you out.” I smiled up at Alastor, pointing towards my shop. He seemed confused and uncertain before leaning against the wall, pinning me between him and the cold brick against my back. He leaned down as his arm rested above my head and the other beside my head. He had a crazed look in his eyes, alongside a crazed smile. Oh good heavens did it cause my heart to beat fast, I could feel my eyes glazing over how attractive this was. My hand absentmindedly wiped the blood off his cheek as he spoke.

“I take a smart lady, such as yourself, has put it together by now. I can’t have a witness or it’ll ruin this whole thing I have going on here.” He stopped, registering my hand wiping the blood from his face, his eyes moved to watch my hand, unmoving. Those dark brown eyes slowly drifted back over to look at my face before slyly whispering.

“You’re just as disturbed as me, aren’t you my dear?” 

I shut the door to the basement, locking it. All the dishes were done in the kitchen, everything put away. Along with the dishes, the floors were swept and the counters tidy. What a lovely man to have around. I was truly a lucky gal for having such a gentleman make sure I always got home safe and help me out here. I cannot lie, I was falling deeper and deeper with his charm. I pushed the door open to the dining area, placing Alastor’s special jambalaya in front of him. A set of dark eyes following my every move with such a beautiful smile on his face. Our eyes meet and stare as I take my seat across from him. Crossing my legs, I took a bite of some of the jambalaya as he took a bite of his own. It was a peaceful meal we would share. Though, it didn’t slip my mind how he has started stopping in more often lately. Not that I minded at all, but I was worried I would fall deeper with his charm. 

“Alastor?” He swallowed his bite, looking up at me. 

“Before you begin, I just wanted to thank you for this delicious meal my dear!” I smiled bashfully, loving his compliments. It took time to learn what went best with human meat and what Alastor likes best. 

“Why, thank you!” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned towards me, interest dancing in his eyes. 

“Your question, sweetheart?” 

“Oh, yes! What has brought you around more often? Not that I mind your company, quite the opposite really.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My fingers covering my lips as I process what exactly I just said. Alastor’s smile widened before his hands moved to hold my own.

“Oh, doll. I just enjoy your company so much, I can’t help but catch myself wandering into your fine establishment!” He kissed the back of my hand, maintaining eye contact with me. My smile widened with the red across my face. He really was quite charming. 

“Oh, Alastor. You are always quite the charmer.” We held each other’s hands gently, staring into each other’s eyes. I felt myself leaning over the table, one of his hands moving to hold my face softly. He was leaning in too, closing his eyes as he was mere inches away from my face. My hands held onto his hand as I pulled the rest of the way in, connecting our lips gracefully. The kiss was more blissful than anything I have ever imagined, but was sadly cut short when there was banging on the shop’s doors. We both jumped away from our kiss, looking at the door. Through the window curtains, I caught a glimpse of policemen. 

“You have to leave, my love.” Pushing him towards the secret exit in the back. He looked at me with a strained smile. The banging got more aggressive as the policemen began their threats to enter. Alastor whispered, “Come with me, please.” 

“I wish I could, my love. We both know they will catch us if we can’t have a distraction.” I held his hands before placing a quick kiss, pushing him gently. 

“Go, now.” The policemen started breaking the door down as Alastor quickly scampered out back. He turned around only to see the policemen aim their weapons at myself. I was pushing the policemen back and fighting them, trying to stab them. I was only successful in my murder attempts on the lead detective before Alastor watched myself be shot . He waited for the other two officers to be distracted before he took my butcher knife and sliced both their throats efficiently. For good measures I saw him hack at their throats till their heads were chopped off. 

There was pain in my stomach from where I was shot, I was holding over the gunshot wound. Blood trickled out and pooled below my body, but I was able to watch Alastor chop them ruthlessly. He had lost his smile momentarily and had tears running from his eyes as he rushed to my side, covered in blood. He gently held my face, wiping my own tears off my face desperately. I coughed blood before quickly ordering what he needs to save himself.

“You need to burn this whole place down, Al. Leave our bodies in it and run away.” His eyes flickered between my own before he brushed the hair out of my face. I knew he wasn’t going to leave my side. My bloody and shaky hands held his cheek before I whispered, “I love you, Alastor. But, you need to do as I say if you wish to stay a free man. Please.” 

“I will find you, my dear. In every lifetime, I will find you. I love you, (Y/n).” As he said those words, the world around me started to melt around me. I felt my soul fall from my body and plummet downwards, falling. It looked like I was falling through the Earth’s ground, colliding with another ground that was surrounded by dark colors. I was in what I assumed to be Hell.

(As always, charcters belong to the respective owners and the story belongs to me! I hope you enjoy this tiny dabble I got inspired by Insane by Black Gryph0n , Baasik. Hope you enjoy it :)!)

[ghouljams]

What Once Was

A perspective shift, a pause, a brief respite before doubt takes hold again. Android!Ghost feels his heart beat.

You grew up in Manchester, or at least you had a job out there. You don’t like thinking about “growing up.” As far as you’re concerned you’ve been doing this your whole life. Fixing things. You had a job, an apprenticeship, with a bot mechanic at one of the industrial plants. You’d taught yourself coding, but at risk of electrocution you’d found someone to teach you the rest. It was hard, but the work was rewarding. You were young, but unlike people, bots care more about the results than how long a doctor has been a doctor. They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t know they should have. 

The area was rough, you always liked the industrial parts of town, but even you could admit the place had seen better days. There was this old butcher shop. Real old school, but people like that. Meat tastes better when it’s cut by human hands, you’d heard someone say once. And there was this kid working there, Simon, he couldn’t have been much older than you. You saw him on your lunch breaks sometimes. You shared your sandwich with him.

He smiled sometimes, more than you would have thought given everything you knew about him. He liked working with his hands, you got that. He liked being away from home, you got that too. He never called you crazy when you talked about bots like they were people. He was sweet, you liked that about him. 

He disappeared one day, without saying goodbye. You figured that was just what happened to people who lived like you two did. You didn’t even bother with a police report. Maybe you should have.

-

You still sit with your knees pulled up to your chest when you’re working on small parts. Your brows still furrow the way they did when you were a teenager. Ghost watches you flip down your magnifier over your eyes and remembers teasing you about needing glasses from squinting too much. You still blow the dust out of old cartridges and stick them into your arsenal of wires just to listen to the technicolor drone of ancient video games while you work.

“Just the music,” you’d told him years and years ago, “it helps me focus.”

You’re exactly the same, and yet you’re so unfathomably different. Or maybe he’s different. Different in the ways that matter most, in the ways that mean you’ll never recognize him. It’s better like this. He’s been through too much to be the sort of man you deserve. Barely a man at all, really.

That doesn’t stop him from circling you, like a moth to a flame, or a weary soldier to the comfort of home. He finds himself in your workshop with repairs that aren’t repairs, with injuries that he’s never been bothered by before. Ghost sits and lets you run diagnostics, lets you poke and prod at his gears, and he never says a word. Never mentions that you still look beautiful in work lights, that you shouldn’t hold your tweezers in your mouth because you always pinch your lip, that you’re still you even when he isn’t sure he’s still himself. He never mentions that he has a million things he’s never told you, that he wanted to tell you but never got the chance to. 

He thinks them sometimes: when he’s watching you work, when you smile up at a bot warmly, when you ask him what’s wrong, when you start walking towards him before you even know what he needs, when you lay your hands on him and he flips every sensor to try and feel your warmth. He thinks that he loves you, that no matter how little of him is left he’ll always love you. He could love you with nothing, with bare circuits and white matter, and that would be enough to keep him going.

It was enough to keep him going. It isn’t anymore. Not when you’re here, so close and still a thousand miles away. Not when you don’t recognize him, when you don’t see the scrawny kid from Manchester in the corded steel and dense circuitry. 

Did you think of him when he left? Did you worry? It always felt melancholic, said as a joke that neither of you laughed at: it’s gonna kill me one day, this world’s gonna kill me. Was that what you thought happened? When you knew about his father, when he sat down for lunch with fresh bruises and a split lip, did you think that’s what happened when he didn’t show up the next day? Did you mourn him?

He should have taken you with him. Sixteen. Young enough to kill for a living, but still too young to save you. He couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t even save himself. 

They shouldn’t have put him back together.

Not if it meant he’d see you again.

Not if it meant you’d look at him like this,

Like nothing.

Repairs that aren’t repairs. Injuries that never bothered him before. Diagnostics. Circling. He knows it will burn him, he can feel the heat, but he can’t stop. Androids aren’t supposed to feel. Men aren’t supposed to be metal. And you don’t love him.

Not anymore.

(If you ever did.)

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 4*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Harry brings Y/n with him on his European tour but when Y/n decides she needs a break to figure things out Harry is beside himself. He's sure she's going to break up with him but she's sure he doesn't want the same things she does. When they finally talk will they both be on the same page?

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom/sub dynamic, angst, DDlg kink,

Word Count: 12.5k

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

A balancing act requires soft poise and harmonious alignment. The joining of differing needs and wants to acquiesce for a perfect, or nearly perfect outcome. One can’t have more than the other. All sides must be used to make a point. The leveling of opinion and decision coupled with the desire to satisfy the ideal effect.

“Put that down. It doesn’t do any good.”

Y/n looked up at Harry who’d placed his palm over her phone to cover her screen. She was trying not to obsess about the pictures of herself. There were so many. And now that she’d been seeing Harry for a few months and was on tour with him in Europe, the gossip abounded. It was wild how quickly everyone learned her name, her age, the fact that she had been married, where her art pieces were showing, and even what kind of car she drove. It was… a lot.

“I know but they’ve caught me in the worst outfit and angle and these comments-“

“Please don’t do that,” Harry spoke as he sat down next to her and slid the phone from her hands, “You’re a knockout. I’ve never once looked at you and thought otherwise. None of that matters. Okay? It’s us. You and me.”

She nodded as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “I know. But still. I’m just not used to any attention. Not like this.”

“The best thing you can do is to ignore it and don’t look at the articles.”

But of course, that was easier said than done. Going to Europe with him had been a whirlwind. So many fans and friends and his family, day trips, flights, drivers, shopping, studio sessions, meetings, rushing, concerts, flowers, kissing, late-night talking, falling deeper for the man, and sex. There was a lot of sex.

It was stressful. It was fun, though, too. And she enjoyed spending time with Harry in his world but there was very little time for herself in her own world. She didn’t put paint, or ink on canvas the entire time she was with Harry in Europe. She never found the time, even though she had downtime, her inspiration waned. When Harry was in the studio writing, jamming, and making music she didn’t normally go. In fact, after going with him only twice she realized how awkward it was for her to be there. He was working with his band and his team. She was of no use there with him. She felt like she was just in the way. And she didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that followed him around like a puppy everywhere.

So she stayed in the hotel or in the villa or wherever they were staying depending on the leg of the trip. She’d venture out to go to cafes by herself, do some shopping, or just to walk around but it became a game of dodging people on the street who started to recognize her. Pictures and videos were taken without her consent. Later she’d see some of the photos in gossip articles and comments saying how she called the paps on herself because why on earth would anyone want a photo of her?

The hate came quickly. The vitriol for a woman that no one knew. Her social media accounts were stalked, screenshots taken and posted on other social media accounts about her and her art and what kind of person she might be based on old posts she’d long forgotten.

One old post on Instagram was of her out on her bachelorette party before she was married. It was a series of six photos. She was wearing something a little bit skimpy, but nothing too crazy. Most of the pictures showed her with a drink in hand, one of her dancing with some man she didn’t know, and the last one was of her the next morning with mangled hair and smeared makeup, a mimosa raised upward, and the words printed over the photo ‘hair of the dog’.

That one got a lot of attention. She was an alcoholic party girl, too fat to be wearing something so revealing, ugly, a slut (for dancing with a man), and the worst insult was “no wonder her ex divorced her”.

Yes, Harry’s fans learned that she had been married. Some knew that her husband had died (she wasn’t sure how they knew). But most assumed she was divorced because she didn’t post publicly about the tragic loss she endured. It was no one’s business, but for people who didn’t know her to make wild assumptions about what had occurred in her marriage was the most hurtful.

But on the other side of that were the fans that simply refused to believe he could be dating Y/n. Many were convinced Harry was either already in a relationship with an ex-band member from his boyband days or it was all for public relations. That her “team” and his “team” were in on something together for publicity. Because that would be the only explanation. Harry would never stoop so low as to date someone like Y/n. Someone who looked like Y/n. Couldn’t be. The Harry “they knew” would never.

Then of course there were those that thought she was simply using Harry’s fame to boost her own popularity in the art world. She was a leech, a sneak, conniving… It all hurt. She wasn’t sure she could stomach much more. And yes, it was true that interest in her art was boosted. Which she really didn’t like because it was more to the fact that “this is a piece of art painted by Harry Style’s girlfriend” rather than a painting that was pleasing to the eye and worth the price tag.

And Harry’s late nights at the studio and after a concert were tiresome. She had been catapulted into this strange reality with a famous man that she felt herself falling for. But how did she fit in with it all? She couldn’t see herself finding her place with him. It all felt very temporary. And the fact that she’d lost the inspiration to create herself was troublesome. The plan was that she could still paint and travel with him and they’d get to be together. She didn’t have to stay home to paint. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t.

But as awful as all that was, she and Harry got closer. He’d arrive late to their bed, crawling over her and wrapping her up in his arms. Normally she’d wake up and nuzzle into him and sigh as they both fell asleep. Sometimes Harry wasn’t ready to go to sleep and he was very persuasive. If he wanted her, well, he had her. She looked forward to, with impatience, having sex with Harry.

Harry had changed her entire view on sex. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Prior to Harry, sex was just sex. It was usually good. Sometimes she’d orgasm. But with Harry, it wasn’t just sex. It was the joining of two separate beings in an act that was vulnerable, exciting, novel, and made Y/n’s heart thrash about in her chest from nerves and thrill. She hadn’t realized how addicted she’d become to what he did. How he handled her body and her mind.

Usually, though, she and Harry had sex during the day. With the sun in the sky, curtains open, and people milling about. She had always been used to nighttime, lights out, on her marital bed sex. Harry liked to have sex anywhere. And he liked to see it all. All of her bits. He’d kiss and praise and then spank her if she tried to hide herself. They had fun together. Sex hadn’t ever been so fun. And she slowly started to see her body in a different light.

After his last show in Paris, she went to his dressing room, like she always did after a show, and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her broadly on the lips in front of everyone. He was hard.

A small gasp fell from her lips as she craned her neck back to look up at him in surprise. He only winked down at her, swiftly turned her around, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was literally using her body to block his erection from view of his bandmates and the event staff.

When Mitch and Sarah finally made their way to their shared dressing room Harry told his assistant he didn’t need help and dragged her to his big couch after locking the door.

“Need you to take your panties off right now,” Harry spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and kept his eyes on her.

Y/n was wearing a cute maxi dress that was comfy and easy to dance in. She learned that she needed to wear clothes that were comfortable at Harry’s concerts because there was lots of dancing. But she also wanted to look cute because there was never a shortage of photos of her, no matter how much she hated that part. And if she wasn’t dancing she was a fake, a bad girlfriend, a fat blob. Oh, but of course, even if she did dance then that meant she was trying too hard, making herself look ridiculous, and then there was the odd comment about how she was too large to be attempting to dance at all.

She pushed those thoughts down as she lifted the bottom of her dress upward and slid her panties down her legs as Harry pulled a small belt with a ball at the center out of his bag. His pants were undone but his underwear was bulging at the crotch, his cock pressing outward with strain. He stood over her where she was sat on the couch and took her panties from her hands and then motioned for her to turn around, “Face the wall, get on your knees.”

“Harry what are you-“ her words turned into a yelp as he smacked her bottom.

“Do you fucking never learn?” He leaned in and spoke quietly, his voice deep and dark, “You’ll be getting paddled tonight for that mistake. Address me properly.”

Cursing under her breath she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t know what it was that didn’t allow her to so easily fall into just calling him Daddy like he wanted. She needed lots of reminders and her bruised bottom was proof of all of her forgetful little moments.

Part of her secretly loved it. Enjoyed the thrill of needing to be corrected and not simply giving in to him all the time.

“Sorry. Daddy. What are you doing?” Her tone clearly sardonic. 

Harry raised his brows and shook his head, ignoring her mouthiness, “I’m going to fuck you against the couch and gag you so no one hears you. Now, turn around pretty girl.”

She pulled herself to her knees and turned so her palms were clutching the leather at the top of the couch and immediately felt Harry’s hands pulling her dress up so her bum was fully exposed and issued another sharp swat to her left side. She jolted in shock before turning to watch Harry behind her.

Harry brought his hands up, her panties in hand, and swiftly pulled the material over her eyes, tying the sides to the back of her head to keep it in place.

“Uh, those are expensive! You’ll stretch them!” She countered as the material hung over her sight.

Harry chuckled darkly and she felt his lips at her ear, “Who bought them for you, baby? I’ll buy you more. Don’t worry about it. Now, keep that mouth open.”

She opened her mouth quickly and felt the silicon ball take its place in her mouth, as he adjusted the buckle to the back of her head. She was unable to see or speak as she was pushed forward, her chest being pressed into the couch. Her bottom was still uncovered and she felt the cool air of the dressing room on her skin as Harry gently caressed her flesh down to where her legs were bent at her knees and over the backs of her calves and ankles before spreading her legs further apart.

“Keep your hands on the wall behind the couch, like this,” Harry moved his palms over her arms until he reached her wrists and pulled her arms out so she kept her hands flat on the wall, causing her back to arch the slightest.

“Good girl. So hot. Unbelievable baby. Daddy’s gonna have a taste now.”

She couldn’t see much or speak at all but she could certainly hear and feel. And the moment Harry’s tongue licked up through her crease her mind shifted into another gear. Harry had eaten her out in this position before. Behind her, his nose at her bum. At first, it gave her a lot of hesitancy, worried she smelled or tasted odd. But he always insisted she was delicious and he could eat her for dinner every night for the rest of his life. His reassurances had her at ease, but it still always gave her pause.

Harry moaned into her pussy as he licked and kissed. His hands were on her ass, spreading her apart as he softly licked, licked, licked… wet and hot from clit to ass, from clit to ass, clit to ass… He spat over her and stuffed two fingers into her cunt and she squealed into the gag, the sound hardly heard in the room. Harry chuffed a laugh at her muffled noises.

Soon she was soppy and achy. Harry noticed how she was pushing herself back into him. That’s where he liked to get her. To the point she was seeking her own pleasure. Where she was so worked up she wanted more.

Harry sat back and stood from the couch and pulled his cock out from his underwear. He pressed his hips into her bottom and brushed his hands over her waist, pushing her dress higher, “Daddy needs his cock milked now. So fucking horny for you, sweet girl.”

She grunted in relief when he pushed into her. It was always a welcome moment. To have his dick inside of her, parting her insides and nudging into her cervix. He was curved in such a way that his wide cock pushed into her front wall on each stroke anytime she was in this position while he was fucking into her.

She kept her hands on the wall as he pounded into her and she steadied herself the best she could but Harry was strong and he always went in with such force that it caused her a good jolt forward on each snap of his hips. Delicious.

When his long fingers wrapped around the front of her neck he squeezed the sides and slowed his plunges, “Wish everyone could hear us. Could hear how filthy your pussy gets when I fuck it. How creamy you are. Wish they could hear how it sounds to have my cock slipping deep into your wet hole.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn and her head get foggy under the pressure of his fingers on her throat. His thrusts increased again and the couch rocked under them into the paper-thin wall Y/n used to keep herself held up.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice from behind had Harry slowing down but never stopping, “M’busy! Be out in a bit!”

She couldn’t hear whatever was said from behind the door because her ears were ringing. Harry’s cock inside of her gave her tunnel vision. She almost didn’t care if anyone heard at that point. Her body felt so good, her pussy being worked open and split down the middle, her guts rearranged, her ass smacked, throat choked.

“Fans want me out there, but I needed you first didn’t I baby?” Harry’s thrusts were sloppy and harsh as he panted his words, “Daddy wants to fuck his come into you so you’ll be out there with everyone while my sperm drips out of your pussy and down your legs. My dirty little come hole. But that’s what Daddy’s little girl likes, isn’t it? Fuck…” Harry looked down at where he was being gripped by Y/n. Her tight little pussy working its magic on him.

Y/n’s telltale signs were beginning to show. Her thighs were shaking and her back was arching and she was grinding herself onto him each time he’d pull back. She was going to come.

Harry choked out a loud groan into the room, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

He reached down to rub her clit just as he began to pour into her pussy. He clenched his teeth and moaned into her ear. With the angle he needed to reach her clit his chest was pressed into her back, his stiff and sharp movements were forceful into her and she felt her own orgasm follow moments later. Thanks to his long fingers that knew just what to do and where to press to get her off.

Drool slid down her chin and to her clavicle as she came. The noise of the couch still creaking under her knees as Harry continued pushing into her increased in sound.

Harry hissed and moaned and kissed the back of her neck as he kept himself stuffed inside of her as she spasmed around him, squeezing his cock of all he had and letting it drain into her. A beautiful symphony of sex in the dressing room.

Harry laughed as he removed the gag and the panties from her face. She had small marks that dug into her skin from the fabric of the panties and the leather of the belt.

“God you’re gorgeous. Gonna go out there with me to meet the fans with my come slipping out of your cunt all night? Hmm?” Harry teased as she straightened her dress out and caught her breath.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. She walked around and met some fans. Most didn’t know who she was. Some knew her as the girl that had been spending time with Harry. Others joked that she was following him around and that he didn’t want her there.

One pretty young thing, probably still in college, went from having her picture taken with Harry to making a snide remark to Y/n, “I love how you don’t care how you look when you dance.”

To which Y/n replied, “I’m just having fun out there like everyone else,” as she shook her hand (which she hadn’t yet washed after being fucked into oblivion) and felt Harry’s orgasm dripping down her thigh.

There was something so poetic about that moment. The secret that she and Harry shared. The reason why he was 20 minutes late to greeting his fans backstage. And Y/n was the bearer of said secret. Literally, since his come was still inside of her.

And that was just one of many times Harry fucked her in his dressing room. It became a regular thing. He’d gag her to keep her quiet but anyone who stood close enough to the door could hear him moaning and the sounds of skin smacking together and couches rocking. But no one ever said anything. It was Harry’s show after all.

There was one time when they went to an event. The lovely space was packed with people and the table they sat at was mostly Harry’s crew. Jeff and Tom were there and some others. All were people Y/n had gotten to know on some level.

And as per usual, Harry was horny. Y/n had gotten used to his extremely high libido and surprised herself even when she matched him in it. She hadn’t realized she was this way until Harry came along.

She was wearing a custom dress. Nothing like she’d ever had the chance to wear before. She’d worn lovely dresses and her wedding dress, she thought, would have been the nicest article of clothing she’d ever wear. But this dress… this dress was absolutely superior to anything she’d ever laid on her body. She loved it. It fit her so well and flattered her curves and made her feel pretty.

“Want to bend you over this table and spank you so hard right now. Tear this dress off you and make you ride my cock right here at the table,” Harry spoke into her ear as their plates of food were being placed in front of them.

Y/n just smiled and nodded as she listened to him tell her what he wanted to do. That was something she also had started to get used to. He’d do things like this in public and it startled her at first, but after some time she started to enjoy it.

When everyone began eating Harry lowered his hand to her thigh and pulled her dress up. No one could see what he was doing from under the table but Y/n felt it. The material of the dress was slowly lifted until he’d pushed the fabric up enough that he could smooth his palm up between her plush thighs and tickle her pussy with the tips of his fingers.

Y/n let out a gasped laugh and leaned forward before turning to look at Harry in surprise. He only smirked back at her and lifted his brows, “You okay, my dear?”

And Harry usually got his way. If he wanted something he could pretty much always get it. Just like how he wanted her to spread her legs wider so he could have access, she gave it to him. Just like how he wanted to slide two fingers into her cunt, she let him.

To everyone at the table, Harry was holding her thigh. Nothing more. He continued to chat and make jokes as he softly fucked his fingers into Y/n’s pussy.

And the thing about this was that he couldn’t apply much pressure, if any, to her clit, so he fingered her for nearly the entire duration of their dinner. His hand was wet between her legs as he continued slow, meaningful thrusts of his fingers into her.

She was on edge. So absolutely wrecked and worked up that Sarah interrupted the conversation at the table, “Y/n. Are you okay?”

Her chest was rising and falling fast. Harry paused his movements and looked over at his lover and realized, she was indeed a mess. Had barely touched her food when everyone else had just about finished and was panting and sweating. He smiled.

“Oh! Yeah. I… probably should,” she paused to hold back her gasp as Harry pushed his thumb over her clit, “go to the bathroom. Real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Harry was forced to remove his hand from between her thighs and she pushed her skirt down and quickly walked to the hallway where she knew the restrooms were.

Harry excused himself from the table with the excuse to check on her.

Y/n was already rubbing at her clit to make herself come in the stall when Harry barged into the bathroom, “Y/n. Come out, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes widened and she was quick to walk out of the stall. She needed him badly, “Please, your cock, Daddy,” she said as she lifted her dress and Harry pushed her to lean over the sink and pulled his cock out on her request. He was already hard. Fingering her and feeling her clench around him as she grew wetter and wetter each minute had done him in.

Her panties were ruined. He pushed the drenched material to the side and plunged into her softly as they both moaned, “Rub that pretty little clit for Daddy, baby. Get yourself off.”

It was probably the quickest fuck they’d ever had. Four minutes tops. Y/n was already on fire as her orgasm burst from her core and Harry held her cheeks apart so he could watch his cock, covered in her arousal, slip in and out, in and out until she was coming and shaking and gasping.

White gobs of her come stuck at his base as he continued fucking into her deep and he finally came, filling her to the brim with his come. He pulled out to watch himself drip from her pussy and then pushed himself back in to keep his sperm inside of her where it belonged, “Holy fuck, baby. Your pussy is incredible. Just taking my come like it’s nourishment. Fucking Jesus Christ.”

It felt so good to have Harry inside of her after nearly a half hour of slow, sensual torture with his fingers.

And as they both enjoyed, Y/n dripped of him when they went back to the table to join their friends. No one knew but Harry and Y/n and that was half the fun.

So, yeah, sex with Harry was incredible. Exciting. He never let her feel like she was lacking. He loved using tools on her. Tying her up, clamping her tits and her skin, toys, spanking, spreader bars, cuffs… She’d gotten a taste of what he liked and she loved it all.

And she was pretty sure she loved Harry too. He was the sweetest man. Very attentive and gentle, thoughtful, funny, and honest. But of course, when they were in bed he was dominant and loved to put her in her place but that only added to how much she really liked him. The duality of his nature was exciting to her. And she began to feel more comfortable with her body around him. He never once made her feel bad about her size. He clearly loved every bit of her chub.

So after their whirlwind European trip she was back in Illinois at home and trying to paint while Harry was in LA in the studio working on music and other business endeavors he’d started. They talked every night. She thought the distance would be good for her to focus on her work again but it was like she was blank. Her thoughts were only filled with Harry and what he was doing and the articles with her pictures and comments…

One evening, though, she did have a spark of inspiration. She began sketching out her canvas and mixing colors and finally, after nearly a two-month dry spell, put her brush against the canvas and began to paint. It felt good. She was suddenly struck with the need to create. Hours of building a piece with color and space and lines felt like things had felt before she met Harry.

Her fingers were green and her overalls were splattered and soiled from linseed oil and various hues she’d used on her work when her phone rang. Looking up at the clock she realized it was already 9 pm. Which was the time Harry normally called her every night before he went to the studio (it was 7 pm in LA).

She wiped her hands down her clothes and cursed as she rushed to grab the phone before the call went to voicemail.

It was a Facetime call because of course it was.

“Hello?” She rang out and adjusted the screen so she could see Harry and he could see her. She tried smoothing out her hair and wiping the smudges from her face but there was little she could do to repair her current appearance.

“Hi, baby. I miss you! How are you today?” Harry spoke, his face very close to the phone, and then as he stilled himself and the screen became clear she realized he wasn’t at home. A club perhaps. Maybe someone’s house. Definitely not the studio.

“I’m good. Was just painting a bit. Finally got a spark of creativity tonight. How are you? What are you up to right now?”

Harry sighed and grinned widely, she could tell he seemed a tiny bit tipsy, “I’m at a party and I’ve been telling everyone about you. Wish you were here so you could meet everyone. We’re just chilling, had a couple drinks, then I’m going into the studio in about an hour. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

Y/n nodded and smiled. She wasn’t surprised by any of this. He normally got into the studio late and stayed until 3 or 4 am. He was most creative at that time he told her once.

“Sounds fun. Wish I was there too.”

Just then a young woman nudged into Harry’s shoulder and came in to view on the screen, “Y/n!! It’s you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

She was clearly also tipsy. And just as she was about to respond to the mystery woman she watched as the girl threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder and licked her pink tongue up his neck before kissing it. And it wasn’t just a peck of a kiss. It was quite sensual in fact. As if she were trying to give him a hickey.

Harry laughed and pushed at the girl, prying her arm from him and the girl waved her hand at the video just before moving elsewhere.

“Sorry, Jess is clingy tonight,” Harry smiled and licked his lips.

“Oh is she? Has she been trying to give you a hickey all night then?” Y/n couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that coursed through her. She figured at that point she could trust him. He was a big flirt and she knew this about him. He gave off the wrong impression to people all the time. She’d seen women trying to shoot their shot and he would eventually have them back off but many of them never assumed he was in a relationship. She’d even overhead some women (when she was backstage after concerts) bragging about how they kissed Harry or how they thought they had a shot because he'd been staring at them, which turned out to not be true of course. But it didn’t make the sting feel better.

“No. No, of course not, baby. I wouldn’t let her do that. Only you’re allowed to mark me up.”

“But she’s allowed to lick you and kiss you?”

Harry paused and suddenly the screen was blurry as he appeared to moving through the space to somewhere different.

“Wait, hold on, Y/n.” The screen went dark but she could hear shuffling and some voices until the video showed his handsome face again but now he was outside.

“Please, baby. That was not… she’s been flirting with me a little but it’s all in fun. She’s just a friend. I would never do anything to ruin what you and I have. You know that. God, I wish you were closer so I could tell you in person and see you after the studio. Wake up to you, make love to you…” he trailed off as he spoke but kept his eyes on the screen, his face set in defeat.

“I know how you are, Harry. So I get it. But doing that right in front of me? Kind of tacky. Was she trying to make me jealous? If so, I’d say she’s not a friend.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back to a bench and nodded, “I’ll stay away from Jess. She’s just been finding me all night. I mean, I’ve known her for years so… but you’re right. Sorry.”

Y/n nodded and flattened her lips together. She really hated this. Hated feeling jealous when she figured it wasn’t necessary, hated not being with him, hated how famous he was and how everyone wanted him…

After his call with Y/n, he was careful to dodge Jess. And he hadn’t really been paying much mind to her to be quite honest. Yes, she’d been kind of all over him but he was used to that. Except now he needed to think about his girlfriend and what she might think and how it could be perceived in public. Not that any of the photos from this particular party would come out to the public – it was exclusive and contracts were signed promising privacy and respect of others.

Jess was a friend of Tommy’s and she was often invited to the parties like this and so Harry had gotten to know her over the years. She was always flirty but the question that Y/n brought up was valid. Was Jess trying to make Y/n jealous? It was inappropriate for her to kiss his neck like that when he thought about it with a clear head. Even if he wasn’t on the phone with his girlfriend, that was too intimate of a gesture to be innocent. He couldn’t allow things like that anymore. Not if he wanted to keep Y/n happy. And he didn’t want those kinds of intimate touches from anyone else these days. He missed his girlfriend.

His studio session was productive. He got a lot of writing done and set some vocals down for recording too. But he was still thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how they got off the phone and he’d apologized and she said she was fine but he knew she might not really be. They were too far apart and the distance was a problem. Harry was used to some distance in relationships. It was part of the package that he came with. But he hated it with Y/n more than ever.

He was in love with her. Deeply and madly. In fact many of the songs he started to write after meeting her had something to do with her in one way or another. He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d dated around and had a couple of serious relationships in the past, but no one left a mark on his heart like Y/n had.

.           .           .

“I’m feeling like I need her with me all the time. But when I offered to fly her out and have her stay here with me in LA she said she thought the distance would be good. I’m going crazy, Pat. I don’t know if she is starting to think about breaking up with me or what. I don’t want her to leave me. But she’s been so aloof lately.”

Pat shifted her leg to cross over her opposite and listened. The man wouldn’t stop talking about Y/n. Every one of their sessions had been dominated by discussions about his new relationship. Harry was sensitive deep down. He had his shit together and he was many times nonchalant about dating and matters of the heart in public, but Pat knew the truth. He was sweet and his heart was delicate.

“Just let her sus everything, Harry. You can’t push her and you know that. She’s probably going through some growing pains with you. You’re uber-famous and everyone loves you and to her, it probably feels like she’s just your girlfriend who gets a lot of mean things printed about her. It’s very likely overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to get her head on straight and figure out what’s best for her.”

“But what if she learns that she’s better off without me?”

Pat chuckled, “What if she does? Would you still want to force her to be with you?”

Harry sighed deeply and frowned, “I guess I wouldn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t like. But that’s the thing. I know she and I have something special. When we’re together it’s like everything just makes sense. I don’t want her to let all the awful things people make up about her be how she makes her decision. Because what she and I have is incredible.”

“But you’re seeing this from your point of view. Not hers. Give her space if she needs it. Keep open communication but let her decide what she can handle.”

He didn’t like the idea that Y/n would decide he wasn’t worth it. He’d finally found the one he thought was his soulmate. The one he loved and wanted to be with for the rest of time, but now she was stepping back. Putting more space between them than he liked.

And when he offered to come to her she declined that suggestion as well. Stating it would be better to be apart for a bit. Which indicated to Harry she was done or at least considering that idea. But he couldn’t understand it! How could she be done with him? He was so far from done with her. He’d never want to be “done” with her. He wanted to marry her, have babies with her, take her with him everywhere, curl into her body, and let his skin sink into hers for all eternity.

He partly blamed the night he talked to her when Jess made her unfortunate appearance and partly the fans. Harry loved his fans. He enjoyed interacting with them most of the time. He loved the attention and the enthusiasm they gave him. He loved creating for them. But they were the ultimate cock block if there ever was one. Every relationship he’d tried to maintain while being famous had, in the end, been affected deeply by his fans. Social media was brutal as it was, but when fans got ahold of the articles and posted pictures and got “involved” it only led to awful things. Many times social media stirred the pot but the fans kept the lies and the assumptions (conspiracy theories even) flying and going on for longer than it was necessary. But it’s not like he could just drop his fans. They were what his empire was built on. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing without them. It was all a balancing act.

“I think I’m gonna go see her. Just to talk face-to-face. I can’t go on not knowing what’s really happening and doing it over the phone is not giving me the whole picture.”

“Harry… I think it would be wise to keep her wishes in mind. You are a convincing and charismatic man and so for you to go to her in person could interrupt her rational critique. You could just be doing more harm to the relationship this way. It would be a hindrance more than anything. You might just be prolonging the inevitable and don’t you think it’s better to let things take their course naturally? You don’t always have to make all the moves and sway the outcome. This isn’t a business. This is love and relationship stuff. It doesn’t follow the same rules.”

.           .   ��       .

Y/n had been feeling pretty good. Her mind was clear and her inspiration was at an all-time high. It had been a month since she’d seen Harry in person but they still spoke almost every night. She still loved him. She missed him, but the time apart felt necessary. Felt like she could grasp reality again.

But one thing was certain with the distance. It was that she couldn’t take not seeing him and touching him. She was thriving, but she was beginning to miss him more than she thought she would. Instead of getting easier, it got harder. Her nights would be spent thinking of him, what it would be like living with him, kissing him, marriage, babies… But she wasn’t sure if he was feeling like they were headed in that direction. Because if he didn’t feel like any of that was in their future then the relationship should be stopped. It couldn’t continue to jog along on the same path that it had been. They needed to progress and she needed to know he was committed to her and that he felt the same way. But as it was, their relationship was very good, it just wasn’t the kind of relationship that felt like it could move beyond what it was. She needed to tell him and be honest about what she wanted. Marriage, babies, 100% commitment… But what would happen once she told him all of this? Would he run for the hills? It could very well be the end of them.

.           .           .

She had insisted that he not come to the gallery where her work was displayed. It was in New York City and he begged to come. He told her he would take some time off before the next leg of his tour began. Told her that he had a beautiful spot he always stayed at and she could be with him and he’d take her out to his favorite restaurant in the city… but she said no. And Pat told him to listen to her.

Which was hard for him. Harry didn’t like being told no, and normally, no didn’t matter much (of course depending on the situation). Normally, he’d just go anyway and surprise her and dote on her, and in his mind, she’d be so happy and they’d have amazing sex and things would go back to how they were before she pushed for distance. But that’s not how it went.

Instead, she had a weekend in New York City without him. They spoke every night and she told him everything and he pleaded with her some more to let him come to her but she still said no.

On Sunday when they got off the phone Harry was beside himself. She had been too busy to really talk. She was getting on a flight to go back home so he understood why but that didn’t mean he was okay. He cried. He felt his heart drop and felt her slip away. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want his support, and she wouldn’t go to see him either… so what was left?

He’d been good and paying attention to, heeding Pat’s advice. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t force her hand in this. But God did it hurt. If only she’d let him visit her she’d see how good they were together. Nothing else mattered.

But he needed to know what she wanted. Because it didn’t feel like she wanted the same thing. They needed to talk, face-to-face, and he needed her to be direct. To rip off the band-aid once and for all. Then he could begin to heal and try to get over her.

When she called him the following day it was unexpected because it was much earlier than they usually had their calls and it was just a call, not a Facetime chat.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry had had a lump in his throat for the last few days with his thoughts about her. About how she was going to end it. About how she didn’t really want to put in the effort to be with him. That he wasn’t worth it. That his fame and his fans were too much.

“I’m good. You’re calling a bit early. What’s going on?”

“I just had some really good news! A curator bought ten of my paintings and will be hosting an exhibit at David Kordansky and I’ve been invited to go as a guest of honor of sorts, amongst the other artists! It’s going to be all these big names. Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled widely, “Baby, I’m so proud of you. When is the exhibit?”

“It’s next weekend! And you know David Kordansky, right?”

“Uh… no. Sorry. Should I?”

Y/n giggled into the phone, “Oh… it’s just one of the biggest and most popular galleries in Los Angeles.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “Here? You’re coming here?”

“Yes! God, I’m so excited! You’re the first person I’ve told and I just got the news right before calling you. So, I’m still processing it all. But yeah! And a bonus is that maybe you can come! If you want. If you can!”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone I’m booked next weekend. Spending it with my girl.”

She sighed into the receiver with a big grin on her face, “I can’t wait to see you, Harry.”

.           .           .

Y/n was properly nervous. She had been trying to keep her distance from Harry but it had sort of backfired. She wanted to feel out the situation without his influencing nature and his hot body, and those pink lips pecking at her, his deep voice luring her to see it his way. The longer she was away the more she realized that she could barely breathe without him. She was so far gone for the guy that the distance only made her ache. Yes, she got a bit of her creative spark back, but she felt like that was more of an internal issue than it was to do with Harry.

But her nerves weren’t because she was going to see him after over a month. The nerves were because she needed to confront him with her real feelings and find out if he was on the same page. She had to know once and for all what he wanted. And if any of her ideas of where the relationship should head weren’t on Harry’s radar, well, it had to be over. They couldn’t continue like they were. It was perpetual limbo. Purgatory. She loved him and if she were younger with more time to spare she’d enjoy traveling with Harry and just having fun without expectation of where their final destination would land them. But as it was, she wanted to start having babies in the next few years. And if Harry didn’t then she’d need to start over and begin dating around. And that takes time. So she needed to get a move on. Find someone that wanted the same things she did. If that wasn’t Harry.

She had planned for the worst. All the scenarios in her mind led to them breaking up. She couldn’t imagine that Harry would be willing to settle down with her. He had the whole world at his fingertips. And she was just a girl from the Midwest. She really didn’t imagine that they had much more left to pick at. The pages stopped turning. The well had run dry. It was fun while it lasted.

Harry had his driver take him to the airport to pick her up. She told Harry she could just take a taxi but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Wanted to see her the second she arrived in LA. And he was there. Waiting for her just as he said he would.

He scooped her into his arms and felt tears prick at his eyes, “Oh my god. Y/n… I missed you so much.”

She felt her heart swell and lurch with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead. Right in front of everyone in the airport. Photos were snapped and Harry didn’t care. He looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were glossy, “Harry…” she thumbed at his cheek, “Are you okay?”

Harry sniffed and the tip of his nose was red as he nodded, “I am now.”

She’d been to his house before they went away to Europe. They spent two days having sex and just staying in enjoying one another. Those two days were her favorite memories with Harry. Not that she hadn’t absolutely enjoyed everything else they’d done together and where they spent their time but there was something really special about being in his lovely home doing nothing with him and eating some of the best food she’d ever had (a combination of Harry’s cooking, delivery from some of the best restaurants in LA, and leftovers from a fancy catered party that Harry skipped but had requested two large bags full of yummies dropped off for them).

And the moment Harry had her in his house this time around, they were tearing clothes off and making love on his big bed. Harry didn’t bother with the clamps or ties or the belt this time. He just wanted her. Wanted to show her himself and how much he loved her. In fact, he planned on telling her he loved her soon. He needed her to know how he felt.

And the irony of it all was that Y/n was thinking the same thing. She wanted to tell him how she felt. He needed to know the truth and she needed to know where he stood. But they were both hesitating and it didn’t come out quite the way they intended.

“I think we should talk a little, Harry. I’ve had something on my mind for a bit. It’s… kind of important.”

They were both still naked lying on his bed when she blurted it out. Harry felt his stomach drop. He’d been constantly on edge that she was going to break up with him and he didn’t know if his heart could handle it.

So instead of talking he sat up quickly and got off the bed, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s talk. Um, I need to take a shower first… and then uh… we can talk. Yeah.”

Harry cried in the shower. Preparing himself for the worst. Trying to get his emotions out and let his body soak in the warm water and calming scent of his shampoo. He was a mess. And he assumed it was over.

And to Y/n, him hopping out of bed like that and running off when she said they should talk, that move was his answer. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear her truth. He had no intention of being committed or serious with her. He only wanted sex and fun. And that was great, but she was closing in on 30 and it was time to settle down and find love. And it was clear to her now, that Harry didn’t want that. Or at least not in the way she did.

She paced in his bedroom for a bit after dressing herself but when he was still showering, twenty minutes later she went downstairs and paced in his living room. She saw a bouquet of flowers near the front door at the table with a card in it and she automatically plucked the card out to read. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be reading anything that could upset her. But she was caught off guard by the message.

“Let’s get dinner tonight, H. I miss you endlessly. Love – O”

She flipped the card over and there was nothing on the back except the name of the florist. No date anywhere. She didn’t know when these were delivered or if he’d had dinner with his ex. Her heart sank and her stomach felt heavy.

She slowly made her way back up the stairs and realized the shower was off. Harry was done. She found him standing on his balcony looking out over his garden. He hadn’t even bothered to find her. To see what she wanted to talk about that she said was important. He clearly didn’t care.

He took a 35-minute shower and then went out to chill on his balcony.

She considered just leaving without a word. Just calling an Uber and leaving for good. Getting a hotel room and forgetting about it all.

But now she was pissed.

She opened the balcony door and Harry was startled when he heard her approaching.

She laughed as she shook her head, “Forget I was even here huh?”

Harry scrunched his brows and shook his head but before he could respond she continued, “That’s okay. I get it. You and I aren’t on the same page. You’re having fun and you’re free and getting invited out to dinner with your ex, and-“

“Wait! What? I don’t-“

Y/n put her hand up, “You heard me. It’s okay. We never made any sort of promises or real commitments. Never said we’d wind up married or together in the end. You’re at your best and you deserve fame and fun and freedom. I’m only holding you back.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “No. Y/n… this was what I was worried about that you were-”

“That I want a real relationship? I’m almost 30. I can’t be playing around and traveling the world when I don’t know what you even want. And you just made it clear how disinterested in my concerns you really are-“

“Y/n. Please. What are you-“

“Stop. All you do is tell me what I should think and what I should do. You’re too… you pressure me to see things your way and you never listen. So now you listen to me.” She swallowed to gain her composure and looked up at him squarely so he understood how serious she was, “I can see now clearly, you have no interest in making a family with me. In being with me. You’re just having some fun. And that’s okay. But our fun has come to an end. I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to find someone who wants what I want. Someone who isn’t stuck on their ex and someone who will tell the whole world about me and not pretend that I’m just someone you hang out with.”

Harry shifted on his feet. He hadn’t expected this. In all the scenarios he ran in his mind she was breaking up with him and she didn’t want to be with him and he wasn’t worth it. But she was saying she wanted commitment. He smiled and opened his mouth but Y/n scoffed.

“See? You’re not even taking this seriously! Here I am telling you I’m breaking up with you and you’re smiling! You couldn’t give a shit!”

Harry’s smile fell from his face, “No I was… You’re breaking up with me? Y/n please-“

She pushed him off of her and backed away, “Go and enjoy dinner with Olivia or whoever. I’m out of here.”

Harry ran after her, “No! You can’t leave me! Please that’s not what happened. I didn’t even see her. And if you’d just listen-“

Y/n stomped her foot and turned to face the tall man. She pointed her finger at this chest, “I’m done listening. We’re done. You broke my heart.”

Harry shook his head and followed behind Y/n the whole way to the front door, pleading with her to stop so they could talk but she continued to cut him off.

“Stop! You don’t get to push me into making a decision anymore. It’s over.”

She gathered up her bags and shakily pulled her phone out to bring up her Uber app to call for a car. She was thankful all of her bags were still near the front door.

She rushed out of the house and Harry felt like he was going mad. She wouldn’t let him talk and explain and tell her that he wanted what she wanted. Every time his mouth opened she yelled for him to stop. Screamed even. Had he been so insufferable that this was how she reacted to him?

So he watched with tears in his eyes and his heart in his hands as she loaded her things into the Uber and left him standing at his gate.

He didn’t know what he would do. What could he do? He needed to let her cool off and then he’d go to her and have a conversation. He’d make her see that they’d been on the same page all along.

He called Mitch to get advice.

Mitch asked him why he hadn’t called Pat instead but Harry insisted his best friend would give him the best and most brutal advice, while also supporting him and wishing him luck. Which is actually what happened.

“Go and surprise her at the gallery. Do something ridiculously dramatic and then declare your love for her to everyone in the room. Something like that. I don’t know man. I think you two will work it out. You’re so good together. I think she just needed some time, ya know.”

Harry sighed, “Pat’s going to hate that. But I’ve got to do it, though, right? Do something absolutely nuts to get her to listen to me.”

.           .           .

Y/n had the worst, absolutely the most horrible, awful evening. She bawled her eyes out and barely slept. Harry hadn’t even tried reaching out to her. Not that she really wanted that. She half expected it. But it only solidified everything to her. She imagined he probably slept like a baby.

The following day was the exhibit. She was not prepared. Not mentally anyway. Her tears had barely dried by the time she was entering the gallery. She put on a happy face and forced herself to talk and smile. But she only felt the dread of what had happened the day before.

The curator greeted her, bringing a glass of champagne for her to sip, “I’m amazed by your work. I think your collection fits in so nicely here. But you know I’m holding on to all your pieces until one day someone offers me a million each for them,” he laughed and Y/n smiled. She doubted that would ever happen.

The evening should have been amazing. She was meant to have Harry with her and it was supposed to be a big night for her. Something that could potentially change the trajectory of her career. But Y/n wasn’t happy. Her exciting moment was clouded by thoughts of Harry and how she loved him but now it was over.

Through the doorway opposite the entrance was a small bar area. Guests could go get their drinks and then head back into the gallery. But there were a few bar tables and some stools. Y/n had been eyeing it all night. A moment to get away and sit by herself for a while.

The room was darker and quieter, even though it was open to the main gallery. The small high-top tables had four tall, cushioned stools around each. The only person in the bar was the bartender.

“Hi. Can I have a glass of chardonnay?” Y/n leaned into the bar and her eyes settled over the array of colorful bottles lined up behind the young lady who stood at the bar.

The young woman smiled, “Sure. Anything in particular? Would you like to see what I’ve got?”

“Not really. This is going to sound so bad, but just the cheapest one.”

Y/n dug into her small clutch to pull out her phone card and then waited as the young lady poured a glass of Y/n’s cheap glass of wine.

“Your art is excellent. I’m a big fan.” The woman looked over her shoulder as she plumbed the top of the bottle with the cork and placed it back into the small fridge below the counter.

“You know my work?” It was not expected. She didn’t think the bartender would know the artists by their faces alone.

“Yes! Of course. I usually get to know who the artists are that have their pieces here. Yours is outstanding.”

She felt her face get warm from the odd feeling she always got when someone loved her work and recognized her. She still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling yet but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she took the glass she thanked the lady for the wine, “And, thank you for the kind words too. That means a lot to me.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her wine in the empty space as she attempted to let her bad mood dissolve. She knew it was impossible to let it go completely. Her wound was so fresh. She’d just gotten her heart broken and that would take some time to grapple with. But she knew she could be okay because she’d dealt with and come through the worst kind of tragic loss anyone can imagine. Losing Robert devastated her. For a very long time. She’d only gotten to a place where she felt she was ready to find love again. And her short time with Harry was nothing in comparison to what she’d suffered. So yeah, she’d been through far worse. She’d be okay.

The music that played in the small space was slow and the tune sounded a lot like an old Foo Fighters song. But it was all instrumental and she couldn’t be sure. She pulled out her cell phone and decided to text her sister. Catch up a bit. Feel something sweet and nostalgic to get her mind off of her sorrows.

She smiled when her sister texted back with a picture of the kids.

She looked up and paused to listen closely to the music playing again. Yeah. It was an instrumental version - definitely Foo Fighters. Everlong. That was the song! She snapped her fingers and smiled again as he looked back at the picture of her nieces.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y/n. This is for you.” The bartender laid an envelope down on the table. It had her name written on it.

This felt very reminiscent of-

She looked around the room and out into the gallery, where people fitted in lovely outfits and amazing hairstyles milled about, in search of the one person that might have had something to do with this.

She looked back down at the envelope and toward the young lady who had already gone back behind the bar, “Who gave this to you?” She was hesitant to open it.

“Ms. Adams. The gallery’s director. She said it was from a very special guest.”

A very special guest.

She wasted no more time in ripping the top of the envelope open knowing already who it was from.

She braced herself for what she might read on the folded paper inside. Her heart walloped in her chest and she felt her throat go dry as she carefully pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

I’m sorry for the way things happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you so much more. I need you in my life, Y/n. Take a drink in the director’s office with me? Please? - H

She swallowed thickly and placed the paper down on the lacquered wood. The words stared up at her. Very reminiscent of that night. Their first night together.

She decided to take a moment. Finish her glass of wine and find her resolve. She’d see him. Because of course, she would. She’d fallen for the guy and perhaps closure would be good. For both of them. She tried not to get her hopes up.

But even with the idea that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, from the very base of her spine, small bursts of hope began spreading over her back, warming her up and causing the edge of her lip to flick upward the tiniest bit.

She had to stop. She couldn’t allow the butterflies and the warmth to cover her chest. This wasn’t an olive branch. This wasn’t hope. But that was what her body was feeling, the way it reacted after reading his words.

Stop.

She read the note again and the right side of her mouth quirked but she stifled the smile that tried breaking out over her features.

“Uh, hi!” She scooted off her stool and waved at the bartender, “Do you know where the director’s office is by chance?” The young woman smiled, “Follow me, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n followed behind the young woman to a doorway at the far end of the room and into a hallway. Framed prints were hung along the wall and the floor was dark wood while the walls were a light cream. A few doors were passed, the bathrooms, a numbered room, until finally, they reached the director’s office.

The woman knocked before turning the knob to open the door and stood back, “Here you are.” She gestured at the open door.

“Thank you.” Y/n wavered in her movements wondering if this was the right thing. Should she entertain this idea? Of course, she was going to entertain this idea, but part of her wanted to keep her tough exterior and remain firm in her decision.

Slowly pushing the door further open, she stepped into the threshold and was met with a quaint office-sized room. The same dark wood floors sprawled below her feet, but the very first thing her eyes landed on was that of Harry holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a soft smile.  

She closed the door behind her and stepped in a couple of feet. He was in a well-fitted navy suit and he looked tired. But he was handsome.

The thought quickly hit her. How did he get in here? Who let him use the director’s office? But then, as he ran his ringed fingers through his hair and she saw remnants of chipped nail polish she was reminded of who he was. Not just her lover or her ex. But he was Harry. Everyone knew him or knew of him. Of course, he was allowed in the director’s office.

“Hi, Y/n,” Harry spoke reticently as he held out the bouquet to her.

He wasn’t sure she’d come to him or that she’d want to even talk to him. And he thought about making a grand gesture. Take over the audio system and declare his love publicly before everyone as he walked out into the crowd toward her. Make a scene. Make her listen. Have everyone rooting for them. Rooting for him.

But that wasn’t right. That would have been too pushy. Not fair. This night was about her. If he’d gone about it the way he wanted it would have had all eyes on him.

He knew, though, that he needed to be here with her. To tell her how he really felt and what he wanted and then if she still wanted that with him, still wanted to be with him, they could end the night the way it was meant to be ended. Together.

“Hi, Harry,” Y/n spoke softly, keeping her eyes on his eyes as she took the lovely bouquet full of pink peonies and soft cream roses.

Harry gestured toward the brown Midcentury style couch, “Will you sit with me? I won’t take up much of your time if you don’t want. I just wanted to say some things.”

The couch was large enough for just two people. Harry was glad she had to sit so close to him. He wanted to eat her up she looked so pretty and so sweet. And just the fact that she’d come to him to entertain a conversation had him soaring.

Placing the bouquet down on the glass coffee table, Y/n noticed the bottle of wine and two glasses as he pointed, “Would you like a glass?”

Nodding her head, Harry pulled the cork out and poured her a bit of the red wine. She felt like she should say no just for the fact that she’d only just finished a glass of white wine and surely it would make the red wine taste odd. But ultimately she figured she could use another glass of wine.

“Yesterday I was working up the courage to tell you how I want to be with you for good,” Harry said as he leaned his back into the cushion behind him with his own glass of wine, “Wanted to tell you how serious I am about you. But I thought you were planning on breaking up with me so I needed a minute to figure out how I was going to convince you to stay.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced over his features as she cinched her brows inward. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he wanted the same thing she did the whole time?

“And I’m so sorry that it seemed to you like I was putting off a serious conversation with you. That’s my fault. I should have stayed there with you in bed and listened to you right off. Even if it meant potentially having you break up with me,” he licked his lips and sighed, “Instead, I did what I normally do and tried and figure out a way to make something work in my favor. So I paused that moment hoping you’d change your mind, or that I could come up with something. Prolonging it for the sake of just holding on to you a little longer.

“It’s because I’m selfish and I like to control the narrative. But that’s never been fair to you. So, I understand if my apology is no good anymore. I just felt like maybe I can tell you what was really happening in my head yesterday. Because that part, you did have wrong.”

Y/n blinked her eyes and nodded, “Well, then… I guess I’m sorry too. Because it sounds like I might have jumped to conclusions. I just didn’t think you’d want something serious. Long term. But there’s more to it than just that you know?”

Harry frowned and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

Y/n could see how timid Harry had been since the moment she walked into the room with him. She felt the need to help assuage him so she turned her body toward his and pulled his hands into hers before speaking, “I mean that I’m getting older and I think it’s time for me to really settle down. For good. I mean…” she breathed out a nervous laugh, “like, babies, marriage… death. All that. That’s what I mean.”

Harry nodded and raised his brows, “Yeah?”

Y/n grinned as Harry’s thumbs ran along the sides of her hands. The corner of his mouth pulled upward. She could see his swagger return in almost an instant. His eye contact was solid and his dimples carved into his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” she started to feel flustered by his proximity, the way she could see his pupils roaming over her face and watching her mouth, “I’m not saying we need to get married but like,” she swallowed, “I’d like for us to be serious enough to know that we’d be headed that direction if things are good. And I know you’re super famous and that’s why yesterday I just…”

“I want to be with you. I want it all with you.” Harry bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact and his hands tightened around hers, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t going to be worth all the trouble for you. Because I know this is a lot.”

“No. I just thought you wouldn’t want what I wanted and the way you reacted to me telling you I wanted to talk and how you didn’t come to find me after you were done showering… I felt like you were trying to figure out the best way to break it to me- either that or you were trying to avoid me. I just… Thought the worst.”

She couldn’t have described the way her insides were pulsing and expanding and churning. She’d spent the better half of the day reeling over losing him. Over knowing she might not get to look into his eyes in this way again. Might not see the small freckles on his face again and the way he blushed despite being so sure of himself. But here she was sitting with Harry and in under three minutes everything had changed. If she had just listened yesterday. If he had just listened.

“But so did I. That’s why we’re in this mess. I thought you were breaking up with me and so my behavior made you think the worst.”

Y/n smiled and allowed herself to indulge in his eyes and in the grin he was holding back and the way his fingers felt on hers… Was she just dreaming? Was she just about to wake up and realize it had all been a dream?

“Is it okay if I… ?” He pulled at her gently and slowly wrapped his arms around her and she smelled his familiar cologne. She loved how this felt. Hugging him. Feeling his solid body against hers. She eased into his hold and wrapped her own arms around him.

Harry whispered into her ear, “I should have told you everything yesterday. Let you talk and then we wouldn’t have gotten in this mess. It’s me and you, Y/n. Okay? Me and you. That’s what I want.”

Tears of relief and elated joy broke from her waterline and Harry pulled her in tighter, kissing her temple, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you wanted to break up with me,” the anguish in his voice was not missed. He’d been hurting too.

Harry brushed his palm up and down on her back slowly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, “God I was so worried this was it for us. Fuck. I’m not letting you leave me again like you did. I can’t be away from you like that, Y/n.”

Pulling her head back to look up at him she did see the glisten in his eyes from the start of tears. She knew hers matched. It all felt like a dream. But just in case it was real she needed to speak the words. Sliding her hands upward and cupping his face she was nearly trembling from relief and excitement, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into hers, clutching her lovely dress tightly, “God, I love you, Y/n.”

.           .           .

Stepping into the gallery with all the other people in the room and having Harry by her side felt surreal. Everyone was watching them. She was okay to share this night with him. There was no way around it that people wouldn’t be interested in her because of her boyfriend. She figured that would be something she’d just have to get used to.

Harry squeezed her hand tight and she looked up at him. He looked proud. So important with a big, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“You realize you’re coming back home with me after this. Right? And I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Harry had grown a lot as an individual. He still had moments where he could be pushy and use his charm to get the things he wanted, but he figured some things just couldn’t be totally trained out of him. He allowed Y/n to make her own choices. He gave her space when she needed but she came back to him in the end. He wanted her to be his and everything they’d done that had gotten them to where they were currently had worked out. So Harry had no regrets about coming to her on this night.

“Of course, I’m coming home with you. I’d be offended if you assumed otherwise,” she smirked happily. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you again.”

Harry couldn’t wait to get her home and make love to her. Seal it all together in finality. He knew that tonight was just the beginning for them.

And as if they could both read one another’s minds they smiled and paused together in time. Everything had finally come together for them. At last.

A/N: This is the last part of this series! Would love your feedback!

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Note: I was going to add this to the bookstore au but realised Bucky is a side character in Steve’s and not old so….

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You leave the cafe with your lukewarm cup. You were so anxious you'd almost forgot about the pepperminty goodness. You sip, slightly disappointed in the temperature. Still, it's yummy and you have your bag of books in hand. The day has been a mild success.

You walk along the icy pavement, the season nipping at your cheeks. Most people complain about the snow but it's your favorite. You don't drive so you don't worry for a slippery commute, you have your heavy-treaded doc martens and a downy coat.

You head down Ironwood hoping to catch a streetcar car only to find it skimming past. You sigh and drop your shoulders. You could use the exercise and it would be so bad as long as the path behind Jerry's Submarines isn't snowed over.

You cut through to the next street along a short alley and hop over the bank between the sidewalk and the road. As you do, you slip and stumble, a pair of headlights turning just as you fall into the street. I long fearsome honk blows in your ears.

You whip around to face the driver, raising your hand in an apologetic wave. Not the smartest move but the street isn't usually that busy. You brows pop up as you recognize behind the wheel. Oh boy. Not again.

You skitter away hoping he didn't recognise you too. That very same man who invaded your personal bubble and insulted your taste. Lisa doesn't believe it when you say you're cursed but it's hard to deny from your vantage point.

You get to the other side and keep your head straight, marching away without looking back. He drives by slowly past your peripheral and you dip onto the path, letting out a breath. Alright, no way you'll see that jerk again.

There's a blanket if snow over the path but not enough to deter you. You kick through the powder as you bob to the music in your earbud. You know, Mariah Carey's non-Christmas tunes aren't too shabby either.

You come out on Orchard, sipping your mellowed candy cane cocoa and swing the paper bag carelessly. You could start your podcast. You have more than enough resources now and the new books will be the cherry on top.

As you stride along Orchard towards Cornish, a car door opens and shuts. You don't see the figure before you until they step over the curve and nearly take you off your feet. You drop your cup, spilling what's left of the cold hot chocolate.

“Oh, oof, d-dude–” you sputter out as the liquid drips down your lilac docs.

“Dude?” The man grips the bag in his left hand, his other opening and closing in a tight fist. No way.

“Ew,” you let out the syllable without filter.

“Ew?” He eyes you head to toe.

“Y-yeah, y-y-you're following me.”

“Following?” He growls, “you girls sure do have quite the imagination these days.”

“B-b-but… you saw me….g-go down the path.”

“I wasn't even looking at you, doll,” he scoffs.

“D-d-doll?” You scowl.

“Oh, don't even--I could call you worse.”

“L-leave me a-alone,” you back up, gripping the wire handle of the shopping bag tightly.

“Happily,” he sneers, “I have a job so get out of my way.”

He shoulders past you, harshly. Your trads slip on the salted walk as you grunt and turn to eatch him strut towards the house just a few feet down. You rub the sore spot left by his gruff impact.

You shake your head a leave, thinking better of shouting ‘old man’ at his back. You probably shouldn't antagonize him. So you spin and tuck your hands into your pockets and carry on.

Your street is only a few blocks away. By then, you've almost forgotten about the strange encounters. The closer you get to the haven of your bedroom, the more excited you are to crack open your new books.

Your parents house is trimmed in bright coloured lights and the lawn decorated with plastic candy canes and full entourage of fake reindeer. The familiarity of your childhood home is both comforting and stagnating. You can't believe you're still here.

You go inside, leaving your wet boots on the mat as your mother calls your stepdads name from the kitchen. You unzip your coat and hang it on the rack mounted against the wall. You reclaim your bag of books and make your way to the front room.

“Dean,” your mom calls again as she appears in the hall, peering in after you, “oh it's you.”

“Just me,” you drone and continue towards the stairs. You stop at the bottom, “mom,” she keeps from retreating and looks back at you, “need help?”

“Oh, no honey, I almost got it figured out. So, how's the job hunt?”

You try to smile. Oh, that. You can't live off severance forever and the settlement is never going to happen.

“Good,” you lie, shifting the bag behind your hands.

Maybe you should be a bit more prudent. It's an investment, for your podcast. You just need to figure out how to record. And how not to stutter every other word.

You're only thirty. You have time to smooth out details. Don't you?

You turn and plod up the stairs and into your bedroom. The clutter greets you along with the nest of blankets tangled in your bed. What are you even thinking? You can hardly keep your room tidy.

It's not your fault. Your mom says so. Lisa too. But it has to be. You had it all, a good job, a nice apartment, independence. You blew it all. If you'd just kept your mouth shut.

But wasn't that the problem? Isn't that why you're getting therapy? So you can speak up next time. So there won't be a next time.

You sniff and sit at the desk, adding the bag to the mess. You hang your head in the darkness as the snow reflects the sheen of street lights through the window. It takes time, Lisa says, but you feel it running out.

[spidercookie18]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: General violence, swearing, drinking, territorial marking, brown skinned reader, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her Word Count: 5.6k ish Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter One:

There was a familiar smell hanging off the air as the boys walked through the boardwalk. David had seemed to be the only one to notice it, as none of the other young vampire men pretended to know what he was talking about when he’d asked. He’d been smelling this particular scent in the shops, on the beach and around the streets these past few days, so he asked Max if he recognized what it was.

“Trouble,” is all his sire responded with.

David knew that was the one warning he’d get on the subject, but he was going crazy trying to figure out where it was coming from. The boys couldn’t smell the scent, but they noticed how irritable he was becoming; so, they rode down into town to harass the locals and cheer up their leader. The rowdy bunch parked their bikes down the boardwalk and were heading up towards the sound of music. David walked with his hands deep in his coat pockets, grinning at his brothers as they bounced around and punched each other’s shoulders. Maybe his attitude would change with a nice night out, his mind starting to leave his obsession.

“Hey watch it!” A man bumped hard into David.

He stared at the human from under his brows, his nostrils flaring in anger, “you bumped into me,” David spat at him.

The human puffed out his chest and the men behind him crowded around the lost boys. They towered over the vampires as they stood, and the smiles faded from the boys’ faces. The man walked up to David, and poked a finger at his chest as he spoke, “oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Blondie.” The man chuckled and turned to his friends who also laughed.

Tonight, was not the night for mercy, David thought.

David grinned, his toothy smile a foreshadow the men would not understand until later. The young vampire turned as to walk away, then quickly swung back around and punched the man; the connect made the man’s teeth clack, and he stumbled back to the ground. The group the man was with jumped in to hassle the vampires as they all started shoving and yelling at each other, but the boys kept them off of David as he wailed on the human.

David pulled an arm back to begin the assault on the man who’d been so unlucky to get on his bad side that night. He landed blow after blow on his jaw and eye socket till the man was unconscious. He’d all but slumped onto the ground, but David held him by the collar of his shirt; bent over him and kept wailing on his victim. The grunts that came from David were animalistic, and the CLACK of his fist connecting to the skull of the man were loud and frightening. The human men slowly stepped away as David harshly let go of their friend’s collar and threw him to the planks with a THUNK.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and ran his hands through his hair, inadvertently smearing blood in the tips of his mullet. The vampires stood over the bloody victim and the human men moved to quickly gather their friend and run away.

“Feel better?” Dwayne heartily laughed as he patted David on the back.

David licked the back of his leather gloves to taste the blood he was sure they would be having again later. He turned to his boys to give them a devilish grin, “that was fun.”

They chuckled. People continued to walk past them as the boys started in the direction the group of men had run off in. From the side of his eye David noticed a shadow walk swiftly passed him.

That scent.

He turned to find the figure in the crowd and saw a head bob through the sea of people as it walked off. He turned to follow the scent without giving warning to the boys, who’d stayed staring at their ‘to be’ victims. David swiftly moved through the crowd of people, trying to catch up with the source of his fixation; but the figure moved much faster than he had anticipated.

He had been held up by a group of tourists that were walking in a tight line. He pushed through them and their protests as he hustled towards the figure. “Fuck, where did it go?” He looked around and noticed how the crowd looked to thin out ahead of him, he saw the figure again. He sprinted to catch up with the shadow he was pursuing.

It's a chick? David was confused by what he saw; a short, simple human. He felt a pull that led him closer to his fixation.

MINE. The word permeated his thoughts the second he caught sight of what he was chasing.

She's MINE, he felt his boots hitting the ground below him, he was running now.

He was closing the space, but it was still not enough to catch his obsession. She’s so small how can I not reach her?

He watched the curly hair bounce as you walked briskly through the street now. He made a mental image of what you looked like on the off chance he lost sight of you. You were short, even with heels, dark brown hair, and honey skin. It was a simple outfit, white lacey top with jeans. You held a small tote off your shoulder, and you wore cowboy boots. He chuckled; they reminded him of his boots. You half turned your head to see behind you.

Crap. He ducked behind a group of people to hide. Did she notice me? His heart was racing, he clutched at his chest as he peeked out behind the group. No, there’s no way she did. He stepped out to notice you further than ever. “Oh, what the shit?” He sprinted to catch up, his coats flapping behind him; he was almost within arm’s length of you, but you had not made it easy. He reached an arm out to grab you…

“Hey there he is!” The boys came up behind him and he turned before he could touch you.

He quickly whipped his head back to watch you turn a corner and out of sight. He groaned loudly; he couldn’t believe how easily you lost him.

“What happened man? Why’d you take off like that?” Paul panted out.

“The girl,” David was bent over, his hands on his knees, he pointed to where he had seen you disappear, “she’s who I’ve been smelling all week.” He couldn’t believe he was actually panting, if he wasn’t so upset, he would have laughed in excitement at his new challenge.

The boys looked at each other in confusion, “um, there’s no one there-”,

“Okay, well I know that Marko, she ju- …she just took off.” David tried to explain.

“Sure man, your imaginary scent comes with an imaginary girl,” Paul laughed, and patted David on the back. David shot him a look of annoyance, and Paul took his hand off.  

“Hey, are we still going after those guys?” Dwayne asked.

“Yeah man, sure.” David was angry again.

How could I let her get away.

He was going to hit something again soon.

The boys turned back towards where they had seen the group of men take off and found a feast before them. They’d headed off the group at the parking lot on the far side to wait, like flies to a web. Once the group had dragged their friend into the back of their truck, the boys struck, quickly, and quietly. They snatched them all into the sky, fed, and rummaged through their pockets to leave their bodies in the trash somewhere. The mangled corpses a clear indication of the rage that still coursed through David’s veins.

The boys had found a decent amount of money in the pockets of the men they threw in the dumpsters. “Well, we’re set for a night of fun!” Marko held the wad of money up in triumph. The boys cleaned up and walked back down to the other end of the boardwalk where they had parked their bikes, next to a bar they knew wouldn’t kick them out.

When they got in, Marko and Dwayne headed to the back of a bar where the pool tables were. They knocked the quarters off the edge of one of the pool tables indicating that they would in fact be next to play. The men standing around recognized the crew; they knew better than to retaliate, and swiftly picked up their things and left the bar. “Huh, looks like it’s open now,” Dwayne laughed. Paul and David walked over to the bar and ordered beers for the group.

David wanted something stronger first and ordered two doubles, “whatever’s cheap and strong”, he told the bartender. He waited for his order and leaned against the counter. The lights were dimmed, and the music was loud, almost painfully loud. He looked around the bar and noticed all the drunk bodies moving out of sync with the music.

Well, there’s take out if anyone is still hungry, he thought and chuckled to himself. The bartender dropped off the shots and the beer and David placed the money on the counter. He left a modest tip, fucking animals, he thought as he saw the other patrons stiff the bartender; he picked up the shot glasses and knocked back his head. Nice n’ hot. The clear liquid burning his throat as it went down. David grabbed the beer and leaned back against the counter, his senses were beginning to dull, and the rage in him subsided. He looked around the bar and noticed a few people walk in.

There she is.

He couldn’t see your face behind your hair, but that didn’t matter; he knew what you looked like, he knew your scent.

You walked up to a space beside him, and he casually turned his head to look at you. You ordered a drink and leaned forwards against the counter. You pulled your bag out in front of you to grab your money, but David interjected, “I got it,” he handed the bartender some money, “whatever she wants,” he said to them casually. You tucked your hair behind your ear and looked up at David, “oh, thank you.” You smiled up at him, and he felt his undead heart skip a beat. If he wasn’t so used to playing cool, he might have dropped the charade, but he just turned to lean against the counter the way you were. He looked over you, and your features.

“I’m David,” he stuck his hand out for you.

You grabbed the drink from the bartender, then moved to offer your hand to him. “I’m Y/N,” you smiled sweetly. He pulled your hand to his face and placed a kiss on it, his icy blue eyes moving from your gaze to his hold on you. Inhaling your smell.

Honey, roses, clove? No, it’s more complex than that. He held the kiss longer, it’s the scent of her skin, but there’s something…else. 

Noticing your heartbeat quicken he released your hand from his.

“What a gentleman,” you chuckled nervously, your guard immediately going up.

“Sorry,” he tried to soothe your nerves, “are you here with someone?”

You took a sip from your drink and shook your head no. “Are you?” You didn’t smell like a normal human, but not entirely like something else.

“Yeah,” he gestured over his shoulder to the young vamps in the corner, “me and my boys are having a night on the town,” his voice was warm and inviting. You leaned back to see who he was talking about. You noticed three loudly dressed young men playing pool, they were eyeing anyone who got too close to their game. They seemed territorial, to say the least. “Would you like to join us?” David smiled, really laying on the charm.

“Sounds fun,” you batted your eyes and followed David to the back of the bar where his companions were.

“Hey boys,” they all looked up at him, “this is Y/N,” he gestured to you. They looked from him to you, and you watched their nostrils flare; they were smelling you, and not being subtle about it. David gave them a stern look, “she’ll be joining us tonight.” You held your drink against your body and gave them a quick wave. The boys changed their attitudes and greeted you kindly.

“Can I play winner?” You nod towards the table.

“Sure,” Marko lined up his shot, “that’ll be me.” He looked at Dwayne, “corner pocket,” he said arrogantly. The pool balls clack and he sunk the eight-ball, corner pocket like he said.

Dwayne groaned and handed the cue to you. He leaned down to you, trying to sneakily take a whiff, “he’s a cheater, that one,” he eyed Marko.

“No, I’m just better than you,” Marko started racking the balls back up. You slung the strap of your bag off around your head and sat it down gently on the table nearest, there’s a soft clunk when you set it down that the boys pay no mind to. “You think you can beat me princess?” Marko taunts.

“Oh, I barely remember the rules, I just thought it’d be fun,” you smile innocently. Paul leaned down to hand you the chalk and you could hear him sniff you as well. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes at how obvious they were being, and smile as you took the blue cube from him. You twisted a few turns on the tip of the cue with the chalk, then lined up your shot to break.

CLACK and the balls sailed across the table, THUNK one of the balls sunk. You smiled up at Marko, who was unimpressed, and you moved to line up your next shot. You stepped in front of David and looked back to make sure you wouldn’t hit him; he nodded at you, and you could feel him staring at your ass when you turned back around. CLACK, THUNK. Marko scoffed and you moved past him to line up your next shot. You could feel him breathing in your scent as you moved around him. CLACK, CLACK, THUNK, THUNK. You smiled up at him; he was visibly upset by now; he crossed his arms and looked over at David who was more than amused by the sight before him.

The boys looked at each other, they could smell your perfume, the scent of your shampoo and even the petroleum in your makeup, but they couldn’t smell you. The scent of your skin escaped them, and they looked back at David, waiting for his move. You sauntered in front of him again, and lined up your shot. CLACK, THUNK. You turned back to smile coyly at him, your eyes lidded, and you raised an eyebrow at him, amused in your own antics of teasing the young men.

“Oh, come on!” Marko bitched, “am I going to get a turn?”

You smiled up at him, “in a sec.” You let your tongue slide ever so slightly out of your lips in a focused look. CLACK, THUNK.

“Mother fu-” Marko scrunched up his face.

The others were laughing at him now. You moved back in front of Marko and lined up your shot, you could hear him growling as you slid the cue back and forth between your knuckles. “Oops,” you missed on ‘accident’ and the cue slid up. You stepped out of his way and let him take his shot.

“Finally, fuck,” he lined up, “I thought this would be a one-sided game.” He shoots and skims the edge of a ball. “FUCK,” he screamed. You could hear Dwayne and Paul snickering beside David.

The cue ball landed between yours and Marko’s ball, “let’s see ya hit that,” David called out to you, raising his eyebrow to taunt you.

You sat sidesaddle on the edge of the table and placed your fingertips on the felt. Leaning over the table, David noticed a pendant fall from your shirt. It was a small, thin vial, it looked almost black, or maybe a dark purple. You angled the cue high over your head, CLACK, the cue sailed over Marko's ball and hit yours. The ball slowly rolled over to a pocket and it looked like it would slow to a stop. You eyed the ball and waited for it to fall, THUNK. The boys were in an uproar; Marko was seething now.

He gripped the cue in his hand, and you could hear the wood start to crack over the music. I’m pushing my luck, you thought, the image of a deer in headlights popped into your head. You tucked the necklace back in your shirt safely where it should be, hopped off the table and moved in front of David and the other boys. You leaned down and arched your back as you slide the cue between your knuckles, trying to tease them; you heard David growl softly, the sound made you chuckle. “Corner pocket,” CLACK, the eight-ball sailed across the table, bounced off the edge and turned towards the corner pocket. From the edge of your eyes, you could see Marko gritting his teeth and staring intently at the ball. THUNK.

CRACK, Marko broke the cue over his knee. He was screaming obscenities in a language that wasn’t English, and Paul moved to his side to calm him down. You watched as the tantrum unfolded and David turned you around, to take your attention away from the melt down the short, curly haired biker was having.

“You’re pretty good,” he put his arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, where’d you learn to do that, short stuff?” Dwayne was laughing at how pissed off Marko was getting.

“Oh, I’ve had a lot of time to practice,” you chuckled.

Marko stomped up to you, “that’s bullshit, you’re gonna play me again!” He shoved your shoulder.

“Woah, woah, calm down Marko,” David stepped in front of you, the silver in his tongue trying to soothe his brother.

David and Marko were eyeing each other, and Dwayne and Paul stood uneasily near them, waiting for one of them to make a move. The tension was palpable, and the hair on the back of your neck started to stand on end. You went to your bag and pulled out a small wad of cash, “I was actually about to buy y’all a round if that’s ok.” David was holding Marko by the scruff of his jacket when the boys looked back over at you, “if y’all want that?” You held it out to hand to Marko, and David let him go. The short blond walked over to grab the cash from you, but before he could take it you flicked your wrist to hold the money away from him, “are we square?” He eyed you, before looking over at David who raised an eyebrow, waiting for Marko’s response.

Marko turned back to you and smiled an unfriendly sneer, “yeah,” he took the money from you, “we’re square.” He turned to walk to the bar, with Paul, and Dwayne in tow.

As they walk past you and David, you heard Paul say something to Marko, “if you’re so mad about it, you should have cheated.”

“I was fucking trying to- Stupido figlio di puttana, pensi che non ci abbia provato?” Marko retorted.

David looked over at you and laughed from the pit of his stomach, it was almost a bellow. “You didn’t have to do that,” he put his arm around you.

You were sure if you didn’t then you’d have to deal with the consequences of a pissy biker. “It’s just a courtesy drink,” you smiled back at him, and the boys brought back a tray of shots.

They all brought the glass to their lips, and you followed suit. The boys took a few more shots as you nursed your drink. David took your hand and led you to the dance floor, he was surprisingly better than you’d have thought, but maybe that had more to do with how inebriated everyone around you was. You could smell the cigarette ash on his coat, and the leather and motor oil as well. The light from the bar contorted his face and casted shadows about his features. He had a dark look in his eyes that made your stomach hurt. The longer you looked at him, the less you noticed him moving.

Was he actually dancing? Was it a trick of the light?  You turned so you didn’t have to see how frightening he looked at that moment.

You could feel his hands slide down your waist, and he pulled you close as he swayed against you. You felt yourself begin to sweat, all the bodies, and the man clad in wool and leather pressed against your back, was all too much. David could smell your scent now, over the fixation he could not place, much stronger now than what it had been. Whatever the smell was that he couldn’t recognize was almost completely faded against the fragrance of your skin. He pulled you closer to him and you prayed that was his wallet pressing into your ass.

Mine, mine, mine.

The word seeped through his thoughts again. She’s mine. He let the word run wildly through his mind as he listened to the blood flow through your veins.

His face was resting on your shoulder, his nose buried in your hair, and you could feel him inhaling you now. You turned to face him, he was certainly attractive, but that was no excuse for a stranger to be smelling you like that. You put your hands on his shoulders and tried to push away, his grip tightened, and he leaned down to press his mouth in the crook of your neck. You tried to think of a way out of his grasp, as he kissed and nuzzled against your exposed skin. You turned your gaze to the clock on the wall.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed against David’s ear.

He hummed and didn’t move from his position.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” you pulled back from his embrace, and he reached for you as you turned to go.

“Where are you going?” You could have sworn his eyes were blue a second ago.

“It’s late,” you tried to back away from him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

No way you were stupid enough to spend the night with a…whatever he was. Not after him and his buddies were smelling you like damn ‘jeepers creepers’.

At least not until you knew if it was safe or not to be around him.

He held onto your arm, “it’s not even closing time,” he smiled, trying to charm you into staying with him. You pulled from his grasp, and he stopped smiling. He eyed you, waiting for your next move. You clutched your bag against your body, and he realized that his persuasion, for whatever reason, didn’t work on you. He internally raged against that fact, but quickly softened his gaze and began to apologize. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool…” he looked over your nervous figure, “can I at least walk you home?”

You tried to play it off, “that’s alright, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Max’s words echoed in David’s head.

Trouble.

What could he have meant? You’re so helpless, just a fragile little human.

“Nonsense, I insist.” You weren’t getting rid of him that easily, not after he had worked so hard to catch you.

He turned to let the boys know he would be walking you home, and that he would catch up with them soon. He held the door for you out of the bar and you both started down the boardwalk. He stopped by the bikes to give you a ride to your rental.

“Oh, I should have known those were yours,” you bounced on your toes, waiting for him to get back off the bike.

He chuckled, “am I that cool?” He smiled back at you, waiting for you to get on.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not very.”  

You stared quietly at him with an impatient look on your face.

“You’re really not gonna let me give you a ride home?”

“I’d rather walk,” you smiled briskly and turned on your heels to begin to wander away from David.

“Oh, shit” he moved to get off the bike, catching his boot on the seat, and hobbled to get unstuck. “Hey, wait!” He sprinted to catch up to you, and you were already at the corner. How the fuck does she do that, he thought.

You turned and chuckle at him, “I don’t live too far.” You pointed off in the distance and he walked beside you. He began to pat at his coat pockets and pulled out a lighter and a cigarette. He lit one and stuck his hands back in his coat.

You tried to make small talk to make the walk go by quicker, but David was not one for polite conversation. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“How long have you known your friends?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“How old are you?”

“Not very.”

“Uh-huh,” you stared at him from the corner of your eye, “you’re a real open book ain’t cha?”

He scoffed, “me? Oh yeah.” He pulled the cigarette from his lips and ashed it over the curb. He put it back in his mouth and took a long drag and blew smoke up into the night air.

You chuckled and looked up at him, “you know there’s blood in your hair, right?”

He shot a hand up to his hair to wipe it off, “oh, don’t worry about that…It’s not mine.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

He turned his head to look at you, the moonlight shining down on your body. His whole unlife, never before had he seen moonlight look so enticing. You caught him staring and he smiled a toothy grin. “So,” he starts, “what about you? Are you an open book?”

You chuckled, “why don’t you find out?”

“Where are you from?” David asked.

“South.”

“Of?”

“Here.”

“Los Angeles?”

“Further.”

“San Diego?”

You giggled, “no, the South.”

“Ah,” David responded, it’d been a long while since he had been down there, he wasn’t exactly ‘up to date’. He stared over at you again.

“What, David?” you looked up at him.

“So, like cowboys South, or hill people South?”

You busted out laughing.

He couldn’t help but smile watching you laugh; he loved the way you looked at this moment. You stopped in your tracks, doubled over, “oh man, that was the hardest I’ve laughed in a long, long time.” He stopped and stared at you, impatiently waiting for an answer, he bent down to be face to face with you and cocked an eyebrow. “Cowboy South,” you wiped a tear from your eye.

He let you finish collecting yourself and followed next to you when you started walking again. “So, what are you doing in Santa Carla?” He could hear your heartbeat pick up, then quickly slow again.

You tucked a curl behind your ear, “oh, I’m just traveling.”

Is she lying? Or is that not the whole truth?

David tried to look into your mind to see what you were hiding, but it was like there was a wall blocking him from you. He knew his brothers could close him off, and Max and Lucy could as well, but he had never had a human lock him out before. This bothered him.

David already knew his persuasion didn’t work on you, so he’d have to press you another way. “How long have you been traveling,” your heartbeat quickened, then slowed once more.

“Oh, a long time.” You both had your reasons for secrecy, and you would give him the same courtesy he showed you.

He snorted though his nose, annoyed, but he would get his way sooner or later. David flicked the dead butt from his mouth and kept himself from trying to pry. You turned the corner and walked up to a small house with a truck parked in the driveway. “Wow, ain’t seen one of those in a while,” David ran a hand across the tailgate of the old truck.

“Yeah, she’s my baby,” you pulled your keys out of your bag and stopped at the top of your porch. You turned to look down at David, he stood with his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet; he was clearly waiting to be let in. “Thank you again,” you said. David smiled up at you from the bottom of the stairs and began to walk up them. “Goodnight,” you turned to put the keys in the lock.

The blond stood, stunned that you had no intention of letting him in. “Wait,” he called to you, as you stepped through the threshold. He gestured to the doorway, “Can I co-?”

“Oh, no David, we just met.” You smiled innocently, “and I’m not that easy.”

He stood there, dumbfounded, he scoffed. “Seriously?” He stepped up to the doorframe, and you closed the screen door.

“Goodnight David,” you smiled one last time and closed the front door on him.

“No kiss?”

He stood in front of the closed door, gripping the frame; it cracked under his hands. David growled; he was not used to rejection; nor would he accept it. He walked around to the edge of your house where he found a window to your bedroom. He found it slightly ajar and reached a hand under. He was burned.

Ah what the shit!

He pressed his face against the window and peered inside, he saw a small water bubbling fountain by the edge of the windowsill next to your bed.

Who the fuck does that!

Note: Vampires cannot cross running water; this is mentioned in the novel but not in the movie.

He hissed at the small froggy fountain that was spitting water. He took off his glove and started licking at his hand when he noticed you walk into your room. He crouched so you wouldn’t notice him standing creepily at your window. You took off your boots and dropped your bag gently on a hook by the door. He snorted at how cutely you looked without your heels, tiny thing. You looked at yourself in the mirror and rubbed your neck. You stayed looking at where your neck met your shoulder and rubbed it a bit more. You sighed, threw back your head, then began to pull your shirt off, pulled it over your head and your hair fell over your undershirt and your bra.

Yeaaah, undress for me sweet thing, David thought as he hung off the windowsill. You unhooked your bra from under your camisole, your peaks showing through the thin fabric. David was gripping the windowsill hard now, and you moved your hands down to slip off your pants. David subconsciously growled, you looked to the window. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He slunk back against the wall. You peered out the window, like you knew someone was watching you.

Fuck me, David thought as he tried to stay perfectly still and out of sight. He didn’t dare make any more noise, you seemed to notice him every time he did anything that night. You shut the window, locked it, closed the blinds, and shut the curtains. Mother fucker! Poor creepy David was annoyed that you had ended his show early. He stood up, frustrated, he knew he wouldn’t have a chance at seeing any more of you that night. Drunkenly he stared at the blinds, “stupid girl.”

He scrunched up his face at your window, he heard you moving around inside, he was pissed that he couldn’t watch. He was pissed he was resorting to watching you through the window, like some loser human stalker. He should be inside while you willingly undress yourself for him.

You were his now anyways.

He gritted his teeth, he thought for a second and figured, ‘well, while I’m here’. He undid his belt and shoved his jeans down enough to free his cock, he was going to mark you, whether or not you’d let him. He pissed on the ground below your window and chuckled to himself.

“Let’s see if she notices this.” He chuckled and gave himself a quick shake. He put his member back in his pants, and pulled out his phone to let the boys know he was headed back to the bar. David gave one more look at the window as he put his glove back on and took off in the night.

The next morning, you definitely noticed. You stared at the spot on the ground outside your bedroom window. You knew the frame around your front door was cracked, and now your grass was trampled. Two very clear big boot prints, and what looked like a summersault, or like he was rolling around on the ground. You stood with your mug in your hand, still in your slippers and pajamas.

You sniffed at the air, “oh, that fucker!” You begrudgingly went back inside to fetch something to get the piss off your lawn. You returned with baking soda and vinegar, and sprinkled and poured the mixture on the dead spot till you were satisfied. You went back inside to fetch a pitcher of boiling water and angrily stared at the spot, “goddamned vampire asshole pissing on my fucking lawn!”

You were going to let David have it the next time you saw him.

[morganbritton132]

Wait wait wait, in light of the recent update, I gotta ask - has Eddie ever passed out while getting one of his tattoos? I'm kinda obsessed with the idea that he's well known in a few of the local parlors, having new ink done every few months, and he's this badass middle-aged rockstar with jagged scars and covered in demonic imagery but all the artist just know him as Ed The Fainter and always have a cool wet towel and a bottle of water waiting for him. I also like to imagine that those times when Steve's there waiting for him, he and the receptionist or whichever artist is on break at the moment get a bet going about how long it'll take for Eddie to pass out / how long he'll stay out.

If this doesn't line up with what you imagine for the emtts feel free to say so and I'll just grab my headcanon and shove it into a different au, but I wanted to share in case you found it as endearing as I do :D

I love Eddie being Just Some Guy at his local tattoo parlor.

Like, the older guys that would’ve seen him in his heyday are just so used to this dork that it doesn’t even faze them when world famous guitarist Eddie Munson walks in for a tat. The younger ones don’t recognize him even if they do listen to his music.

It’s only after he gets popular on Tiktok that those guys are like ‘wait a minute is The Fainter with the pre-school teacher husband famous?’

Eddie doesn’t faint all the time.

There’s no rhyme or reason to when he does. He doesn’t have a problem with needles or with blood (at least in the quantity that you’d get with a tattoo), but sometimes he’ll just be chilling out getting a tattoo and the whole world will dip out from under him. He’ll wake up a bit later, soaked in sweat and confused.

He thinks it’s a bit embarrassing, but Eddie’s always been able to laugh at himself and make other people laugh too. It’s a bit of a routine for him when he goes. The whole shop makes a big show of getting him some water and something to eat, and they ask if he wants to take a break a lot no matter what tattoo he’s getting or where it’s placed.

The first time Steve goes with him to get a tattoo, it’s specifically to make sure he doesn’t get ‘Steve’ tattooed on his ass after Eddie lost a bet with Lucas. Eddie getting a touch up to an old tattoo and zonks out halfway through. Steve goes into full panic mode so now the shop has protocols for Eddie and Steve.

Once Steve learns that this is just something that happens (“Like at the blood drive, Eddie!” “Don’t remind me of the blood drive.”), him and Eddie’s main tattoo artist, Meg, always make a bet on if he’s going to pass out or not. Steve is scary accurate at this game which is good because Meg says she’s going to get him in her chair when he loses.

Also, Eddie has a series of tally marks tattooed along the top of his worst demo-bat scar. He adds to it every year and when Steve asks about it, Eddie just say, “That’s the number of years that I’ve been the luckiest man alive.”

There are thirty-five tally marks. If you were to calculate how many years that Steve and Eddie have been together, you’d get – “Thirty-six.”

“What?”

“We started dating summer of ’86,” Steve says, “That is thirty-six years ago. Summer of this year will be thirty-seven.”

“Well, ’86 had a lot of ups and down. Wasn’t really my year, was it, Steve?”

[stevesbestgirl]

It is so damn cute watching the other littlest look after the little baby reader.

Like the one with the football game. How little Peter looks after her. That was adorable!!! I couldn’t stop smiling.

I do like how they regress to a younger age.

Would love to see more little baby reader with more cute scenes with her daddies but also the other littles and caretakers.

Headphones put on her when it gets loud. Maybe at a gala and telling a loud douche to be quiet. (Badarse scary protective mom Nat).

Please please would you write more protective badarse stucky.

How would all the avengers especially stucky and maybe even the other littlest react if the baby reader was taken? After all the others are littles but still heroes while baby doesn’t have any powers (or does she) ;) 😂. Seriously though imagine the littles all finding out baby has been taken and then the door where the others are opens and the littles are no long littles but pissed off Loki. Scarlett witch , Spider-Man etc.

So sorry for writing so much. Just really love your fics. Can’t wait for any more you write. I hope you have a lovely day 🌸

Ohmygosh, this is so sweet, please don't apologize! I love hearing what people like about Their Girl 🥰🥰

I don't usually do requests, but your ideas are great and I got a little inspired ❤️

Safe

Daddy!Stucky x little!f!reader

2989 Words

Warnings: brief swearing, crybaby reader (as always), sfw age regression

In the early days, you never left the compound; your daddies were protective. They didn't want anything bad to happen to you- or for you to run into someone who might recognize you; that could be just as damaging to all the work they'd done to make you happy.

But eventually, as trust built, they started taking you out in public. First the zoo, like they'd promised, and then other places. Soon, you were allowed to tag along when they went grocery shopping and trips to the park become normal. You even had a special day at the mall with Steve.

You trusted all of the adults to keep you safe while out and about; you remembered one of Tony's fancy parties where a man had drank so much that he was shouting, despite the soft music and low hum of chatter in the room. Bucky had only agreed to bring you to that party because Tony promised it would be quiet. But the man was determined to be heard by the pretty girl he was talking to, though she didn't seem to want to talk to him.

You knew your daddies were close by, so you tried to be brave, politely tugging on his jacket and asking him to use his inside voice. But the girl saw her opportunity to leave, disappearing while his back was turned and then he got annoyed.

"Who brought a fuckin' kid to this party?" he called out to the room, making you shrivel beneath all the attention he was drawing. "Honestly, can't a guy even get laid-"

It wasn't Bucky, or even Steve, who marched over and put themselves between the two of you, it was Natasha. "You need to tone it down."

The man had smirked, giving her an obvious look up and down, "That's not the only thing that could stand to go down." He clearly thought himself quite smooth.

When she didn't fall down at his feet, he added, "Why? This yours?" He tipped his chin derisively at you, scorn plain in his tone. You winced; you didn't understand why he was being so mean, but you knew he was.

"She's not the problem here." You knew Natasha's warning voice well enough to recognize it, but this man was either too drunk, too stupid, or too distracted by her pretty face to notice.

"She's a problem for me." He reached in your direction, like he was going to push you away, drawing a resigned sigh from Nat.

Natasha caught his arm, twisting it to a funny angle and making the man cry out, "Then I guess I'm your problem too."

By then, Steve had noticed, steering you away and shielding you from the ruckus, but you peeked out just in time to see Nat take the man down, not even mussing her hair. Steve stayed close for the rest of the night, thinking you were traumatized, but you were really in awe of Natasha. Looking at your daddies, it was obvious they could protect you. But Natasha was much tougher than she looked and she hadn't hesitated to step in to keep you safe.

You had murmured a shy thank you to her later in the evening, to which she smiled, "Of course, dovey. We take care of our kids, don't we?" She'd kissed your forehead and you realized that you were part of their family; they would all take care of you, just like they did their own babies.

The adults had collectively decided that taking more than one baby out at a time warranted at least two caregivers. They weren't taking risks with such precious cargo after all.

Generally, things went smoothly. Surprisingly, Loki was the one who tended to get into trouble when out and about, but you were still very grateful to be allowed; you weren't about to rock the boat now. Not that good intentions would keep you out of trouble.

You hadn't meant to wander off in the store, but it wasn't like you went out often- you'd forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in the crowd. Especially with Thor and Tony as chaperones; Thor's supervision wasn't quite as comprehensive as many of the others and Tony tended to get distracted by Peter. It wasn't until you were shuffled away from the group, distracted by the pretty backpacks on display, that you realized they were gone.

Looking up from a sequined one you'd been admiring, you realized you were all alone. You'd always heard that you should stay put when you were lost, but that seemed kind of silly. After all, you knew you'd been with the group back by the clothing, so you shouldered the backpack you wanted and made your way back there.

But there was no sign of any of them. And now you were a little scared; when was the last time you were alone outside the compound? Just asking yourself the question unearthed the faint memory of your nightmares, which hadn't plagued you for quite a while now.

With a whimper, you climbed inside the clothing rack; it was stuffed full and provided excellent cover for someone who didn't want to get grabbed by a stranger. You camped out among the clothes for a few minutes- only long enough to realize that if someone had come back to look for you, they wouldn't know you were here. So you cautiously climbed out, keeping an eye out for any kidnappers.

You waited again, but what if they'd come to check for you while you were hiding? You might have missed them. Or what if they hadn't even noticed you were gone? What if they left without you?

You knew you shouldn't go out in the parking lot alone; you were supposed to hold someone's hand. You weren't even sure you remembered where the van was parked. But the little voice in your head insisted that if you weren't by the car when they came out, they would leave you behind.

Looking carefully both ways, you took a step into the lot, but you were quickly pulled back, an unfamiliar voice barking, "Where do you think you're going?"

Wheeling around, you were gazing at a grumpy-looking security guard whose badge read "Bennett." Locating your voice, however muted, you answered, "I got lost."

"Mm. And I take it you were going to pay for that bag too?" He didn't sound particularly accommodating.

"I don't have any money, but-"

"I thought so," he grunted. "Come with me."

Far be it from you to argue with a security guard; your daddies had told you to be wary of strangers, but there were no other grown ups around. So you tearfully followed Officer Bennett back inside and through a set of double doors. Behind those, everything was gray and dirty- it wasn't pretty like the rest of the store. But he kept walking, towing you firmly by the arm until you were in a tiny security office.

Entranced by the wall of TVs, you forgot you were in trouble until he snapped his fingers, "Sit down." You dropped into the chair against the wall.

He stood while you sat, hands planted on his hips, looking down his nose at you; he thought you were a thief. But nothing you said made a difference; he had an answer to everything, a way you could have been lying. He started asking for your information: your name, your birthday, where you lived. But you knew you weren't supposed to tell him those. So you told him that.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

His face twisted into a mocking sneer, "You've got to be kidding me."

Missing the sarcasm, you shook your head earnestly, "I promise I wasn't tryin' to steal-"

"I don't want to hear it. Unless you're going to tell me your name, I don't want to hear a peep out of you."

Intimidated by his bad attitude and his badge, you went quiet. You sat in the uncomfy, wooden chair, kicking your feet and watching the security cameras. You were compliantly quiet, at least until you saw a familiar face on one of the many screens. "Wanda!"

"That your name?"

"No, but-"

"Don't care then."

"But-"

"Shut up."

Surprised, you replied again, voice thick, "That's mean."

"Don't care." He turned back to his computer, making a pointed effort to ignore your sniffles and hiccups as they became more and more pronounced.

You debated about running away, but you weren't super like everyone else; you couldn't do anything. The small amount of relief granted by the knowledge that they hadn't left you behind- at least, not yet- didn't comfort you in the face of utter helplessness.

You tried to stay quiet while you cried, finding Wanda on the cameras again. You could at least keep an eye on her. Wanda looked right into the camera and you wanted to believe that she saw you, but you knew that wasn't how cameras worked. You watched her lean over and mutter something to Peter, who, in turn, whispered something in Loki's ear. You couldn't see Tony or Thor on the screen anywhere.

You did a quick scan of the other monitors for the grown ups and when you returned to Wanda's, she was gone and so were the others. You'd lost them.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, "What's gonna happen to me?"

"Don't know."

"Am I goin' to jail?" Would Steve and Bucky be able to find you if you got arrested?

"Maybe." He sounded like he was entertaining the idea.

That prompted you to cry in earnest- you didn't want to go to jail. You could usually admit when you'd done something wrong, but everything that had happened today was an accident. You were a good girl.

Your internal monologue cut short at a knock on the door. With a heavy grunt, Officer Bennett heaved himself out of his chair and opened it, positioning himself between you and the other side, so you couldn't see past him. Whatever he saw on the other side gave him pause, then he slipped through the gap in the door and closed it behind him.

You were alone in the security office. And Officer Bennett had left his cell phone on the desk.

You scrambled over and were amazed that he didn't have a passcode on it. You remembered Steve complaining about how tedious it was to change that setting. Figuring it was an old man thing, you thanked your lucky stars and managed to open a text chat.

It had been a long time since you used a cell phone for anything other than games or taking pictures and even those typically had Steve or Bucky over your shoulder, telling you what to do. The last time you'd owned a cell phone, holo-screen tech didn't even exist.

You did, however, know your daddies' phone numbers by heart. They were now well versed in positive reinforcement. So you'd gotten a canopy for your bed in return for reeling off their phone numbers without any mistakes after weeks of practice and positive encouragement.

You dialed those numbers with shaky fingers, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the door was still closed. You weren't good at texting, though you dimly remembered being good at it once.

You typed out, "Help." "Scared." You wanted to type "officer," but you couldn't spell it, so you backpedaled, breaths coming faster as fear of being caught settled over your shoulders. You typed the name of the store instead and sent it, even though you knew you'd spelled it wrong.

And then you remembered to send your name as the doorknob rattled, so you only typed half and hit send before tossing the phone back down on the desk and getting back in your chair. You were barely seated when the door opened and an irritated-looking Officer Bennett shuffled back in, still carefully blocking your view. Once the door was closed, he clicked the lock.

He turned around to sit back down and noticed his phone- not even close to where he left it. Slowly turning his head to face you, he asked low, "Did you-"

You were trembling in your seat, but he cut off sharply, head turning to stare at the doorknob, which had started glowing with odd, red light. You were close enough that you could hear the faint clicking of metal on metal.

He looked at you, "What are you doing?" His face paled further as an eerie green glow seemed to seep in through the cracks around the door, "S-stop!"

He shrieked and you ducked your head as the door burst open and hit the wall with a crash. You suspected it had cracked the cement wall behind it.

Tentatively peeking out from under your hands, you squinted at the dust that had come loose at the impact floating through the air. Then Loki stumbled inside, closely followed by Peter and Wanda.

Loki ignored the terrified Officer Bennett, straightening indignantly, "Don't push."

Wanda rolled her eyes, "You were the one who had to be first." She smirked at him, "Feels good to save the day, doesn't it?"

"Why don't you-"

"Guys?" You finally found your voice, though it was still thin and trembling.

"We came to save you," Peter piped up.

"By the gods, what you have you three done?" Thor's voice echoed over Wanda's shoulder, just out of your sight.

Then Tony's voice, "It's bad enough I have to pay these insurance premiums when there's a crisis, now I can't even do my shopping without something getting broken?" You couldn't tell if he was serious or joking.

Tony ushered the others out, extending an arm to you, still in your seat, "C'mon kid, let me sort this out." You hesitantly stood, waiting for the guard to stop you, but it seemed like Officer Bennett was in shock because only Tony spoke, "That's it, come on. Let's get you out of there."

He steered you out of the office and back into the main store with Thor, who hoisted you off the ground and onto his hip, "Trouble always seems to find you, doesn't it, little one?"

You stared at him, suddenly nervous, "Am I in trouble?"

"No, you aren't in trouble. Don't worry, the grown ups are handling it."

Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car. Your backpack had been paid for and was in the trunk with the other bags. Your carseat was in the back row, as Peter's occupied the middle. Loki was in the backseat with you and Wanda in the middle with Peter.

You kept your voice low, hoping Tony and Thor wouldn't hear over the classic rock playing on the radio, "Thanks for saving me." You left a pause before admitting, "I was really scared."

Wanda surprised you by rolling her eyes, "Of course we would never let anyone take you away. You're our friend."

"We love you, pretty girl," Peter added, the only one who was very free with that particular word.

You glanced at Loki, who looked almost guilty, giving you a reluctant nod, his cheeks flushed silver.

You smiled and nodded, settling back into your seat and contemplating a nap. But Tony pulled off the highway early, stopping at a little diner. You were allowed to unbuckle yourself, so you climbed out of the van with the others, staying close by while Tony got Peter out too.

"Uncle Tony, are we having dinner?" Wanda chirped.

"I was thinking about it, but if you guys aren't hungry-"

Wanda took the bait, "I am! But what about Mommy?"

"You can bring something back for her, sound fair?"

You tugged on Tony's sleeve, "Me too?"

"You want to bring something back to Natasha?"

"Uh-uh, for my daddies."

"No need, squirt." He pointed behind you and you saw Steve and Bucky coming up the sidewalk from Steve's car parked a few spaces down.

"Papa!" You took care to get on the sidewalk before running over to them and jumping into Steve; you weren’t taking any chances on getting in trouble for running in a parking lot. But you hadn't realized how badly you needed to see them after something like that until they were there to make it better. You were safe with your friends, but things were better with your daddies around.

Steve held you like he'd had a scary afternoon too, pressing a frantic kiss to your forehead and holding your head tightly into the crook of his neck while he hugged you, "My sweet girl, are you alright?"

You nodded, "It was scary, but Wanda and Peter and Loki saved me."

Steve buried another kiss in your cheek, "Lucky for that security guard they did, or he would've had to deal with me-"

"Steve, it's done. Tony handled it," Bucky reminded him.

Steve grunted his understanding, a sure sign he disagreed but couldn't be bothered to argue; he had his baby back now.

Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead too, "Let's get you something to eat, hm? Being a felon is hungry work- I'd know."

Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky grinned. Peter chimed in, reminding the three of you that everyone else was waiting, "We can get lots of food, my daddy is paying."

Thor cheered, which prompted Wanda and Peter to copy him, drawing a laugh from Steve.

"You know Pete, I'm starting to think you're only here for my money."

Peter's indignant reply was the beginning of another tangent, leading to more teasing and more laughter. And as you sat in a too-small booth, sitting on Steve's lap and blowing straw wrappers at Wanda and Loki, you realized that your bad day, as with all the bad days that had come before it, wasn't worth remembering because you were the happiest you could ever remember being.

[thebisexualdogdad]

A Lucy Chen and party boy reader! Lucy and Aaron get called to Y/Ns house one night for a noise complaint and he flirts with Lucy, but then a few days later he get attacked by someone (maybe an ex) and Lucy is one of the officers that answers the call

Lucy Chen x Male!reader

"7 Adam 15 we've got a 415 reported near your location at 1923 Oak drive," a dispatcher says through the shop radio.

"Dispatch show 7 Adam 15 responding," Lucy replies through the walkie.

"Looks like we are about 5 minutes away," Aaron says from behind the wheel, looking at the address that popped up on their GPS, "that address sounds so familiar."

"Well it is right in the heart of Beverly hills, maybe you partied there once," Lucy jokes.

"You know what now that you mention it, I think that is Y/N Y/L/N's place, he was two grades ahead of me in school but he and I ran in the same social circles," Aaron explains.

"Of course a party boy would get a noise complaint called on him," Lucy laughs.

"To be fair Y/N isn't as much of an entitled douche as the people he hangs around, he just has a lot of money and parents who were always traveling for work leaving him alone in a big empty house perfect for partying in," he goes on.

"Hopefully since you know each other he makes this easy on us, it's not even midnight yet and night shifts can be miserable when all you deal with are obnoxious drunks," Lucy tells him.

They arrive at your house which has loud music blasting and lights flashing from inside.

It takes a couple knocks for you to actually hear them but you were all smiles when you answered the door.

"Welcome to the party-" you start when you recognize a familiar face, "no way, Aaron Thorsen is that you? I heard you were a cop now, good for you man."

"Y/N, good to see you again but unfortunately we got a noise complaint for your party," Aaron informs you.

"Damn, it was Dave again wasn't it, he's been on my ass since I was a kid and he was pissed when my parents moved back east and left me the house," you huff.

"Uh is that a pig?" Lucy questions as a pig casually walks by behind you.

"Oh yeah that's Bubba, he's my buddy Josh's," you reply, "and what's your name gorgeous."

"You can call me officer Chen," she responds, trying not to let it show that she's attracted to you.

"Well officer Chen, you want to come inside and join the party so we can get to know each other a little better… maybe you can even tell me your first name," you tease.

"Just turn the music down okay," she says rolling her eyes, "if we get another call we will have to arrest you but something tells me you would like being handcuffed."

"If you're the one putting me in handcuffs then you are absolutely right about that," you smirk.

Lucy chuckles and turns around to walk back to the car.

"Dude Aaron you think you can get me her number?" You ask when she's out of earshot.

"Goodnight Y/N," he laughs following behind Lucy.

–

"Anything exciting happen on your shift?" John asks when Lucy and Aaron enter the bullpen in the morning to switch shifts.

"Lucy was getting flirty with a guy I used to party with," Aaron teases.

"I was not," Lucy scoffs.

"Was he cute?" Celina asks, both Aaron and John looking at Lucy waiting for an answer.

"Alright sure he was cute," Lucy admits, "but it's not going to happen, there's nearly four million people in Los Angeles what are the chances we even see each other again."

The chances were a lot higher than she thought because two weeks later her and Aaron are partnered on another shift responding to a bar fight which you just so happened to be a part of.

They enter the bar and see a guy punching you repeatedly in the face.

"Woah hey, that's enough," Lucy says, pulling the guy off of you.

"Officer Chen, we've got to stop meeting like this," you say smiling up at Lucy, slightly dazed with blood running down your face.

She helps you get off the floor while Aaron tries to calm down the guy you were fighting.

"Y/N, what a surprise, are you going to tell me how many drinks you had tonight or am I going to have to get the breathalyzer," she asks.

"I haven't had anything to drink I just got here! That asshole threw the first punch," you explain.

"Because he slept with my girlfriend!" The other guy yells as Aaron is putting him in handcuffs

"She told me she was single, I swear," you state.

"Okay let's get you cleaned up," Lucy says grabbing some napkins that were sitting on the bar to wipe away the blood dripping off your chin before turning to the bartender, "you got a towel or something?"

He looks behind the bar and finds a rag, handing it to Lucy who drops the bloody napkins and switches to the rag.

"Ouch," you wince when she wipes blood off your upper lip.

"I think your nose is broken, we should take you to the hospital," Lucy tells you as another pair of cops walk into the bar after hearing of the commotion over the radio, "Aaron have them take the other guy to the station, and grab some ice to help the swelling on the way to the hospital."

Aaron nods and hands off the guy who punched you to the other pair of cops and asks the bartender for a bag of ice as Lucy guides you out to their cop car.

Aaron comes out a minute later handing you the bag of ice in the backseat before shutting the door, him and Lucy getting in the front to take you across town to the hospital.

"So did you really not know she had a boyfriend?" Aaron asks during the quiet drive.

"Hey I have some standards you know, I don't hook up with girls in relationships," you state, wincing again when he hits a pot hole and the bag of ice hits against your broken nose.

"How noble of you," Lucy laughs.

"Do you have a boyfriend officer Chen?" You ask.

"No I don't," she responds.

"So that means you and I can go on a date," you say.

"You think you're charming don't you," she chuckles, looking back at you.

"I've been told I'm very charming… and you didn't answer the question," you grin.

Lucy doesn't know what to say but she's saved by Aaron pulling into the hospital parking lot.

An hour later you've got your nose put back into its proper place and a discharge order from the doctor.

"Are you going to be pressing charges?" Lucy questions.

"No it's okay, I can't blame him for punching me," you reply.

"I'll call the precinct and tell them they can let him go," Aaron says, taking his phone out and walking away from your bed in the emergency care area leaving you and Lucy alone.

"So about that date," you say raising an eyebrow.

"If I say yes to a date will you stop getting the cops called on you?" She jokes.

"I make no promises," you laugh, "but does this mean you will finally tell me your first name?"

"Lucy, my name is Lucy," she smiles.

"I like that name, I look forward to our date Lucy."

[satureja13]

Good news: Both, Bunny and Vlad survived the night! (And of course Diablo too :)

Vlad slept like the dead (that he actually is) even though he only had a quarter of an inch hay between him and the hard, cold soil. After he woke up, he felt like he'd been hit by a tractor - twice. He moaned and crawled up like an old man. Apparently Diablo woke him.

Diablo: 'Omg, get up already! Finish your job and let's leave this foul place! They devour me with their eyes!' Vlad, barely awake and full of aches: "Sure, pal. Let's get this over with. Keep your distance to the village until I finish work."

Diablo: 'You betcha.'

Vlad shuffled over to the sculptor's shop. From what he sees, he is a master of his craft and he has no idea why no one wanted to work for him. Well, he'll soon find out. Not that he cared much. This is just a game and he dealt with harder tasks. He'd even been to hell and back. So one day working here won't kill him. It's for Ji Ho and Saiwa - and his best friend Jack after all. There was music playing in the shop, so the sculptor is already there too, despite the early hour.

'Enjoy what'chas got, not what you have not 'tis a weak heart lamenting with sorrow When the days seem cursed, it could always be worse Fight depression with sword and arrow'

The Sculptor: "Good Morning! You're early, that's great. Take off your shirt and let's start right away. The queen is eagerly waiting for her statue!"

'When the zeppelinous clouds of trouble abound And thunder is clapping and lightning strikes ground Just when yer thinking this may be your last Throw a lash 'round the mast, hold fast!'

Eh - take off his shirt? He knows this voice. It belongs to the very person who always demands him to take off his shirt!

'When the world ain't right, and it smithes ye with strife Ye can now buckle down, it's a test they call life Very soon you will see what kind of animal you'd be Taking the bite outta life'

Leander! Vlad's nemesis! The very man who never fails to make him lose his composure! The red-haired devil who wanted to marry him. Yeah - he only cursed Vlad and dragged him down to his hell to protect him - but that does not mean he'll ever forgive him that he touched Ji Ho and almost drowned him! (Which actually wasn't Leander's fault either...)

'When they're testing the gallows, yer hung like a dog Or they're marching us out to a firing squad We just smile and recall all the good times we had It's the best 'til tomorrow It's the best day 'til tomorrow'

But of course NPC Leander did not recognize him. Because this is just a game. A stupid game! He'll have a word with Tiny Can when he's back, that's for sure... Leander: "Ah the gods sent you! You're beautiful - the Queen will be pleased! Sit over there."

'No considering surrender when yer down in the dregs If ye look down and notice you still have your legs So stand up and fight you just might seize the day It's the best day 'til tomorrow'

The Real McKenzies - Best Day until Tomorrow If you happen to like punk: this song is really good! I just found it by chance and it fits so well!

And so Vlad took off his shirt (and his pride) for Leander - again... He grit his teeth and tried not to freak out and kill this annoyingly oblivious NPC. And he reminded himself over and over again that this is just a game. And for whom he does this. Ji Ho. Jack. Saiwa. Just. A. Game.

(It seems like NPC Leander ist just as full of himself and annoying as real Leander and therefore the village folks avoids him ^^')

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[igotanidea]

All the little voices : J.T x reader

Request: A Jason fic where the reader is insecure.

A/N: the parts in italics are retrospective.

***

It was one of those days.

Those days when she felt inadequate, insufficient, judged and dished. The mere thought of going out of the house was like a slap on the cheek.

She just wanted to rest, to not see people, not compare herself to all the other woman and girls on the streets and at work, ending up feeling like a walking disaster. Not getting lost in her own thoughts, her own head.

But a girl gotta work. And besides, she had that little critic inside her always saying mean stuff, making her feel guilty for not wanting to go out. And she listened, forcing herself to do things that left her even more broken than at the beginning.

Y/N really did like her job, found a way to express herself through it. Mostly, she was energetic, helpful, concerned, smiling and beaming while performing her duties. But after a while, her self-consciousness always started creeping in.

Always.

And it was like a step back from all she achieved.

Those were the days when she would rather fit into the wall, acting like a freaking chameleon than talk to people. Her duties were taking twice as much time, because she got scared of making phone calls and would rather search for the information by herself. Instead of talking to the coworkers in the other department she preferred sending e-mails just to avoid face to face confrontation. And an hour before the end of the shift she realized she was just staring at the clock praying that no one would drop by to have a little chat with her.

Surviving the work, however, was one thing.

The other, possibly harder, was getting back home.

Putting her earphones on and trying to separate herself from reality, Y/N got lost into her Spotify shuffle playlist, sounds of music bringing even more thoughts, plans, scenarios, making her even more insecure than before. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of the oldness of the T-shirt she was wearing, her worn-out shoes, bitten nails and that stupid zit on the chin that she couldn’t for the love of god conceal in the morning. Songs sparked some memories of the words her boss addressed her, about how she could be so much better and how she should step up in work and in life. And that lead her straight into thinking about Jay.

“I’m not worth any of this.” she thought “what does he see in me? Definitely something that is not there. I am not who he thinks I am. Honestly, I don’t know who I am at all. And what if I’m crazy? What if I’m gonna end up as someone I don’t even recognize? I don’t want that. I just want to get home and hide from the people. But I can’t do that” she felt like crying  “there’s so much work to do, so man e-mails and tasks to deal with. And what if I can’t deal with them? What if I’m both ugly and  stupid? What if I fail? What if I’m a failure?!” she didn’t even realize that, but her eyes turned sad, showing that vulnerable side of the girl, who truly was at the verge of tears. Her whole posture was just screaming “please don’t hurt me”.

She didn’t want people to look at her, to see her, and yet, somewhere in her crazy, spinning mind she felt like all eyes were on her, judging, commenting, laughing at her internally. She just wanted to disappear, ditch the grocery shopping, but it was either that or starving since her fridge was absolutely empty. Thank god for the self-service checkouts!

That spinning and turning and worrying made her get back home in a very strange mood with a mix of feelings, she couldn’t possibly contain. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream and walk around and lay down all at the same time.

Slowly the panic started creeping in and it was harder and harder to breathe.

She practically did nothing for the whole day, so why was she so tired. Why was she already fearing the upcoming day, despite the fact that it was barely 5 p.m. and she still had a whole evening to relax?

“Come on, just breathe Y/N. It’s gonna be fine, you are gonna be fine.”  she whispered, hugging herself tightly.

A mistake.

Feeling her own body and those little rolls of fat made her cry out loud. She never had a good relationship with her own body. How could she possibly love or accept something so broken, marked with stretched, imperfections, discolorations? How?  Damn, she just wanted to be pretty and skinny and perfect. For so many times she wished she was mentally capable of wearing a dress or shorts or something more …. revealing. Last week when Jason and she were  shopping at the mall, she stopped in front of the lingerie shop, admiring all those fancy panties and lacy bras.

“You like that princess?” Jason smirked coming from behind her back, wrapping arms around her waist and hugging her tightly to his chest, scaring her to death in the process. “I would love to see you in that, one day.”

“ I…..I …..” she stuttered

“why don’t we go inside so you can try it on?” Jason smirked “I’m most definitely ready to buy the whole shop  for you.”

“Why don’t we just go home and stop goofing around?” she wriggled herself free leaving him a bit dumbfounded

“It’s all right, baby. You’re still hot and sexy for me, even without….”

“Mhm, sure….” She mumbled, her eyes wondering all over, hands shaking and she just clenched her fingers to cover up for that. Hot and sexy, sure…. “You know what I just ….. I just remembered something I have forgotten. I…. I need to go to the mall bathroom real quick, all right? You …. Take that and I’ll meet you here in  a moment, all right? Great….” She did not even let him finish, taking off and heading straight to the one place when she could possibly get some peace and quiet.

She never told him she cried her heart out in that tiny lavatory. Quick make up was enough to hide the stains and reddened eyes.

Why was it all coming back to her now?

Just one trigger was enough to get her completely spinning.

“Y/N!”

“Yes, Jane?” she smiled at her coworker, waiting for the words coming

“I’m gonna need you to take some of my work and deal with it”

“I’m sorry, what? Why would I do your work when I got so much of mine?”

“Cause I’m leaving with the boss. He might promote me into his assistant, you know! Which means I am practically your immediate supervisor, and you shall do as I say.

Jane was not the sharpest tool in the shed and definitely not the most hardworking and she was getting promoted. Maybe Y/N truly was stupid for giving so much of herself to work. Maybe she was just not good enough and too quiet to ever be noticed.

Why the hell was all of that coming back now!?

She wanted to try something new and that’s why the girl found herself at the workout class at the gym. Not entirely sure how to use any of that special equipment, just standing like a statue and observing all those fit girls with their perfect figures.

If that was what Jason was watching every time he hit the gym ……

“Hey, are you new here?” a female trainer with the widest smile approached Y/N. “How about I show you around?” Y/N could tell the other girl was being sincere, but she already had enough. She did not fit in here. Not with her T-shirt and leggings serving as a workout suit and covering all those parts of her body that she was ashamed of.

“Um… I… thanks, but I think I actually feel sick…..” she mumbled, spun on her feet and never came back.

Y/N was extremely insecure at this point. She needed a hug. She needed someone to whisper sweet nothings and comforting words into her ear. She needed Jason, but at the same time never wanted to be a burden to him. To put the weight of her problems onto him. But maybe she could just casually call him up?”

“Jason?” she dialed the number and he picked up at the first signal.

“Hi, princess. What’s up there?”

“not… not much…” she swallowed harshly “I just needed to hear your voice….”

“What happened?” oh, he caught up on that little trembling in her voice and became concerned in an instant.

“Why would something happen?” she tried to scoff him playfully, but it did not work at all.

“don’t play with me babe”

“I need you, Jace” she cried into the phone “I’m sorry, please, can you come?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t hung up.”

“It’s not like I’m in any danger……”

“I don’t care. You are shaken so clearly someone upset you. You keep talking to me. I’m mounting the bike and will be there in like ten minutes. You do not hang up on me.”

She did not . At least not until she heard knocking on the door and very disturbed Jason with disheveled hear, in his leather jacket busted through them, immediately wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Jason….” she wriggled a bit

“Hush. Let me hold you for now and then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“What do you want?”

“A way out of my head.”

“Cuddles?” he asked

“please……” she whimpered and he didn’t even hesitate picking her up and carrying her toward the couch.

“I can…..” she protested but he cut her off.

“Yes, I know you can walk, but something tells me your legs are going to give up on you soon, so don’t fight against me.”

He laid her down gently, climbing up next to her and sneaking arms around her.

“ Thank you for coming….” She muttered hiding face in his jacket

“You really left me no choice, baby. That phone call was rather disturbing. “

“I;m sorry” she winced ashamed of taking his time and attention.

“Stop saying you’re sorry! Why would you be sorry? Y/N, baby, look at me” his right hand ended up on her cheek caressing it gently “what…..? Ohmygod…..”

“What?” she trembled. Was he going to leave because she was so needy and whiny and shaken? Was he done with her, like all the other boys in her life before? Not that there were many but still enough to leave a scar.

“You feel like you’re not enough.” He stated simply. “you think you are a burden.”

“What? No, of course not! I’m perfectly fine!”

“You’re not. “ Jason shook his head “I know that look. First handed. I used to do that too. Constantly wondering if I was too much to handle for you. If I was only bringing you down.

“You did?” her eyes grew wide. “I never knew…. Why didn’t you tell me?” she lifted herself up, hand lying on his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart.

“Possibly for the same reason you did not tell me.” He smiled lightly, but his eyes were sad beyond recognition. “Because I love you. And I never wanted to worry you.”

“Jason….” tears started falling down her cheeks “Baby, you have to tell me such things. I love you too, I don’t want to see you hurt or feeling insecure. Ever. I’m here for you, you know there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to make you feel better and …. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re just so sweet, baby. But now, I need you to think about what you just said and turn those words around.”

“What? How….?” She looked at him, a bit confused but only for a second “oh, you little rascal!” Y/N hit his chest a couple times, before he grabbed her wrist and kissed it gently, lovingly “you played me!”

“Yeah, I did. Like a pro, didn’t I?” he smirked, clearly proud of himself

“You made me cry!”

“And I hate myself for that. But it was needed so you would understand exactly how I feel when I see you like that. I’m not good with words, Y/N, I know I’m not, but the feelings I have for you are right here.” Jason closed his eyes and put her hand back on his rapidly beating heart “ there are no words in any language to describe them.”

“I think I might cry again….”she warned, her face twisting

“Go ahead. Here’s the shoulder, dedicated especially to that.” He pointed towards his limb and smiled widely “Y/N….”

“Yes?”

“I bought that thing you were watching at the last shopping spree…..”

“YOU WHAT?! I’M NOT…..”

“Don’t worry,  we’ll get there baby. I’ll be proving to you how wonderful you are, using every method possible. I’ll make all those little voices of yours shut up. And If that may require taking some things off your ….” His eyes travelled over her body with lust, making her tremble “…. Shoulders” he finished smirking “than I’m game.”

[strangersatellites]

AU where steve and robin own a bookstore+coffeehouse and it becomes their pride and joy.

steve knows everything about every book and loves to give customers recommendations. robin has taken to being a barista like she was born to do it. dreaming up new flavors of cold foam when she sleeps.

it’s in the fall that they get a new neighbor in the form of a record store.

robin is so excited she can hardly contain herself, has it’s grand opening added to the shop calendar as soon as she hears.

when the big day finally rolls around the music is loud, the line is long, and the complimentary drinks are flowing. by the time steve and robin make it over, they don’t get the chance to meet the owners because everything is just so busy.

they retreat back to the bookstore and try to accommodate their own guests and regulars despite the thumping bass from next door. steve gives them some slack, opening day parties are always a big ordeal.

but the loud music doesn’t stop the next day.

or the next day. or the next.

by the end of the second week, steve is watching himself turn into a crotchety old man in real time. he’s had enough of trying to pick a coffeehouse playlist that will hopefully drown out the noise from the record store. it never does.

he marches over as soon as it starts up one day, fully intent on making a scene if he has to when he spots a tall, lanky guy behind the counter. pretty. add pretty in there too.

he’s got his hair pulled back in a clip and a t-shirt for a band steve doesn’t recognize pulled across his broad shoulders.

the guy throws a hand up and waves at steve where he’s frozen in the door. says “hey man welcome in. let me know if i can help you with anything!”

he’s momentarily stunned until the next song picks back up and he can physically feel the floor vibrate under his feet.

he stomps up the counter and slaps his palms against it. jolts the guy to attention with wide, worried eyes.

“dude. could your music be any louder? you know you’re next door to a bookstore right? you know. the quiet place where people go to relax and read?” he gestures with a flurry of his hands.

pretty boy actually looks embarrassed for a second before he reaches over to a screen and decreases the volume.

he wears a sheepish smile when he crosses his arms over his chest.

“sorry dude. my co-owner chrissy had a pretty bad accident a few years back and lost a good bit of her hearing. i keep it up pretty loud so she can hear it. i’ll bring it down some though. sorry it’s been bothering you.”

and oh. steve was not expecting him to have an excuse. especially not a good one.

now he feels bad.

“it’s really okay. i’m sorry i came in a little dramatic. my co-owner robin and i have just worked really hard the past few years to curate our space and i guess i just got thrown off.” he shrugs. “it’s cool though. this is your store as much as the next one is mine, so.”

the guy smiles big and bright and man he really is pretty. steve’s eyes flit down to a name tag that reads “eddie.”

“maybe just bring the noise down a smidge though?” he smiles when he says it so eddie knows he isn’t mad.

he nods and steve hears a clatter come from the back. eddie laughs and hangs his head. “i should probably go check on her. she hid in the back when she saw you on the sidewalk so i couldn’t chicken out of talking to you.”

steve’s jaw drops at the implication and he has to take a second to reorganize his thoughts.

“i- what?”

eddie brings a hand up to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture and his cheeks flush the faintest pink.

“i may or may not have been unable to shut up about the pretty boy next door since our grand opening party.”

steve laughs this time, loud and happy.

“i didn’t even see you!”

“oh well i saw you. chris has been on my case to walk over for days so when she saw her opportunity today she took it.”

steve’s head tilts to the side and he has a playful smile on his face when he says “weren’t you supposed to be checking on her?”

eddie spins around so fast he nearly sends a cup of pens clattering to the ground.”

“shit! i-“

“don’t hurt yourself, rockstar. i’ll see you around eddie.”

eddie’s head swings back around and his face is scrunched up in confusion until steve points at his name tag.

“ah. right. well, i’ll see you around too…”

“steve.”

this time when steve walks through the door it’s quiet enough he can hear the bell jingle above it.

au august day 12: book store

[watchmegetobsessed]

SECRET RECIPE

A/N: its out last sunday fic of fanficmas! still working on the second christmas fic, i got into a bit of a delay but im hoping to finish it on time!

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

SUMMARY: Christmas time brings some worries and surprises and of course lots of love in the life of Nan and Harry.

MORE FROM THE NAN&HARRY UNIVERSE

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

 Harry’s in the middle of recording a verse for a new song he’s been working on for the past days when the music cuts off and he looks at the technician through the window with a confused expression.

“What happened?” he asks, pulling the headphones off. Jim, the technician presses a button and speaks into the mic that carries sound into the booth.

“Man, your phone is blowing up.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just call them back,” he shrugs.

“It’s Y/N. She’s called like six times in the past two minutes.”

His stomach churns.

He’s fast to exit the booth, fetching his phone from one of the seats. You know he’s at the studio and wouldn’t call if it wasn’t an emergency.

“Let’s take five,” he says, unlocking his phone and opening his call log, seeing all the missed calls from you. Jim knows it’s his cue to leave, he walks out without a word as Harry dials your number, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

“Harry!” you answer out of breath.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“Harry, it’s not me, it’s Nan,” you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m on my way,” he says, packing up his things immediately.

Jim doesn’t fuss when Harry ends the session early. He jumps into his car and you tell him what happened as he heads to the hospital as well. Nan apparently went on a date and out of all the activities she could have done with her date, she went skating.

“What was she thinking?!” he snaps, smacking his hand against the steering wheel when he has to stop at a red light.

“I just arrived, how far are you?”

“Ten minutes away.”

“Alright, meet you here.”

Harry soon arrives at the hospital and parks his car down in a frenzy, rushing inside. The nurse behind the desk recognizes him right away, but before she could start fangirling, you come up to him running.

“Hey! There you are,” you exhale, hugging him tight.

“How is she?”

“She fractured her hip, can you believe it?”

“For real, I love her more than anything, but sometimes she can act like a child,” he shakes his head in disapproval.

Walking down the hallways you stop at room 102 and Harry follows you inside. Nan is right there, lying in bed, chatting with the nurse, already telling her about recipes and gardening.

“I promise you Sweetheart, that’s the key to the perfect banana bread!” she explains and her face lights up when she sees the two of you flood into the room. “Harry! So good to see you!”

“Nan, what did you do?” he questions right away, ignoring the way the nurse blushes upon seeing him before walking out of the room.

“Oh, nothing crazy, don’t worry about me!”

“Skating at your age is actually crazy, Nan,” you shake your head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to hurt her.”

“Aye, watch your mouth!” she wiggles a finger at you, but you just roll your eyes at her.

“Let’s start at the very beginning. You were on a date?!” Harry gawks at her, standing over you. Most of his worry is gone, seeing Nan be her usual sweet but sassy self.

“Oh, we’re not talking about that,” Nan waves around, but there’s no way Harry will just drop it like that.

“No, no, no, you’re not getting away with it! You didn’t tell us! Who was he anyway?”

“It’s none of your business! I’m a big girl!” she jokes.

“Yes, but going on a date is something you share with your family, don’t you think?” you ask, giving her hand a squeeze. “You demanded to know everything about my first date with Harry, it’s not fair you keep things like this from us!”

“Frank’s daughter works at the flower shop on Ernest Road. I’ve run into him several times before and we’ve had some pleasant conversations. He asked me out and I said yes, that’s it,” she shrugs, fixing her hair just to avoid looking at you or Harry.

“And you didn’t have a better idea than skating? Nan, you have to be careful!”

“I used to be a great skater in high school!” she protests like a little kid, Harry needs to bite a smile back.

“Oh my God,” you pinch the bride of your nose. “I’m gonna get you something to drink. Harry, stay with her so she doesn’t go skydiving or something,” you mumble as you walk out of the room.

“I’m kind of offended, Nan,” Harry places a hand over his chest, stepping closer to her bed. “I thought I was your guy.”

“Oh, Harry!” she sighs. “You know you’re my number one,” she chuckles, a slight blush tinting her cheeks that just makes Harry even more confident about himself.

“Apparently Frank took my place!” he scoffs dramatically. “I need to meet him, Nan. I’m not gonna let him just steal you away like that, I have to make sure you’re in good hands!”

“Please, don’t act like I’m getting engaged!” she chuckles. “It was just a date!”

“Yeah, but then more dates come and next thing we know you’re walking down the aisle!”

Nan lets out a belly laugh that soon turns into a wince and Harry instantly regrets joking around.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assures him when he moves to check her. “Harry, I’m just looking for some company, I won’t remarry.”

“I know,” his gaze softens, sitting down to the edge of her bed. “And I want you to have fun, but you need to be more careful. You’re sturdy, but not indestructible, okay?”

“I know,” she sighs. “Just wanted to have some fun like when I was younger.”

“We’ll find another way that doesn’t include fractured hips,” he smirks at her.

Harry has been MIA for hours. It’s not unusual when he’s at the studio, but you know for a fact he has the day off, so why isn’t he answering your texts?

You keep wondering as your work day drags by and when you finally head home, you try to call him again. It rings and rings and you’re starting to get anxious that something might have happened to him. When you think it will go unanswered the ringing finally breaks and a familiar voice answers, but it doesn’t belong to your fiancé.

“Y/N? Hi!” Nan’s upbeat voice welcomes you and relief washes over you.

“Nan? Would you mind telling where my man is?” you chuckle as you get into the car. The phone connects and the answer comes through the speakers.

“Oh, he is just up on my roof!” she says as if it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“What?” you chuckle in disbelief. “Why?”

“He’s helping me decorate! Showed up here this morning, he’s been doing all the work all day!”

“Oh God, of course he did,” you chuckle.

It’s been a week since Nan’s skating accident and she’s been miserable because she can’t get around like she usually does. She has someone from the family checking up on her every day and a nurse comes by in the morning and in the night too, but you all know how much she hates to be in need of help. You keep telling her it’s just temporary, she’s been having a great recovery, but she needs to be more patient with herself.

Harry must have wanted to make her feel better, she’s been moping about not being able to decorate like she usually does, so your fiancé probably took matters into his own hands.

Without thinking twice, you head over to Nan’s place to check up on both of them. When you arrive, you’re glad to see all the décor Nan whips out every year. Lights are running along the edge of the roof, huge candy canes are peeking out of the ground in the garden up front and garlands are snaking up the columns of the front porch. And the last touch? Santa’s sleigh is on the roof, Nan’s favorite décor every kid adores around the neighborhood.

You knock on the front door with a goofy grin, looking at the snowman ornament hanging on it. The door flies open and you’re met with your lover.

“Hey there,” he smirks and pulling you inside he greets you with a big kiss on your cold lips.

“Hi! Nan said you’ve turned into her little elf for the day,” you chuckle, enjoying the warmth inside as Harry takes your coat.

“I did the best I could,” he smirks shyly.

“Y/N! Hi!” Nan cheers from her armchair, her cane resting against the side of it. Before she could try to push herself up to greet you, which for sure she plans to, you rush over and plant a smooching kiss to her cheek, stopping her from moving.

“Stay, Nan. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had a great day with Harry. Did you see the décor outside?” she beams.

“I did, looks great,” you smile at her.

Harry makes some tea and the three of you sit by the fireplace. Nan is obviously happy to have company and you’re glad to be spending time with her. She really scared you with her little accident earlier, she got lucky, it could have turned out to be way worse.

“Alright, you two head home and be together,” she sighs, checking the time and seeing how late it has gotten.

“We’re happy to be here, Nan,�� Harry smiles, taking her empty mug and heading to the kitchen to clean up.

“Y/N, give me that box over there,” she gestures at a little wooden box on the shelves next to the fireplace. You obey and hand her the box, watching her dig into the stack of papers inside. “Here, this is for you,” she hands one over and you take it, scanning over it curiously.

“What’s thi— Oh. This is… This is your secret recipe. Your gingersnap cookies…”

“I want you to have it.”

“But why? You haven’t given it to any of my cousins yet,” you look at her with wide eyes.

This recipe comes from Nan’s grandma, so it’s been in the family for a long time. Every woman eventually gets it, your mom has it too, but she can only pass it on to the generation coming after you, that’s the rule. Nan hasn’t passed it on to anyone and you and your cousins have been wondering who’ll get it first.

She chose you. Though you would have sworn your cousin Riley would be the first, she is the first who got pregnant and now has two kids.

“Because what you and Harry have reminds me the most of what I had with Steven. Riley’s husband would have never spent the day here, climbing on my roof and hanging ornaments. And Lydia… God, I’m afraid she will never settle!” she chuckles, bringing up your female cousins. “You two… are something truly special and soon you’ll finally get married. I want you to know how to make it by the time you’ll have babies.”

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek as you lean closer and give her a hug.

“Thank you, Nan,” you whisper, kissing her cheek right when Harry walks back in. He looks startled to see you crying.

“Woah, did I miss something?” he cautiously asks, but you just shake your head chuckling.

“Everything is perfect, don’t worry,” Nan smiles up at him. You give Harry a look that tells him to just drop it and so he nods.

The nurse arrives to help Nan get ready for bed when you leave and you hug her just a few moments longer than you usually do before walking out.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Harry asks when you’re home, standing side by side in the bathroom, doing your usual night time routine.

“Nan gave me her gingersnap cookie recipe,” you say with a smile as you brush your hair, looking at him from the mirror. For a moment, he rakes his mind to figure out what it means and when he does, his eyes go wide.

“Oh! You’re the first one then!” he beams at you proudly.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “She said that what we have reminds her of what she had with Pa.”

“That’s very sweet,” he smiles, brushing a hand across your back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“She also brought up us having babies, I think she is getting impatient,” you add with a little laugh as you turn around and lean against the sink to face him.

“Wow, she can never have enough!” he grins. “I got comments on proposing to you for months and now that we have the date reserved she found something else to poke me about!”

“She’s not rushing us, you know. Just wants to see us become parents.”

“Soon,” he smiles and stepping closer his hands find your waist. “First, let’s make us official. Then we can move on to baby making.”

“So… that’s the plan?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Is it not?”

“I don’t know,” you chew your bottom lip.

“Y/N? Want to share something with me?” He takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, making you look him in the eyes.

“I was just thinking… We’re getting married in February. It’s not that far away, maybe we could… start trying sooner? It might not happen right away and if it does, it wouldn’t even show at the wedding…”

For some reason you feel so nervous about proposing your idea. You’ve talked about trying for a baby next year, you’re very much on the same page so even if he says no for now, you’d definitely start in a few months. You just figured that maybe you could start sooner.

Harry gently cradles your face in his hands, a tiny smile tugging on the edges of his mouth.

“So… we should just drop the pills, hm?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, only if you’re okay with it. We don’t have to if you—“

He presses his lips to your lips, melting away your nervousness instantly as he kisses you softly but passionately.

“I’m more than okay, Y/N. I know you’re it for me, we don’t have to wait for a certain date to start trying.”

You can’t stop your growing smile as you look up at him.

“Okay. No more pills then,” you bite into your bottom lip.

“And a lot of baby making,” he smirks cockily, sweeping off your feet and carrying you into the bedroom. You’re a giggling mess as he throws you to the mattress, but they soon die down when he gets on top of you, occupying your lips with something much more exciting.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[wheres-mylove]

as if!

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Tyrell!Reader

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Part 2: Just a Girl

Summary: Our chief matchmaker not only accomplishes her secret mission, but also gains an upper hand over Aemond – special thanks to the ancestral Targaryen overconfidence. Oh, and to Aegon, the supporter.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 4.4k

The infamous jeep stopped by the curb, tires screeching. To be honest, its arrival had been announced way earlier by Lady Gaga’s song booming from the speakers. And a cursing cyclist whom (Y/N) Tyrell had nearly killed on the street.

Aegon was leaning against the wall of the nearest building, eyebrows raised, observing the girl's maneuvers. One would sooner suspect Miss Tyrell of being under the influence of alcohol right now.

“It's Britney, bitch?” he asked with a mocking smile. His gaze then fixed with considerable concern on the shattered side mirror.

(Y/N) leaned back in her seat, lowered the music to a minimum, and adjusted heart-shaped pink sunglasses on her nose.

“You're so funny it hurts. Get in. Quick, before someone sees you with me!” she ordered at once, not bothered to greet the guy, waving at him impatiently.

Aegon Targaryen bore a strong resemblance to his beloved brother, as he was behaving in an annoying manner as well. Slowly, he circled the car and opened the passenger door at a leisurely pace.

She honked, smashing the horn with an open hand, and sending him an angry look. The boy flinched and finally got his ass in the passenger seat. He didn't even get a word out before she had peeled out.

“Is this your first time?” he asked, nervously laughing and gripping the headrest with both hands.

“I have a permit. And I'll have my driver's license soon,” she replied with an innocent smile.

“But that mirror seems to have met Aemond’s face,” Aegon muttered under his breath. Then he swiftly stole her glasses. (Y/N) looked at Targaryen with disapproval.

“You couldn’t see a thing in those,” the blonde justified, relieved that she had slowed down a bit. “And trust me, it would be wonderful if you could see the road.”

“Not my fault that trees and hydrants appear so suddenly. Man, out of nowhere...”

“Alright, alright, could you kindly explain why I had to walk two blocks to catch this ride?”

“I can't risk one of your buddies or anyone else recognizing me and starting some disgusting rumors that we're seeing each other,” the girl retorted. Aegon dramatically clutched his chest. “Are you sure that no one was following you?”

“It wouldn't damage your reputation as much as you think. I'm quite popular as well. Some parts of me are.”

She pretended to feel nauseous. 

“Ugh, as if.”

The jeep hit the speed bump. Aegon could swear he saw the light. They turned into a side alley. He lowered the heart-shaped glasses down his nose, looked around, and realized they had parked in front of some random grocery store forgotten by the gods.

(Y/N) laughed at the sight of his confusion.

“Well, nobody will notice us. Only some wrinkly old people shop here. It’s my to-go place when I want a moment of anonymity.”

“Okay, superstar. Didn’t really ask.” He spread his legs on the dashboard, causing the girl's eyes to widen.

“Stop being a fucking savage! It's a gift from my dad, don't put your dirty-ass feet here.”

Aegon pushed the glasses up to his forehead and gave a meaningful glance at the damaged mirror.

“If you value it so much, maybe don't smash it before your driving test,” he said in a sing-song voice, not moving a bit. “I feel like I'm meeting a dealer. That's how it usually goes. You ordered discretion, took me to a secluded place, and…”

“Paper bag on the back seat. Be careful,” she advised, fixing her hair in the meantime. After a moment of consideration, she reached into the passenger-side compartment, retrieved a bottle of expensive perfume, and sprayed it on Aegon’s seat. Now he was busy collecting the bag with childlike excitement. Ended up seriously disappointed.

“Boring,” he muttered, handing her one of the two takeaway coffee cups.

“I didn't know what you usually drink apart from beer and piss, so I went with a basic cappuccino,” she explained, taking the cup and smiling at Targaryen's offended expression. “Don't tell me you were expecting something extravagant. This is a business meeting. Let's not prolong it.”

“So, how is it?”

“Please, take him. He's your brother, your concern. We'll make arrangements. We'll find a place for him. You can do whatever you want with him, but get him out of my house. I don't want him.”

Aegon stared at her in silence for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“This really isn't a reason to laugh, Aegon!” (Y/N) snapped at him, resting her forehead on the edge of the steering wheel with a heavy sigh.

“I warned you. I told you it would be like this,” the boy replied, shrugging. “Has he already called you a brainless idiot?”

“Not yet.”

“See, that means he really likes you! And he doesn’t even bite!”

“Yet.”

Targaryen tapped her on the shoulder, and she raised her head. He nodded encouragingly.

“Go on.” Aegon began to slurp his coffee and leaned forward.

“I tried my best. I'm really polite to him. I greet him, ask how his day was. But I don't know what else to talk to him about. He barely speaks, while we’re at it. Maybe he just has communication issues. He doesn't talk to me, but that doesn't mean he's avoiding me, oh no. He's everywhere. I can't go peacefully to the living room or the kitchen because he's always there. So much hovering for someone who's supposed to be busy. He sits with his thick philosophical books, to show off how smart he is. The name Nietzsche is probably going to trigger some conditional anger in me now. And when he does speak, it's malicious. Not directly, but—Shit, damn it! My dad adores him. He's quiet around him too, but he makes the effort, you know? Dad thinks he has the perfect temperament, that he's rational and composed. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is?”

“Girl, I lived under the same roof with him for a while, I've already served my sentence,” Aegon tapped his fingers on the cup. “Want advice from an experienced guy?”

“Usually, I'm the one giving advice," (Y/N) muttered, staring blankly ahead. An elderly couple with bags full of groceries passed in front of the jeep. The woman waved with her free hand, and (Y/N) waved back. “Ah, I advised her to strike up a conversation with the widower from the senior club. You see, they're together now.”

“Be a bitch,” Aegon chimed in, to which the girl opened her mouth in outrage.

“Betty is eighty years old, I'm kind to elderly people—”

“To Aemond, honey. Give him a taste of his own medicine. There's no other way. Assert the dominance.”

“I can't. Dad will get super angry.”

“You said yourself that my brother is discreet in being an asshole. Fight back.”

“Maybe you're right. He's in my house, he's my guest, I should set the rules,” she said firmly, clinking her cup with Aegon's.

“Cheers,” he said with a laugh. “Jason Lannister asked about you today.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath through her nose and shook her head.

“Another one? I don't have time for nonsense. Nobody respects that.”

“I think Aemond will. You're not his type. He prefers the smart ones,” the boy assured, probably not thinking too long about his statement.

“What, excuse me?” (Y/N) bristled, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“Hey, I'm not saying you're stupid,” a now-panicked Aegon corrected himself. “You're just... a pink princess with a passion for fashion? Oh gods, I think I said something wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!”

“You'll get out of my car, but I'll speed up first.”

They could just as well place a warning sign on the door. (Y/N) realized she hadn't been in there since Aemond appeared in their house. She unconsciously started avoiding that part of the first floor. The same couldn't be said for her housemate, whom she nearly collided with yesterday when she was leaving to meet Aegon. She had no idea what he was doing near her room. Of course, she couldn't ask him because he strategically retreated upon seeing her.

A social butterfly.

She knocked loudly three times, grimacing at the sound. Mr. Tyrell had told her to go find him. They usually had dinner at six, but today they had to move it up an hour. He was heading to one of those business banquets where people drank too much whiskey and talked too much about business.

No response. Silence. But he was inside for sure. She would have seen him leave from her strategic spot on the couch. Targaryen roamed everywhere, but strangely left that corner alone. Maybe she had marked it too much with her presence.

(Y/N) didn't know what’s gotten into her, but she pushed the door wide open without an invitation. It only occurred to her after a moment that she might see something she would later regret.

She didn't know if it was luck or misfortune, but Aemond, decent or not, was nowhere to be seen. A faint splashing of water could be heard from behind the closed bathroom door. 

(Y/N) Tyrell smiled cunningly, registering Lana Del Rey’s song playing in the background. Finally, something she could use to bully him. She cleared her throat.

“Aemond?” she called out, taking a step back and putting her hand on the doorknob to give the impression that she hadn't barged into his solitary kingdom. She quickly scanned the room. It was clean. Almost sterile. The stack of books on the nightstand? You could practically fit a ruler to it.

“It's kind that you respect my privacy,” a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, making her jump. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and she could only see his bowed head, a cascade of wet hair, bare arm was also on display... Don't stare. “I could…”

“Be naked, masturbating or reading one of Colleen Hoover's books,” she offered nonchalantly, remembering his brother's advice and suppressing her father's request. “Which one would make this experience the most humbling for you?”

Aemond squinted, giving her a look she couldn't quite decipher. He made a sound that could be classified as something between a grunt and a laugh. Man seemed to have the right one for every occasion.

“Get dressed and come downstairs; we're eating early,” she informed him before making a dramatic pause, letting Lana sing. “Once you're back from the west coast.”

Targaryen pressed his lips into a thin line. She smiled in a condescending manner.

“You'd prefer La Traviata, I presume,” he said and then shut the door. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the reference to their first meeting.

“We'll wait, sweetheart. Take your time.”

As she was walking down the stairs, she concluded that Aemond Targaryen was not an opponent she couldn't handle. She could complain or show him who was in charge.

She was a badass. A force to be reckoned with.

When she entered the dining room with a newly found surge of confidence, Mr. Tyrell shot her an indignant look and tossed an envelope onto the table. It was a miracle it didn’t land in the soup vase.

“I’ve just received this. Explain yourself.”

The girl cursed under her breath at the sight of this so unexpected mail and clasped her hands in an awkward gesture.

“Dad, you can't get angry outside of work hours,” she gently reminded him, to which her father snorted impatiently and rubbed his forehead.

Aemond Targaryen, with his perfect timing, walked into the room at that exact moment. He looked at her first, then at Mr. Tyrell attentively and stopped in the doorway.

“Another ticket?” her father continued, paying no attention to the fact that they now had a witness to this delightful conversation.

“Unjustified! I didn't exceed the speed limit that much. Maybe a little. A tad. Barely. They must have made a mistake,” (Y/N) explained, approaching her father and seating him at the head of the table. “Besides, don't be so upset; it's not the first…”

“(Y/N)!” Mr. Tyrell scolded her. “That is very thoughtless of you.”

“Not during dinner,” she requested, nodding in Aemond’s direction. “We have a guest, dad. Maybe later.”

Aemond was delighted. Just looking at his pleased expression made her want to smack him. She sat down on her father's right side , and Targaryen joined them a moment later. Mr. Tyrell reached for the envelope he had thrown earlier and started examining its contents again.

“You lead such a fast-paced life that you can't slow down?” Aemond asked, leaning in as if to hand her the vase. “Or maybe you can’t see the difference between the gas and the brake?”

“I'm considering not letting you drive anymore,” Mr. Tyrell said, interrupting their lovey-dovey conversation. “No more driving until you pass your exam.”

“That's unfair! This was the third and final ticket, I promise.”

“Quiet, child, before you give me a heart attack,” her father begged, then looked at Aemond. “You'll support me in this, young man, won't you? Tell her it can't continue like this.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Targaryen replied, placing his hand on the back of her chair. He acted like it was the best day of his life. “It's exceptionally reckless, (Y/N). You pose a threat not only to other road users but also to yourself. You're not ready to sit behind the wheel. Maybe it's worth admitting to the mistake before someone gets hurt.”

“Ass-licker,” she muttered under her breath so her father wouldn't hear.

“Aemond is right,” Mr. Tyrell sighed, handing him the ticket for inspection.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, snatching the paper from her father. “Embrace him and call him son. Aemond Targaryen is always right.”

“All these negative emotions, where are they coming from?” The boy smiled maliciously, and (Y/N) had to gather all her self-control not to strangle him right there.

“We need to find the right solution, be responsible,” Mr. Tyrell decided, evoking authority.

“We need to take the bus,” Aemond suggested in her ear. She'd strangle him, that was decided.

“You'll help her, won't you, young man? Aemond, you have a driver's license. You're exceptionally sensible, and I trust you completely in this matter. From now on, she'll only get in that jeep with you. You'll watch over her, make sure her driving isn’t a threat to anyone.”

“What?” he asked weakly, suddenly turning pale. He looked at Mr. Tyrell, who was not joking. “I mean, yes, sir.”

(Y/N) laughed, flattening the ticket against his chest.

“See how it turned out for you, sir.”

They stood in silence right in front of the professors' mailboxes. (Y/N) gazed ahead with determination in her eyes, while Baela looked at her friend as if questioning her mental state.

“You're joking, right?” she asked with uncertainty, holding the stack of papers tied with a red ribbon up to her nose. “Scented? You crazy bitch.”

(Y/N) held out her hand.

“Stand guard,” she ordered in a serious tone, but Baela still didn't give up the treasure that Miss Tyrell had been working on for half the afternoon. “What now?”

“She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies?” Her friend read aloud, furrowing her brows. “That’s way too much.”

“And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes,” (Y/N) finished up, winking at her. “That's very sexy of Lord Byron.”

Bae finally gave in and handed her the letter.

“I'm out there on the watch. If our grades don't improve after all this shit, I'll have Arryk write you a letter,” she threatened, walking down the hallway with her hands placed confidently on her hips. A professional bodyguard.

(Y/N) began her search among the dozen of plates, surnames starting with the letter T on them. 

Miss Tully. Miss Tully, where are you?

“She’s on her way, hurry! Will be there in a minute,” Baela said, turning towards her friend and waving her hand.

“That's the point; she has a break now between classes,” (Y/N) replied, dropping the surprise through the mailbox slot. “She'll find something to brighten her day. Come on!”

The girl headed towards the student lounge, slumping onto one of the couches and picking up some tedious magazine from the table. Baela joined her a moment later, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Where were you trained?”

“At the Matchmaker Academy. Elite unit,” (Y/N) said with a laugh. Less than a minute later, they heard the clicking sound of high heels. “Play indifferent.”

Miss Tully was walking briskly towards her mailbox, probably expecting to find official mail or a few late assignments from her students. She was a middle-aged professor with chestnut hair neatly pulled into a tight bun, glasses perched on her nose, and an unhealthy love for tweed.

She was unmarried and specialized in poetry of the Romantic era. She truly was an untapped potential.

“I don't see it,” Baela muttered, watching Professor Tully open her mailbox.

“Even if I'm wrong, which happens once in a thousand years,” (Y/N) replied, flipping through the magazine. “Look at her reaction.”

The woman with furrowed brows examined the letter from all angles. Then she looked around, so Bae pretended to be deeply interested in the view outside the window. She untied the ribbon and scanned the words.

Miss Tully blushed.

“She's smiling now?” (Y/N) asked, turning another page.

“She's giggling.”

“Giggling?”

“I told you.”

“Gods, I'm a genius.”

“Now she's smelling the pages.”

“Wonderful.”

The sound of high heels echoed again, this time intensifying with each step, as Miss Tully was approaching them.

“Excuse me, girls?” she began with a slightly trembling voice, hiding the letter under a brown document folder. She glanced a moment longer at (Y/N). “Miss Tyrell?”

“Oh, good morning, Professor,” the girl greeted her, putting the magazine aside and smiling politely at the older woman. “Is there a problem with my essay?”

“Oh, not at all, my dear, it was a joy to read,” she assured quickly, adjusting her glasses with a seemingly careless movement. “Have you been sitting here for long? You’d happen to notice, well… Has anyone recently put something in my mailbox?”

“Hm, Professor Baratheon was here about half an hour ago,” (Y/N) replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But I think he was just checking his mail. I'm not sure if he dropped anything. Besides that, no one.”

“Oh, I see…” Miss Tully replied with a slight hint of disappointment. Then she blushed even more. “Professor Baratheon, you say? We haven't talked in a while.”

“You didn’t hear it from me, but…” (Y/N) started, and Professor Tully leaned in conspiratorially towards her. “I think it would be good for him to have someone to talk to. Lately, he seems a bit down.”

“You didn’t hear it from me also, dear, but…” Miss Tully was now sitting on the edge of the couch. “I've heard about the recent troubles with his ex-wife. He must be lonely…”

Baela watched in wide-eyed amazement as this exchange unfolded. It turned out that (Y/N) Tyrell was able to charm anyone, especially a spinster.

“Besides, if I may make such a personal observation, of course,"” (Y/N) interjected when Miss Tully was already thanking her and getting ready to leave. “You have beautiful hair. You should wear it down more often to show it off.”

The woman smiled shyly and touched her head.

“Do you really think so? Won't it be too... frivolous?”

“Oh, not at all! I think a bit of freedom would add to your charm.”

Miss Tully had never looked as beautiful as she did now, after receiving a letter from a mysterious admirer and a compliment from a pretty girl.

“Teach me, oh wise one. You've got that lady wrapped around your finger,” Baela commented in admiration.

(Y/N) stood up with a jump and smiled broadly.

“Now, let's go to Borris.”

“Do you have a scented letter for him too?”

“I told you about my theory that he can't read. I'll just tell him that Miss Tully thinks he's intelligent. That should be enough for a man like Baratheon.”

(Y/N) Tyrell was on the verge of stomping her foot in frustration.

“I was only gone for ten minutes!” she exclaimed, to which Aemond tore his gaze away from the TV screen and looked at her with something that resembled pity.

“You were taking that bath for precisely…” he began, putting his arm on the couch's backrest and checking his watch. “One hour and six minutes, counting from the moment you vacated the spot.”

She huffed in annoyance. Targaryen only now gave (Y/N) a closer look. She returned from her room in a pink satin robe. He raised an eyebrow, then she was left to argue with the back of his platinum blond, stupid head.

“We obviously have a misunderstanding here. Today is Friday evening. On Friday evenings, the TV is mine. Because I have a movie night,” she explained, striving for a calm tone and pinching the bridge of her nose. Inhale and exhale.

“I don't see any note with that information. Unspoken agreements don't hold much weight, do they? You didn't discuss this with me.”

(Y/N) lost her patience, so she marched in front of the TV, blocking Aemond's view of whatever dull news program he was watching now, and folded her arms across her chest.

“This is childish,” he remarked without moving an inch, wearing a smug smile.

“I'll stand here until you give up watching these two bald debaters for today. Who cares anyway?”

“I like to stay updated with the news. You're acting childish,” he repeated. (Y/N) wasn't fazed in the slightest. 

“If you were a nice boy, I'd offer a compromise.”

“Am I not a nice boy?” he asked with feigned offense, basically lounging on the couch at this point.

“You could watch a movie with me. I'd choose, and you'd keep me company, and we'd all be happy-”

“(Y/N)!” Mr. Tyrell suddenly appeared in the living room, holding his cell phone as far away from his ear as possible. “Why is Baela Targaryen bothering me and asking if you're alive? She mentioned something about an emergency.”

“Oh, damn, I left mine upstairs,” (Y/N) replied, taking her father's phone. “I'll return it to you later!”

Mr. Tyrell waved her off and returned to his duties, probably reorganizing the documents. He was unable to rest. The girl brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Bae. What's so important that you're calling my old man?” she asked while pushing the footstool across the floor and setting it right in front of the TV. She sat down on it and crossed her legs.

“Childish,” Aemond mouthed. She stuck her tongue out at him in return.

“You won't believe it; I didn't expect such swift results,” Baela exclaimed from the other end of the line. “I was just leaving volleyball practice. Guess who I saw!”

“Professor Baratheon and Professor Tully?” (Y/N) asked a somewhat rhetorical question, smiling with satisfaction.

“Sitting on a blanket under a tree. They seem to have organized some kind of picnic. You'd have to see them, with their puppy-dog eyes and smiles full of love. They seemed to be on cloud nine.”

“I told you it would work. Another success in my career.”

“I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will remove the stick from Baratheon’s ass.”

“When he's no longer sexually frustrated, he'll loosen up,” (Y/N) assured. She noticed Targaryen's questioning look at that remark. “I'm not talking about you.”

“Aemond's with you?”

“Unfortunately.”

"Give him my regards.”

“I won't.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow, right?”

(Y/N) grimaced, remembering that she would have to ask Targaryen for a favor.

“Sure. Bye.”

Aemond tapped his knee and looked at her with a smirk.

“So, who's frustrated?” he asked, sending her a mean smile. “Your boyfriend?”

“You're such a dick. I don't have a boyfriend. I was talking about my professor.”

“That doesn't sound good,” Targaryen remarked. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Gods, I'm not going to explain the whole story to you. I just set up my professor with another professor.”

“You set them up?” he repeated.

“Yeah, and what's it to you? Need some help in the relationship department? I wouldn't be surprised, considering how charming you are.” She pointed a finger at him. “Let's make a deal. You can watch your news, but you'll go to the shopping mall with me tomorrow.”

“Are you asking me out?” He was trying her patience, and he knew it well.

“Behave. Just as my father said, I can't drive the jeep unsupervised-”

“No way.”

“Please. Please. Please. Please-”

“What are the chances of you shutting up until you get your way?”

“Slim to none,” she replied, knowing she had him cornered. He was to blame for this one. Consequences of being cocky.

“Alright,” he grumbled, well aware that he had no other choice. She could complain to her father at any moment.

“Enjoy your evening,” she chirped, finally moving out of his line of sight.

“Wait,” he stopped her before she could leave and handed her the remote control. “Out of pure curiosity.”

(Y/N) gave him a sweet smile and almost snatched the remote from his hand before flopping onto the couch, keeping a reasonable distance from him.

Aemond Targaryen watched in horror as she selected Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper.

“Movie night or a cartoon night?”

“Listen, as a literature enthusiast, you should know that it was inspired-”

“Absolutely not," he stated, getting up from the couch and marching to the kitchen.

(Y/N) shrugged. Pussy. Goal achieved anyway. Movie night with Barbie, as her tradition dictated.

“Can you bring me a snack while you're there? M&Ms will do!”

She expected him to ignore her, as she had already abused his good humor quite a bit, but he appeared a moment later, holding an apple in one hand and tossing a bag of candy onto the pillow next to her with the other.

“Thanks! Would watching Barbie tarnish your manly honor?”

“My sister watched that when she was seven. Look at what that says about your level.”

“Alright, Mr. Partypooper. Goodnight.”

Aemond didn't leave. He lingered in the doorway for almost an hour, busy pretending that he’s not watching the movie at all. Someone give him an Oscar for that performance.

(Y/N) decided to let it slide. This time. Just as he had let her singing I am a Girl Like You slide without any snide comments.

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[fanficimagery]

Pretty Baked 2/2

When you decide to move and open up a shop in Charming, California, the local motorcycle club that runs out of Teller-Morrow Automotive practically adopts you and introduces you to their world.

PART ONE | PART TWO

Words: 7.9K  Author’s Note: SURPRISE! Since part one hit 100 notes, I decided to post this early. Trigger warning for violence.

"Are these the only participants joining us up here?" The man in charge of the game says. There's only three contestants standing around- one from the PD, one from the FD, and a teen girl from the florists booth.

You catch Emma's eye again and she gestures to the contestants, widening her eyes to urge you to play. You close your eyes, raising a hand as you shout, "I'm in!"

As you start making your way towards the stage, Gemma grabs your arm. "Baby, what are you doing?"

You glance over your shoulder at her and at the Sons who are watching you closely. "You guys are my friends. If I have to embarrass myself in order to make firedouche eat his words, I will." Her lips twitch in amusement. "And besides, Emma's in charge of the music. If the winks and gestures are anything to go by, I'll know the songs she's chosen to play."

"Well would you look at this," the guy on the mic says, happily, as you make your way on stage. "If it isn't the owner of Pretty Baked! Heya, sweetheart, who will you be playing for today since I didn't see a pastry booth out there?"

He holds the mic out in front of your face and you smile sweetly at him as your eyes dart to the fireman and police officer. "I'll be playing for Teller-Morrow Automotive, of course."

The fireman barely manages to conceal his sneer and you chuckle as the man on the mic wishes you luck. "Before we get started, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to apologize in advance for any vulgarity in the music. I hope that our contestants will censor themselves if a bad word pops up, but I'm afraid I can't do much about the meaning behind any of the chosen songs."

The crowd claps, some bolder individuals assuring the man it's fine and to get started with the competition. The man chuckles and then explains a bit more about what's going to happen. Four mic stands have been spread out along the stage and each contestant gets a buzzer. If you know the song, you buzz in and a little light on your mic stand lights up. If you buzz in first and sing the song correctly, you get a point. And at the end of the tenth song, the person with the most points gets the five-hundred-dollar check.

"Are we ready, Charming?" The exuberant man exclaims. The crowd cheers and suddenly your nerves set in when you see Gemma and the Sons three rows back, directly in front of you. "Well let's go! Emma, play the first song, please."

The beat to the first song starts and the crowd seems to hold their breath. It takes you longer than you'd have liked to recognize it, but before you can press your buzzer, the teenager from the flower shop buzzes in.

"He's so tall and handsome as hell. He's so bad, but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins. My one condition is; say you'll remember me.."

You curse your luck as the teen correctly sings Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, nose wrinkling as you happily accept defeat on song one. The fireman and police officer huff, clearly put out with the song choice.

The man on the mic congratulates the teenager, putting a point on a chalkboard that had been rolled out onto the stage. The crowd cheers and then quiets down for the second song. When told to play it, the piano keys filling the air makes your eyes widen in instant recognition. But apparently you weren't the only one and the teenager from the flower shop gets her buzzer in first.

"Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound." You laugh, shaking your head at the song choice. A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton was one song you were very familiar with as Todd always sang it in the shop to make you laugh.

The crowd cheers some more as the teenager earns another point and you meet Gemma's gaze, shrugging good-naturedly. She shakes her head, smiling.

"Think she can pull this off?" Jax asks his mother.

"We'll see, baby. She knew that second song, but the other girl beat her to the punch."

The fireman and police officer boo, asking for music that they would know among their laughter. Jax chews on his thumb nail, glancing at Emma and huffing a laugh when he sees her roll her eyes. As she prepares for the third song, the crowd starts to quiet.

The moment the guitar chords fill the air, the Sons watch YN squeeze the buzzer in hand, but again she's a second late. Juice swears as the fireman smirks, moving his shoulders and feet to the beat. When the lyrics hit, Gemma scoffs when she realizes the fireman is staring directly at YN. "She was a fast machine. She kept her motor clean. She was the best damn woman that I ever seen. She had the sightless eyes, tellin' me no lies. Knockin' me out with those American thighs."

"That motherfucker," Jax swears.

You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC plays and you pout. You should have had that. And when you glance out at the crowd, you're surprised to see the Sons glaring at the fireman for daring to sing that song at you. Even Emma seems unimpressed when you glance at her, but when she catches your stare, she smirks.

Oh no. That can't be good.

When the next song starts, you snort. You and Emma have sung this song plenty of times in the shop, but only when no one else was around. You hit the buzzer, thankfully before the other teenager playing, and look directly at the fireman as you sing. "I'm not here for your entertainment. You don't really wanna mess with me tonight. Just stop and take a second. I was fine before you walked into my life. 'Cause you know it's over before it began. Keep your drink just give me the money. It's just you and your hand tonight," you sing while making the crude hand gesture of jerking off.

The crowd bursts into laughter, the officer playing against you included, but it's the Sons of Anarchy who whoop and holler the loudest. The man on the mic nervously chuckles as the song cuts out, putting a point under your name before asking Emma to quickly move on to the next song.

How Am I Supposed to Live Without You by Michael Bolton plays next, and the police officer finally puts the PD on the board with one point. He sings a little longer than necessary, milking the limelight, and you and the teenager from the flower shop stand behind him, arms around each other's shoulders and waving your hands in the air, back and forth. You laugh when he stops, and you each high five him before stepping back behind your mic stands for the next song.

The drum beat and guitar riffs are instantly familiar, and you're grateful the cop fumbles his buzzer, leaving you time to buzz in first. But when you catch the eyes of the Sons, you blush under their surprised stares. Maybe you shouldn't have buzzed in on this particular song.

In the crowd, Opie chuckles. "There's no way she knows this song."

"I don't know," Juice muses. "I've heard what she listens to when picking up coffee from the shop. Her taste in music is all over the place."

"It's getting harder each time that I go. If I had the choice, I would stay. There's no one like you! I can't wait for the nights with you. I imagine the things we'll do. I just want to be loved by you. No one like you." No One Like you by the Scorpions plays and you sigh in relief when Emma stops the song, signifying you've earned yet another point.

The crowd cheers some more, the Sons making their excitement known. As the crowd quiets down yet again for the next song, your jaw drops as soon as the lyrics start. It's a song that's always made you sad for some reason and Emma knows it, she having laughed when you got teary-eyed that one time in the shop. Surprisingly no one playing knows the song, so you buzz in, easily singing Take on the World by You Me at Six.

You earn another point, putting you in the lead and earning a round of rambunctious cheering from the Sons of Anarchy and Gemma.

"Holy shit. The lass is gonna take it," Chibs says.

When the next song starts, you're surprised to hear the guitar chords of a country song and unsurprised when the police officer buzzes in first. His voice is surprisingly good as he sings I Can't Breathe by Parker McCollum, earning the police department another point and keeping them in the running for the winner's check.

The fire department is clearly out of the running, so the fireman hops off stage, smiling as his fellow firefighters pat his back. Then when the ninth song starts, you barely have a second to listen to it before the flower shop girl is buzzing in. Her wide, victorious smile makes the police officer wince and you laugh. She easily sings Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo, earning herself a third point and tying the game between you and herself.

Happy grunts, punching Chibs on the arm. "You jinxed her."

"Oh wow, ladies and gentlemen," the man on the mic says. "This is such a close game! Our two young ladies are tied at three songs each and our police department has two songs under his belt. If he guesses our last song, we'll have a tie and split the money. But if either girl gets it, they'll be taking home a check to either the flower or auto shop."

The crowd cheers and you smile nervously, palms sweating. Emma smiles as she plays the final song, the guitar chords making your heart stop. The lyrics start and you're practically frozen, but when you see both the flower shop girl and police officer glancing at each other in a panic, you know you've won this.

"She knows it," Gemma realizes, squeezing her son's hand. "She knows the song!"

"How do you know?" Jax asks, glancing between YN and Gemma.

"Because she's not panicking like the other two."

Jax seems to stop breathing when he hears a buzzer go off, his attention whipping back to the stage and his stomach clenching in anticipation when he sees YN's mic stand lit up. He watches as her eyes close and she takes a deep breath, the voice coming from her mouth being far softer than he's ever heard.

"I know I'm just a fool who's willin' to sit around and wait for you. But baby can't you see, there's nothin' else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you. But now, there's nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside. I'm out of my head, hopelessly devoted to you."

Hopelessly Devoted to You is possibly your favorite song from Grease and it's a song everyone back home said you sang marvelously. Even Emma was shocked when she first heard you belting it out in the kitchen, your voice rising and lowering at all the right parts, the emotion easily detectable as you sang.

No one dares to stop you after ten seconds, instead letting you sing the whole song. And by the time it's over and your voice tapers off, the crowd goes crazy. You laugh, instantly blushing, and accept the hug from the two contestants that had been left on stage with you. The man on the mic congratulates you and those from Teller-Morrow Automotive, and hands you the check of your winnings before taking a picture for the town newspaper.

As you walk off stage, you bashfully make your way back towards your friends who are all smiling or grinning or smirking. Jax immediately pulls you into a hug, laughing in surprise. Eventually everyone's hugging or ruffling your hair, and squeezing your shoulder as they gleefully congratulate you on your singing skills.

"Here 'ya go, Bobby. Add it to today's winnings."

"Where the hell did that come from, sweetheart?" He asks, taking the check to pocket. "I thought you were scared to embarrass yourself up there! We didn't know you could actually sing."

You shrug, cheeks heating up again. "I sang karaoke all the time back in Texas. For fun. And with the exception of a few songs, I'm a pretty crappy singer," you say, chuckling. "Emma's just heard me sing that last song before. Apparently she rigged the game in my favor."

The Sons all laugh. "Baby, you better give that girl a raise," Gemma muses.

"Don't worry. I will."

With everyone pretty much over the festivities, Gemma calls it a day. Tig walks Grimm and Reaper towards your car, and Jax hangs back so he can keep you close once again, tucked safely under his arm.

"Thanks for that, darlin'. You didn't have to donate the winnings to the club, but-"

"But nothing," you cut him off, smiling as you glance up at him. "You guys are family. And not only that, but I got to embarrass that fireman while getting you guys some extra money for the club. It was a win-win in my book."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't 'ya?" He chuckles. "The sweet southern belle bullshit you spew sometimes is just that. Bullshit."

"If you thought I was truly some sweet and innocent lil' girl from the south, you really haven't been paying attention."

You pat his shoulder before walking ahead, pulling your keys from your pocket so Tig can load up your Great Danes.

Life in Charming is actually going really well, so of course the other shoe drops when you least expect it. It's the weekend, which means the shop is closed, and you have a week's worth of cleaning to catch up on. So after picking up some around the house and loading the dishwasher, you let Grimm and Reaper out into the backyard so you can clean in peace.

You manage to separate loads of laundry and get your clothes into the wash when the doorbell rings. You sigh and head straight for the door, grumbling when your guest rings the doorbell twice more just as you're about to open the door.

"Can I help you?" You say, your false smile instantly falling away when you see who it is. Your shoulders droop at the familiar sight of your brother. "What do you want?"

"What? No love for your big bro?"

"Hardly." You step back, opening the door wider. Might as well invite him in now that he knows where you live. "Now what are you doing here?"

You brother saunters in, whistling lowly as he glances around your home. "This is some nice digs you got here." You roll your eyes behind his back as he walks into the living room, humming so that he knows you've heard him. "I was wondering if that little shop of yours wasn't doing too well and that's why you couldn't front me some cash, but it seems it's doing better than ever."

"What did you expect?" You scoff. "I had no problem lending you a helping hand when you were actually paying your bills, but you stopped using my money for that and instead used it to feed your addiction."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Your brother whirls on you, eyes blazing.

"Is it?!" You shout. You've never been scared of your brother, but something about this visit doesn't feel right. "I've caught you numerous times nodding off mid-conversation and even caught the hookers coming out of your house. If you want to keep your utilities on, get a job that you'll actually show up for and stop looking for freebies."

"Why work when my baby sister is loaded?"

"Fuck you." You shake your head in disappointment at him. "How'd you even find me? I know for a fact our uncle wouldn't have told you. He's just as upset with you as I am."

"Ah yes. Our precious uncle." Your brother scoffs. He walks slowly around your coffee table and you make sure to keep space between the two of you. "You know he's feeding you bullshit, right? He's trying to pin us against each other."

"No he didn't and no he's not. We tried to help you- to get you clean, but you wouldn't hear any of it."

"I don't need to get clean!"

"Yes, you do!" You shout back at him again, chest heaving. "You tracked me down all the way in California and for what? To beg for more cash?"

His expression clears and suddenly he's eerily calm. "Nah. I'm not gonna beg. You're just gonna give it."

"Like hell I am."

Time seems to stretch on between you, the tension skyrocketing. Suddenly your brother lunges, gripping the back of your neck in hand as he pulls you forward. "Yes, you are." He seethes.

You squirm in his grip, shoving at his chest. "Knock it off! What's wrong with you? Are you fuckin' high?!"

"I need five hundred."

"Fuck off. Get a job if you need that kind of cash." The hand on the back of your neck moves up, gripping your hair before pain suddenly explodes across your cheek. You yelp, reaching up to shield your face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Never in your life has your brother ever raised a hand against you.

"I said I need five hundred."

"And I said to fuck off."

Beyond pissed now, you jerk your knee upward and knee him in his crotch while landing a punch to his face as well. Your brother groans, his grip loosening, but he doesn't go down. Instead his hands find your shoulders as he violently shoves you backward. "Stupid bitch," he grunts.

As you fall backwards, you twist, and unfortunately catch the corner of your coffee table with your right temple. The hit leaves you dazed enough that your brother grips you by the hair again, dragging you upward so he can punch you again in hopes of breaking you. You swing back, however, catching him a couple of times before he knocks you into the wall.

"Just give me the money!"

"No!"

The next hit splits your lip before he grasps you by the shoulders, shoving you into the wall once, twice, and then again for a third time. Your head bounces off the wall and you cry out, weakly raking your fingernails down your brother's face to get him away.

A fist meets your face, and you slide down the wall, whimpering.

"Just give me the money," your brother says again, his emotions finally getting the best of him.

You meet his gaze, every ounce of you hating your brother right this second. "No."

Your brother spits at your feet, now choosing to ransack your house instead. As he pulls down books and picture frames from the bookshelves and wall, you let the tears fall as the pain overwhelms you. When your brother finds nothing in the living room, he makes his way to the kitchen. The glass breaking finally alerts your Great Danes that something is off, and they rush towards the back door, barking up a storm.

You're not surprised when your brother finds the cash drawer in the kitchen- a drawer that has a little over a hundred dollars in it from Jax, Juice and Opie who felt the need to leave money since they constantly ate your food. He breaks some more stuff on his hunt for cash, and it isn't long before he finds almost two hundred in your purse.

"Go. Just leave," you tell him when you feel yourself getting sleepier and sleepier.

"I need more."

"There is no more!" You cry. You wince in pain as your head throbs. "Just go. Please." Before your brother can say anything, the sound of a vehicle's door slamming shut resonates through the air. He freezes and hope unfurls in your entire being. "Uh oh. The cavalry's here," you mumble.

Your brother panics and makes a break for the back door, Grimm and Reaper completely bypassing him and making a beeline for you. Your dogs panic when they pick up the scent of blood, barking and whining. The doorbell rings, sending your dogs further into a frenzy.

"YN?" You hear a familiar voice shout from outside.

"Sack!" You scream.

That one word manages to sap the rest of your energy and you're barely coherent enough to hear your door being opened and Half-Sack swearing as he falls to his knees next to you. "YN? YN, what the hell happened?!"

"B-Brother," you mumble, eyes fluttering shut now that you know you're safe.

"Hey. Hey!" Half-Sack swears. "YN, stay awake!"

"M'tired."

Half-Sack reaches for his phone, fumbling it before he manages to unlock it and look for his president's number. When he taps on Jax's contact info, he grumbles while he waits for the blonde man to pick up.

"What?"

"Jax, man, someone beat the shit out of YN!"

"What!?" The word is repeated again, harsher this time.

"I c-came over to pick up the dogs," Half-Sack stammers, "and I heard her scream for me. It's bad, man."

"Get her to St. Thomas. Now! And don't leave her side."

Half-Sack tucks his phone away, intent on doing as Jax demanded. He apologizes as he scoops YN into his arms, cursing his weakened strength and mentally vows to start lifting more soon. He manages to get YN out to the van, setting her in the front seat while running back inside the house and then urging the dogs into their room before shutting the door behind them so they don't hurt themselves with all the broken glass.

Back in the van, Half-Sack is sure he breaks a couple of laws just getting YN to the hospital. He keeps yelling at her, trying to get her to stay coherent enough as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. He picks YN up again, grunting and then stumbling as he rushes for the emergency room doors. Everyone waiting to be seen startles at his haggard appearance, with the exception of the nurses on call who weren't paying the doors any attention. Fortunately for Half-Sack, the Prez's ex-girlfriend chooses that moment to walk out.

"Doc. Hey, doc!" He calls out and Tara Knowles looks up from her clipboard. Her eyes widen when she sees Half-Sack holding a battered, unconscious woman. "I need some help here."

"Come on." Tara gestures for him to follow. "What happened?" She leads him to a curtained off room, immediately pulling out her pen light to check pupil dilation.

"I- I don't know!" Half-Sack stutters. "I showed up by her place to pick up her dogs and she screamed for me when I got to the door."

"So she was awake when you got there?" She asks, continuing her evaluation, gently pressing along the woman's bruise face to check for fractures.

"Y-Yeah."

"Is she close to the club? Could this be club retaliation?"

"Sort of. And no." He shakes his head. "She, uh, she said it was her brother before she told me she was tired and closed her eyes."

Tara freezes while her gaze shoots to Half-Sack, the man clearly upset over this woman's injuries. "Okay. I'm gonna see if I can wake her up. Why don't you go out and-"

"No. I'm staying with her."

She frowns. "Okay. Then let's get to work."

Tara goes through the motions of collecting a few more supplies, setting them on a tray next to her. She grabs a small tubular packet before snapping it in half, waving it under YN's nose. YN wakes, groaning and whimpering in pain before Half-Sack is taking her hand and assuring her everything is okay.

Tara smiles sadly at the prospect who clearly cares for her patient. "YN, can you tell me what happened?" She asks, prepping to clean and stitch the small wound she can see near her temple.

Awake and more alert, your head lolls to the side until you see a woman doctor fussing over you. She looks familiar, but you don't have enough wits about you to determine why she looks familiar. "Yeah.. my brother kicked my ass."

"Mhm. And where'd you get this cut?"

You wince as she prods at your temple, pain throbbing all around your head. "Uh, coffee table, I think? He pushed me."

"Did your head take any more hits?"

"Mhm." You gulp. "He punched me a few times. Slammed my head into the wall even more."

Half-Sack winces as he continues to hold your hand.

"From the look of your knuckles, I can see you fought back," the doctor says. "That's good."

"Yeah. My uncle didn't raise no bitch."

Half-Sack snorts and even the doctor grins. "You're going to need stitches. You want me to numb the area?"

"Don't bother. Just go for it."

Half-Sack holds your hand the entire time the doctor stitches you up and during that time you realize just who your doctor is. Doctor Tara Knowles was a major part of Jax's life when they were teenagers, and currently a pain in Gemma's ass since the queen of the bikers didn't want the doctor anywhere near her son. But as of late, you hadn't heard Gemma complain about the woman so you figure things must have calmed between the two ex's.

Doctor Knowles cleans you up as best as she can, adjusts your bed so the top half is sitting upward, and then warns you to not give in to the temptation to sleep because she was pretty sure you had a concussion. You grimace at your blood covered clothes and she thankfully grabs you a pair of scrubs to change into while also making sure you have no other injuries around your body. Half-Sack stands right outside the curtained room so you can change, and then Tara leaves to grab all the paperwork needed to be filled out for your visit.

Since you were still a little shaky and Half-Sack couldn't stay still enough to help you with the paperwork, Tara decides to help you. She's in the middle of asking some very personal questions she needs the answers to when the curtain is suddenly yanked open. Tara yelps and you flinch, and then she's admonishing Jax and trying to tell him that he can't be there. Your body relaxes when you realize just who the visitor is and Jax completely ignores his ex while stalking up to your bedside.

"Are you okay?" His hands cup your face as he brings his forehead to gently rest against yours. His eyes close and you smile before reaching up to grip his wrists while humming an affirmative. He breathes a sigh of relief before pulling back and then glances over his shoulder at Half-Sack. "You can leave now."

"Jax," Tara starts, "I don't think you should-"

"It's fine, doc," you assure her, smiling softly as you remove Jax's hands from your face. "Jax is good."

"Ma's on her way."

You fondly roll your eyes. "Fine. Jax and Gemma are good. I don't mind them being here so long as they won't get in trouble for being in here with me."

Tara frowns, brow furrowed as she glances between you and Jax. She hasn't heard anything about him seeing anyone, nor anyone that apparently had his mother's approval. But seeing your friendly expression, her shoulders droop just the slightest as she nods.

"What happened?" Jax asks.

"Why don't we wait until your mom gets here because I have a feeling she's going to ask the same thing."

He opens his mouth to deny your assumption, but then snaps it shut and shrugs. "Yeah. Okay."

There's a chair right next to the bed that Jax takes a seat in, one of his hands holding tight to yours. You shake your head at him and then give Tara your full attention since she's still doing your paperwork. She eventually flashes you a smile back and then gets to work, completely ignoring Jax's presence.

When Tara is done with the paperwork, she realizes that you're in a little bit more pain than you had let on. She leaves to grab you some strong ibuprofen and then comes back to make sure you take it. And just as you've swallowed it down, Gemma is bursting through the curtains.

Her concerned expression immediately morphs into one of sympathy. "Oh sweetheart, what happened?"

You glance at Jax, arching an eyebrow. "Told you."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and tell us."

You grin and relax back into the bed, sighing. "It was my brother." Jax tenses and you reach for his hand again, squeezing it in comfort. "He somehow found me and started asking for cash again."

"I'm really hoping you didn't give him any," Gemma says, huffing.

You point to your face. "Does it look like I told him yes?" Her expression falls again and you grin at her. "He pushed me into the coffee table, which is how I got this," you say while gesturing to your stitched wound. "Then he punched me and I punched back, and then he slammed me into the wall a few times. He ransacked the living room and kitchen, and found the snack money drawer," you admit. "And then dipped into my purse for more."

"He's dead." Jax's voice is cold and his eyes glint with his anger.

You shake your head at him. "Don't bother. He's probably long gone back to Texas. I'll just call my uncle and he'll have it taken care of."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My uncle will probably put him in the hospital as well."

Gemma smirks, but it's Tara's scoff that pulls everyone's attention. When she realizes she has three stares looking right at her, she shifts on her stool. "Violence doesn't solve anything. Just make a report and let the police handle it."

You blink at her and then when your brain catches up, you drawl, "Bless your heart, suga, but I've got it handled." Jax snorts at the southern twang that slips through and even Gemma can't hide her smirk. And when you realize just how rude you sounded, you mentally wince and sigh. "So tell me, doc, when can I get out of here? I'm pretty sure someone with much more serious injuries can use the bed."

Tara gapes, but quickly composes herself. "I, um, I can start the discharge papers now if you want."

"Yes, please. And, uh, do you think I can get a prescription for some of the stronger ibuprofen you guys give out here? It works better than the over the counter ibuprofen you can get at the store."

"Sure. I can prescribe you Tramadol if you'd prefer that."

"Nah. I don't like meds that you can get addicted to. Ibuprofen works just fine."

She smiles at that, nodding. "Okay then. I'll be back with your papers and prescription."

"Thanks, doc."

As soon as Tara disappears, Gemma takes over her stool and pulls it up closer to your bed. Soon enough, you have Jax on one side and Gemma on the other.

"Is there anything else that we should know?" Jax asks. "Now's the time to tell us."

"No. I told you guys everything."

"Are you sure, baby?" Gemma asks.

"Yeah. He probably would have tried to kick my ass some more if Half-Sack hadn't showed up when he did. He got spooked off and ran out the back door, and then I screamed for Sack after he rang the doorbell."

"Where were the dogs throughout all this?" Jax wonders. "They don't seem like animals who would sit back while their mom was being beaten."

"In the backyard. They ran in when my brother ran out, but I don't know what happened after that." Suddenly your eyes widen. "There's glass all over the place! They're gonna get hurt."

"Don't you worry, baby, I got 'em." Gemma stands. "I'll take Grimm and Reaper to the clubhouse, and then have the prospect clean your place."

"You don't have to-"

"But I want to." She smiles, leaning forward and cupping your face in her hands. She kisses your forehead. "I'll see you later. Do what the doc tells you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill." Gemma takes her leave, shutting the curtain behind her before you turn to grin at her son. "And then there were two."

Jax leans forward, placing his elbows on the side of your bed. He sighs softly. "So you wanna tell me how you're holding up now that it's just the two of us?"

"I'm fine."

"YN.." Jax trails off, arching an eyebrow at you and challenging your answer. Your lighthearted expression falters and your eyes sting the longer you hold Jax's knowing gaze. "He's my brother," your murmur quietly. "He's never raised a hand to me and he-" your voice cracks and you hide your face in the palms of your hands, crying.

Jax is up and out of his seat, taking a seat next to you on the bed and wrapping his arm around your back. You turn and curl into his side, and he lets you cry on his shoulder. "Shh. I've got you now. It's going to be okay."

The sound of the curtain being yanked open makes you freeze. "Oh. I- I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Tara."

You bite the inside of your cheek and try to put a lid on your emotions. You lift your head from Jax's shoulder and wipe at your eyes, sniffling. "Am I- am I clear to go, doc?"

"Yeah." She hesitates briefly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You meet her gaze, vision blurry as tears swim in your eyes again. You wipe them away. "Everything kind of just got caught up to me," you tell her. "You know, the fact that it was my own flesh and blood who did this to me."

She smiles sadly at you. "I'm really sorry this happened to you."

"Thanks."

You sniffle some more as she smiles before looking down at the papers in her hands. "So, uh, you're all good to go. Just make sure someone stays with you tonight because you need to be woken up every couple of hours for that concussion."

"That won't be a problem. She's staying with me tonight." Tara's eyes subtly widen and you turn to look at Jax. But before you can even say anything, he shakes his head. "Don't argue with me. Tig can keep Grimm and Reaper, and you can stay with me."

"I- yeah, okay." You lightly shake your head. "We'll just have to swing by my place for some stuff."

He nods. "We can do that."

Tara spends a little more time informing Jax of what symptoms to look for since he's apparently going to watch over you, and then she gives you the prescription for your pain relievers. And after signing your own discharge papers, Tara's grabbing a wheelchair and wheeling you out to the doors.

Jax freezes. "Shit. I forgot I'm on my bike."

"Seriously?" Tara huffs at him. When Jax's worried expression cuts to you, Tara rolls her eyes and reaches into her coat pocket. "Take my car and get her to your place safely. You can bring it back and take your bike after."

You and Jax stare at her in surprise over her act of kindness. She huffs a laugh, shaking her in amusement. "Thanks, Tara," Jax ends up saying, heart light at the fact that there was no pettiness involved.

She nods. "Don't even mention it."

Over the next week, you're absolutely coddled by Gemma and the Sons of Anarchy, and even Emma and Todd at work. The only person who didn't try to coddle you was Happy, but you did see his eyes lingering a little longer whenever you complained about a headache. Half-Sack, Tig, and Happy gladly took over care of Grimm and Reaper, and you ended up staying days with Jax instead of just the one night. And in all the time of you two cohabitating, things never went past the heavy flirtation. There might have been a few close calls, but the two of you always stopped and nervously laughed off the tension.

When you finally made it back home, you were grateful that everything your brother demolished had been fixed or replaced. Jax had been more adamant that you show up to clubhouse parties, but with your bruises still pretty vibrant, you didn't want to go anywhere other than work and home.

But bruises fade and eventually you agreed to attend one of the parties, which is why Gemma's picking you up.

"Hey, baby, you ready for this?" She asks when you slide into her Cadillac.

"You mean am I ready to be glared at and spoken down to by the croweaters?" You muse. "Sure. I guess I am."

"One of these days you'll learn to put them in their place."

"There's nothing going on between Jax and I to warrant me putting them in their place," you tell her. "If there was something going on, then I assure you the cattiness would be there. But there's not."

"If you say so." Gemma backs out of your driveway, intent on driving towards the clubhouse.

On the drive towards the party, your phone beeps with a text message. You check it, frowning at the words staring up at you: Answer your phone.

"What's wrong?" Gemma asks when you continue staring at your phone in hand.

"I don't know," you mumble. "The text says for me to answer my phone, but I don't recognize the number."

"You think it's your brother?" You shake your head, and before you can answer the phone is ringing. "Put it on speaker."

You nod, answering the call and hitting the speaker button. "Hello?"

"So, I had to hear from your uncle that your brother beat your ass?"

You sigh and Gemma glances between you and the road. You grin reassuringly at her. "Jesus Christ, Guillermo. You scared the shit out of me with that vague ass text. What-" You immediately cut yourself off, brow furrowing. "Wait a minute. How the hell did you text me?" The line is quiet, and you exhale loudly. "You smuggled a burner into your cell, didn't you?"

From the corner of your eye, you see Gemma's head snap in your direction. You bite back a grin, knowing full well she's gonna find out exactly why you didn't care about what the Sons of Anarchy truly did to earn money. "What can I say, mi amor. The guards love me."

"Bullshit. If they loved you, you'd have gotten out years ago on good behavior." Guillermo laughs down the line. "But you keep getting caught doing sketchy shit and they happily report your ass to the parole board."

"Yeah, yeah. This isn't about me. This is about you and why I'm just hearing about what your idiot brother did."

You groan. "I'm fine."

"What was the damage?"

"Uh, concussion and a split lip. My face was pretty bruised as well."

"What do you want done?"

"Can nothing be done?"

"You know if you don't tell me, then I'll just figure out my own punishment."

You sigh, finally glancing at Gemma, only to find her looking at you in surprise. "Fine. Have him beaten, but not enough to warrant a stay in the hospital. I don't want him crying about hospital bills," you tell him. "Remind him that you don't fuck with your favorite."

Guillermo laughs. "You got it, princesa." The line goes quiet and then he's back, amusement lacing his tone now. "So, what's this I hear about a biker?"

"Fuck off. You and my uncle are the worst gossips."

"It's boring in this cell. I like knowing what's going on out there."

"Yeah? Then next time don't get caught. Pendejo."

"You wound me, mija."

"I'm sure." The clubhouse comes into view and you wrap up the call. "Hey, Guillermo, I gotta go. I'm headed into a party."

"Alright. Have fun, run if the cops show, and I'll call you with an update when I have your brother's ass kicked."

"Okay. Love you. Bye."

You end the call and hesitate to meet Gemma's gaze.

"So that's why you never bat an eye when the boys' criminal history comes up." You huff a laugh. "Who is he and what'd he do?"

"Guillermo is my uncle's best friend," you tell her as she parks her car. "He's.. a very prominent member of a very large gang that has connections pretty much everywhere. He got picked up for kidnap and torture."

"Jesus," Gemma swears.

You shrug. "That man adores me. He treated me and my brother like his own kids sometimes, so he's pretty pissed at my brother right now. If I hadn't told him what to do, I'm pretty sure he'd have made the call to have my brother seriously maimed."

"So you really don't have any issue about the things that go on with the club?"

"As long as it doesn't directly involve me, I don't need to know."

"Damn, baby, you really need to let my son slap his crow on you."

You snort. "I've heard some things about how the boys operate, Gem, and there's one thing that's a major turn-off for me."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The run clause," you tell her. "If I'm with someone, then I'm with that person and that person only. I expect the same respect from my partner and the run clause gives him leeway to mess around while he's on the road."

Gemma pulls the keys from the ignition and drops them in her purse. "If you have an issue with road pussy, then tell him. I have a feeling Jax will cave into your demands if you just state them."

And without letting you retort, she's opening her car door and climbing out.

By the time you and Gemma walk into the clubhouse, the party is in full swing. The scantily clad women are making their rounds and you're not surprised to see the croweaters swarming Jax, Opie and Chibs. Your nose wrinkles when one bold croweater takes a seat on Jax's knee, and Gemma elbows you, eyebrow arching as if asking what you were going to do about it.

"Knock it off and let's go get a beer. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

You and Gemma are a beer and a half deep when Jax finally takes notice of your presence. The croweater perched on his knee and looking quite smug about it is easily pushed aside without any warning, and you can't hide your amusement as you watch Jax light up as he makes his way towards you.

Gemma catches you smiling, and when she sees the reason why, she huffs in amusement. "And that's my cue to go."

"Aw, Gem, don't leave me."

"Buck up, baby, and lay down some rules with my boy." She pats your knee and you grin knowingly at her. "I'll see you tomorrow." Gemma slides off her stool just as Jax nears and she pats his cheek before walking on.

You smile at Jax as he takes her empty seat, leaning one elbow on the bar top as he stares at you. You copy his position, chuckling. "How long have you been here?"

"For a while," you admit. "Gem and I were gossiping."

"Why didn't you grab me when you got here?"

You shrug and gesture to the place he'd last been sitting with the neck of your beer bottle. "You were a little preoccupied. I didn't want to interrupt your fun."

You sip the last of your beer as he says, "I'd have preferred your company."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?"

Jax's eyes subtly widen. "I invited you!"

"Well.." You squirm in your seat, chuckling. "Shut up," you end up saying when he smirks at you. "I just didn't want to be a cockblock. You should be thanking me that I didn't cause you any issues with your little groupies."

Jax's expression falters as he stares at you. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"That I don't care about the croweaters."

"What?"

Taking a leap of faith, Jax leans forward to capture your lips with his. Your eyes immediately fall shut, and Jax stands, pushing between your knees to stand closer. But before the kiss can really turn interesting, you place a hand and his chest and reluctantly push him back. You gulp and lick your bottom lip as Jax seems to need a moment.

When he seems coherent enough, you say, "We can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't share," you blurt. Your gaze falls down to your hand on his chest and you can't help but let your fingers trail downward. Groaning softly when you feel the slight ridges of his abs, you pause your trek downward and meet his gaze once more. "Not in Charming, nor on the road."

His eyes light up with realization. "You're worried about road pussy."

You shake your head. "I'm not worried about the croweaters because no matter what they're gonna try to entice you. If we're being honest here, I'm more worried about you."

"How so?"

"You grew up in this life, Jax," you say. "And I've been here long enough to hear about the rules. If I ever get involved with anyone, it won't be with someone who messes around with another female while he's on the road."

"Is that the only thing keeping you from seeking something more with me?"

"Well, yeah." You frown.

"Seriously?" Jax slowly smiles. "So if I had assured you a while back that your pu-"

"Stop." Your nose wrinkles. "I hate that word."

He chuckles now, reaching up to sweep your hair behind your ear and then pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek. "So if I had assured you that your legs are the only ones I wanna be between, then you'd have caved a lot sooner?" He asks, lips brushing your ear.

You shiver, nodding. "Maybe."

Jax leans back a bit, slowly running the tip of his nose over your cheek until his mouth is just brushing against yours. "Nah. I don't think there are any maybes about it." Your breathing gets a little heavier. "I think you're about to cave in three, two-"

"Oh fuck you." You grab the front of Jax's shirt, fisting it to keep him close, and crash your lips against his.

This kiss is more aggressive right off the bat, Jax pressing in as close as he can get. His hands end up tangled in your hair, your back arching over the bar top as he leans over you. The wolf whistles pierce the lusty fog that had rolled through your mind and you manage to push Jax off once more.

"Slow it down, Teller. I've got a reputation to uphold when in public."

"Yeah?" Jax licks his bottom lip as he stares you down. "And what about when we're not in public?"

You slowly smirk, pushing him a little further back still. "Well when we're not in public, I have a feeling you're gonna have trouble keeping up."

"Cute and innocent my ass."

"Cute, yes. Innocent?" You hum. "Not so much. But I have a feeling you're going to learn all about that very soon." You hop up off your seat and peck his lips one last time. "Now come on. Let's go hustle your boys out of some cash."